too much beer with their evening pizza, Miles looked almost lean. He didn’t have classic movie-star good looks, but his waist was narrow, his stomach flat, and his shoulders reassuringly broad. But it was more than that. There was something in his eyes, in the expressions he wore, that spoke of the challenges he’d faced over the last two years, something she recognized when looking in the mirror.
The jukebox fell silent for a moment, then picked up again with “Born in the USA” by Bruce Springsteen. The air was thick with cigarette smoke despite the ceiling fans that whirred above them. Sarah heard the dull roar of others laughing and joking all around them, yet as she watched Miles, it seemed almost as if they were alone. Miles sank another shot.
With a practiced eye, he looked over the table as the balls settled. He moved around to the other side and took another shot, but this time he missed the mark. Seeing that it was her turn, Sarah set her beer off to the side and picked up her cue. Miles reached for the chalk, offering it to Sarah.
“You’ve got a good shot at the line,” he said, nodding toward the corner of the table. “It’s right there on the edge of the pocket.”
“I see that,” she said, chalking the tip and then setting it aside. Looking over the table, she didn’t set up for her shot right away. As if sensing her hesitation, Miles leaned his cue against one of the stools.
“Do you need me to show you how to position your hand on the table?” he offered gamely.
“Sure.”
“Okay, then,” he said. “Make a circle with your forefinger, like this, with your other three fingers on the table.” He demonstrated with his hand on the table.
“Like this?” she said, mimicking him.
“Almost.. .” He moved closer, and as soon as he reached toward her hand, gently leaning against her as he did so, she felt something jump inside, a light shock that started in her belly and radiated outward. His hands were warm as he adjusted her fingers. Despite the smoke and the stale air, she could smell his after-shave, a clean, masculine odor.
“No—hold your finger a little tighter. You don’t want too much room or you lose control of your shot,” he said.
“How’s that?” she said, thinking how much she liked the feel of him close to her.
“Better,” he said seriously, oblivious to what she was going through. He gave her a little room. “Now when you draw back, go slowly and try to keep the cue straight and steady as you hit the ball. And remember, you don’t have to hit it that hard. The ball is right on the edge and you don’t want to scratch.”
Sarah did as she was told. The shot was straight, and as Miles predicted, the nine fell in. The cue ball rolled to a stop toward the center of the table.
“That’s great,” he said, motioning toward it. “You’ve got a good shot with the fourteen now.”
“Really?” she said.
“Yeah, right there. Just line it up and do the same thing again....”
She did, taking her time. After the fourteen fell into the pocket, the cue ball seemed to set itself up perfectly for the next shot as well. Miles’s eyes widened in surprise. Sarah looked up at him, knowing she wanted him close again. “That one didn’t feel as smooth as the first one,” she said. “Would you mind showing me one more time?”
“No, not at all,” he said quickly. Again he leaned against her and adjusted her hand on the table; again she smelled the after-shave. Again the moment seemed charged, but this time Miles seemed to sense it as well, lingering unnecessarily as he stood against her. There was something heady and daring about the way they were touching, something... wonderful. Miles drew a deep breath.
“Okay, now try it,” he said, pulling back from her as if needing a bit of space.
With a steady stroke, the eleven went in.
“I think you’ve got it now,” Miles said, reaching for his beer. Sarah moved around the table for the next shot.
As she did, he watched her. He took it all in—the graceful way she walked, the gentle curves of her body as she set up again, skin so smooth it seemed almost unreal. When Sarah ran a hand through her hair, tucking it behind her ear, he took a drink, wondering why on earth her ex-husband had let her get away. He was probably