That Special Smile/Whittenburg by Karen Toller Whittenburg

recognizable blue. “This sort of thing happens to Juliette all the time. She walks into a room and the men form a line to the right.”
    “You’ll notice I’ve been careful to stay on her left all evening.”
    “You can’t take credit for that. Benton has had her pretty well covered from all angles.” Sylvie let her gaze stray to the dance floor and pensively return to Max. “I’ll confess that when I met him, I didn’t think he would be so susceptible. He isn’t really Juliette’s type.”
    “I had the distinct impression this afternoon that you thought Benton was your type.”
    Sylvie shrugged and again felt the warmth of Max’s arm along her shoulders. “Sometimes I’m more nearsighted with my glasses than without them.” A soft breath of laughter escaped her and she wondered, fleetingly, if she’d had more than one glass of wine. “Juliette says pinstripes create a blinding glare in the lens.”
    Max furrowed his brow. “Makes sense to me. You ought to listen to her, Sylvie.”
    “Oh, sure. Then I’d be up to my eyebrows in –”  She’d almost said denim . Wouldn’t Max have loved that? “– trouble,” she substituted after a pause only a mother would have noticed. “Taking Julie’s advice always means Trouble, with a capital T.”
    “And what kind of advice has she been offering you lately?” He moved closer, just a little, but his arm was undeniably around her now.
    Sylvie decided not to notice. “Lately?” Pursing her lips as if she were trying to remember, she wondered what he would say if she told him the truth. “She’s been trying to match me up with you.”
    He smiled. “With no better luck than I’m having, obviously.”
    “You’re not really trying very hard, Max.”
    “Would it be worth the effort?”
    “Effort always makes one a better person.”
    He began to rub her shoulder in a smooth, massaging caress. “You’re a tease, Sylvie Anne.”
    “Only after two glasses of wine.”
    “You’ve only had one.”
    “Then it must be the intoxicating company I keep.” She knew she ought to order coffee or at least move away from his seductive touch, but it was relaxing and moving away seemed far too much trouble.
    The warmth of his breath against her cheek was her first hint. Then his lips brushed hers, lightly, and she melted like ice cream on the Fourth of July. The kiss lasted hardly long enough to interfere with her pulse rate, but her heart didn’t seem to understand. Like a hummingbird, it fluttered madly against her rib cage, creating an intriguing sort of panic.
    When he moved back, she moistened her lips and released a long, deep breath. “ Someone has been topping off my wineglass.”
    “You’ve been dating the wrong men, Sylvie, if they have to resort to getting you drunk.”
    “No one has ever tried to do that,” she said, and then widened her eyes. “Oh my God, you’re right. I have been dating the wrong men.”
    Max settled back in his chair, but his arm stayed around her shoulders. “Very funny, but probably closer to the truth than you think.”
    “The truth, Max, is that I don’t think much about it either way. I’m not like Juliette. I don’t fall in love on the basis of a handshake. I’m not looking for a relationship, so consequently, dating the wrong man doesn’t cause me to lose any sleep.”
    “Has any man?”
     “That’s a rather personal question. I haven’t asked you anything like that.”
    “If you did, I’d tell you I’ve never lost any sleep because of a man.”
    His smile teased her and the corners of her mouth lifted in response. “Well, neither have I.”
    The music ended with a smattering of lukewarm applause from the dwindling number of listeners. Sylvie clapped her hands in belated and halfhearted acknowledgement. Max didn’t bother and neither did Juliette and Benton. They stood, close together on the dance floor, talking and waiting, Sylvie supposed, for the music to begin again. They seemed in no hurry to