He flashed her a quick smile. “Thank you. So do you. And legs. And arms. And lips. And eyes. Okay, here’s another question,” he said, after he moved through the sweet litany of compliments, as if he wanted to give them but was careful to not be more forward until he knew if she wanted it.

“Wait,” she said. “You didn’t research interesting questions to ask women at bars, did you?”

“What if I did?”

“Did you?”

“No.” He held up his hands as if to say he was innocent.

“The favorite-body-part question just came naturally to you?”

“A lot of things come naturally to me,” he said, with a confidence in his voice that bordered on cocky. She kind of liked it. More than she thought she would. He leaned back in the bar stool, his whole demeanor assured and relaxed, as if nothing could throw him off his game. She was willing to bet he was in a profession that valued this sort of mindset. She was also pretty sure this was an ideal mindset for random bar chatter.

“All right, then. Let’s see how you do on the other side.”

“Turn the tables on me.”

“I will. Since we’re not talking about professions, how about this one? If you had an extra thirty minutes free in the day for fun, what would you do with it?”

“Shoot hoops,” he answered immediately. “You?”

“I’d spend more time on Tumblr,” she said, and left it up to him to figure out what she did there. When he gave her an approving nod as he downed more of his vodka, she knew he understood what Tumblr was good for.

“Perhaps we should go back to that pick-up line, then?”

“The one where I buy you a drink?” she asked, as a mischievous look flitted past his blue eyes. Damn, they were gorgeous eyes. A pure and light blue, like the crystal waters off Fiji.

“Or I could buy you a drink,” he offered, and this time the cool charm was gone, and his tone was direct. A direct line to her desire to spend more time with him, here at the bar.

There was a rustle of noise as the man grabbed his phone and his glass and stood up. Was he leaving? No, he moved a seat closer, and that brief few seconds of him standing gave Michelle the chance to look up, and admire his height. He had to be easily over six-feet tall. That height was a basic requirement for dating, she and her friend Sutton had joked. A man needed to be a “standard six” and then some, preferably.

He gestured to the stool next to her. “Is this seat taken?”

“When you sit down in it, it will be.”

“Then I will gladly make sure it’s taken, and that no one else can get it.” He smiled at her, and extended a hand. “I’m Jack. Just Jack.”

She shook his hand as he sat next to her. “Michelle with two Ls. I used to have one L in my name, but it always looked like it was spelled wrong, so I just decided to add the second L. Because I can.”