Free Planning for Love by Christi Barth

or are we having drinks?”
    “Sorry. When I’m enthusiastic, I tend to get effusive. And since I’ve never had the opportunity to stick a toe outside the United States, you could call me more than a little enthusiastic about travel.”
    “If you’re so worked up about it, why don’t you?”
    “Why don’t I what?”
    Ben waved his hand in expanding circles. “Go. Travel. Stick your toe someplace where they call it a punta .”
    “Excuse me? Did you just call me a whore?”
    He barked out a surprised laugh. “No. That’s puta . Why do nice girls always know the dirty words in foreign languages?”
    Whoops. “I had the flu last month. I spent three days in bed watching two seasons of The Sopranos . Felt like I picked up a little Italian.” Probably not smart to mention the twenty-episode marathon of Love Boat she’d recently raced through. He didn’t seem the type to appreciate the romantic nuances of one of her favorite classic shows. On the upside, if drinks didn’t go well, she could rush home and knock off another episode. She’d left off at the pivotal change in cruise directors, and couldn’t wait to see how the new one fit in.
    “ Molto poco . Very little.”
    “Maybe, but at least I do feel I learned three surefire ways to dispose of a body.”
    “And people say television isn’t educational.” The bartender delivered their drinks, then immediately backed away to the other end of the bar. Ben picked up his rocks glass filled with dark liquid and clinked it against hers. “Here’s to WWS .”
    Ivy halted her glass halfway to her mouth. “No. Absolutely not. I won’t drink to that show. And you certainly made no secret of the fact you didn’t like it either. Why would you toast to it?”
    “Just trying to be succinct. But if you prefer the long version…” he clinked her glass again, “…here’s to WWS , for dropping me smack into the path of a bewitching, beautiful woman.”
    Eyes closed, Ivy savored the cool, foaming rush of bubbles against her lips as the black current and champagne concoction burst across her taste buds. Crisp yet sweet, she liked to imagine this was what the distilled essence of pure romance tasted like. “You could’ve just toasted to Fate. Even more succinct.”
    “Fate’s a two-timing bitch who doesn’t pull her punches.”
    Ivy’s eyes flew open. Ben was staring into his drink, swirling the ice cubes with a practiced twist of his wrist. “Good thing you’re not bitter at all.”
    “Sorry. Fate and I aren’t exactly tight.”
    It had to be closing in on one in the morning. Should she press him for the level of information men only revealed with whiskey-roughened voices in the middle of the night? Or, since she probably knew less about him than the TSA screener at the airport who waved him through security, should she overlook the oddly caustic remark and move on? Ivy took another, bigger swallow of her cocktail while she considered.
    Standard dating protocol would be to push, to pry open every conversational oyster shell in search of that pearl of personality which could reveal the inner man. But did she really need to delve that deep? Ivy knew his generous lips were talented, his blue eyes bottomless, and his wide chest a vast, uncharted territory she yearned to explore. Tonight was about letting off steam at the end of a trying day with an attentive man. Oh, and hoping to get a few more kisses out of him before she called it a night. Perhaps it served her purpose better to smooth his frown away, rather than seek the cause. She downed the rest of her drink in a nervous gulp. Pushing the glass away, she traced the back of his hand with a TuTuPink-tipped fingernail.
    “Would you overlook your journalistic integrity and tell me how we stack up?”
    Ben’s eyes narrowed, but stayed pinned on the swirling sea of his drink. “Against what?”
    “The other Wild Wedding Smackdown bride, of course. Now that I’m part of an episode, my competitive spirit’s