Campaign For His Heart. Joy Avery

she added. Was she overdressed?

      She ran a hand over the black off-the-shoulder scalloped lace dress that fell just below the knees. I should change. A second later, she cast out the idea. Too much energy had been spent on perfecting this look.

      “Shall we go?” Donovan asked.

      Willow nodded.

      Less than a half hour later, she stood face-to-face with Lauder. Two things she’d learned about him: he was one dynamic kisser, and he could wear the hell out of anything he slid his muscled body into. The dark denim jeans and white button-down shirt were no exceptions.

      Again, the top button of his shirt was unfastened, flashing her a scant glimpse of his chest. Her eyes fixed on his Adam’s apple, forcing her to swallow hard when her throat suddenly went dry.

      When her assessing gaze made an unhurried climb, she flinched at the quizzical expression on Lauder’s face. “Um...you don’t like wearing ties.” Of all the things she could have said, she’d said something so stupid.

      “Only when I have to.” One corner of his mouth lifted into a sexy smile. “But I can put one on if you prefer.”

      “You’re fine. The tie,” she said quickly. “It’s...fine.” What the hell was wrong with her? Why did Lauder turn her into a blushing fool? Note to self, you will remain in control tonight. He flashed that lopsided smile, and her pulse quickened. Complete control.

      “You look...nice,” Lauder said, his eyes roaming over her body.

      Nice? A nice was all she got? Not wanting to be ungrateful for the mild compliment, she said, “Thank you. So do you. Even without the tie.”

      “Follow me.”

      Willow trailed him. For the first time, she really scrutinized the space. He truly did have an amazing home. Decorated in rich stone and a blue-gray color palette with a splash of cream, it suited him. Intense.

      The spacious dwelling needed something. But what? It hit her. Warmth. It needed warmth, because while it was intense, it was also cold. In that moment, and for some unexplainable reason, she felt empathy for Lauder.

      Entering the modern-style kitchen fashioned with all stainless steel appliances, fixtures and accents, Willow noticed the prep-station-type setup.

      “Can you cook?” Lauder asked.

      “Umm...why?”

      “I thought we’d prepare the meal together. But if you’d prefer to go out...”

      “No. This is fine.”

      “You sure? I don’t want you to think I’m trying to be cheap.”

      Willow slid her gaze over the impressive spread atop the marble island: lobster, rib eye steaks, chicken kabobs and an assortment of fresh-cut veggies. Cheap was the last thing floating around in her head. “I’m sure.” Cocking a brow, she said, “You can cook?”

      “Don’t look so surprised. I can burn a kitchen down. Which is exactly what happened during my first cooking lesson.”

      Willow burst into laughter. “You set a kitchen on fire?”

      “It wasn’t like a four-alarm fire or anything.” He shrugged. “A one-and-a-half alarm, at best.”

      More laughter poured from Willow.

      “Thanks to my foster brother’s wife and her bachelors-in-the-kitchen culinary package, I can throw down.”

      “You took cooking lessons?”

      Lauder flashed a comical expression. “Yes.”

      “You must have been trying to impress a woman.” Lauder’s bright expression dimmed, and she couldn’t help but wonder why.

      “Nah. Most women I come across prefer visiting high-dollar restaurants.”

      “Not me.” God, why had she sounded so desperate? “I mean... I love to tinker in the kitchen, try new things. I watch a lot of the cooking channel. I have no life.”

      Dammit. Why had she admitted that? Admitted any of that. For one, it sounded as if she were vying for some of his time. For two, she’d made herself sound like a freaking couch potato. For three, she just sounded pitiful.

      “Huh” was all Lauder said.

      Huh? What did that mean?

      Lauder stared at her, narrow eyed, for a moment, then said, “Let’s cook.”

      “Uh, normally, I’d be all for this, but I don’t think I have on the proper attire.”

      “Take it off.”

      Willow rested a hand on her hip. “You would like that, wouldn’t you?”

      “What kind of man do you think I am? I’ll give you something else to wear.” His eyes raked over her. “Mainly because that dress is distracting as hell. I don’t want to burn down my kitchen.”

      Willow lowered her head to hide her smile. Had a man ever alluded to her looking too good in a dress? Nope. Latching on to his gaze again, she said, “Well, you probably should have mentioned we were going to put your culinary skills to work. I would have worn something less—”