his cool, distant surface? How had she been so very wrong about him?
Having no clue he’d just blown up her world, he faced her with a smile. “Do you want a glass of wine? I can delay dinner if you want to work first.”
“Thanks, white, please. I actually got a lot accomplished today, but I need a good half an hour to clean up some tasks for this weekend.”
“Of course. You can work at the table over there while I finish cooking. I’ll bring your wine over.”
Uneasiness flowed. Some hot date. Work seemed to cram up every moment of her life. She couldn’t even enjoy a nice dinner during wedding season. Why would he want her here if she couldn’t focus her attention? She bit her lip, suddenly questioning this whole ridiculous idea. “I’m really sorry. I’m sure this isn’t your idea of a fun date—you cook while I work. Are you sure you want me here?”
He regarded her from across the high granite countertop, hands on hips. Those gorgeous dusky blue-gray eyes sparked. “Actually, this will be one of the nicest dates for me. I’m a homebody, and I enjoy cooking. I understand your workload, Avery. I respect the hell out of a business owner who does what she needs to do to be successful, and you never have to apologize for that. Not with me.”
The tension eased and she smiled. “Thanks. Then I’ll bang out the rest of this work so we can enjoy the meal.”
He winked. “Bang away.”
She set up her laptop, pulling up various spreadsheets and checklists for the Bankses’ wedding. In minutes, she was swept away in a tide of endless details and the quest to make the event flawless. She murmured a thanks when Carter brought her wine, enjoying the cool fruity taste of sauvignon blanc on her tongue. She tapped out texts to her upcoming bride, combed through final schedules with vendors and made sure they had what they needed, and confirmed all reservations for the upcoming weekend festivities. The wine was gone when she finally surfaced, satisfied she’d gotten ahead on any issues ready to sidetrack her tomorrow. Slowly, she stretched and turned toward Carter.
He was humming under his breath as he moved around the small kitchen. The rich scents of lemon, basil, and garlic filled the air, along with the pleasant sounds of sizzling oil and bubbling water, but it was Carter Ross himself that held her transfixed attention.
God, he was gorgeous. How had she ever overlooked the earthy sexiness of the man? He wore faded jeans that cupped his taut ass and showcased the lean length of his legs. A white short-sleeve shirt was unbuttoned at the neck, giving her a tantalizing glimpse of his chiseled chest covered with dark hair. His bare feet moved soundlessly over the floors as he checked and stirred pots and pans, relaxed and at ease with his task.
Her heart fluttered like a schoolgirl’s. She’d never had a man cook for her before. All her dates consisted of formal dinners or the occasional movie, and rarely led back to cocktails at home. She’d never craved that type of intimacy before—happy with the crumbs of romance and the occasional making-out session. He was beginning to stir up all sorts of longings in the short time he’d been here. If he wanted to take her to bed tonight, would she let him?
The thoughts whirled in her head as she packed up her laptop, grabbed her glass, and headed into the kitchen. “All set,” she said lightly, sliding onto one of the cushioned chairs. “Can I help? It smells amazing.”
His smile was warm and gave her all the tingles. Had she really called him robot man? She’d been so wrong. “No, it’s under control. Will be ready in a few minutes. Did you get all your work done?”
She propped up her elbows on the counter. “Yes. Taylor and Bella have other events booked, so it’s just me and Gabe handling this wedding. Besides a large wedding party, demanding MOB, and anal groom, I need to make sure nothing gets overlooked.”
He stirred the asparagus, which looked nice and crisp, just the way she liked it. “MOB is Mother of the Bride, right? Do you use acronyms for all your clients?”
“Pretty much. It’s our shorthand for all those long titles,” she said as he refilled her wineglass. “MOBs can be a nightmare, even more so than the bride. For instance, this one undercut the bride’s choices on everything, and made