"The nice thing about cats is that they're very independent and don't demand a whole lot of attention." She placed a crystal platter on the center island, and beneath the glass dome was an elegantly decorated cake. "And when they want to be loved they'll let you know."

Beside the cake platter, she set out another glass dish with chocolate candies in the shape of small lips that intrigued him. "Do we get to eat dessert first?" he asked, reminding her of the motto she'd shared with him the first night they'd met.

She laughed and shook her head, causing her newly sheared hair to caress along her jaw. "No, I'm going to make you wait and increase the anticipation."

He liked the flirtatious twinkle in her eyes, and the double entendre in her words. "Do I at least get to know what it is? You know, to help build toward the big climax?"

"Ohh, you're good," she murmured, praising him for his play on words. Then she lifted the glass dome off the cake. "This is the next dessert for your restaurant, a white chocolate lace cake layered with raspberry filling and white chocolate buttercream."

"It looks and sounds scrumptious." His gaze lowered to her mouth, which he was dying to taste again, and he thought about those candies he'd just seen. "And what about those sweet lips of yours?" he asked, another sexy entendre that seemed to make the temperature rise in the room.

She smiled. "The lips are part of my new line of candies," she said as one of her fingers traced the edge of the dish. "These are filled with lemon cream and I'm calling them Love Bites."

He groaned. After sampling her Heavenly Kisses the other night, he could only imagine how delicious her Love Bites would taste. Inhaling a deep breath to keep the heat of arousal at bay for the time being, he popped the cork on the bottle of wine and poured them each a generous portion.

He handed her a glass, they touched their rims in a silent toast, then took a drink of the smooth Riesling.

"So, what can I do to help?" Kayla asked, and licked away a glistening drop of wine from her bottom lip.

Jack glanced away from temptation and motioned to the fresh vegetables he'd bought at the market. "Would you mind preparing the salad while I make the main dish?"

"Fair enough," she said with a nod.

She grabbed a knife to cut up the vegetables, and he put a pot of water on the burner to boil for the pasta. Then he tucked a hand towel into the waistband of his jeans as a makeshift apron and began sautéing the shrimp in a garlic herb sauce. Every so often Kayla glanced up from her own task to watch him as he worked.

"You like to cook?" she asked after a long silent moment had passed between them.

"Sure, I enjoy it, but I have to admit that I wasn't always so great in the kitchen."

"No?" The surprise in her voice was evident. "I would have thought with you owning your own restaurant that being a good cook would come with the territory."

"Not in my case." He'd never intended to be a restaurateur, but had fallen into the business because he'd been at the right place at the right time. A lucky break he'd be forever grateful for. "Let's put it this way. I grew up eating a whole lot of prepackaged foods because it was quick and easy for my mother who was working two jobs to make ends meet. So I never really got the hang of making a meal from scratch. When I opened Tremaine's Downtown and hired my current chef, he taught me a thing or two about cooking that's come in handy."

"Ahh," she said in understanding, and took another sip of her wine.

"And what about you? How did you learn to make all these fancy desserts?" He watched her toss chopped Roma tomatoes into the salad as he stirred the vermicelli. "Did you go to some kind of pastry school?"

"No. I went to college and got a degree in business. My grandmother is the one who's responsible for teaching me how to bake." She glanced over her shoulder at him with a fond smile that reached her eyes. "I spent my summers with her."

"An only child?" he guessed.

"Actually, no." Another drink of wine passed her lips. "I have a sister who is two years younger than me."

"Is she in the baking business, too?"

She hesitated for a brief moment, then said, "She's a cover model. Or was, anyway, until she retired this past year."

"A model?" He couldn't have been any more surprised, or intrigued.

"Do you get Sports Illustrated? She was on the cover of the swimsuit issue two years ago." Kayla washed her hands and dried them on a paper towel. "Her name is Jillian Thomas."

He turned the heat off the sautéed shrimp, certain he must have seen her sister's face before if she was a cover model, but he wasn't up on the fashion world enough to recall a specific name. "I can't say her name rings a bell."

"Maybe her face will." She walked over to the refrigerator and pulled a picture from beneath a magnet, then showed it to him. "This is her at a photo shoot for Cosmo magazine just before she decided to retire."

Her sister was stunningly beautiful, and dressed in a trendy outfit that drew the viewer's attention to her best assets-her breasts, slim hips, and endlessly long legs that ended in spiked heels. She must have been facing a fan, because her curled hair was blowing around her head in a sexily tousled way, and her come-hither eyes beckoned to the viewer to come and join her for a good time.

He felt Kayla's gaze on him, as if she were waiting for some kind of reaction to her gorgeous sister. A few of the complex pieces of the puzzle that was Kayla clicked into place, making him realize where a few of her insecurities might have stemmed from.

"Hmmm," he said mildly, his gaze on her face. "I can't say that I recognize her, though I can definitely see the resemblance between the two of you. The blond hair, the green eyes, and you both have the same amazing smile."

She glanced from him, to the picture, then back at him again, her brows furrowed into a small little frown of disbelief.

"But back to you, your summers with your grandmother, and how you got into the baking business," he said, dismissing the photograph in favor of conversation with Kayla.

She returned the picture of her sister, then reached into the cupboards for dinner plates. "My parents divorced when I was eight, and every summer my mother would send me off to Arizona to live with my father for three months. Since he had to work, I'd spend my days with my grandmother at her place, which I loved, since she spoiled me rotten."

"How come your sister didn't go with you?"

"She wanted to, badly, but my mother had a slew of pageants and auditions lined up for Jillian, and she never had the extra time to come and visit."

So, Kayla had been shipped off like an unwanted child by her mother. The thought burned in his stomach like acid. "Did your sister want to do all those pageants and auditions?"

"No. Not really." She set the table with flatware and laid out potholders for the main dishes. "Our mother was the one who was obsessed with Jillian becoming a model, and since that's all my sister knew, she ended up signing with a modeling agency before she was eighteen."

He transferred the pasta and herbed shrimp to a serving dish, and tossed a little feta cheese on top to give it an extra bit of flavor. "Sounds like Jillian missed out on a normal childhood, and all those summers with your grandmother."

"I definitely consider myself the lucky one."

She smiled, but it was obvious to him that her mother's rejection had hurt, and possibly even affected her still.

"My grandmother and I would bake scones and pies and cakes and cookies…" Her smile grew as she shared her happy memories. "I always came home having gained at least ten pounds, which my mother would disapprove of, and immediately put me on a diet."

Suddenly, Kayla grew quiet, as if she'd revealed more than she'd meant to. He instinctively knew there was much more to that story, but he wasn't about to force her to dredge up painful recollections she wasn't willing to share on her own.

Together, they put everything on the table, then sat down and filled their plates with the fragrant entrée. The salad was tossed with a vinaigrette dressing, and he'd brought a warm, fresh loaf of French bread to go with the meal.

"What about you, Jack?" Kayla asked as she twirled long grains of vermicelli around the tines of her fork. "Do you have any siblings?"

"Nope, I'm an only child." He refilled her empty glass of wine, and topped his off, too. "My father passed away when I was five."

"I'm sorry," she said, her gaze soft with compassion.

He broke off a slice of bread and slathered it with butter. "I definitely miss him and often wonder what it would have been like if he hadn't died, but I had a great mother who did her best to take care of me, and despite some hardships, I never doubted that I was loved." Their life hadn't been easy, which made him appreciate what he had now all the more. "She's happily remarried and lives in San Francisco with her new husband. The closest I've got to a brother is my best friend, Rich. We grew up together in the same apartment building, and now he's the manager of my restaurant."

"That's so great." She smiled and took a bite of her shrimp.

They finished eating their dinner with Jack regaling her with amusing tales and antics about how wild he and Rich had been during their early teenage years. By the end of the meal, she was laughing and relaxed, from the two and a half glasses of wine she'd consumed over the past hour, and from their casual conversation, which was exactly what Jack had wanted.

They both worked to clear the table, and while Kayla washed the dishes, Jack dried the pots and pans for her and put them away. Then she urged him to sit back down, and she set the cake platter and dish of candies on the table in front of him.