“Aren’t you going to join us, Lia?” His mother came up behind him and sat at the edge of the table. It was only then that he noticed it had been set for five people, not six.

Lia paused at the door leading to kitchen. “Sorry, Mrs. Kelly, but I need to keep cooking if I want to get each course out on time.”

“Don’t worry, Maureen,” Lia’s mother said, sitting across from his mother. “I’ll make sure she takes a break and sits down at the table for a bit.”

Adam, however, welcomed the fact Lia would be spending most of the evening in the kitchen. There was no way he’d be able to eat anything if he had a continual hard-on throughout the meal.

He took a seat next to his mother and inspected the rectangular platter Lia had placed in the center of the table. Rows of bruschetta, olives, thinly sliced meats, and other Italian finger foods filled it from side to side. He held it out so his mother could choose what she wanted before placing a few items on his plate.

“What are those fried things?” Dan asked when the platter made its way to him.

“Squash blossoms,” Lia’s mother replied. “It’s a popular antipasto in Italy.”

Images of a heavy, pasta-laden dinner flashed through Adam’s mind, but the first bite of bruschetta caught him off guard. It was fresh and garlicky with a solid kick of spice at the end. Definitely not the boring Italian fare he’d had before.

“Like it, Adam?” his mother asked with a grin. “Lia is one of the top chefs in Chicago.”

Despite the fact this was another one of her obvious set-ups to introduce him to a “nice girl,” perhaps the meal itself would be enjoyable. He reached for a second piece of bruschetta before his brothers took them all. “Very good.”

As he sampled each item on the platter, he discovered how Lia had taken a traditional Italian dish and added her own twist. The prosciutto-wrapped melon concealed a hidden stick of cucumber inside, and the olives were bathed in citrus-infused oil. “This is fabulous. Which restaurant does she work at?”

“La Arietta,” her mother answered.

There was something familiar about that name. Perhaps one of his friends had mentioned it to him in the past, but it was definitely moving onto his list of places to try when he wanted to impress a client.

The platter emptied faster than he realized, leaving his mouth watering for more. It was the perfect excuse to go into the kitchen and learn more about the chef. He grabbed it and stood. “I’ll go see if she has any more.”

But the second he laid eyes on her, his tongue grew thick and clumsy. Frustration crawled up his spine. He’d dated models, met with high-ranking politicians, schmoozed with Chicago’s elite for years, and none of them had delivered a blow to his confidence. Yet here he was, struggling to find a way to tell Lia that he enjoyed her food.

Her back was to him as she stirred something in a pan, her hips swaying as though she were dancing instead of cooking. She’d pulled her hair up into a ponytail, but a few rebellious curls had managed to break free along the nape of her neck. The button-down shirt she’d been wearing earlier was tied around her waist, the underlying tank top allowing him a better view of her smooth, sun-kissed skin. She hummed as she worked, each flick of her spoon releasing the aromas of garlic and fresh herbs into the air.

She turned around from the stove and froze when she saw him. “Is something wrong?”

The platter grew heavy in his hands, reminding him of why he’d come in the first place. “I was wondering if you had any more.”

She grinned and carried her pan to the center island. “If you fill up on the antipasti, you’ll have no room for the prima.”

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he remembered that the prima course in Italy usually involved pasta. But the dish she was plating now resembled rice. He came closer to inspect it. “And is this it?”

She nodded. “Orzo con verdure estive arrosto.”

“In English?”

“Orzo with roasted summer vegetables.” She placed a small hill of the orzo pasta with chunks of summer squash, zucchini, artichoke hearts, asparagus, tomatoes, and mushrooms onto each plate before offering a spoonful to him. “Care to try?”

“As long as there’s no shrimp in it.”

“Mom mentioned that some of you weren’t big fans of shrimp. Don’t worry—this is completely vegetarian.”

A harmony of flavors sang on his tongue when he sampled it. Bright basil, rich parmesan, zesty lemon, and smooth olive oil all balanced each other out and left him wanting to grab the spoon and scrape the pan clean. She watched him expectantly, her assured smile tempting him to sample more than just her cooking. He stepped back before he lost control of himself. “It’s very good.”

“I know.” She placed the pan in the sink and drizzled some olive oil over each plate of orzo. “It’s one of my most popular dishes.”

He watched the way she wiped the edges of each plate clean before adorning the pasta with a few shavings of parmesan and a sprig of basil. “Did you have any special culinary training?”

“I spent three years in Italy, learning from my aunts first before finally getting enough courage to enroll in more formal classes there.”

“And is this what you’ve always wanted to do?”

“Not always, but once I discovered my passion, I’ve never been able to let go.” She looked up from her work, her smile widening. “Have you ever felt that way about something, been caught totally by surprise and never realized how deep you were into it until it totally consumed you?”

Before today he might have said his work consumed him, but it didn’t capture his attention and make his breath catch like Lia did. His pulse raced, not from stress but from excitement and anticipation, as she spoke of her passion. If he could only have a tenth of that passion....

He narrowed the space between them as though they were two opposite poles of a magnet, the force too strong for him to resist. “I think I might have an idea of what you’re talking about.”

She licked her lips, a seductive move he’d seen dozens of women practice in his presence, but with Lia it seemed to be unconscious. “Oh?”

God help me, does she have any idea what she’s doing? He was close enough now to catch the faint scent of peaches that rose from her skin. His cock throbbed. He hadn’t been this worked up about a girl since high school. He dug his fingers into his palms to keep from acting like a complete Neanderthal and kissing her right there.

A loud burst of laughter came from the dining as though his brothers could see his predicament through the wooden door. His desire doused, he took a step back, painfully aware of the confused set of her mouth as she watched him. “Let me help you carry the next course out.”

She blinked several times before she murmured a choked “Thank you,” and grabbed three of the plates.

He took the other two and followed her into the dining room, setting one in front of his mother before putting the other in front of his chair. His mind felt fuzzy, like he’d had too much to drink even though he hadn’t touched a drop of alcohol. Sweat pricked the back of his neck. As long as Lia was in the kitchen, he needed to stay out.

“You okay, Adam?” Dan asked from across the table, one brow raised.

“Yeah,” he replied, flicking out his napkin and placing it on his lap. “Just peachy.”

Chapter Two

Lia pressed her palms to her cheeks to cool them. What the hell had just happened? One minute Adam seemed to be coming on to her, and then—BAM!—he was backing off like he’d just learned she carried the plague.

She pulled the chicken breasts she’d prepped out of the fridge and pounded them with a mallet. It didn’t matter that she’d already flattened them out to the half-inch thickness she needed for the recipe—it just felt good to hit something.

Even more frustrating was her reaction to him. Normally she would’ve considered a guy getting that close to her an invasion of her personal space. Instead, she had to fight the urge to wrap her arms around his neck and reel his lips toward hers.

“It’s just because he’s a good-looking man and I’ve been celibate for longer than I care to admit,” she whispered as she coated the chicken breasts in breadcrumbs and laid them in the sizzling pan. “I don’t have time to get mixed up with anyone, much less him.”

Of course, if he scratched her itch and got it out of her system…

Don’t even go there. Adam Kelly fell into the damn sexy category with those piercing blue eyes and dark hair, but experience had taught her men like him were incapable of staying true to one woman, and she had no desire to be the other woman. She was better off focusing on dinner and not allowing herself to be distracted by him.

Fifteen minutes later, she’d plated the next course and was ready to deliver it to the Kellys. Once that was done, she only had to prepare the dolce and pack her things up. Over. Done. Far away from Adam Kelly and back home where she could dream up tomorrow’s special for La Arietta.

Her resolve crumbled the moment she felt his eyes on her. He followed her every movement as she placed the secondo in front of his brothers and removed their prima plates. When she finally got to him, her stomach was tied in knots.

“This looks delicious,” he said, but he wasn’t looking at the food.

Her skin burned. “It is,” she managed to say before her hands started shaking.

“I’ll take that.” He reached up and took the plate from her, his hands brushing against hers and doubling the intensity of the throbbing heat in her lower stomach.