He plops down next to me, pulls the ottoman closer, so there is no room between it and the sofa, and tosses a blanket over us. His praline, citrus, and sandalwood scent makes me edge closer to him. He slides his arm around my shoulders, tugging me so I'm resting on his chest. He moves his face in front of mine. A smile plays on his lips as he announces, "Cupcake Wars is on all night."

A nervous laugh escapes me. I inquire, "You watch Cupcake Wars?"

He gives me his look—the one that always makes me think he's undressing me without even taking his eyes off my face.

I squeeze my thighs together, trying not to squirm or think about what I'd love for him to do to me.

He answers, "Yeah. It intrigues me."

To create some space between us, I turn toward him. I immediately regret the loss of his warm, hard body against mine. I quiz, "It intrigues you?"

He shrugs. "It does. But I'm sure you can run circles around them. And I bet your cupcakes would kick theirs to the curb."

"I'm not sure about that," I reply.

He grunts. "Sure they would." He grabs the remote, turns on the TV, and the show appears.

"How often do you watch this?" I question, surprised he didn't even have to change the channel.

Nerves fill his expression. I wait him out until he confesses, "I started watching it when we returned to Dallas. It reminds me of you. Plus, I wanted to learn more about the business."

My heart skips a beat. I decide it's safer to lean back against him, so I do.

He comments, "I took some notes."

I return to my previous position. "Notes on what?"

His expression turns to that of a kid caught with their hand in a cookie jar. He answers, "I have a few different sections."

"On?" I push.

"Ideas you might want to implement, lessons you can take from the show to avoid problems, things I didn't understand."

I gape at him, then finally ask, "Can I see it?"

"It's probably stupid—"

"No, it's not. I want to see it," I declare.

He pauses, then reaches over into the side table drawer. He hands me a black leather notebook.

"I would have thought this had women's contact info in it," I tease.

He smirks. "Ha ha. Funny."

I open the book, and I'm struck with awe. I blurt out, "This is really detailed."

"Like I said, probably stupid," he mumbles.

I firmly attest, "No. It's not. Grab a pen."

He arches his eyebrows.

I point to the drawer. "Go on. Let's add to it."

"Really?"

"Yes! This is awesome information! I watch this show all the time, but I've never thought of doing this. It's a great idea," I praise.