She jerked her gaze to his face and worked up a smile, hoping that the heat flooding her body wasn’t visible in her face. She’d never been a blusher, but the way her luck was running, this would be the day she’d start. “I slept great,” she said, and kept smiling even when he looked at her curiously.

“I believe you,” he said, humor lighting his eyes.

“Well,” she said briskly, and kept her eyes from dropping to his crotch again through sheer force of will. “I’ll get breakfast started.”

“Already on it. How do you feel about bacon?”

She blinked. “I thought I was cooking this morning.”

“I wanted to let you sleep,” he said, and turned to walk into the kitchen.

She wanted to be relieved that she’d longer be tempted to stare at his dick, but the truth was, the back view was just as enticing as the front. Muscles shifted and rippled under silky skin, well defined and mouthwatering. There was a scar on his left shoulder blade from some long-ago accident, white against the warm brown of his skin, and his jeans were low enough to show off the dimples at the base of his spine.

Shit. She didn’t know he had those. Back dimples were her kryptonite.

Thrown off kilter by the sudden onset of lust, she followed him into the kitchen and tried to find something else to look at.

Of all the changes he’d made to the house, the most obvious ones were here. He’d gutted the kitchen, taking it down to the studs and rebuilding it from scratch, knocking down walls to create one large open room that spanned the back of the house. The kitchen was on one side, and he’d created a lounge area with a gas fireplace and cozy chairs on the other.

Soft gray cabinets took up the entire left wall, rising to the twelve-foot ceiling. Space had been carved out for the sub-zero refrigerator and the six-burner range in a deep royal blue that she knew he’d waited three months for.

She’d never considered the attractiveness of kitchen appliances before, but that stove was undeniably sexy.

The run of lower cabinets continued along the back wall, with the sink under the wide window, and ended at the French doors to the back deck. The massive island housed more storage and about an acre of counterspace in gleaming white. There were four barstools on the opposite side, upholstered in a blue velvet that perfectly matched the color of the stove.

She took a seat on one of the barstools and tried not to stare at his back dimples. “The kitchen is my favorite room in your house.”

He picked up a fork and poked at the bacon sizzling in a pan. “Mine, too. And with the custom hood installed, it’s finally finished.”