Before she got out of her car, Deja had thrown her coat on and clutched it closed with a gloved hand to dart to Alejandro’s front door. She hung her purse onto one of the hooks on the foyer wall and then turned to face him, letting her coat gape open.

Alejandro’s eyes widened to the size of small saucers. “Can I take your coat?” he asked with a reddening face.

She nodded silently, not that he noticed since he was busy devouring her cleavage with his gaze. She turned slowly and pushed her coat from her shoulders, smiling at the sound of Alejandro’s sharp intake of breath as he took in her bare skin. His fingers skimmed over her skin, raising goosebumps in their wake as he took her coat.

Deja shivered.

He clutched her jacket in his hands as she turned around, his eyes on her in this dress she’d only ever worn for him, even if he didn’t know it. She tried not to fidget under his gaze but couldn’t stop herself from smoothing her hands over her hips.

His eyes followed the movement, and he licked his lips. “You look…” he said, his voice trailing off as a smile formed on his lips.

She swallowed nervously. “What?”

His eyes slowly moved up her body, and Deja felt as if all the muscles in her stomach clenched at his attention.

“You look fucking perfect,” he finally said as he made eye contact with her. “Beautiful.”

She ducked her head and smiled, a small part of her brain wishing she could see herself the way he did.

Thirteen

“I can’t believe you made this,” Deja said for the second, maybe even the third time.

“Men can cook,” Alejandro replied with a chuckle.

“Not many. Certainly none of the losers I’ve dated.”

Alejandro watched as she cringed at her words before taking another dainty bite of salmon and chewing, determined to move on from that admission. He ducked his head to hide his smile at her adorable admission and that simply letting his brother annoy him for a few hours had produced that result. But he didn’t want to deceive her; he liked her too much for that.

“My brother’s a personal chef. He basically told me how to make all this, and I was terrified that I’d burned the salmon as soon as I put it in the pan,” he admitted in a rush.

Her eyes lifted to his, and she swallowed before smiling. “But you still cooked it. You didn’t try and convince me you made Burger King burgers even when I could see the wrappers in the trash.”

“Wait. What?”

“You didn’t offer me a selection of top ramen.”

“No,” he whispered.

“Or bust out the Cheez Whiz for hors d’oeuvres.”

“Please be making this up,” Alejandro groaned.

“I once dated a dude who burnt minute rice.”