Tessa had just set the cake on the table when Leo appeared at the restaurant doorway wearing a plain white apron. She sucked in a breath. She wasn’t sure exactly what got to her the most—his dark wavy hair against the white of the apron, his muscled arms, or the look in his eyes, which was hopeful, excited, and, she would also say, nervous. Judging by the way he walked out and began fussing with the glasses and silverware, making sure everything was perfectly aligned, nervous was correct. And noticeably different from his usual laid-back, easygoing self.

“Hey,” Leo said, stopping his table rearranging to face her, his gaze sliding quickly up and down her in an appreciative way. That’s all it took to bring thoughts of last week rushing back. Of being tangled up with him on that couch, his big arms surrounding her in a way that made her feel safe and yet very much in trouble at the same time.

“How—how are you doing?” she asked. Her stomach was in knots, the back of her neck was sweating, and her palms were clammy. She was a wreck but was making a big effort to be calm for his sake.

They had to get his father’s blessing. Both of them were counting on it. If they didn’t, this whole wild scheme would be in vain.

“You really want to know?” he asked.

“You look completely prepared.” She waved a hand over the table. “And everything looks beautiful.”

“To be honest, I’m a little anxious,” he said, a smile spreading slowly. Because of course he would smile even now.

“You’re going to do amazing.”

“We’re going to do amazing,” he corrected.

“Okay,” she said. “We. Us. However you want to say it.” They were partners. Business partners. Who were becoming friends with an inconvenient attraction. And that was all.

That was all it could be, because after they succeeded in helping their families, she was leaving. For good.

He squeezed her hand quickly, briefly, and she squeezed back. “I’m really glad you’re here.”

That hand squeeze had been so brief, and it had been over in a few seconds. Yet the heat from his touch shot right up her arms and spread everywhere, including into her already-flaming cheeks. She turned away and began fussing with her cake to hide her reaction to his touch. “Can I put this in your fridge?”

He noticed the cake for the first time, examining it closely—the strawberry halves marching in a perfect line all around the perimeter of the cake, a light pastry filling between the layers. And all the fancy icing flowers on top.

He rubbed his neck. Now it was her turn to be nervous. Was it not what he’d expected? Was it too much? Not enough? “Tessa, I—” His steady brown gaze turned from the cake to her. “This is incredible.”