Instead, he was at his mother’s lake house, slowly getting soaked by her drooling dog while his family watched this embarrassing situation from the doorway of the kitchen.

“Jasper, bad boy!” his mother said in the same tone she’d used on Adam and his brothers when they were children. It had the same effect on the dog as it did him, and they both backed away.

Adam grabbed Jasper’s collar before he could assault the poor woman again. “Now I know why you were on the front porch,” he said to the dog.

“How many times have I told you not to jump on people?” his mother chided, the anger fading from her words with each wag of her finger. Of course, Adam had been the one a little too eager to jump on his mother’s houseguest just seconds before. Maybe the dog had the right idea, after all. “Adam, please take him out before he does any more harm to poor Lia.”

Lia. So that was the woman’s name. She straightened, a slight tremble lingering in her hands as she smoothed back the golden brown curls that had fallen around her face during the ordeal. The pink flush of her cheeks deepened. “I’m fine, Mrs. Kelly. I was more startled than anything else.”

She looked at him once again, the heat in her gaze confirming his suspicion that she’d been just as affected from their close contact as he’d been. Then she turned around and began cleaning up the chopped vegetables that’d been scattered across the island.

“Come on, you overgrown lap dog.” It took several tugs before Jasper obeyed and left the kitchen with his tail between his legs.

After he’d safely deposited the dog outside, two of his younger brothers ambushed him in the hallway. “Not too shabby, eh?” Dan asked.

“Yeah, Mom might have actually struck the jackpot this time,” Caleb added.

Adam shoved past them. “What are you two talking about?”

“As if it wasn’t obvious.” Laughter laced Caleb’s words. “I’m sorry, Adam, but I don’t think Lia’s on the menu.”

“Now be fair.” Dan crossed his arms in an attempt to look serious, but the twinkle in his eyes was anything but. “I don’t think Adam stands a chance, what with Jasper ready to hump Lia the second he gets near her.”

“True. Adam’s a bit out of practice with the ladies.”

“Let me check what the magic die has to say. You need at least a seven to compete against Jasper.” Dan pulled out the twenty-sided piece of red plastic he’d kept in his pocket since they were kids and rolled it across the floor. “Ouch. A five. Not much hope for you to get lucky tonight.”

“Yeah, yeah, boys. Have a laugh at my expense.” He peered into the living room where his mother chatted away with another woman with the same full lips as the woman in the kitchen. “Let me guess—Lia is the daughter of one of Mom’s friends.”

“Bingo,” Caleb replied. “I’m trying hard to figure out how they were able to cook this one up, though. Somehow Mom won her at an auction.”

“And of course, what would be a better way to make one of us see her as a potential wife than to have her wow us with her cooking?” Dan added.

Adam rubbed the back of his neck. As the eldest, he’d fallen victim to his fair share of his mother’s matchmaking schemes. He jerked his thumb back to the kitchen. “Is she in on it, too?”

“Nope.” Caleb grinned. “In fact, I got the distinct impression she’s in the same boat as we are.”

At least he wouldn’t have to worry about Lia being some gold-digging debutante who grew cow-eyed over the Kelly family fortune. Not that all the women his mother tried to pair him up with were. But they all had a walk down the aisle on their agendas. Was Lia any different?

“What do you think of her?” He watched his brothers closely for any flickers of interest. It was an unspoken rule among the Kelly boys that none of them would go after a girl his brother wanted.

Dan shrugged. “She’s okay, but I’m too busy trying to survive residency to date anyone, especially not when there’s an ER full of hot little nurses I can have flings with.”

“Caleb?”

“No way. Have you seen Kourtney?” He held up his phone to show a picture of a woman with bleached-blond hair and breasts so large, Adam wondered how she was able to walk upright.

Dan’s brows furrowed together as he studied the same impressive features. “They’re fake.”

“Who cares?” Caleb snatched the phone back and slipped it into his pocket. “I’m just thankful she agreed to move to Utah with me.”

For the first time ever, Adam heard a wistful note to his brother’s voice. “Serious about this one?”

“Possibly.”

“Has Mom met her?”

The tips of Caleb’s ears turned red, and he refused to meet Adam’s gaze. “Um, yeah.”

Dan leaned over and whispered, “It didn’t go well.”

Adam’s breath caught. Growing up, he’d always known what was happening in his brothers’ lives. Why didn’t he know about this? “When did that happen?”

“A couple of months ago when Mom came down to Florida.” Caleb ran his fingers through his closely cropped hair. “Kourtney tried to impress her, but Mom was giving her a hard time.”

Based on the picture Caleb had shown him, he could only imagine the exchange between their high-society mother and the woman who looked like she’d landed the starring role in an adult film. “If you want me to try to smooth things over—”

Caleb silenced him by holding up his hand. “Don’t worry about it, Adam. I have this taken care of. You have enough to worry about with the business.”

The business none of his brothers wanted any part in running. Their father had built a fortune in Chicago real estate, but only Adam had shown any interest in taking over it when he died six years ago. The rest of his brothers went on to pursue their own interests, leaving him to shoulder the burden alone. It was what was expected of him, and the big brother role was never easy to shake off. “But if you need any help or advice, you know how to reach me.”

“Thanks, bro.” Caleb bumped his fist against Adam’s and gave him half hug. “But just to let you know, I’m not planning on proposing or anything to Kourtney until after I get back from Bagram. I need to keep my head straight over there, not answer e-mails about wedding shit.”

“Good plan.” Adam patted him on the back and followed his brothers into the dining room that overlooked the lake.

Lia was setting a platter on the center of the table. “Oh, you have perfect timing. I was just about to call everyone in for the first course.”

That uncomfortable rush of heat washed over him as she circled the table, adjusting each place setting. The gentle sway of her hips had his fingers itching to caress their curves, to grab hold of that pert little bottom and press her close to him once again.

“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....