Francesca considered the question. “Not as much as my sister, but I’ll look.”

Sam watched Francesca slowly turn pages. Her long dark hair rippled with her every movement and caught the light. The rich brown color was a contrast to the mousy brown it had been earlier.

She’d discarded her glasses, the pregnancy belly, and the unflattering dress. In their place she wore a black dress that hugged slender curves and long, sexy legs. Her skin was clear, a pale olive color that appeared luminescent. Hazel eyes-more green than gold or blue-widened as she read an entry. She had the kind of mouth that got a man in trouble, and he found himself wanting to be first in line for whatever she might be offering.

On the way over he’d told himself he was an idiot for asking her to dinner. He’d first offered to help because she’d been in trouble and that’s what he did.

Then he’d looked closer and he’d seen… possibilities.

She closed the wine menu and passed it to him.

“You see anything you like?” he asked.

“I’m going to let you pick.”

“Is it a test?” he asked.

“Maybe.” She turned her attention to her menu. “What’s good here?”

“Everything.”

“Do you already know what you want?”

He waited until she’d glanced up before answering. “I know exactly what I want.”

The words got the reaction he’d been hoping for. Her eyes widened and her take-me-I’m-yours mouth curved.

“One point for your side,” she murmured.

“Are we keeping score?”

“I think I have to.”

“What’s the prize for winning?”

“What do you want it to be?” As soon as she said the words, she held up a hand. “Pretend I didn’t say that.”

He chuckled. “Getting in over your head?”

“A little. I’m not going to ask if you are. I can already guess the answer.”

“Fair enough. What do you want for dinner?”

“I’m not sure.”