that made it all the more intriguing. “No one likes a whiner.”
He wasn’t sure why, but he found her amusing. “I thought it was don’t eat anything with garlic and wear comfortable clothes.”
For a brief moment, she almost looked horrified. “Your clothes should make a statement. They are a reflection of you.”
“True,” he said matter-of-factly. “You can tell a lot about a woman by the underwear she wears.”
With a sigh, she raised an eyebrow dryly, her tone carefully patient. “By the time you get to her underwear, you should know quite a bit about her already.”
He shook his head. “You go for pastel colors. Lace. No thongs. Nothing see-through. Practical, yet pretty. And not too racy.”
A hint of color appeared on her cheeks, but her tone was defiant. “Have you thought of a question for your contestants yet?”
Cutter rubbed his jaw, enjoying her flushed face. “I take it favorite lingerie choices are out?”
Her answer was a slight narrowing of her eyes and an expression of forbearance that was downright adorable, and Cutter realized his foul mood was long gone. Damn, when had he started enjoying himself? And how could someone so ridiculously optimistic about relationships pull him out of his funk with her militant views on dating? He pulled his gaze from her caramel eyes and tried to concentrate on the task at hand, staring at the blank screen.
Cupid’s longest-running gag was torturing mankind with the opposites-attract rule.
The thought inspired him. “How about—What creates a spark between two people?”
He knew he’d succeeded when the light in her eyes flickered brighter. And the admiration on her face was worth waiting for. “Perfect,” she said, her bone-melting smile of approval skewering his insides.
Jessica turned to the computer and typed. A few moments later, she looked up, her dark, exotic gaze on him. “Love Potion Number Nine’s reply: chemistry. What do you want to say in response?”
Caught in her spell, and captivated by her sooty lashes, he had no idea. “What happened to love potions number one through eight?”
“You can’t mock her user name.”
“Is that first-date rule number two?”
“No,” she said dryly. “It’s just assumed under the one about negative whiners.”
His lips twitched, itching to grin, but he persevered. “You sure have a lot of dating rules.” He forced his gaze from chocolate eyes to the monitor. “Ask her to define chemistry.”
As Jessica entered his question, another contestant’s answer popped onto the screen, and Cutter leaned forward to read it. “Calamity Jane says spark is defined by sexual attraction.”
That was a no-brainer. He looked down at Jessica again, her sweetly spiced scent tantalizing him while her smoky eyes eroded his need for distance. Not only was she beautiful, she was feisty without getting too defensive. Sensual, and confident in her sexuality without being desperate.
Used to be, getting in the zone could only be achieved by high speeds. That feeling of intense focus, a heightened awareness and being both mentally and physically in tune with his body. Now, one look from the beautiful Jessica Wilson and he was in the zone.
And how could he be so attracted to an optimistic, self-styled guru on relationships?
Because he was definitely in tune with his body. Maybe too in tune.
Blood pumped through his veins, disturbing in its intensity. “I’d say Calamity is on to something,” he murmured. “No discussion necessary. I’ll just agree with her.”
Her eyelids flared in panic. “You can’t.”
“Why not?”
“First of all, if you agree then there’s no give and take. No debate is boring. Second of all, spark isn’t defined simply by sexual attraction. The physical is just a small part. Chemistry is a connection based on shared interests.”
Amused, Cutter hiked a brow. “Unless we’re talking about a shared interest in each other’s bodies, that’s not what Calamity Jane said.”
The pink mouth went flat. “Calamity is wrong.”
As Cutter looked down at her, the urge to smile was now almost overwhelming. “Now who’s being negative?” From this angle, he noticed her blouse gapped at the neckline, and the curves of her breasts were cupped in a lacy bra.
He was right, except it was light purple, not pink. Lavender and lace.
Ms. Sunshine was wearing a cliché.
Delight spread through him. He’d changed his mind. Suffering the disruption of his day, enduring the bloodsucking journalist’s chase, both were worth her company.
“Back to Calamity,” Jessica said. “Why don’t we start with this for a response—Sexual attraction is important.” She looked up at him. “What should we add?” Her beautiful gaze looked thoughtful.
A pair of eyes that could make a guy willingly trade his man cave for an evening in a mauve-colored, foo-foo office peddling romance online.
He sent her a faint grin. “How about … I also like a woman who challenges me.”
Her smile was like healing salve on a burn. “That’s better.”
Yes … it was. Cutter’s grin grew more defined. “Oh, and tell her I also have a thing for lavender-and-lace underwear.”
CHAPTER THREE
Disaster.
The fundraiser for the Brice Foundation was going to be a monstrous disaster, and it was all her fault.
Stopping for a red light, Jessica glanced at her watch. She only had ten minutes to get to her dinner date. The past hour had been long, frustrating and infinitely illuminating, and she was amazed she hadn’t pulled out every hair on her head.
And, as if Cutter’s attitude alone wasn’t enough, he’d looked down her shirt. Like an impulsive twelve-year-old riding a testosterone high he couldn’t control. Granted, from his angle on her desk it would have been hard to prevent. But still, mentioning what he saw was less than gallant.
The word gallant had no business existing in the same universe as Cutter Thompson.
In the beginning, she’d been less than thrilled to continue her involvement with Cutter during his Battle of the Sexes participation. Now it seemed it was a blessing in disguise.
Because Cutter Thompson in a stock car was sure to get a woman’s heart racing.
Cutter Thompson in a TV interview was truly electric.
But Cutter Thompson flirting online was a catastrophe.
Every time a contestant responded, his automatic response would have alienated half the participants and a good portion of Miami as well. He didn’t appreciate that a cocky response—where the words weren’t tempered with a handsome face, green eyes that sparkled with humor and a teasing tone—could have disastrous effects.
In retrospect, maybe she should have realized the pitfalls of asking ASCAR’s former number-one driver to participate. When she’d offered to do this stunt for Steve it was to help make it a success, not steep it in shame. And Steve had been right. She should have gone for the local cello player who had won the North American Academy of Musicians’ competition last year. So he’d been a little soft and a bit too sweet. No one would have noticed online.
Now she was stuck with the Wildcard, Master of the Cutting Comment.
And how many years had he been honing that ability to whip out a blithe insult with stunning clarity, just