Whitney breathed out. He’d spoken first. She’d won that round of chicken.

She looked over her shoulder at him. “So I’m good to go in this one?”

“You can’t wear this dress in Appleby,” he said, shaking his head.

She frowned and turned. “Why not?”

“This dress is not you.”

He was right.

She’d been dressing in conservative business attire because of her grandfather and dad. She’d been trying to be taken seriously for the past decade by the very men who should have been encouraging her to be involved in the company and proud of the things she’d tried to do. Not that the skirts and pants had worked. But this dress? No way would this have convinced her grandfather she should be introducing a new product to their line.

These guys though? Cam, Aiden, Ollie, and Grant? They were all in. They not only thought it was a great idea, they were very happy to have her leading the charge.

She couldn’t wear this dress to the big dessert-baking competition and auction they were holding in the town square tomorrow. But she would love to hear Cam explain to her why.

It was too clingy. It was too red. It was too sexy. It was too… not Whitney Lancaster.

Which was why she loved it. She wanted to wear this dress. She wanted to have a man—she corrected that almost immediately—she wanted Cam looking at her in this dress exactly the way he was looking at her right now.

Like he was seriously considering how sturdy the desk behind her was and if they were really alone here.

Her pulse skittered under her skin.

They were alone. And that desk was very sturdy.

But, yeah, she suddenly wanted to hear Cam say all of that to her. Would he? Would he just put it out there?

She’d, of course, turn him down. She was not the sex-on-her-desk kind of girl. Either.

But she wanted to be that too…

Not with Cam, of course. That would be really, really, really stupid.

Whitney swallowed and worked on keeping her cool.

She was now thinking about sex on her desk. With Cam. Because of course she was.

He was looking at her like he was too.

And if she were being totally honest with herself—and she really did try to be that—Cam was the only one she could imagine having sex with. Period. Because he was one of three guys she’d had sex with. Ever. And she absolutely knew that it was pathetic and that was probably a huge part of why she was uptight and tense and kind of cool and bitchy at times.

But being Whitney Lancaster meant there weren’t many guys in Appleby who were willing to approach her for dates, and she was not at all the type to go to another town. That would require girlfriends. And a desire to go to bars or clubs or… wherever people went to meet people.

Which meant she’d had sex two other times since her high school boyfriend. Both had been with men she’d met at business conferences. They had been single occurrences. And they hadn’t been all that good.

Whereas having sex with Cam at age eighteen on blankets by the river and the back seats of cars and on the lumpy sofa in the basement at his house and in her bed when her parents were out for the night… had all been amazing.

Facing him now with that hot look in his eyes and her very sturdy desk behind them and her entire body suddenly humming with awareness was truly a test of that cool bitchiness she had going on.

She crossed her arms. “What’s that mean?” she asked about the dress not being her.

But he just gave her a look that said he knew she knew what he meant. “There are no buttons.”

She frowned slightly. “No buttons?”

“Hard to be buttoned-up without buttons.”

Ah. Got it. Ha-ha. “Well, the idea of the contest and auction is that we’re doing something new, right? New ownership, new product, new approach to the business?” She looked down at the dress. “Maybe I need a new look.”

“You’re going to cause heart attacks in that dress, Whit.”

Whit. Ugh. He had to call her Whit? That nickname got to her. He wasn’t the only person who called her that. The other guys did, too, from time to time. But that was the thing… only these guys called her that.

Her family didn’t. Her friends… okay, she didn’t have many friends, and the ones she did kind of have didn’t call her Whit.

But these guys all did. Like friends. Or brothers. It was familiar and affectionate and it always made her feel warm.

But she knew they called her that because Cam did.

And when he had done it in the past, it had unquestionably been affectionate. And hot. It was now too. Probably because of the stupid dress, but right now when he said it, she could remember how he’d said it in those back seats and on those blankets by the river.

She lifted her chin. “Well, thanks.”

He took a step forward. “I’m serious. You can’t wear that to the auction. That’s not a business dress.”

“What kind of dress is it?”

“That’s a sex dress.”

Her eyes rounded. She’d poked but she was still surprised that he’d said it like that. “This is one of Piper’s dresses.”

“It’s not a sex dress on Piper.”

Whitney felt her mouth curving. “Piper looks amazing in all of her dresses.”

Cam nodded. “Yeah.”

“And she’s got better breasts than I do. In every dress.”

His gaze dropped to her breasts again and Whitney could only hope her bra would hide her nipples’ reaction to his attention.

“I don’t know if I’d say that,” he said.

Her mouth was suddenly a little dry but she managed a little laugh. “Piper’s breasts are bigger than mine, no matter what dress we wear, no matter what.”

His gaze made it back to hers. “Bigger maybe. But you said better.”

“You don’t like big breasts?”

“I don’t like any breasts as much as I like yours.”

And there it was. Out loud. Hanging in the air between them. Needing addressing. And all her fault. She’d poked. She’d wanted this.

She swallowed, knowing that her cool and collected expression had finally wavered. Not only did she really like that he liked her breasts, but she also liked the insinuation that he’d never met another pair he liked more. “Thank you,” she finally said.

Because what the hell was she supposed to say to that? She hadn’t really thought that far ahead.

The corner of his mouth kicked up. “You’re welcome.”

She wet her lips again. So now what?

“Your ass too. While we’re on the subject.”

She pressed her lips together now.

“And your—”

“Let’s change the subject,” she said quickly. Her heart was hammering and she was very aware that she was three big steps away from her sturdy desk and about ten seconds away from becoming a sex-on-her-desk girl.

“Anyway,” he said. “You can’t wear a sex dress to the auction.”

“It’s not a sex dress,” she said. “Piper wears this to work.” Then she frowned. “Do you think of sex when Piper wears this?”

She and Cam were talking about sex. This was really not how she’d imagined her night going.

“I do not,” he said. “I…” He seemed to be thinking about how to explain something. “I notice her in this dress. This is a dress that’s hard not to notice. And Piper is gorgeous and she wears the hell out of her dresses.”