Recipe for Temptation (20 page)

“Wait a minute,” Reese interrupted. “What do you mean, Warrick speaks highly of Michael? Warrick knows him?”

“Yes.” Raina sounded sheepish. “I’ve been meaning to tell you for months, but between planning the wedding and opening the new spa, I kept getting sidetracked. And I was also hoping to surprise you when Michael showed up at the wedding. I was
so
disappointed when he couldn’t make it. He had to fly to Barcelona to help judge the finale for
Top Chef
or one of those other cooking shows. But he sent us the most amazing wedding gift—”

“How do he and Warrick know each other?” Reese interrupted again.

“They met through a professional organization for engineers. You know, of course, that Michael was a successful engineer in his previous life. At any rate, he and Warrick really hit it off and have been friends ever since.”

“Wow,” Reese whispered. “Talk about six degrees of separation.”

“I know. So, uh, you’re not mad at me for not telling you sooner?” Raina said meekly.

“No.” Reese smiled. “It’s obvious Michael and I were destined to meet eventually, anyway.”

“Obviously.” Raina chuckled. “Don’t think I wasn’t going to comment on the fact that you almost slept with him the first night you met him. That is
so
unlike you, Reesey.

That man must be even finer in person.”

“Words can’t begin to describe,” Reese murmured.

She shuddered at the memory of Michael gilded in sunlight as he stood before his bedroom windows—gloriously naked and fully aroused. When he’d begun stroking himself, it was all Reese could do not to leap over the bed and jump his bones. The knowledge that he’d been deliberately trying to torment her—mission accomplished!—

hadn’t stopped her traitorous body from responding. She’d gotten so turned on that she’d started climaxing even before he left the room, and long after he’d dropped her off at home, her legs were still shaking. The erotic sight of Michael pleasuring himself had been added to a growing collection of images that were permanently seared into Reese’s brain.

“So what happened at the audition?” Raina asked eagerly. “Obviously you guys must have patched things up, or you wouldn’t have been chosen as his apprentice.”

Smiling, Reese opened her mouth to tell her sister about the wacky audition performance that had landed her a spot on Michael’s show.

An hour later, she’d told Raina
everything.
About their wonderful day of sightseeing together, about meeting his family, about watching Michael in his element at the restaurant.

Raina listened in rapt absorption, occasionally interrupting for clarification, laughing at funny anecdotes like their paintball adventure, groaning at their heated fight over Victor’s roses, sighing poignantly at Michael’s romantic overtures and purring wickedly as Reese described—sparingly but honestly—the explosive night of passion they’d shared.

“Oh my God,” Raina breathed when Reese had finished speaking. She sounded completely flabbergasted. “I don’t even know where to begin. I can’t believe how much has happened, and you’ve barely been there a
week!
”

“I know.” Reese sighed.

“If you were the type to play practical jokes, I wouldn’t believe any of this. It’s so incredible!”

“I’m having a hard time believing it myself. It’s been a pretty surreal experience.”

“Oh, Reesey.” Her sister’s voice softened. “Are you…falling in love with Michael?”

Reese choked out a husky laugh that felt like a sob. “According to you and everyone else, I’ve been in love with him for years.”

Raina didn’t laugh. “You know what I mean.”

Reese closed her eyes as tears crowded her throat, making it ache. “I don’t know,”

she whispered.

Raina was silent for a long moment. “What are you going to do about Victor?”

Reese swallowed with difficulty. “I haven’t decided.”

“Well, you’d better decide soon,” her sister gently advised. “Because when he tunes in to Michael’s show on Monday and sees the two of you together, he’s going to realize that he’s already lost you.”

Chapter 15

“N
ervous?”

Reese cut a sideways glance at Michael, who stood beside her in the backstage tunnel leading to the set of his show. “What do
you
think?”

He grinned, unfazed by her rancor.

The more relaxed he seemed, the tighter her stomach knotted until she was one big ball of nerves, sweaty palms and a galloping heartbeat. She’d expected
some
stage fright when the big day approached, but this was ridiculous. She hadn’t been this nervous since her days of doing clinicals as an intern. Her anxiety that morning was further exacerbated by the growing rumble of crowd noise as the studio audience awaited their entrance. She thought there had to be at least a thousand people out there. She was afraid to ask.

“I think I’m going to be sick,” she announced in a thin voice.

Michael chuckled. “That should make for good ratings. My new apprentice, puking all over the set of my kitchen. Nice.”

Reese closed her eyes, trying to concentrate on deep-breathing exercises. A moment later her eyes snapped open, and she stared at Michael in fascinated disbelief. “Are they…

chanting
your name?”

“I believe so.” He winked at her. “I much prefer it when you do it, though.”

Reese blushed at the reference to the way she’d panted, chanted and screamed his name during sex. Though she’d been trying for days not to think about their lovemaking, she was grateful to him for taking her mind off her jittery nerves, if only for a few moments.

“Only you would think about
that
at a time like this,” she grumbled.

His lips curved in a rakish grin. “Food and sex,” he drawled. “A match made in heaven.”

She blushed harder.

The assistant producer, standing nearby, began his countdown.

Reese tensed up again.

Michael reached out and took her hand, his warm touch infusing her with the strength and courage she needed to get through the next hour.

“Just relax and be yourself,” he murmured. “They’re going to love you.”

She gave him a tremulous smile. “How do
you
know?”

Something softened in his gaze. “Because I—”

“And we’re on!”

At the producer’s cue Michael slowly released her hand, whispered, “See you soon,” then strode out to the set to a deafening chorus of cheers and applause.

Reese watched, mesmerized, as he waved to the audience and shook hands with his band members and several random people in the first row. After kissing his mother, Asha and Samara on the cheek, he made his way onto the stage.

A woman yelled out, “I love you, Michael!”

He grinned and blew her a kiss as laughter and catcalls rippled through the crowd.

When a rowdy group of fraternity brothers barked in rapid succession, Michael cupped his hands around his mouth and barked back.

It was, Reese marveled, quite a sight to behold.

When the noise had finally subsided, Michael laid his hand over his heart in a gesture of utmost gratitude. “Thank you so much for that warm Southern welcome. I’m definitely feeling the love right now.”

“We missed you, Michael!” This came from a different woman.

He laughed. “I missed y’all, too. It’s great to be back for a fourth season of
Howlin’

Good,
and I thank all of you for being here and for tuning in at home. Before we get started, how about another round of applause for my family?”

The audience clapped heartily as Sterling, Asha, Celeste, Grant, Marcus and Samara beamed with pleasure.

After acknowledging a few more special guests, Michael continued his introduction.

“We’ve got a lot of exciting things on tap for you this season. But what I’m most excited about is the newest addition to our
Howlin’ Good
family. As you all know, this year we launched a nationwide search for an apprentice. I want to thank everyone who submitted your best recipes to us. We had so many amazing, creative dishes to choose from. But at the end of the day, a clear winner emerged, and when you meet her, I think you’ll understand why. So without further ado, I’d like to introduce you to my new apprentice, the beautiful and talented Reese St. James.”

Reese unglued her leaden feet from the floor and strolled out to the set as she was showered with applause and whistles. Bravely she smiled and waved, inwardly gulping as she took in the size of the studio audience.

As she approached Michael, their eyes met. Suddenly Reese forgot where she was, what she was doing and how she’d even gotten there. No man had
ever
looked at her the way Michael was looking at her now. It was indescribable, a look that drove everything else into the background until he alone was the focus of her attention. The focus of her universe.

This time when her stomach clenched and her pulse quickened, she knew it had nothing to do with stage fright.

As she joined him at the large center island, he gave her an intimate smile that melted her insides faster than a pat of butter tossed into a hot skillet.
What is he trying to do
to me?

“Reese comes to us from Houston,” Michael announced, turning to address the audience. “We got any other Houstonians in the house?”

In response to the enthusiastic smattering of cheers, Reese grinned and pumped her fist in solidarity, which drew some appreciative laughter.

“Reese is a doctor,” Michael continued with a lazy smile, “but she’s taking time out of her busy schedule to study under her favorite chef.”

“That’s right, Michael,” Reese said with just the right touch of breathlessness.

“You’re my
favorite
chef in the whole—” She broke off suddenly. “What’s wrong?”

Michael was frowning down at her white chef’s jacket, which had been monogrammed with RSJ—her initials. “Uh, Reese?”

“Yes, Michael?”

“This
is
my show, right?”

She blinked innocently. “Of course.”

“So…why are you wearing
your
initials instead of mine?”

With a sheepish grin, she eased her hand over the em broidered letters. “Oops?”

Michael scowled, shaking his head at the audience. “So much for being
her
favorite chef.”

As the crowd roared with laughter, Reese and Michael exchanged sly winks.

“There you are!”

Reese turned and smiled as Celeste and Grant approached her, both elegantly dressed in dark evening wear.

“You and Michael were simply amazing today,” Celeste exclaimed, clasping both of Reese’s hands in hers. “I always watch my son’s show and thoroughly enjoy it, but that was one of the most entertaining episodes I’ve ever seen.”

Reese warmed with pleasure, though she’d been receiving similar compliments all evening. “Thank you, Mrs. Rutherford. I’m so glad you enjoyed the show.” She grinned ruefully, confiding, “I was a nervous wreck.”

“No one could tell,” Celeste assured her. “You were a natural.”

“My wife is right,” Grant said, smiling affably at Reese. “If you were anything
but
a physician, I’d encourage you to go into show business.”

“Didn’t I see Michael’s talent agent speaking to you during dinner?” Celeste asked.

Reese laughed. “He gave me his business card and urged me to call him if I ever grow tired of delivering screaming babies for a living—his words, not mine.”

Celeste and Grant laughed.

“And speaking of show business,” Celeste said, giving Reese an admiring once-over, “you look stunning enough to belong on a red carpet.”

Reese beamed. “Thank you very much.”

Outfitted in one of Asha’s exclusive designs, Reese had never felt more glamorous in her life. Wanting to accentuate Reese’s figure, Asha had chosen for her a sleeveless white dress that molded her full breasts, hugged her narrow waist, glided over the curves of her hips and thighs, and ended in a frothy swirl around her feet. It was a sexy, sophisticated ensemble that reminded Reese of something worn by silent-era Hollywood stars. To complete the effect, Asha’s stylist had pulled her hair back and arranged it into a simple but elegant twist, while the makeup artist had applied smoky eye shadow and slicked her mouth with a moist red lipstick.

When they’d finished, Asha had taken one look at Reese and sighed. “Darling, you’re a vision.” While Reese twirled in front of the full-length mirror, Asha had murmured under her breath, “If this doesn’t do the trick, nothing will.”

“Everyone has been buzzing about today’s show,” Celeste said, breaking into Reese’s musings. “If I didn’t know better, I would think it was Michael’s, not Asha’s party.” The satisfied gleam in her eyes made it clear what she thought of
anyone
stealing Asha’s spotlight.

After everything Asha had done for Reese, she would have felt guilty taking sides against her. And she didn’t necessarily agree with Celeste’s assessment, anyway.

But one thing every attendee could agree upon that night: both Michael and Asha knew how to throw one hell of a party. Asha had spared no expense, and Michael’s catering crew had more than delivered. The food had been lavish and plentiful, wine flowed freely and the decorations were top-notch. The lush garden sparkled with thousands of fairy lights, and piazzas had been specially erected on platforms to represent Asha’s new line of Italian-inspired clothing. Tables grouped together invited guests to linger after dinner to enjoy the starlight and the elegant music provided by a five-string quartet.

As Reese surveyed the sea of strangers garbed in glittering attire, she was struck by the presence of celebrities and fashion heavyweights who had turned out en masse to celebrate the opening of Asha’s latest boutique. There were editors from
Vogue,
Mademoiselle, Essence, Cosmopolitan,
along with some international reporters and members of the local press.

With Samara in tow, Asha circulated among her guests—greeting friends with double-cheek kisses, introducing acquaintances and lightly admonishing reporters who tried to claim an exclusive with her. “The time for interviews is over,
chère,
” she could be heard saying. “Now it’s time to play.”