Recipe for Temptation (23 page)

Sterling wanted Michael to be happy, and Reese, God bless her, seemed to be just what the doctor ordered—no pun intended.

Asha sighed blissfully. “Looks like we’ll be planning another wedding in the garden soon.”

“We?”

“Of course. We both know you can’t be trusted to help plan a wedding. For starters, we already know what you’d include on the reception menu.”

Sterling scowled without rancor. “Michael happens to love barbecue. He’s been grilling since he was ten years old.”

“He’s a world-renowned chef,” Asha said drily. “He can’t serve pork ribs and beans at his own wedding. And Reese is a doctor—”

“From Texas, another barbecue-loving state.”

“—who’d expect nothing less than a classy wedding.”

Sterling guffawed. “Classy, hell. Reese is one of the most down-to-earth girls Michael has ever brought home.”

“Are you saying she’s not classy?” Asha challenged.

“Of course not. She’s got more class in her pinky finger than most people I know.

But she’s not fussy or pretentious. She’s genuine. I think that’s one of the many qualities my son loves about her.”

“It doesn’t hurt that she’s exquisite. That body.” Asha sighed. “I’m already looking forward to designing her wedding gown.”

Sterling smiled softly. “Watching her and Michael on that dance floor—him in a tux and her dressed in white—it felt like we were already at their wedding.”

“I know.” Something in Asha’s quiet, triumphant voice made Sterling wonder if she’d orchestrated the whole thing. It wouldn’t surprise him. The woman was a damn control freak.

As if to prove his point, she said, “They can honeymoon at my chateau in France.”

Unnerved by the decisive finality in her tone, as if the matter were a foregone conclusion, Sterling muttered, “Michael has a cottage in Italy. I’m sure they’d want to honeymoon there instead.”

“Of course. How romantic.”

Asha’s casual mention of her French chateau was just another reminder of the vastly different worlds she and Sterling inhabited, as illustrated by tonight’s glitzy bash. Gussied up in an Armani tux, with a champagne flute held awkwardly in his hand, Sterling had felt out of place as Asha led him around the garden, introducing him to her snooty friends.

Between the French and the couture lingo, Sterling had had a hard time following any conversation. He’d finally given up and retreated to the house to hang out with the normal folks from Michael’s television studio.

He didn’t belong in Asha’s world, and he never would.

This thing between them—whatever it was—would fizzle out as soon as she returned to her glamorous, fast-paced life in New York. If being a cop hadn’t been good enough for Celeste, being a
retired
cop definitely wouldn’t be good enough for the likes of Asha Dubois. Sure, Sterling’s circumstances were much different now than they’d been during his marriage. He was well provided for by his sons, who gave him a generous monthly stipend and saw to it that he never wanted for anything. Hell, if he’d been a greedy, materialistic man, Michael and Marcus would’ve had him living larger than Donald Trump, with vacation properties and luxury cars galore. Those boys loved to spoil their old man, and they made no apologies for it.

But all the money in the world couldn’t buy a woman like Asha.

After finding herself pregnant and divorced by the age of nineteen, she’d become as jaded about romance as Sterling was. Although she’d been romantically linked to several tycoons over the years, she’d made it perfectly clear that she had no interest in shackling herself to another man.

Sterling had no illusions about their future.

They
had
no future.

But that didn’t stop him from wanting her in his bed. They’d been sneaking around for the past week, having the kind of sex that could put a man his age in the hospital. Asha was a sensual, passionate lover who knew how to satisfy a man’s every need. She was also a screamer, which was why they’d relocated their nightly trysts to the guesthouse.

Sterling was so addicted to her that he’d even invited her to accompany him and the family on a relaxing five-day getaway to Sea Island, a luxury golf resort off the coast of Georgia. He’d been thrilled—and shocked—when Asha had agreed to go. Now that her boutique was open and the party was over, there was nothing keeping her in Atlanta. He knew she had pressing matters awaiting her in New York. Her cell phone rang constantly, and she’d frequently been overheard fretting about preparations for her upcoming fall collection. But for whatever reason, she’d decided to extend her stay in Atlanta. And Sterling—to his detriment—couldn’t be happier.

“You never did answer my question.”

Pulled out of his reverie, Sterling gazed down at Asha. “What question was that?”

“Forgot already?”

He chuckled. “I’m old, remember?”

“Mmm,” she purred, snaking a satiny thigh between his legs. “I beg to differ.”

Sterling’s heart thudded. Another night with this woman, and he’d need a damn pacemaker. “Oh, that’s right. You asked me if I think anyone suspects that we’re sleeping together.”

“We haven’t actually done much sleeping,” Asha pointed out.

Sterling gulped. “I don’t think my boys suspect anything, or they would’ve called me out already.” He thought fleetingly of Celeste, who’d been even more hostile to Asha than usual, for reasons unknown. “What about Samara? Has she said anything to you?”

Asha smiled against his chest. “I’ve caught her giving me strange looks every now and then. And I think she was a little suspicious when I told her I’d decided to stay here instead of her house. But I just explained to her that it made more sense for me to be here to meet with the caterers and to finalize preparations for the party. And since we’re all leaving for the coast tomorrow, I don’t have to worry about coming up with another excuse for why I’m still sleeping at your house.”

Sterling grinned. “Sounds like you’ve thought of everything.”

“Mmm-hmm.” Her thigh slid higher. “Wanna hear what I’m thinking now?”

“Why don’t you just
show
me?” Sterling suggested, rolling her onto her back.

She laughed, her arms going around his neck. As he lowered his head to kiss her, she interjected, “Oh, but wait. Aren’t you the one who just said you’re old?”

He flashed a rakish smile. “I’m old, honey. Not dead.”

Chapter 16

R
eese knew what she had to do.

She’d been putting off the inevitable for days, possibly even months. But everything had changed now, and she could no longer run from the truth: she and Victor were over. So there was only one thing left for her to do. She had to end their relationship.

She’d spent the day rehearsing what she would say to him. But when she called him that night, she had to settle for leaving a message on his voice mail: “Victor, this is Reese.

We need to talk. Please call me.”

When the phone rang an hour later, she assumed it was Victor and instinctively braced herself as she answered, “Hello?”

“Hey.”

It was him. The man who’d infiltrated her defenses and stolen her heart, a heart she’d been unable to surrender to Victor. Because she’d been secretly saving it for
him.

“Hi,” she said shyly.

“I miss you,” Michael said in that deep, intoxicating voice that was impossible to resist. “I want to see you.”

A wave of pleasure washed over her. A soft smile curved her lips as she leaned back against the headboard and closed her eyes. “You just saw me, what, five hours ago? We spent half the day together, remember?”

“Half isn’t good enough,” he growled.

Her smile widened. “Aren’t
you
greedy?”

“When it comes to you, sweetheart, I want it all.”

Her heart turned over. She wondered if he knew what he was saying. She was afraid to hope. “I miss you, too,” she whispered.

“So why are we doing all this missing when there’s a simple remedy?”

“I don’t know.” Struck by a sudden suspicion, she asked, “Where are you, Michael?”

“Standing on your doorstep.”

She was already on her feet, her pulse racing with excitement as she rushed through the living room to reach the front door. Hurriedly she unlocked it and yanked it open.

And there he was.

Dressed in a black T-shirt and black jeans, his midnight eyes glittering in the soft glow of the porch light.

They stared at each other, still holding their cell phones.

“Hi.” Reese felt as giddy as a teenager in the throes of her first major crush.

Michael tucked his phone into his back pocket. Without a word, he scooped an arm around her waist and slanted his mouth over hers in a deep, drugging kiss that left her weak-kneed and breathless.

“Mmm,” he murmured, gently suckling her lower lip. “That’s an excellent cabernet.”

Reese smiled dreamily. “Wow. You’re good.” Before calling Victor, she’d drank a glass of wine to calm her nerves.

Michael drew away, mouth twitching as he took her phone from her ear and handed it to her. Reese laughed, embarrassed because she’d forgotten she was still holding it.

His gaze raked over her, taking in her red tube top and denim skirt. “Good, you’re still dressed.”

“Why?”

“I thought we could grab a bite to eat.”

“
Now?
But it’s after eight o’clock.”

He grinned. “And your point is?”

“Well, it’s kind of late to be eating dinner. And after all that food they served us at the studio luncheon, I’m not even sure I have room for anything else.”

“So we’ll eat something light,” Michael proposed.

Reese was skeptical. “Something light, huh? I don’t even want to
think
about how much weight I’ve gained since meeting you, Michael.”

He gave her another slow, appreciative once-over. “You definitely won’t hear me complaining.”

She laughed. “That’s because
you’re
not the one gaining weight!”

But he was already turning her by the shoulders and nudging her in the direction of her bedroom. “Go put some shoes on, woman.”

“Okay, okay. Sheesh, you don’t have to be so boss— Ow!” she yelped as he smacked her lightly on the butt.

He grinned at her. “There’s more where that came from if you don’t hurry up.”

She stuck her tongue out at him. When he took a threatening step toward her, she scampered off with a squeal.

They went to a gourmet market that specialized in imported meats, cheeses and wines. Holding hands and smiling at each other, they meandered through the aisles, adding various items to their basket. A loaf of crusty bread, a thick wedge of Parmigiano Reggiano cheese, some prosciutto ham and salami. It felt so natural, so
right,
to be shopping with Michael that Reese couldn’t help fantasizing that they were already a couple. She imagined them taking weekend trips to the market, then returning home and cooking together, taste-testing each other’s food between slow, lazy kisses. When the meal was ready they’d uncork a bottle of wine and dine by candlelight, then spend the rest of the night making love.

The images were so vivid that an ache of longing flooded Reese’s heart. It shook her to realize how hard she’d fallen for Michael, and how much she wanted a future with him.

God help her if he didn’t feel the same.

When they left the market, he surprised her by heading to his father’s house in Stone Mountain.

“I thought we were eating at your place,” Reese said, puzzled.

“I changed my mind.” He slanted her a glance. “With everyone gone for the rest of the week, we’ll have the place all to ourselves.”

Reese decided not to point out to him that they would have had privacy at his penthouse, as well. As long as they were together, it didn’t matter where they ate.

When they arrived at Sterling’s house, she was so engrossed in their conversation about tomorrow’s taping of
Howlin’ Good
that she didn’t notice where they were going until they’d passed under a wood arbor draped in vines and perennials.

And then they were in the garden, and just as with her first visit, Reese felt as if she was stepping into paradise. The eruption of colorful flowers was breathtaking, while tall oaks, Japanese maple and tulip poplar trees arched overhead in a canopy of foliage that added to the lush surroundings. As impressive as last night’s decorations had been, nothing compared to the spectacular beauty of the garden in its natural state.

Guided by torchlights, Michael led Reese farther down the winding path until they came upon an arched wooden bridge that overlooked a small pond. There, in a nearby patch of green lawn, was a wicker picnic basket perched upon a red-and-white checkered blanket.

Reese gasped, her startled gaze swinging around to Michael’s face. “You did this?”

He smiled. “Surprise.”

“Oh my God,” she breathed. A picnic in an enchanted, moonlit garden. Talk about romantic!

“When did you…?” She trailed off, speechless.

Michael chuckled. “I came right over after I dropped you off this afternoon,” he answered, drawing her down onto the blanket.

Reese gaped at him. “
That’s
why you told me you had things to do.”

He nodded. “Believe me, sweetheart, I wouldn’t have left you if I didn’t have every intention of seeing you again.”

His words sent a melting warmth rushing through her. She smiled, gazing into his dark eyes and falling harder. “This is…Words can’t even describe how wonderful this is, Michael.”

His expression softened. He brushed his fingers across her face, then began removing items from the basket. An assortment of luscious fruit, cheeses and pasta salads to complement the foods they’d bought at the market.

Reese smiled as he produced a bottle of Chianti, filled two wineglasses and passed one to her.

“To romantic moonlight picnics,” she toasted him.

“And many more,” Michael murmured, holding her gaze as they clinked glasses and sipped.

She told herself not to read too much into his words, but it was hard not to when his eyes were filled with such tender promise.