Tempt Me at Midnight (3 page)

“Where’s your partner in crime?” he asked her.

“Still in his room.” Lexi slid into the empty chair beside Reese, who gave her a disappointed look. “What?”

“We were counting on you to bring Quentin downstairs,” Reese said. “You know he’s always late to everything, and the baby and I are starving.”

Lexi was mildly alarmed. “You mean you haven’t eaten anything yet? It’s almost ten o’clock!”

“I had a light snack,” Reese admitted with a sheepish grin. “But that’s not the point.

Whenever we all go out to dinner, you always make sure Quentin gets there on time.

That’s, like, your designated role.”

Lexi shrugged, draping a linen napkin across her lap. “I didn’t want to disturb him.

He, uh, had a late night.”

“Actually,” Asha interjected drolly from the other end of the table, “he left the ball half an hour after you did.”

Lexi glanced up in surprise. “He did?”

“Oui.”
Asha held her gaze. “Alone.”

Lexi flushed. “Oh,” was all she could say.

So maybe the sexy supermodel hadn’t spent the night with Quentin. That didn’t mean he hadn’t slept with her. Maybe she’d sneaked into his room for a quickie early that morning. And maybe she’d been sound asleep, or in the bathroom, when Quentin sent his coded message to Lexi.

Asha was studying her, a calculating gleam in her dark eyes that made Lexi want to squirm. She remembered Samara once telling her about Asha’s uncanny ability to ferret out people’s darkest secrets without them uttering a word. Unless Asha had witnessed what transpired on the terrace last night, there was no way she could know that Quentin had kissed Lexi.

Or could she? Lexi wondered uneasily. Was the truth written all over her face?

As she stared at Asha, the other woman’s full lips curved in a quiet, intuitive smile.

“I’m hoping you’ll take my New Year’s toast to heart, Alexis,” she murmured.

Lexi eyed her warily. “What do you mean?”

“With all due respect,
chère,
my words weren’t intended for those of us who are already having plenty of hot, mind-blowing sex.”

Scandalized, Samara gasped. “Mom!”

Michael and Marcus groaned at the thought of their sixty-something father
having
sex, let alone steamy sex. But how could he not when he was married to Asha—a tall, voluptuous, stunningly beautiful woman who oozed more sex appeal than most women half her age?

As Sterling chuckled sheepishly, Samara muttered in exasperation, “When other moms make toasts, they wish people health, happiness and prosperity. But not
my
mother.

My mother tells a roomful of her guests to get laid.”

Asha smiled unrepentantly. “Oh, relax, darling. At least you didn’t have to cover any small ears this time.”

“Where
are
the twins?” Lexi asked, as much to change the subject as out of curiosity. If her face got any hotter, her head would combust.

“The boys already ate.” Samara chuckled wryly. “They were up at an ungodly hour this morning, pestering me and Marcus to take them exploring around the property. Mom’s gardener was kind enough to do the honors.”

Lexi grinned. “Given how huge this place is, you won’t see your offspring for a while.”

The two parents shared a conspiratorial look. “We know.”

Laughter went around the table.

“Don’t start the party without me,” came an amused drawl from the doorway.

Everyone turned as Quentin sauntered into the room with his lazy, rolling swagger.

He was dressed in dark jeans that hung low on his hips and a hunter-green turtleneck that molded his wide shoulders and broad, muscular torso. As Lexi stared at him, she remembered the strength of his arms wrapped around her, the hardness of his chest pressed against hers. They’d hugged countless times before, but last night was the first time she’d ever wanted to cling to him, to rub her aching breasts against his body. She wondered if she’d ever be able to look at him again without reliving those heady, forbidden moments in his embrace.

As he approached the table, Michael wagged his head at him. “’Bout time you got here. My wife was seconds away from marching upstairs and dragging you out of your room.”

Quentin chuckled. “Damn. My bad.” He leaned down to kiss Reese’s upturned cheek. “Didn’t mean to keep you waiting, baby girl. Forgive me?”

Reese grinned at him. “You’re forgiven.”

Lexi did a mental eye roll. It seemed that
no
woman was immune to Quentin Reddick’s charms. Not even pregnant, blissfully married women.

Quentin rounded the table and lowered his long body into the chair across from Lexi. As their eyes met, a strange ripple of awareness raced down her spine. The color of his shirt brought out the green flecks in his eyes, making them appear even brighter than usual. Piercing.

When he winked at Lexi, her heart fluttered like the wings of a caged bird.

Mortified, she could only muster a feeble smile.

A team of servers bearing hot, fragrant platters of food appeared. Asha’s chef had prepared a lavish pancake breakfast, a New Year’s Day tradition in France.

As the meal got under way, Lexi found her gaze straying to Quentin as he conversed with Marcus beside him. As though she were seeing him for the very first time, she mentally catalogued heavy black brows, hazel eyes shaded by long straight lashes, a strong blade of a nose, ruthlessly hard cheekbones, a sculpted mouth and a square jaw. His face was far too masculine to ever be considered pretty, though his glorious golden complexion could inspire poetry when it gleamed in the sun—as it did now. He kept his black hair cropped close to his scalp, but whenever it grew out a little, you could detect the wavy texture he’d inherited from his late biracial father.

As her gaze returned to his lips and lingered, Lexi wondered how she’d never noticed just how lush and sensual they were. Her flesh heated at the memory of them moving slowly and possessively over hers, melting her body until she was nothing more than a quivering jumble of need.

Quentin turned his head then, meeting her gaze. An electric current of awareness passed between them.

“What happened to your friend?” Lexi blurted before she could think better of it.

Those glittering eyes narrowed on hers. “Who?”

“If you’re talking about Giselle,” Asha interjected in an amused voice, “I sent her back to the hotel with my driver.”

Although the château was spacious enough to easily accommodate a royal family and a fleet of their servants, Asha had reserved a block of rooms at a local hotel for her overnight guests, most of whom had traveled three hours from Paris to attend the masquerade ball. She’d made no apologies for limiting her houseguests to family members, which, by extension, included Lexi and Quentin.

Taking a sip of her café au lait, Lexi murmured, “Giselle must have been disappointed to leave.”

“Perhaps.” Asha gave her a meaningful look. “But no woman likes to be a third wheel.”

Lexi faltered, wondering whether she or Giselle would have assumed the unenviable role. Considering that it was Giselle who’d sashayed out of Quentin’s bedroom that morning, it was a safe bet that
Lexi
would have been the odd one out.

Unsettled by the thought, she returned her attention to her delicious plate of crêpes, making a mental note to pay her compliments to the chef after breakfast. As a graduate of a renowned French culinary school, Lexi could always appreciate a well-executed crêpe—

even when she suddenly had no appetite for it.

“I’m so delighted you were able to join us this weekend, Quentin,” Asha said warmly. “We were terribly disappointed when you called to say you wouldn’t be coming.

Alexis took the news especially hard. Not even a day of shopping and sightseeing in Paris could pull her out of her funk.”

“Is that right?” Quentin’s eyes glinted with amusement over the rim of his coffee cup.

Lexi inwardly groaned, wondering what she could have possibly done to land in Asha’s crosshairs that morning.

But a moment later, Asha said to Quentin, “I thought it was quite touching the way you went in search of Alexis as soon as you arrived. My goodness, you barely stopped to greet anyone else.” Her dark eyes twinkled. “If I didn’t know better, darling, I would think you rushed here just to be with Alexis.”

Silence descended over the table as the others exchanged amused, considering glances.

Heart thudding, Lexi stared at Quentin and he stared back, neither denying nor confirming Asha’s suspicion.

Eager to defuse the strange tension between them, Lexi forced out a short, breezy laugh. “Of course Quentin wanted to be with me. We’ve spent just about every New Year’s Eve together for the past twenty years. Old habits die hard.”

“Is that so?” Asha didn’t sound convinced by the explanation.

Even Michael had a speculative gleam in his eyes as he divided a look between his two longtime friends.

Deliberately clearing her throat, Lexi glanced around the table and asked brightly,

“What time are we leaving to go sightseeing?”

“Actually,” Reese hedged, “we were just discussing that before you and Quentin came downstairs. Don’t kill me, Lexi, but I’m not up for another day of sightseeing.

Judging by my swollen ankles and sore back, I must have overdone it at the party last night.”

Michael shook his head at Lexi. “I kept telling her to take it easy, but you know how stubborn she can be.”

Lexi grinned sympathetically. “You know doctors make the worst patients. And since Reese is an obstetrician, she
definitely
thinks she knows best.”

“That’s because I do.” Grinning unabashedly, Reese rubbed her bulging belly and continued, “Anyway, girl, my overprotective husband has sentenced me to a day of cozying in front of a fire and watching movies with him.”

Lexi gave a mock shudder. “You poor woman.”

“I know.” Reese sighed dramatically. “But I’ll survive.” Everyone laughed.

Turning her attention to Samara, Lexi asked hopefully, “What about you and Marcus?”

Samara grimaced. “I’m afraid we’ll have to bail on you too. Dad and Marcus promised to take the boys fishing today, and somehow Mom and I got roped into joining them.”

Lexi was aghast. “
Fishing?
In January?”

“Winter’s the best season to go,” asserted Sterling, an avid outdoorsman. “The lakes are less crowded, and I’ve caught some really big bass this time of year.”

“If you say so, Dad,” Lexi said skeptically.

Asha chuckled. “Believe me,
chère,
I’d much rather follow Michael and Reese’s lead and spend the day lazing around a cozy fire. But a promise is a promise.” Her lips curved. “So it looks as though you and Quentin are on your own until dinnertime.”

“Looks that way,” Lexi said weakly.

When she hazarded a glance at Quentin, he gave her the slow, lazy grin of a scoundrel. A grin she knew all too well.

As her pulse accelerated, she realized that for the first time ever, she was positively terrified to be alone with him.

So much for proving that nothing had changed between them.

A
n hour later, Lexi and Quentin were ensconced in the backseat of a chauffeured car bound for Dijon, the capital of Burgundy and the birthplace of Dijon mustard.

The narrow, rambling roads meandered through a scenic countryside of gently rolling hills covered with dense forests and luscious vineyards that cascaded down sloping ridges. The glazed, multihued roof tiles of châteaus added vivid splashes of color to the landscape. It looked like something right out of a van Gogh painting.

“Oh, look!” Lexi said excitedly to Quentin, pointing to a herd of cattle grazing peacefully on a hillside.

Leaning over to peer out her window, Quentin cocked an amused brow at her.

“Cows?”

“Not just
any
cows,” she archly informed him. “Those are white Charolais cattle, which are specially bred to provide the superior quality of beef used in boeuf bourguignon, Burgundy’s most well-known dish.”

“Wait. Haven’t you made that for me before?”

She smiled. “Several times.”

Quentin gazed at the passing herd of cattle with newfound respect. “God bless each and every one of y’all.”

When Lexi laughed, he grinned at her. And just like that, the awkwardness between them was gone. For good, Lexi hoped, though somehow she knew better.

Soon they arrived in Dijon, a gorgeous city characterized by historic buildings and cathedrals, art galleries and museums, upscale boutiques, antiques shops and medieval half-timbered houses nestled along cobbled streets. There were restaurants and cafés with terraces on every corner, offering gastronomic delights to please any palate.

Lexi took in the amazing sights, sounds and smells with the excited wonder of a child, tugging Quentin from one place to the next. The regal Palace of the Dukes of Burgundy was closed for the holiday, but they were able to explore the courtyards and climb up the Philippe le Bon Tower, which offered a wonderful view of Dijon and the surrounding countryside.

Next they visited the church of Notre Dame, an architecturally beautiful gothic building famous for the unusual gargoyles that covered its facade. There was an owl sculpted into one of the stone walls. In keeping with local custom, Lexi and Quentin took turns placing their left hands on the carving to make a wish.

As they started away, Quentin asked, “What’d you wish for?”

She smiled enigmatically. “If I tell you, it might not come true.”

And that can’t happen,
she silently added. She hadn’t wished for fame and fortune upon the release of her first cookbook next month. She hadn’t even wished for a better relationship with her mother. Instead, she’d offered up a simple but heartfelt prayer that she and Quentin would always remain the best of friends. Because she couldn’t bear the thought of ever losing him.

After stopping at a sidewalk café to enjoy a local favorite—kir, a white wine and cassis apéritif—they headed to an open-air market that specialized in breads, cheeses, wines, spices and sauces. Lexi had only intended to browse, but as they wandered through the bustling stalls, she found herself reaching for one item after another, her mind racing with ideas for different recipes.