Tempt Me at Midnight

by Maureen Smith

  Fighting to ignore her body’s traitorous reaction to him, Lexi walked over to the gleaming Sub-Zero refrigerator and pulled one side open. “What’s your poison?”

  “Water’s good, actually.”

  She grabbed two bottles of Perrier.

  As she handed one to Quentin, he made a face. “Don’t you ever have any real water?”

  “Nope. Want real water?” She grinned, pointing to the sink faucet. “Knock yourself out.”

  “Damn, Lex, that’s cold.”

  She laughed, hopping onto the granite countertop. “That’s what you get for complaining about my Perrier, you ingrate.”

  “Keep talking and I’ll eat all these ribs by myself. And you know I can.”

  “Don’t you dare!”

  He laughed, removing their hot food from the microwave. He passed her a plate, then lowered himself onto the long center island so that they were facing each other.

  Lexi bit into a juicy rib, closed her eyes and groaned. “Mmm. How’d you know I was in the mood for barbecue?”

  Quentin gave her a lazy smile. “Don’t you know by now that I can read your mind?”

  She grinned weakly. “Of course. How could I forget?” Thank God you really can’t!

  “How was your day?” They spoke at the same time, then laughed softly.

  Quentin said, “Do you realize we ask each other that question every day?”

  “We do?” At his nod, Lexi shrugged. “So? What’s wrong with that?”

  “Nothing. It’s just that…Mike and Reese…” Trailing off, he shook his head with a low chuckle. “Forget it. It’s nothing.”

  Lexi ate a forkful of bourbon baked beans. “So how was your day?”

  “Busy. Productive.”

  “I bet. Big day tomorrow.” She grinned at him. “How’s your adrenaline? Through the roof yet?”

  “Not quite.”

  “Really?” That gave her pause. “Well, give it a few more hours, and you’ll be bouncing off the walls.”

  “Probably.” His answering smile was distracted. “How was your day?”

  “Good. Samara and I had a conference call with Reese’s sister, Raina, to finalize the plans for Reese’s baby shower next Saturday. We really wanted to have it in Sterling’s garden, but it’s going to be too cold. So we’re having it at the restaurant. Wait till you see how we decorate the place. It’s going to be so beautiful.”

  “Yeah?” Quentin murmured, chewing his food.

  Lexi grinned wryly. “Wait, what am I thinking? You don’t care about decorations. You probably won’t even notice them ’cause you’ll be too busy flirting with all the single women there.”

  “Of course,” Quentin drawled. “That’s what I do.”

  Hearing the note of sarcasm in his voice, she arched a brow. “That is what you do.”

  “You never know,” he said mildly. “I just might surprise you and keep to myself at the party.”

  “You?” As Lexi started to laugh, he pinned her with a look that instantly shut her up.

  Ducking her head over her plate, she reached for another rib.

  They ate in silence for a few minutes.

  It was Quentin who spoke first. “What else did you do today?”

  “Not much.” Lexi hesitated. “I went to see Mom.”

  “Yeah?” His expression softened. “How’d that go?”

  She shrugged. “It went.”

  Quentin frowned. He knew all too well about her tumultuous relationship with her mother, knew about the physical and emotional scars she bore. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.” She forced a bright smile. “She really appreciated the bottle of wine.”

  Quentin gave her a skeptical look.

  “She did,” Lexi insisted. “She thanked me, said she’d enjoy it.”

  “Okay.” Quentin searched her face, his eyes gentle and discerning. “What’d you argue about?”

  “The usual.” A smile of bitter irony touched her mouth. “If nothing else, Mom’s consistent.”

  Quentin’s jaw clenched. He’d always wanted to protect her from her mother, and it bothered him that he couldn’t.

  “I probably shouldn’t have gone to see her so soon after getting back,” Lexi murmured ruefully. “I should have allowed the glow from Burgundy to wear off first.”

  “Mine definitely hasn’t,” Quentin said quietly.

  They traded soft smiles.

  After another moment, Lexi sighed. “I’ve been thinking.”

  Quentin set his empty plate down. “About?”

  “How small my world is. How limited my experiences have become in recent years.”

  “What’re you talking about?”

  “I’m a professional chef, and I’d never even been to Burgundy.”

  “You’ve been to other parts of France,” Quentin pointed out, wiping his hands on a napkin. “Not to mention several other countries. You’re one of the most well traveled people I know, Lex.”

  “Maybe.” She released a deep breath. “I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’m starting to feel restless. Like my life has settled into a routine.”

  Quentin looked bemused. “You signed a six-figure book deal two years ago. Your first cookbook hits the shelves next month. A whole new world’s about to open up for you.”

  At that, Lexi broke into a chorus of “A Whole New World” from the animated movie Aladdin. “Come on, Red,” she teasingly cajoled Quentin by invoking her affectionate nickname for him—“Red” being short for Reddick. “You sing Peabo Bryson’s part.”

  “I don’t think so.” Quentin chuckled, taking a swig of water.

  She grinned at him. “Do you know that song was playing in my head during our balloon ride?”

  “Really?” Quentin paused to consider the lyrics, which she’d forced him to memorize years ago after they saw the movie together—also against his will. “I can see that. It fits.”

  “Perfectly.”

  They smiled at each other.

  Sobering after another moment, Lexi said, “What I’ve been trying to get at is that I need a change of scenery.”

  Quentin’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

  She sighed. “I think it may be time for me to leave Atlanta.”

  Quentin went still. “Leave…Atlanta?”

  She nodded slowly. “Don’t get me wrong. I love the A-T-L. It’s my home, always will be. But there are a lot of painful memories here for me. Everywhere I look, I see reminders of demons I need to exorcise. Even this house feels like a prison sometimes,” she admitted, casting a troubled glance around the large gourmet kitchen. It was her favorite room in the house she’d once shared with her ex-husband, a sales executive she’d met at a nightclub several years ago.

  Quentin frowned darkly. “I’ve told you to move, but you refuse.”

  “I know. And you’re probably right. I should move. But I used to love this house, and I keep telling myself that if I’m patient, I’ll feel that way again someday.” She smiled wanly. “If only starting over were as simple as getting a new haircut and replacing my marriage bed.”

  Something inscrutable flickered in Quentin’s eyes before he glanced down, absently peeling the label off his water bottle. “If you left Atlanta,” he said in a low voice, “where would you go?”

  “I don’t know.” Setting aside her empty plate, Lexi drew her knees up to her chest. “Colby and Summer have been begging me to join them in New York for years. They share an apartment, but they said we could get a bigger one if I moved in with them.” She shrugged. “It might be fun to live under the same roof as my siblings again.”

  “What about your job?”

  “There are other Le Cordon Bleu schools around the country, so I could easily transfer to any one of them. Honestly, with my credentials, I could teach just about anywhere.” She paused. “Maybe even France.”

  Quentin’s head snapped up. “France?”

  “Sure, why not? I went to a French culinary school. I lo
ve the food, speak the language.” She smiled. “Maybe I’d move to Burgundy and open my own café, something cozy where I could work on my cookbooks when it’s not busy. Maybe Asha would let me rent a room in her château.”

  “Wow,” Quentin said softly. “Sounds like you’ve given this a lot of thought, Lex.”

  “Not before today,” she admitted. “But on the drive home from Mom’s I had time to reflect, do some soul searching.”

  “Soul searching,” Quentin repeated without inflection.

  She nodded.

  Hazel eyes probed hers. “Was there anything else you…searched your soul about?”

  Lexi held his gaze for a long, charged moment. “Not really,” she lied.

  A shadow crossed his face.

  Silence lapsed between them. Stretched uncomfortably.

  Quentin was the first to break it. “Well, I should go,” he murmured, rising to his feet. “Got some briefs to look over.”

  “Of course.” Lexi swallowed reflexively. “I’ll walk you out.”

  She hopped down from the counter, prepared to follow him out of the room.

  Without warning Quentin turned around.

  Before she could react, he cupped her face between his big hands and crushed his mouth to hers. She gasped, the heat of his lips sending electric shockwaves through her system. Her hands jerked up to his chest to push him away, but her body overrode the mental command and her arms slid around his neck instead. He growled deep in his throat, the primitive sound igniting her blood.

  His arms banded tightly around her waist, drawing her fully against him. His body was hot, hard and powerfully male, reminding her of the contrast in their size and strength.

  His tongue licked at her lips, then slid past them to tease the tip of hers. She trembled, parting her lips wider to take him deeper. He plunged inside, his tongue exploring her mouth with hungry, masterful strokes that sent liquid fire racing through her veins, pounding into her sex. She found herself lifting on tiptoe to get even closer to him, to press her aching nipples into his chest, to grind her pelvis against the hard, heavy ridge of his erection.

  He dragged his mouth from hers to plant kisses across her cheekbone, muttering raggedly, “I’ve been trying like hell to forget what you smell like. What you taste like. What you feel like.” His tongue traced the shell of her ear, making her shiver. “But it’s no use. I can’t get you out of my mind. I need you, Lexi. Need you so damn much.”

  A whimper of longing escaped her throat.

  “You’re not leaving me,” he growled, his voice rough with anger and desperation. “Not without a damn fight.”

  Her heart thundered in her chest. “Quentin—”

  He took her mouth again, silencing her with a deep, plundering kiss that left her moaning and clinging tightly to him. All these years, she silently marveled. How could she not have known that he was capable of this kind of raw, soul-shattering passion? How could she not have known?

  He lifted her with breathtaking ease and set her down on the counter, groaning thickly when she wrapped her legs around him. She clung to his big, muscled shoulders as their mouths meshed and parted hungrily, sharing the same warm breath. She was drowning in the taste of him, the intoxicatingly male scent of him. As she ran her hands down his firm, muscled butt, she wondered what it would be like to experience the full power of this desire unleashed, to allow Quentin to make love to her just once.

  Deepening the kiss, he sank one hand into her short hair, sifting the layered strands through his fingers. With his other hand he reached under her shirt. She shivered as he traced the curves of her body, skimming the underside of her bare breast. He cupped her in his palm, and she cried out at the feel of his fingers kneading her sensitized breast, his thumb brushing across her erect nipple. Need tore through her body.

  And finally shocked her back to sanity.

  She wrenched her mouth from his, gasping and trembling violently. “No,” she whispered. “We can’t do this.”

  He groaned hoarsely. “Lex—”

  “No. I mean it, Quentin. No more.” She flattened her hands against his chest and shoved him away—or at least tried to. He was as immovable as a concrete wall.

  Slowly he raised his head to meet her gaze, his bright, heavy-lidded eyes glittering with fierce arousal. Tension radiated from his body. The hard, pounding rhythm of his heart vibrated against her palms.

  She dragged in a deep, shaky breath. “You shouldn’t have kissed me,” she told him with as much composure as she could summon. “And I shouldn’t have let you.”

  “Why not?”

  “Why not?” she echoed incredulously. “Because we’re friends, Quentin.”

  “Friends make the best lovers,” he murmured, gently stroking a hand down her hair.

  Her belly quivered, and she resisted the urge to lean into his touch like a purring, contented cat. Jerking her head away, she said firmly, “Look, what happened in France was a mistake.”

  “It didn’t feel like a mistake,” he countered huskily. “And neither did this.”

  “Well, it was. And it can’t happen again. I’m serious, Quentin. Don’t push me too hard, or I’ll—”

  “What?” he taunted, challenge flashing in his eyes. “You’ll run away? Pretend this never happened? Good luck with that.”

  She stared at him, torn between anger and confusion. “Why are you doing this? Why are you trying to ruin our friendship?”

  “I’m not,” he said softly. “Your friendship means more to me than anything, Lex.”

  Her heart constricted. “Then don’t do this to us, Quentin. Please.”

  He held her imploring gaze for what seemed an eternity.

  Finally he stepped back and helped her down from the counter. But instead of releasing her, he trapped her against the cabinet with his long, muscular legs on either side of hers. Her breath lodged in her throat.

  Leaning down, he brushed a tender kiss across her forehead and whispered in her ear, “This isn’t over.”

  She trembled, swallowing hard. “I think it’s time for you to go.”

  But long after he had left, his whispered promise echoed through her mind, taunting and tormenting her. Because she knew better than anyone how relentless and determined Quentin Reddick could be when he set his sights on having something, whether he was enduring the rigors of pledging a fraternity or earning a law degree. He’d never let anything stop him from pursuing—and getting—what he wanted.

  If Lexi were to have any hope of resisting him, her will would have to be stronger than his.

  Much stronger.

  Otherwise, she was in for a world of heartache.

  Chapter 7

  “This is Valerie Becker, reporting to you live from the Court of Appeals as we gear up for the fifth day of testimony in one of the biggest whistle-blower trials the state of Georgia has ever seen. The defense’s star witness is expected to take the stand today to…”

  The woman’s excited voice droned on as Lexi hurried past the buzzing crowd of reporters and cameramen gathered on the courthouse steps. She was running late thanks to traffic, which had been even worse than usual that morning.

  As she’d stewed in her car, inching along at a maddening crawl, her insides had churned at the thought of seeing Quentin for the first time since they’d shared that explosive kiss at her house nearly a week ago. She’d been so shaken by the kiss that she’d seriously considered not showing up for any part of the trial. But Quentin was her best friend, and this was one of the biggest cases of his career. No matter what had recently transpired between them, she knew how much he’d appreciate having her there to root him on. That’s what friends were for.

  Once inside the courthouse, Lexi passed through a metal detector and another security checkpoint before making her way quickly to the courtroom. As expected, it was packed, filled with spectators who’d been lured by the prospect of watching a corrupt health-insurance company get its comeuppance.

  Standing in the back
of the noisy courtroom, Lexi scanned the crowd, hoping against hope that she’d find an empty seat near the front. But after several moments she heaved a sigh of disappointment, knowing she’d have to settle for sitting all the way in the back.

  As she moved to claim a spot before even more people arrived, she spied a man rising from his seat near the front, just three rows behind the plaintiff’s table. She watched as he strode briskly down the aisle, his expression alarmed as he spoke into the cell phone pressed to his ear.

  Seizing the opportunity, Lexi made a beeline to the recently vacated seat before someone else beat her to it. Once settled, she trained her gaze on the plaintiff’s table. Her pulse quickened at the sight of Quentin, who was conferring with one of his associates from the law firm, their heads bent close together.

  Lexi stared, her eyes tracing the line of Quentin’s strong profile to follow the path of his broad shoulders beneath an expensively tailored dark suit. Her belly clenched at the memory of clinging to those shoulders as she and Quentin devoured each other’s mouths. She’d wanted him so damn bad. If she hadn’t come to her senses and pulled away when she did, there was no telling—

  “All rise!” the bailiff called out, interrupting Lexi’s reverie—and not a moment too soon. “The Honorable Judge Clayton Greer, presiding.”

  Everyone in the courtroom stood as the tall, gray-haired judge emerged from his chambers and took his seat on the bench. His eyes went immediately to Quentin, who was buttoning his suit jacket and smoothing a hand over his silk tie. Meeting the judge’s austere gaze, he smiled—a slow, lazy smile that hinted at his irreverent nature.

  The judge frowned and shook his head slightly, no doubt wondering for the millionth time what he’d done to land Quentin—a relentless troublemaker—in his courtroom.

  Lexi grinned wryly to herself. I feel your pain, Judge Greer. Believe me, I do.

  Quentin was facing a formidable adversary.

  It wasn’t the presiding judge, a grizzled relic whose jaundiced glare made it clear he was no fan of Quentin’s. And it wasn’t the team of smug, high-powered lawyers smirking at him from the table across the aisle.

  No, the adversary Quentin faced was fear.