Tempt Me at Midnight

by Maureen Smith

  As she snuggled back under the warm covers and tried to grab a few more winks of sleep, Quentin’s cell phone buzzed on the bedside table, signaling that he had an incoming text message.

  Lexi ignored it and closed her eyes.

  Half a minute later, she heard another buzz. She opened her eyes and leveled a glare at the phone. It wasn’t his BlackBerry, which he reserved for business. This was his personal cell phone, so whoever was trying to reach him would just have to wait.

  Another incoming message sounded.

  Heaving an exasperated breath, Lexi sat up and grabbed the phone, intending to turn down the volume. But when she saw a woman’s name on the caller display screen, she paused.

  Jocelyn—whoever she was—had sent pictures to Quentin.

  At five-thirty in the morning.

  Lexi frowned, an uneasy feeling creeping over her.

  Who the hell is Jocelyn?

  She gnawed her lip, her gaze shuttling between the bathroom door and the phone in her hand.

  Don’t do it, her conscience warned. You know better than anyone that no good can come of snooping through a man’s belongings. It only leads to disillusionment and heartache.

  On the other hand, Lexi argued back, it’s better to know the truth—no matter how painful—than to continue living a lie.

  As she’d already learned the hard way, ignorance was not bliss.

  The phone buzzed again.

  With a sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach, Lexi pressed the button to retrieve the first message.

  An involuntary gasp escaped her.

  It was a picture of a beautiful, dark-skinned woman lounging seductively on a bed. She wore a sultry smile and skimpy red panties, her arms coquettishly crossed over her ample, naked breasts. The text message read: Want to see the rest? Give me a call, Counselor.

  Lexi clicked off the picture with trembling fingers and swallowed the bile that had risen in her throat.

  Why are you so upset? her conscience demanded. It’s not as if you and Quentin are a couple. Just because you shared one hot, unbelievably spectacular night of lovemaking doesn’t mean he’s ready to give up his womanizing ways.

  Besides, she thought cynically, some of the best sex she’d ever had with her ex-husband came right after he’d been with his mistress. Guilt sex, he’d later confessed to her.

  Lexi grimaced. God, she’d been such a fool to think that Quentin Reddick could ever change.

  “Hey, Lex,” he called from the shower. “Sure you don’t wanna join me in here? The water’s real nice and hot.”

  Her temper flared.

  Flinging back the covers, she lunged from the bed, yanked on her rumpled blouse and skirt, then stalked over to the bathroom.

  Inside the steamy glass stall, Quentin stood with his eyes closed and his face lifted to the shower spray as water rushed down his naked, glistening muscles. Ignoring the way her belly clenched, she snatched open the door.

  When Quentin glanced around in surprise, she said with stinging sweetness, “I wouldn’t care to join you, but I’m sure Jocelyn would jump at the chance. Why don’t you ask her?”

  Quentin frowned, blinking water from his long lashes. “Who?”

  “Jocelyn,” Lexi spat, shoving the cell phone up to his face.

  He took one look at the provocative photo, then closed his eyes and groaned. “Lex, it’s not what you—”

  “Save it.” She spun around and marched back into the bedroom, tossing the phone onto the bed. As she retrieved her discarded bra and panties from the floor, she heard the water shut off. She hurriedly tugged on her underwear and pulled down her skirt just as Quentin strode from the bathroom, a towel haphazardly draped around his hips and water streaming down his chest.

  “Listen to me,” he said urgently. “I’m not sleeping with that woman—”

  “Yet.” Lexi smirked, her bra balled up in her fist. “But it’s only a matter of time, right? I mean, I know how fast you work. Well, except in my case. It took you a bit longer to get me into bed, but hey, good things come to those who wait, right?”

  His heavy brows slammed together as he advanced on her. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “Admit it, Quentin,” she taunted, backing away from him. “You’ve always loved a good challenge. And what could be more challenging than getting your best friend of twenty years into bed?”

  He stopped short, staring at her incredulously. “You honestly think that’s what last night was about?”

  Instead of answering that, she demanded, “Who’s Jocelyn?”

  He scowled. “She’s nobody.”

  Lexi snorted derisively. “She must be somebody if she’s up at the crack of dawn sending you half-naked pictures of herself.”

  Quentin started toward her again, the towel sliding precariously lower on his lean hips. “Listen to me—”

  “When?”

  “When what?”

  “When did you meet her, Quentin? Before or after you kissed me in Burgundy?”

  He hesitated, jaw clenched. “I met her last Wednesday. She’s—”

  “So that would be after we got back from Burgundy, correct?”

  “Yeah, but it’s not like that. She’s one of our new clients—”

  “A client? That’s even worse!”

  As Lexi pivoted and strode from the bedroom, Quentin followed her. “Damn it, Lex. If you’d just let me explain—”

  “There’s nothing to explain,” she cut him off. “If you see nothing wrong with sleeping with your clients, that’s your business.”

  “I’m not sleeping with her!” he roared.

  “Well, she seems pretty confident that you will be soon enough. And if she’s just a client, why the hell is she calling your personal cell phone? Explain that!”

  Quentin was hot on her heels as she hurried down the staircase and headed toward the foyer. Her trench coat, shoes and pantyhose lay in a bundle near the front door, taunting her with memories of last night.

  As she jammed her feet into her stilettos, she muttered caustically, “I don’t even know why I’m surprised. I mean, the morning after you kissed me, I saw that supermodel slinking out of your damn room.”

  Quentin frowned. “You saw her?”

  “Sure did. I was on my way to your room to walk you downstairs for breakfast. Before I could even reach the door, Giselle came strutting out in a sexy little dress.”

  “Nothing happened,” Quentin insisted. “She sneaked into my room that morning—”

  “Sneaked?” Lexi repeated skeptically.

  “Yes,” he snapped. “We weren’t staying at a hotel, so I didn’t think to lock my door when I went to bed. Anyway, she was waiting for me when I came out of the bathroom. I politely told her I wasn’t interested and sent her on her way.”

  “Staring at her ass until she was out of sight,” Lexi jeered.

  He scowled. “I wanted to make sure she really left.”

  “Whatever.” Lexi shoved her arms into her coat, working hard not to stare at a bead of water that trickled down his chiseled six-pack and disappeared beneath the waistband of his towel. Note to self: next time you have an argument with a gorgeous hunk, make sure he’s fully clothed!

  As Quentin reached for her, she batted his hand away and snatched her purse off the foyer table.

  He sighed harshly. “Don’t leave like this, Lex. Let’s talk—”

  “There’s nothing to talk about.” She glared at him. “No sane woman would send a man risqué photos of herself unless he gave her the impression that such photos would be welcomed and appreciated. So at the very least you must have flirted with her. Which wouldn’t be so bad if she weren’t your client, and if you hadn’t kissed me the day before and told me that you couldn’t stop thinking about me!”

  “That wasn’t a lie,” Quentin growled. “I can’t stop thinking about you, damn it.”

  “Riiight. I notice you didn’t refute the part about flirting with that woman and leading her on.�
� She shook her head in angry disgust. “You’re so predictable, Quentin.”

  As she spun toward the front door he grabbed her arm. She tried to twist out of his grasp, but he was too strong. Thinking fast, she snatched off his towel and hurled it across the room, as far as she could throw it.

  Cursing a blue streak, Quentin released her and went to retrieve the towel, giving her an opportunity to make her escape.

  By the time he recovered and came after her, she was already at the elevator.

  “Lexi!” he called, striding purposefully down the corridor. “Wait, damn it!”

  One of his neighbors emerged from his condo, took one look at Quentin in his bath towel and arched an amused brow.

  Lexi jumped into the elevator and quickly stabbed the down button. As the doors began to close, she heard the man joke, “You must be losing your touch, Reddick.”

  Scowling, Quentin gave him the finger and stalked back to his penthouse.

  Chapter 11

  That evening, Lexi sat in a plush leather booth tucked into a private corner of Wolf’s Soul. A plate of crab-stuffed mushrooms and an apple martini sat before her, mostly untouched. She had no appetite.

  “Lexi?”

  She glanced up. At the sight of the young, good-looking man standing at her table, she smiled. Her first real smile in hours. “Hi, Byron. How are you?”

  “I’m good.” Byron Devers smiled, flashing dimples that made him look even younger than his twenty-six years. “Mind if I join you?”

  She did, actually. She was in no mood for small talk. But Byron looked so eager that she would have felt like an ogre if she’d refused him.

  “Sure. I’d love some company.”

  He slid into the opposite side of the booth. “You’ve hardly touched your mushrooms. Is something wrong with them?”

  “Not at all. They’re delicious.” She gave him a teasing smile. “So you don’t have to send them back to the kitchen for me.”

  He grinned. “I was just about to offer. I guess old habits die hard.”

  “Yep.”

  Up until two years ago, Byron had been a waiter at the restaurant, a gig he’d had since high school. Michael and Quentin had taken him under their wing, encouraging him to attend Morehouse, their alma mater. He’d worked nights at Wolf’s Soul to help pay for his tuition. When he’d graduated from law school the year before, Quentin had gotten him a job at Marcus’s law firm. Byron was a good kid. Sweet, smart and adorable to boot.

  Smiling, Lexi reached for a crab-stuffed mushroom. “So, how do you enjoy being an associate?”

  He beamed. “It’s great. I’m learning so much, and of course the pay is phenomenal. I’m making way more than any of my classmates from law school who got jobs at other firms.”

  Lexi chuckled. “It’s nice to work for one of the top firms in the country, isn’t it?”

  “Heck, yeah. But the caseload and long hours definitely take some getting used to,” he admitted.

  “I’m sure.” She gave him a sympathetic smile. “Hang in there.”

  He grinned ruefully. “I don’t have much of a choice. Quentin’s a slave driver.”

  “Hmm.” Noncommittal, she nibbled on her mushroom.

  “It was great seeing you at the trial yesterday. You left before I had a chance to say hello.”

  Lexi had been so focused on Quentin that she’d almost forgotten Byron was there. “Yeah, I had to get back to campus to teach a class.”

  He nodded, surveying the paperwork spread out on the table. “So what’re you working on?”

  “A proposal for my next cookbook. Being here at the restaurant always inspires me. And if Michael’s around, I like to bounce ideas off him.”

  Byron smiled. “Your first cookbook comes out soon, right?”

  “Yep.” Vive la Soul contained an eclectic fusion of French cuisine and soul food recipes, Lexi’s signature as a chef. “Anyway, my next proposal is due to my editor next week.”

  Byron took the subtle hint. “I won’t hold you up,” he quickly assured her. “I stopped by for a quick dinner and was just about to leave when I saw you sitting here. I thought I’d come over and say hello.”

  “I’m glad you did,” Lexi said warmly. “It’s always good to see you, Byron.”

  He blushed. “You were always one of my favorite customers,” he told her with a shy smile. “You were never rude or demanding. And you gave the best tips.”

  Lexi was touched. “That’s very sweet of you to say, Byron. Like you, I waited tables to put myself through college, so I know what a thankless job it can be.” She winked at him. “We waiters have to stick together.”

  He grinned. “Most definitely.”

  As she sipped her martini, Byron lingered, making no move to leave. She sensed that he had something on his mind, so she waited.

  Finally he blurted, “Would you like to have dinner with me on Thursday night?”

  Lexi stared at him, thinking she’d heard wrong. “Are you asking me out on a date, Byron?”

  He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “Uh, yes. I am.”

  Lexi set down her glass slowly, wondering why she was so surprised. Michael and Quentin had always teased her about Byron having a crush on her, but she’d never given it much thought. He was like a kid brother to her. Dating him would make her feel like a cougar.

  He was watching her carefully. “I’ve caught you off guard.”

  “Completely.” She chuckled. “I don’t know what to say, Byron.”

  “How about yes?” he suggested hopefully.

  She gave him a gentle smile. “I’m very flattered, but—”

  “Thursday is jazz night at the restaurant. We could have dinner, enjoy some good music. It’ll be fun.”

  “I know. I always enjoy jazz night, and I’m sure we’d have a good time. But I’m afraid I’ll have to pass.”

  He looked crestfallen. “Do you mind if I ask why?”

  “For starters, Byron, I’m too old for you.”

  He frowned. “No, you’re not. You’re only—”

  “Don’t.” She held up a hand. “Never announce a woman’s age. Not to her face anyway.”

  “Sorry.” He grinned sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Guess I still have a lot to learn about women.”

  Lexi smiled, touched by the note of self-deprecation in his voice. He was so sweet, so quaintly innocent. She thought of Quentin, whom she’d also known since he was eighteen. He’d always exuded confidence and charisma, an innate magnetism that had belied his youth. He’d had a swagger long before the word was popularized.

  Stop thinking about him, she silently ordered herself. You’ve already expended enough emotional energy on that man. Enough is enough!

  “Lexi?”

  She blinked at Byron. “Did you say something?”

  “Yeah.” He hesitated. “I asked if there’s anything I can say to convince you to have dinner with me.”

  “Hmm.” She pretended to consider him, cataloguing his clean-cut good looks, dimpled smile, smooth brown skin and warm chocolate eyes. His designer suit accentuated his lean build, and she remembered, from his days as a waiter, that he had a cute tush. He definitely had potential if she’d been on the prowl for a boy toy. Which she wasn’t.

  But maybe you should be, a little voice enticed.

  This Friday marked what would have been her four-year wedding anniversary, a day that was bound to be difficult for her. Maybe a date with Byron was what she needed. A pleasant distraction to help take her mind off her problems—namely, Quentin.

  But she couldn’t use Byron like that. It wasn’t fair to him. “You should be going out with someone your own age,” she told him. “A handsome, successful guy like you? I bet you have to beat the girls off with a stick.”

  He shrugged dispassionately. “I’m not really interested in any of them.”

  I’m interested in you. The words hung between them as clearly as if they’d been spoken.

  Lexi
sighed. “Truthfully, Byron, I’m in a…weird place right now. I’m not sure I’d be very good company.”

  He gazed at her. “This ten-minute conversation I’ve had with you has been the best conversation I’ve had all day.”

  “Oh, kiddo.” She laid her hand over her heart. “You’re really sweet, know that?”

  “That’s what I’ve been told.” He flashed another one of those shy, boyish smiles.

  And she sighed in resignation. “All right. Pick me up at six.”

  On Wednesday night, Quentin drove home a hero.

  He’d just won one of the biggest cases of his legal career.

  After a speedy deliberation, the jury had found in favor of his client, awarding him $2.8 million dollars in compensatory and punitive damages. The hefty settlement was a repudiation of the defendant as well as the entire health-insurance industry.

  Since that morning, news of the verdict had been splashed all over the cable news channels. Quentin had been contacted by reporters from around the country and had received an outpouring of support from perfect strangers, who’d flooded his inbox with emails. He was scheduled to appear on Larry King Live and Good Morning America on Monday.

  At the office, Marcus had broken out Cuban cigars and champagne, and made an effusive toast that had Quentin’s ears burning with embarrassment while his colleagues laughed and ribbed him.

  Old girlfriends and lovers had been blowing up his cell phone all day, coyly offering to help him celebrate his victory in proper fashion.

  Yeah, he was everybody’s hero today.

  Except the one person whose opinion mattered the most.

  For the past two days, Lexi had been ignoring his phone calls. At first he’d been annoyed. Then incredulous. Then dejected. By the time he’d left her a blistering fourth message, he was deadly furious.

  Payback’s a bitch, ain’t it, Mr. Love ’Em and Leave ’Em?

  Quentin scowled as he maneuvered through the busy downtown streets by rote.

  He couldn’t believe Lexi was punishing him for a crime he hadn’t even committed. Since their argument, he’d found himself replaying his consultation meeting with Jocelyn Savoy. He’d analyzed every word spoken, every gesture made, to see whether he’d inadvertently given the woman mixed signals. She was beautiful, no doubt. And he’d often been accused of flirting without conscious thought, like his brain was naturally programmed to do it. Hell, he’d flirted with Reese the first time he met her, and still did so every now and then just to get a rise out of Michael. But it was harmless. He had no desire whatsoever to make a play for his best friend’s wife, and he damn sure wasn’t stupid enough to sleep with a client.