Tempt Me at Midnight

by Maureen Smith

  And then, without warning, he pulled out of her and rolled her onto her back. He pushed her legs open, braced himself on his arms and reentered her with one deep thrust, capturing her sobs in his mouth.

  Her shaking thighs were spread achingly wide as he began pumping into her, now showing her no mercy as she writhed and arched beneath him. He countered every surge of her hips with heavier strokes, driving her back down into the mattress. Her hands rushed blindly over his flexing back and down to his butt, clamping over the firm, clenching muscles.

  This was more than sex. This was soul-shattering, life-altering lovemaking.

  Poised above her, his face taut with passion as he gazed into her eyes, Quentin commanded, “Say my name.”

  “Quentin,” Lexi whimpered.

  “Louder, damn it. Sing it from the rafters. Chase away these damn ghosts.”

  “Quentin,” she sobbed.

  “Louder.” He pulled back and thrust deep. “Louder!”

  “Quentin!” she screamed as her body exploded in an orgasm of such cataclysmic proportions she swore she wouldn’t—couldn’t—survive it.

  A moment later Quentin erupted. With his head thrown back, the sinewy cords of his neck straining and his powerful body bucking, he shouted her name in a hoarse, rapturous voice that brought tears to her eyes.

  As the waves of ecstasy crashed over her, breaking her down and liberating her, she clung tightly to him and wept with sweet, glorious abandon.

  Quentin gathered her protectively into his arms, cradling her head against his chest and holding her like he’d never let go. “I love you,” he whispered fervently. “I love you so damn much I can’t breathe without you.”

  Her heart soared, and an unspeakable joy blazed through her. She gazed into his eyes through a sheen of tears and whispered, “I love you too, Quentin.”

  And deep inside her heart, buried so deep she’d been afraid to go anywhere near it, another truth echoed. I always have.

  Chapter 16

  “Ma? Where y’at?”

  “In here, baby.”

  Munching on a juicy apple he’d swiped from the kitchen, Quentin followed the sound of his mother’s voice to the sunroom located at the rear of her house. She was humming softly as she folded linen napkins and placed them around a table set with her best china and crystal. A centerpiece of fresh-cut flowers from her garden perfumed the air.

  “Howdy,” Quentin said around a mouthful of apple.

  “Hey, June bug. How are—” She glanced up. And froze. “Lord have mercy,” she breathed, looking as if she’d seen a ghost.

  Quentin would have glanced over his shoulder to check for an apparition hovering behind him, but he knew the ghost his mother saw was reflected in his own face.

  After several moments, Georgina Reddick blinked to clear her vision and let out a shaky laugh. “I’m sorry, baby. Goodness gracious. You look more and more like your daddy every day. It catches me by surprise sometimes.”

  Quentin smiled quietly. “I know.”

  She gazed at him a moment longer, then shook her head as if to banish the memories of her late husband, a police officer who’d been killed in the line of duty when Quentin was thirteen.

  As she resumed folding napkins, Quentin sauntered over and leaned down to kiss her upturned cheek. Draping an arm around her shoulders, he surveyed the elegant place settings on the table. “Your turn to host the monthly book-club luncheon?”

  “Sure is.” She sent him a sly smile. “The ladies will be happy to see you. You know how much they enjoy showing you photos of their daughters and nieces, hoping you might take a shine to one of them.”

  At the thought of being ambushed by his mother’s matchmaking friends, Quentin grimaced. “What time do they get here?”

  “Two o’clock.”

  “I’ll be gone by one.”

  Georgina laughed.

  At sixty-three she was as beautiful as she’d ever been in her youth. With her smooth honey complexion, patrician features and luminous smile, she bore such a striking resemblance to the actress Lonette McKee that strangers often stopped her on the street and asked for her autograph, which tickled her to no end.

  Quentin crunched into his apple. “Need help setting the table?”

  “No, thank you. I’m almost finished.” She poked him playfully in the ribs. “You don’t know the proper way to fold napkins anyway.”

  He grinned. “Didn’t seem like a skill I’d need in order to practice law.”

  She laughed. “Go on with you, boy.”

  Chuckling, Quentin wandered across the sun-drenched room, which was surrounded by walls of glass and overlooked a lushly manicured backyard. It was his mother’s favorite room in the elegant Victorian house he’d bought for her when he made partner at his old law firm. Although he knew he could never repay her for all she’d done for him, that had never stopped him from lavishing expensive gifts on her.

  Georgina came from a proud old Southern family who’d disinherited her when she married Quentin’s father—a brash young amateur boxer from the wrong side of the tracks. After Quentin was born, Fraser Reddick had traded in his boxing gloves for a badge and a steady paycheck. But he’d never forgotten his first love. Quentin’s fondest childhood memories included trips to the gym with his father, who’d taken him into the ring and taught him how to box. The first victim of Quentin’s vicious left hook was a neighborhood bully who’d made the mistake of calling him a pretty boy. That offense, coupled with a lewd slur about Quentin’s mother, had landed the tyrant in the emergency room. Furious and appalled by his violent behavior, Georgina had grounded Quentin for a month and forbade his father from giving him any more boxing lessons. But whenever her back was turned, Fraser had winked at Quentin and whispered proudly, “How’s my champ doing? Man, what a bruiser!”

  Quentin smiled now at the memory. God, he missed his father. Although Sterling Wolf had become like a surrogate dad to him over the years, no one could ever fill the void left by Fraser Reddick. Which was probably why Quentin’s mother had never remarried. She’d loved Fraser so much that she’d defied her powerful family and forfeited her inheritance to be with him. Even after he died, she hadn’t gone crawling back to her parents to beg their forgiveness. Instead she’d channeled her grief into raising Quentin and making sure that he never lacked for anything. Georgina was the epitome of a steel magnolia.

  “So, June bug, I didn’t expect to see you until Reese’s baby shower this evening.”

  Pulled out of his reverie, Quentin turned from the window. “I know. I figured I’d surprise you.”

  Georgina glanced up from arranging silverware on the table. “You did surprise me. Made my day, too.”

  They traded affectionate smiles.

  As Quentin walked over and discarded his apple core in a plastic trash bag filled with cut flower stems, his mother asked, “How’s Alexis?”

  “She’s good.” He smiled softly. “We’re good.”

  “We?” Pausing in her task, Georgina arched a finely sculpted brow. “Is there something you want to tell me?”

  As Quentin grinned at her, he realized how much he’d looked forward to confiding in her. “Lexi and I are dating, Ma.”

  She went still. “Is that so?”

  He nodded, all but bouncing on his heels.

  “Well.” A slow, pleased smile spread across Georgina’s face. “It’s about time.”

  Quentin stared at her in surprise. “What do you mean?”

  “I’ve been wondering how long it would take you to wake up and realize you’re in love with that girl.”

  “What?” Quentin exclaimed, startled. “No, Ma, you don’t understand. This just happened. While we were in France.”

  Georgina smiled, shaking her head slowly at him. “Precious heart, you’ve been in love with Alexis for years.”

  “Years!” Incredulous, he barked out a laugh. “Quit playing, Ma.”

  “I’m not.”

  “What in the world makes yo
u think I’ve been in love with Lexi for years?”

  An intuitive gleam filled Georgina’s dark eyes. “A mother knows these things.” At his skeptical look, she sighed. “Okay. Since you’re a lawyer, I’ll support my case with evidence. Exhibit A? The way you look at Alexis. The way your eyes light up whenever you talk about her. The way you can’t help touching her, even for the briefest moments.”

  Quentin swallowed. “Circumstantial. Those examples don’t prove anything.”

  “All right, Counselor. How about this example? When Alexis got married four years ago, you took it very hard.”

  Quentin clenched his jaw, every muscle in his body going rigid.

  His mother’s expression gentled. “I watched you during the wedding ceremony. You looked positively tortured, sweetheart. When the minister asked if anyone objected to the marriage, I swore you’d be on your feet and charging down that aisle faster than I could say ‘Lord have mercy.’ And you weren’t very sociable at the reception either. Alexis had to practically beg you to dance with her. And the look on your face as you held her? Oh, baby, it just about broke my heart. And what did you do after the reception? You drove to Michael’s restaurant, sat alone at the bar and got drunk. Not drunk from too much celebrating. No, you got lick-your-wounds drunk. The bartender had to fetch Michael to drive you home, you were so incapacitated.” She paused, arching a brow. “Strange behavior from someone whose best friend had just gotten married, don’t you think?”

  Quentin scowled, even as his chest tightened. “I knew she was making a big mistake by marrying that loser. And, yeah, I was a little sad that our friendship wouldn’t be the same.”

  “Are you sure those are the only reasons you were so upset?”

  He held his mother’s quiet gaze a moment longer before his eyes slid away. Shaken and dumbfounded, he scrubbed a hand over his face and blew out a deep, ragged breath. Was it possible? Had he been in love with Lexi for years and not even known it? Or had he been in denial about his feelings?

  “Do you know why you’ve had such a hard time settling down?” his mother gently prodded.

  He sent her an ironic glance. “I haven’t exactly been trying.”

  She smiled, soft and knowing. “That’s because you’ve been secretly holding out for Alexis. No other woman will do.”

  Quentin said nothing.

  His mother’s words had struck a chord deep within him, unearthing truths he’d been unable—or unwilling—to acknowledge until now. Her description of his behavior at Lexi’s wedding was frighteningly accurate. He had been miserable that day, starting from the moment he’d sneaked into the bridal suite and seen Lexi standing in front of the mirror, outrageously beautiful in her simple white wedding gown. He’d wanted a private moment with her, but her mother and bridesmaids had shooed him out of the room, fussing that the bride had to finish getting ready. Later, as Lexi wafted down the aisle toward her groom, she’d sought Quentin out among the gathered guests. When their eyes met, she’d smiled softly and winked. And something inside him had shriveled up and died.

  Over the years, he’d often wondered what he would have said to her if they’d been left alone before the ceremony.

  Now, in a moment of stunning clarity, he realized that he’d intended to beg her not to go through with marrying McNamara.

  Shaken by the revelation, Quentin searched his mother’s face. “Is that why you never said anything to me? You wanted me to figure it out on my own?”

  She nodded, eyes twinkling. “I knew you would eventually. You’re a smart man.”

  He smiled ruefully. “Not smart enough, obviously, if it took me all these years to see what was right in front of me.”

  Georgina chuckled. “Better late than never.”

  “That’s true.” But Quentin was thinking about how much precious time had been wasted. If he’d recognized his feelings sooner, could he have claimed Lexi before Adam McNamara did? Could he have saved her from the pain and heartache of an emotionally abusive marriage? He’d never know, and that saddened him thoroughly.

  His mother was watching him with a quiet, nostalgic expression. “You know, your daddy was quite the ladies’ man when we met. So dashing and daring, and so charismatic. He could charm the skin off a snake, and no woman could resist him. Sound like anyone you know?”

  At Quentin’s sheepish grin, she laughed and gave him a knowing look.

  Sobering after a moment, she continued, “When your father married me, none of those other women mattered. For the sixteen years I had him, that man never once cheated on me. And I never worried that he would. Because he loved me.” She reached up and tenderly cupped Quentin’s cheek. “That’s the kind of love you have for Alexis. A rare, profoundly special love that only comes around once in a lifetime.”

  Quentin swallowed, surprised to feel moisture pricking his eyelids. “I don’t want to lose her,” he confessed, husky with emotion.

  Georgina’s gaze softened. “Then don’t,” she said simply.

  And Quentin vowed, right then and there, that he wouldn’t.

  Chapter 17

  The next two weeks were heaven on earth.

  Lexi and Quentin spent every possible minute together, which was no easy feat considering their busy, demanding careers. But they found creative ways to make it work. When Quentin flew to New York to appear on Larry King Live and Good Morning America, Lexi canceled her classes for the day and went with him, rationalizing that she could kill two birds with one stone by having lunch with her editor while she was in town.

  Once she and Quentin had concluded their business for the day, they locked themselves in their luxurious suite at the Waldorf-Astoria, ordered room service and devoured each other for the rest of the night.

  They spent countless hours in bed together, alternately making passionate love and talking, rediscovering little things about each other that amused and fascinated them. They made up trivia questions to test their knowledge of each other. Neither was surprised when they both passed with flying colors.

  One weekend they tackled the job of repainting Lexi’s family room, which she’d been wanting to do since the divorce. She’d never really cared for the color Adam had chosen, but she’d capitulated to keep the peace. Now, as she worked alongside Quentin, she found it incredibly cathartic to cover the walls with a fresh coat of terra-cotta-colored paint.

  Out with the old, she thought. In with the new.

  When she met Quentin’s gaze, she knew he felt the same way.

  They had nearly finished their task when Quentin suddenly flicked a spatter of paint at her, hitting her squarely in the chest. After she recovered from her shocked indignation, she’d dunked her own brush in the pan and gone after him. Their laughter rang out as they chased each other around the room, taunting and slinging paint at each other. By the time they were through, their hair and clothes were smeared with paint, and the protective cloth draped across the floor was covered with terra-cotta-colored footprints.

  Later, as they cuddled in bed together, Lexi realized that in less than two weeks, Quentin had brought more joy and laughter into her house than she’d experienced in the two years she’d lived there with her ex-husband.

  Near the end of the month, Michael invited Lexi to join him and Reese on Howlin’ Good to promote her cookbook. Halfway through the taping, she was explaining how to prepare one of the featured recipes when Reese abruptly rose from the chair she’d been sitting on.

  Michael and Lexi stared at her. “Are you okay?” they asked in unison.

  “I’m fine.” Reese wore an oddly serene smile. “My water just broke.”

  “What!” Michael exclaimed, rushing to her side as a wave of excited murmurs swept across the studio audience. “We have to get you to the hospital!”

  “I know.” Reese’s calm smile never wavered as he began ushering her from the set. “But isn’t there something you should do first?”

  Michael eyed her frantically.

  Reese sighed, then grinned int
o the camera and blithely announced, “In light of the fact that I’m going into labor…that’s a wrap, folks!”

  Several hours later, Lexi and Quentin entered the quiet hospital room where Reese reclined in the bed, a tiny bundle cradled lovingly in her arms. Michael sat close beside her, as close as he could get without being in the bed with her. Both were beaming with joyous wonder as they gazed upon their newborn daughter’s sleeping face, so enthralled that they didn’t notice their friends’ arrival until Lexi and Quentin had nearly reached the bed.

  “Congratulations,” they chorused softly, so as to not wake the baby.

  The proud parents glanced up at them, both wearing identical rapturous grins. “Hey, you two.”

  “Hey, yourselves.” Lexi and Quentin huddled around the bed to get their first look at the sleeping infant in Reese’s arms. Savannah Wolf had inherited her parents’ exquisite mahogany complexion and had a head full of curly black hair.

  “Oh, my God,” Lexi breathed. “She’s beautiful.”

  Quentin grinned. “She definitely takes after her mother.”

  Michael chuckled. “Nice try, wise guy. But I happen to agree with you.”

  Laughing, Quentin clapped his friend warmly on the back and handed him a Cuban cigar. “You done good, Daddy.”

  “Daddy.” Michael looked dazed. “Wow. I can’t believe I’m a daddy.”

  Reese gave him a teasing smile. “You’ll believe it when you’re getting up for two a.m. feedings and diaper changes.”

  Everyone laughed.

  Lexi added a floral arrangement to an already teeming assortment of bouquets, balloons, teddy bears, chocolates and other gifts that had been brought to the new parents. Then, perching on the edge of the bed, she smiled gently at Reese. “Hey, Mommy. And how’re you feeling after eight hours of labor?”

  “Wonderful.” Reese sighed, gazing down at her daughter. “Seven pounds, twelve ounces wonderful.”