Tempt Me at Midnight

by Maureen Smith

  Tears glazed her dark eyes. “I need to do this. I have to do this. If you really love me—”

  “If?” he thundered incredulously. “If? I’ve spent the past month—hell, the past twenty years—proving to you just how much I love you! Don’t you ever use the words if and love in the same breath when it comes to my feelings for you!”

  She lifted a trembling hand to her mouth, rapidly blinking back tears.

  As Quentin glared at her, he was struck by an unsettling new thought. “This isn’t just about your parents, is it?”

  Lexi averted her gaze, saying nothing. But her silence spoke volumes.

  Quentin took a small step toward her. “Are you having second thoughts about us?”

  “No! Of course not.” But she wouldn’t look at him.

  His tension mounted. “What’s going on, Lex? When I left town a week ago, everything was great between us. What’s changed?”

  “Nothing. I just…” She trailed off with a helpless shake of her head.

  “You just what?” Quentin prodded.

  She exhaled a deep, shaky breath that ruffled her long bangs. “I don’t know if I’m…secure enough to be with someone like you.”

  “Someone like me,” Quentin repeated with forced calm.

  She nodded, chewing her lower lip. “A man who can have any woman he wants. A man who’s used to having any woman he wants.”

  Quentin frowned. “Lex—”

  “I don’t want to get hurt again, Quentin,” she whispered. “I don’t think I could survive it.”

  His chest tightened. “I’m not going to hurt you, Lex,” he said with quiet urgency. “I love you. What more can I say or do to convince you of that?”

  “I don’t know!” Her eyes were filled with anguished confusion. “And that’s part of the problem. You shouldn’t have to keep trying to convince me. I shouldn’t be wrestling with all these doubts about our relationship.”

  “But you are,” Quentin stated flatly.

  She swallowed hard, nostrils flaring as she fought back tears. “I just need time to get away and think…sort things out.”

  “What’s there to sort out, Lex? Either you love me and want to be with me—or you don’t.”

  She shot him a stricken look. “It’s not that simple!”

  “Bullshit! It is that simple when two people genuinely love each other!” He took another step toward her. “So tell me, Alexis. Do you really love me?”

  “Of course I do!” she cried out. “How can you even question that?”

  “The same way you can question my commitment to this relationship!” Quentin fired back. “After everything we’ve been through, after everything we’ve overcome this past month alone, I can’t believe you still have doubts about whether I can be faithful to you!”

  Guilt flared in her eyes before she glanced away, lips tightly compressed.

  Quentin glowered at her, chest heaving up and down as he fought for composure. He was so damn tempted to haul her into his arms, kiss her senseless, bear her down to the floor and make love to her until she surrendered to his demands. But he didn’t want to seduce her into staying with him. He wanted her to stay because she knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that she could trust him wholeheartedly. He wanted her to stay because she knew she couldn’t live without him.

  Just as he knew he couldn’t live without her.

  “You’re running again,” he said softly.

  “I’m not running!” But her voice broke in contradiction.

  The small velvet box in his pocket was burning a hole through his clothes. But he didn’t pull it out. If she rejected his marriage proposal, it would kill him.

  “Moment of truth,” he murmured, something they used to tell each other to prompt the other into making a difficult decision.

  Lexi swallowed visibly. “Quentin—”

  “Moment of truth!”

  They stared each other down, the space between them charged with so much tension it was suffocating.

  Finally she whispered, “I’m leaving. I have to.”

  Quentin held her gaze a moment longer, then pivoted and strode from the living room.

  She hurried after him. “Please understand, Quentin. Please—”

  He paused at the front door, hand on the doorknob. “You know how you always used to tell me that one of these days I’d push you too far, and you wouldn’t forgive me?” He turned and pointed a finger at her. “If you do this to us—if you leave me—I’ll never forgive you.”

  And with those devastating words vibrating in the air between them, he slammed out of the house, knowing he’d seen it—and possibly her—for the last time.

  Chapter 20

  Paris. The city for lovers.

  Probably not the best place to take refuge if one was nursing a broken heart. But Lexi had always been a glutton for punishment. So over the next four months, she immersed herself in the hustle and bustle of Paris, hoping the City of Light would help chase away the darkness ravaging her soul.

  As she’d hoped, she’d been offered a chef instructor position at the prestigious Le Cordon Bleu school. While she waited for her summer classes to begin, she worked on her next cookbook, inspired by her surroundings. She moved into a studio apartment in the trendy, historic district of Le Marais. Many nights she sat on her balcony with a glass of champagne and quietly toasted the stars. She went for long strolls, meandering down streets lined with outdoor markets, boutiques, cafés and elegant restaurants. She went to the theater and the opera, and spent entire afternoons wandering around museums and art galleries.

  But nothing was the same without Quentin.

  Every time she saw an elderly French couple companionably walking arm-in-arm, she wanted to weep. Although she was only three hours away, she never visited Burgundy. It was hard enough trying to keep the memories at bay without actually being there.

  She missed Quentin so much she ached. She would have given anything to hear his husky laughter, or to hear the excitement and passion in his voice as he told her about a new case. She missed his lazy smile, missed the way his eyes glinted wickedly when he looked at her. Every night she lay awake in bed for hours, craving the heat and strength of his body wrapped around her, buried deep inside her. And she couldn’t help wondering, over and over again, whether she’d made the biggest mistake of her life by leaving him.

  When she first arrived in Paris she’d tried to contact him, sending text messages and emails, playing their favorite songs on his voice mail.

  He never responded.

  After a while she’d given up, dismally realizing that she’d not only lost the perfect lover and companion. She’d lost her best friend.

  One day she ventured to Asha’s upscale boutique on the Champs-Elysees. Since becoming a grandmother, Asha had created a line of maternity and infant wear that had become very popular with many celebrity moms. Lexi wanted to buy some outfits for her goddaughter. Every time Reese emailed new photos of Savannah, Lexi was shocked to see how fast she was growing. And she felt guilty for missing out on so much.

  She was standing in the boutique, fighting back tears as she gazed upon a beautiful maternity blouse, when an amused voice drawled, “Don’t get tears on my merchandise, chère, or I’ll have to charge you for it.”

  Startled, Lexi glanced around and was surprised to discover Asha standing there.

  “Asha! I didn’t know you were in Paris.”

  Asha chuckled. “Darling,” she said, greeting Lexi with a double-cheek kiss, “when am I not in Paris?”

  “Right. Of course.” Asha’s international haute couture house was headquartered there. She somehow managed to divide her time between Atlanta, New York and Paris—and still keep Sterling happy.

  She arched a fine brow at the blouse Lexi was holding. “Is there a reason you’re browsing through the maternity racks?”

  Lexi blushed deeply. “I—I was just, um, looking around,” she stammered, clumsily hanging up the blouse. “Everything you design is a
bsolutely gorgeous.”

  Asha gave her a knowing smile, then took her hand and led her through the busy boutique to a private, luxurious reception area in the back. With barely a snap of her fingers, an assistant materialized out of thin air bearing two glasses of champagne on a silver tray.

  “So, Alexis, are you enjoying your stay in Paris?” Asha asked, gesturing her to join her on an elegant silk sofa.

  “Very much.” Lexi smiled as she sat down. “It is Paris.”

  “Mmm. The last time you were here, you were moping over Quentin because he’d called to say he couldn’t make it for New Year’s.” Asha smiled faintly. “And here you are again, chère, moping over Quentin.”

  Lexi flushed, averting her gaze to take a gulp of wine.

  “He’s not faring much better,” Asha told her. “Michael says Quentin has become such a workaholic that even Marcus is worried. He says Quentin is often the first one at the office, and sometimes he’s still there the next morning when Marcus returns.” She heaved a dramatic sigh. “Looks like the hard-partying, skirt-chasing scoundrel we once knew and loved is no more.”

  Lexi said nothing.

  After another moment, Asha said gently, “You don’t belong in Paris, Alexis. You belong in Atlanta with Quentin. Or have you already forgotten my New Year’s toast?”

  That startled a laugh out of Lexi. “I haven’t forgotten it,” she said dryly. “I doubt that any of your guests have.”

  “Well, darling, I hope they’re doing a better job of fulfilling it than you are.”

  Lexi’s smile faded, and she let out a shaky breath. “It’s complicated.”

  “Love always is.” Asha took a languid sip of wine. “How’s your mother doing?”

  Lexi swallowed. “I don’t know. I haven’t spoken to her in months.” She’d ignored all her mother’s attempts to reach her, even when Carlene had left tearful, rambling messages begging Lexi to return home. She wasn’t ready to let her mother back into her life. She didn’t know if she ever would be.

  Watching the play of emotions across her face, Asha murmured, “Your mother is a bitter, ignorant woman—”

  Lexi bristled defensively. “Now hold on—”

  “—who happens to love you very much,” Asha finished quietly.

  Surprised, Lexi stared at her.

  Asha smiled ruefully. “We’re not so very different, your mother and I. We both made the mistake of trusting the wrong men, and we allowed our mistakes to define the type of mothers we would become.” She paused. “Someday you should ask Samara about the history of our relationship. Ask her how she found it in her heart to forgive me for abandoning her.”

  Lexi regarded Asha for a long moment, then nodded slowly. “I will.”

  “Good.” Asha touched her cheek. “Have you been back to Burgundy?”

  Lexi shook her head. “I can’t,” she whispered.

  Asha gave her a gentle, intuitive smile. “That’s the thing about memories, chère. They follow you wherever you go. But not just the bad ones. The good ones, too.”

  Chapter 21

  His was the first face she searched for when she arrived at the party.

  When she found him, her heart skidded to a complete stop.

  He was playing with Savannah, gently hefting her into the air and making goofy faces at her. The baby’s delighted gurgles and squeals blended with his deep, rumbling laughter, a sound that was pure music to Lexi’s starved ears.

  Drawing a deep breath to shore up her courage, she started across the crowded room, which was filled with friends and family members who had gathered to celebrate Sterling’s sixty-seventh birthday. Even as Lexi exchanged smiles and greetings, she kept her gaze trained on Quentin.

  As she neared him, he turned and gently handed the baby to his mother, who’d been standing beside him awaiting her turn to hold Savannah.

  From across the room, someone called out a boisterous greeting to Lexi. Quentin glanced up sharply, his gaze sweeping over the crowd. When he saw Lexi, those hazel eyes widened in surprise.

  They stared at each other for the space of three breathless heartbeats before his expression grew shuttered and he glanced away.

  As Lexi approached on rubbery legs, Georgina Reddick beamed a smile at her. “Alexis! Welcome home!”

  Lexi smiled warmly. “Hello, Mrs. Reddick. It’s good to see you.” She hugged her, then kissed the top of Savannah’s curly head before meeting Quentin’s remote gaze.

  “Hey,” she said softly.

  “Alexis,” he murmured.

  No smile, no hug for her. She might as well have been a stranger.

  Seeking to cover the awkward moment, Georgina grinned at Lexi. “I know this is your goddaughter, but I’ve been patiently waiting to get my turn to hold her, so you can’t have her yet.”

  Lexi laughed. “That’s okay,” she said, affectionately kissing the baby’s chubby fist. “I spent the day with Reese and Michael yesterday, so Savvy and I already had our bonding time.”

  A flicker of surprise crossed Quentin’s face.

  Lexi had asked their friends not to tell him that she was back in town, because she was afraid that he’d skip the party just to avoid seeing her.

  “How was Paris?” Georgina asked her.

  “Good. But I—”

  “Excuse me.” Quentin abruptly departed.

  Lexi watched him go, her heart constricting painfully.

  Her gaze returned to Georgina, who was regarding her with gentle maternal compassion. “I’m glad you’re back, Alexis,” she said quietly.

  “Me too,” Lexi whispered.

  Georgina searched her face. “Are you staying?”

  Lexi nodded. “Yes.”

  “Good.” Georgina smiled down at the adorable, gurgling baby perched on her hip. “I’m ready to be a grandmother. Catch my drift?”

  Lexi swallowed. “Yes, ma’am.”

  And with that, she went in search of Quentin, hoping and praying that he hadn’t given up on her.

  She found him outside in the gazebo that overlooked the huge, beautifully landscaped backyard. He stood at the balustrade staring out at the light drizzle that had kept the party indoors. He looked incredible, Lexi thought with an ache of deep longing. Breathtakingly virile in a black T-shirt and dark jeans that rode low on his hips, he was definitely a sight for sore eyes.

  Pausing in the entrance to the gazebo, Lexi shoved her moist palms into the back pockets of her jeans. “Mind if I come in?”

  “Free country,” he murmured without turning his head.

  She stepped forward, shaking with nerves. She could feel the tension radiating from his body, warning her to keep her distance. Leaning against one of the support columns, she gazed at him.

  “I missed you,” she said, husky with emotion.

  He didn’t respond.

  “Not a day went by that I didn’t think about you, wondering what you were doing, wondering what kind of cases you were working on, wondering what you ate for dinner. I missed cooking for you, I missed talking and laughing with you. I missed you.”

  He remained silent and impenetrable.

  She forged ahead. “I had to leave, Quentin. I know it was hard for you—”

  His head whipped around. “Hard?” he growled, his voice vibrating with suppressed fury. “You ripped my heart out of my damn chest and dangled it in front of my face. Hard,” he said mockingly, all but spitting the word at her feet before he turned away again.

  She trembled at his harsh outburst, but she didn’t back down. Too much was at stake. “Do you remember when I went to New York to attend culinary school? I was so excited because you’d been accepted into Columbia’s law school, so that meant we’d still be together. But then you decided to go to Emory instead so you could keep an eye on your mother. I was so disappointed, but I understood and supported your decision.”

  A muscle clenched in his jaw. “It’s not the same thing, and you know it.”

  “That’s not the point I was trying to
make.” She took a tentative step toward him. “When I left for Paris, I told myself that we could make it work. I kept reminding myself that our friendship hadn’t suffered while I was in New York and you were here. We were apart for a whole year, but we spoke on the phone every day. Whenever you’d gripe about some class that was kicking your butt, I’d make you laugh with a story about an embarrassing blunder I’d made at cooking school. And whenever I had doubts about whether I had the chops to become a chef, you’d encourage me and remind me what a great cook I was.” She smiled poignantly. “We were always there for each other, so I knew we’d be okay.”

  Quentin fell silent again.

  “That’s what I counted on when I made the heart-wrenching decision to leave you and go to Paris. And make no mistake about it, Quentin. It was the hardest decision I’ve ever made in my life. If you don’t believe that, then maybe you don’t know me as well as I thought you did.”

  He shot her a dark glance that warned her not to pursue that line of thinking.

  Her heart thumped into her throat. She swallowed tightly before continuing, “While I was in Paris, I did a lot of praying and soul searching. And one day I realized something. All these years, I’d always believed that my mother was the reason I came back to Atlanta after graduating from culinary school. I always thought I’d returned home out of a sense of obligation to her, and that same obligation was keeping me here.” She shook her head slowly. “But I was wrong. It was you, Quentin. You’re the reason I rushed back home all those years ago. And you’re the reason I’ve stayed.”

  She watched, breathless, as he bowed his head and gripped the balustrade with trembling hands.

  “I looked in the mirror,” she continued softly, tears misting her eyes, “and I asked myself what I was doing in Paris when my heart was here with you. I love you. And it scares me to realize that maybe, just maybe, some of Adam’s fears were founded. I’m not excusing his deplorable behavior, but the truth is that I’ve always loved you, Quentin. I don’t know if I’ve been in denial all these years, or genuinely clueless. But my eyes are open now, sweetheart. And the greatest gift you could have ever given me was that kiss on the bal—”