“Why not? It’s the only kind of chemistry worth talking about. If you don’t believe me, I’d be more than happy to remind you.” He wiggled his brows suggestively.
Reese laughed, even as she felt a responsive twitch between her thighs. “That won’t be necessary. Besides, just a minute ago you were swaying on your feet and could barely keep your eyes open!”
A slow, wolfish grin curved his mouth. “I’m wide awake now. Just say the word, sweetheart, and I’m all yours.”
Oh God. Reese nearly vaulted out of the chair and into his lap. She wanted him, wanted him with every cell in her body, every fiber of her being. It took a monumental act of willpower for her to remain seated, to resist the wicked gleam in his eyes that was pure temptation.
Sitting back and crossing her legs—to stop the vibrations in her clitoris and to appear composed—she tsk-tsked and wagged her finger at him. “Now, Mr. Wolf, is that any way to talk to your new apprentice?”
“Depends on what kind of apprentice you wanna be,” he drawled lazily. “Instruction doesn’t have to be limited to the kitchen.”
Her insides clenched at the unmistakable implication. Smiling coquettishly, she purred, “Who says I need instruction—in or out of the kitchen?”
Michael stared at her for an arrested moment, his grin faltering. When she batted her eyelashes at him, he let out a low, rough chuckle and shook his head, looking slightly dazed. “You’re gonna be the death of me, woman.”
Swallowing a grin, Reese deadpanned, “I hope not. I was just starting to like you again.”
He threw back his head and laughed, the sound so warm and infectious she couldn’t help joining in.
When their mirth had subsided, Michael set his coffee cup on a side table and rose from the sofa, no longer unsteady on his feet.
“Where are you going?” Reese asked him.
“To take a shower—a very cold one. And then I’m gonna get dressed and show you around my beautiful city.”
Her eyes widened as a wave of astonished pleasure swept through her. “Really?
You’d give up your Sunday to take me sightseeing?”
“Sure, why not? You brought me coffee.”
“I can make you breakfast, too,” Reese called after him as he started from the room.
He paused, glancing over his shoulder at her. He looked so surprised and touched by the offer that Reese wondered whether he’d gotten so used to cooking for others that no one ever bothered to cook for him.
“You know what?” he said softly. “I’m definitely gonna take you up on that. But can I get a rain check?”
“Of course.” She smiled shyly. “Do you want to just stop somewhere on the way out?”
“Yeah. And I know just the place.”
The Sunday jazz brunch at Wolf’s Soul was the place to be.
Locals and tourists alike flocked to the restaurant every weekend for an award-winning buffet that included everything from eggs Benedict to crawfish étouffée, along with a toe-tapping dose of live jazz music served up by the Howlin’ Good band. Kids ate free, while college students and senior citizens enjoyed half-price discounts.
All proceeds from the brunch helped to fund nonprofit organizations that benefited Atlanta’s inner-city youth, who were near and dear to Michael’s heart. He mentored at-risk teens, gave them jobs at his restaurant and regularly had them in his studio audience. Two years ago his alma mater, Morehouse College, had established the Michael Wolf scholarship for economically disadvantaged students. Given Michael’s commitment to his community, it was no wonder Atlantans had proudly embraced him as their native son.
An hour after arriving at Wolf’s Soul with Michael, Reese pushed away her empty plate and sighed deeply. “That was absolutely wonderful.”
“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” Michael said, lounging across from her at a small table located on a second-story balcony that overlooked Peachtree Street. Music from inside the restaurant drifted through the double French doors, a lazy blues instrumental. The morning sun hadn’t cranked up the temperature yet, so sitting outdoors was tolerable, even pleasant.
Reese sighed again. Filled with good food and nursing her second mimosa, she felt relaxed and deliciously content. She could have stayed there, with Michael, for the rest of the day.
He smiled, watching her with a look of quiet satisfaction, as he’d done throughout their meal. “Can I get you anything else?”
Reese laughed. “Are you kidding? I couldn’t eat another bite.”
His dark eyes glinted at her. “Are you sure? Our chocolate fountain is very popular.”
She groaned, rubbing her full stomach. “I’m sure it is. But if I go anywhere near it, I’m going to explode. God knows I’ve already eaten way more than I should have.” She shot him an accusing look. “I blame you.”
His expression was one of exaggerated innocence. “Me?”
“Yes, you. You’re the one who kept urging me to try this, and try that. And everything sounded so good I just couldn’t resist. Like that brioche French toast, and the crab cake Benedict. And that sweet potato hash. Mmm, positively divine. Anyway,” she said pointedly, before she got off track, “after all that food we just ate, you have no business even mentioning that chocolate fountain to me. What are you—a sadist?”
Michael laughed, lazily running his finger around the rim of his champagne glass. “I like watching you eat. You take pleasure in food in a way that any chef would appreciate.
There’s nothing worse than pouring your heart and soul into a meal, only to watch someone pick over it because they’re on a diet, or they don’t wanna mess up their lipstick, or they’re afraid to look greedy if they clean their plate and ask for seconds.” His eyes twinkled with humor. “You know how you women do.”
Reese grinned. “I would say you need to stop cooking for such ungrateful wenches, but I seriously doubt you’ve ever had to worry about anyone picking over food you’ve made.”
“You’d be surprised.”
“Well, if I’m ever privileged enough to have you cook for me, I promise to bring a big appetite.”
Michael smiled. “And I promise to leave you satisfied.”
Reese’s mouth went dry. For a moment she just stared at him, wondering if they were talking about food or lovemaking. Either way, there was no doubt in her mind that Michael knew his way around a woman’s body the way he did a gourmet kitchen.
Holding his gaze, she reached for her glass and held it up. “A toast,” she said. “To good food.”
“And endless possibilities,” Michael added silkily, quickening her heart rate.
They clinked glasses and sipped their drinks, staring at each other like they were the only two people in the world. They might as well have been.
Though the restaurant was filled to capacity, they were the only occupants of the small balcony. Reese didn’t know whether this was by accident or design. She didn’t care.
She liked having Michael to herself, though she’d certainly enjoyed watching his interactions with customers when they’d first arrived. He’d gone out of his way to greet as many people as he could, shaking hands, answering questions, hugging elderly grandmothers and coaxing smiles out of babies. Watching him in action, Reese realized that money and fame had not changed him. He’d never forgotten where he came from, and his customers loved him for it.
“Coming here for breakfast was a brilliant idea,” Reese murmured.
“I’m glad you feel that way.” Michael smiled ruefully. “After the way I behaved the other night, I was afraid you’d never want to come near this place again.”
“I wasn’t planning to, believe me.” She chuckled. “I was so mad at you, I even thought about burning your cookbook.”
He shouted with laughter. “Damn, baby, that’s cold!”
Reese grinned wickedly. “Hot, you mean. As in, torched to ashes.”
Michael shook his head at her, his eyes glimmering with amusement and respect.
“You are one
formidable woman, Reese St. James. Remind me never to cross you again.”
She laughed, sipping her mimosa. As she crossed her legs under the table, Michael shifted at the same time. Without warning her foot collided with his firm, muscled calf, sending jolts of sensation shooting up her leg to her loins.
Their gazes locked, a current of pure sexual awareness passing between them. “So this is where you’re hiding!” boomed a deep male voice threaded with laughter.
Michael swore under his breath, staring past Reese with an expression of annoyance mingled with dread.
Curious, she glanced around and saw a man coming toward them with a cocky swagger that could only be rivaled by Michael’s. The stranger was dressed in a well-tailored charcoal suit, his debonair appearance offset by the toothpick dangling insolently from a corner of his mouth.
As he reached their table, his speculative gaze took inventory of Reese’s flushed cheeks and Michael’s scowl before a knowing grin spread across his face.
“What’s up, Wolfman?” he greeted Michael, clapping him on the back. “No wonder your waiters were being so tight-lipped about where you were. You’re up here having a hot date. And speaking of hot…” He eyed Reese with frank male interest, his full lips curving in a smile that had undoubtedly seduced more than a few women into parting with their panties. “Hello, beautiful.”
Reese couldn’t help smiling back. “Hello.”
Grudgingly Michael performed the introductions. “Reese, I’d like you to meet Quentin Reddick. Q, this is Reese St. James.”
“It’s a real pleasure to meet you, Reese.” Quentin held her hand a little longer than was necessary, earning a scowl from Michael.
While both men were tall, wide-shouldered and incredibly good-looking, the similarities ended there. Where Michael was dark and smoldering, Quentin had a golden complexion and bright hazel eyes that sparkled with irrepressible mischief.
“So tell me something, Reese,” he drawled. “Where’s Mike been hiding you?”
She grinned. “Actually, he hasn’t. I’m visiting from Houston.”
“Visiting Mike?”
“Not exactly.” She paused. “I’m going to be his new apprentice on Howlin’ Good. ”
“Is that right?” Quentin slanted a knowing grin at Michael. “You sly, sly dog.”
Michael glared at him. “Don’t you have someplace else to be?”
His grin widened. “Not at the moment. I just came from church and decided to swing by my favorite restaurant to get my eat on.” He winked at Reese. “Best places to meet beautiful single women—the Lord’s house and Wolf’s Soul.”
Reese chuckled. “Good to know you’ve got your priorities straight.”
“Always.” His gaze roamed across her face. “So, what do you do down there in Houston?”
Michael rolled his eyes in exasperation. “What’s up with the interrogation, Q?”
“It’s all right.” Reese smiled at Quentin. “I’m a doctor.”
“A doctor, huh?” His expression turned downright roguish. “Maybe you can help me out with this little problem I’ve been having. See, I—”
“She’s an ob-gyn,” Michael told him smugly.
“She is?” Quentin had the decency to look embarrassed. “Damn. Never mind.”
Michael and Reese laughed.
Deciding to turn the tables on Quentin, Reese asked, “So what do you do for a living?”
“Nothing as noble as what you do,” he answered, lazily dipping his hands into his pockets. “I’m just a lawyer.”
“Q is a managing partner at my brother’s law firm,” Michael elaborated.
Quentin winked at Reese. “Marcus was the only one in this town crazy enough to hire me.”
Michael chuckled drily, shaking his head at Reese. “As much as I’d like to agree with him, he’s being modest—which is rare. The truth is, he was working at one of the biggest law firms in the country when my brother lured him away. Marcus considers Quentin a real asset to his company.”
“I’m impressed.” Reese smiled at Quentin. “Would you like to sit down?”
“No,” Michael said flatly.
“Sure,” Quentin replied at the same time.
They stared each other down. Or rather, Michael glowered while Quentin looked unabashedly amused.
Biting the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing at their standoff, Reese said,
“Don’t mind him, Quentin. Please pull up a chair and join us.”
He did, flashing a triumphant grin at Michael as he sat right next to Reese. She decided not to read too much into Michael’s narrowed eyes and clenched jaw.
“How long have you guys known each other?” she asked, dividing a curious glance between both men.
“Mike and I go way back,” Quentin drawled, stretching out his long legs as he settled more comfortably into the chair. “We grew up in the same neighborhood, went to Morehouse together. Pledged the same fraternity.”
“Another Omega man, huh?” Reese gave him a whimsical smile. “So you’re Q the Que.”
He grinned. “Yep, that’s what they called me.” A wicked gleam lit his eyes. “We called Mike the Wolfman, and not just because of his last name, either. You know that howl he does on his TV show, the famous howl that his fans go crazy over? Well, he’s been doing that for over twenty years. Wanna know how it got started?”
“She doesn’t need to know that,” Michael cut in brusquely.
“Oh, but I want to,” Reese countered. “I happen to really enjoy that howl, and if there’s an interesting story behind it, I’d like to hear it.”
Michael didn’t blink. “No.”
Quentin winked conspiratorially at Reese. “I’ll tell you later.”
“Like hell you will,” Michael growled, leveling a glare at his friend that promised violent retribution if Quentin defied him.
“On second thought, baby girl, it’s probably better that you don’t know.” Quentin’s grave tone was belied by the mischief twinkling in his hazel eyes. “I wouldn’t want to offend your feminine sensibilities.”
Reese laughed. “That bad, huh?”
“That good, you mean.” Quentin sighed nostalgically, drawing a dirty look from Michael.
Reese grinned. She could easily envision the two friends ruling campus parties, along with a pack of rowdy, high-stepping fraternity brothers who rushed the dance floor every time “Atomic Dog” blared over the speakers. With their good looks and killer smiles, Michael and Quentin must have had their way with the ladies. No doubt they still did.
Michael looked relieved when one of his busboys appeared to clear their table and to tell him that his sous chef wanted his advice on wine pairings for tonight’s house specialty.
“Go on and handle your business,” Quentin urged, waving Michael off. “I’ll keep Reese company while you’re gone.”
“Hell, no,” Michael growled, rounding the table.
Before Reese could react, he grabbed her hand, tugged her out of the chair and dragged her downstairs with him.
They spent the rest of the day sightseeing around Atlanta.
Their first stop was the Martin Luther King, Jr. National Historic Site, where they toured the civil rights leader’s birth home, former church and neighborhood. As they strolled the beautifully landscaped grounds of Peace Plaza and walked around the King Center, people recognized Michael and pointed him out excitedly to their companions. But for the most part they kept a respectful distance, perhaps in deference to the solemn locale.
Later, as Reese and Michael stood beside the clear reflecting pool that surrounded Dr. King’s marble tomb, she was so moved that tears welled in her eyes and ran down her cheeks.
Wordlessly Michael pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and passed it to her.
She let out a teary laugh as she dabbed at her eyes. “Only a true Southern gentleman would carry around a hankie in his jeans.”
Michael smiled softly. “I came prepared.”
She sniff
ed. “So you knew I’d be reduced to a blubbering idiot if we came here?”
“You wouldn’t be the first. As many times as I’ve been here, I’m always moved by the experience. Believe me, you have nothing to be embarrassed about.”
His gentle words earned him a grateful, albeit wobbly smile. Reese held up the damp wad of handkerchief. “I’m gonna hang on to this—just in case.”
Michael chuckled softly. “It’s yours.” He reached out, his knuckle gently skimming her cheek as he tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear.
Recipe for Temptation Page 8