Page 52 of Recipe for Temptation

So he didn’t need a woman by his side to make him feel complete. After the way his marriage had ended nearly thirty years ago, Sterling figured he was better off alone, anyway. Not that he lacked for female companionship. Even a man his age still had needs, and he indulged them discreetly whenever possible. But in the years since his divorce, no woman had ever made him consider taking another stab at marriage.

Until today.

The strangest thing had happened while he and Asha were playing with their grandsons that evening. One moment he’d been tossing Matt into the air; the next moment he was staring into Asha’s laughing eyes and feeling like he’d been sucker punched in the gut. And Asha—who oozed more sex appeal than any woman he’d ever known—had given him the shy smile of a virgin on her wedding night.

Hours later, Sterling was still scratching his head, trying to make sense of that odd little exchange. It was no secret to anyone that he and Asha detested each other, to the extent that if Sterling ever did find himself in the market for a wife, Asha would be the last person on earth he’d ever consider marrying. She was bourgeois, selfish, manipulative and too damn used to getting her own way. Her world revolved around hosting ritzy fashion shows, running her clothing empire and jet-setting to Paris at the drop of a dime, while the highlight of Sterling’s social calendar was the annual fishing trip he took with his retired police buddies. Asha liked champagne and caviar, while Sterling couldn’t fathom why any sane person would willingly eat fish eggs.

They were as opposite as any two people could be and had absolutely nothing in common.

With one exception. They both doted shamelessly on their grandsons.

While Asha would be the first to admit that she’d been a lousy mother to Samara, no one could dispute what an excellent grandmother she was. The boys couldn’t ask for a more loving, attentive grandma.

So it shouldn’t have surprised Sterling to find Asha sitting quietly in a corner when he crept into the twins’ bedroom late that night.

Matthew and Malcolm had been born premature, requiring a monthlong hospital stay that put everyone—especially Marcus and Samara—through the wringer. Though both boys were now as strong and healthy as could be, Sterling had taken to checking up on them in the middle of the night whenever they came for a visit.

Apparently he wasn’t the only one.

The tender expression on Asha’s face as she gazed upon their sleeping grandsons made something tighten in Sterling’s chest.

When she glanced up and their eyes met, a strange current of awareness passed between them.

He froze, staring at her in the warm glow of the lightning-bug nightlight. She sat in the big rocking chair Sterling had bought for the nursery after the twins were born. She wore a silk kimono and matching slippers, and her thick black hair fell in soft disarray about her shoulders. With her face scrubbed clean of expensive cosmetics, she looked even younger than usual. Softer, almost wholesome.

Sterling thought she’d never looked more beautiful.

As he stepped into the room, she raised her finger to her lips, signaling him to be quiet.

He scowled. As many times as he’d snuck into the twins’ bedroom, he’d never woken them up. Stealth was practically part of his DNA.

Feeling Asha’s gaze on him, he walked over to the matching fire-truck toddler beds where his grandsons slept peacefully. Normally he stayed and watched them for a while, basking in the adorable little noises they made in their sleep. But with Asha watching him from across the room, he suddenly felt too self-conscious to linger at the boys’ bedside. So he settled for kissing their foreheads and adjusting their brightly-patterned blankets.

Asha followed him out of the room, shutting the door quietly behind them. “I think Matthew does karate in his sleep,“ she whispered with a soft smile.

Sterling chuckled. “Michael was the same way. That boy slept so wild we could never keep a blanket on him.”

“Hmm. That’s the sign of a restless spirit.”

“Think so?” Sterling pondered his firstborn son, who changed girlfriends the way he changed underwear. If that didn’t qualify as “restless,” nothing did.

“He needs a good woman,” Asha murmured. “Someone to keep him grounded.”

Sterling’s eyes narrowed. “I hope to hell you’re not volunteering yourself.”

Her chin lifted in defiance. “And if I were?”

“Woman, have you lost your damn mind?”

“Keep your voice down!” Asha hissed, glancing up and down the darkened corridor.

Gritting his teeth, Sterling said in a low, controlled voice, “You’d better not have any crazy ideas about sinking your claws into Michael. You’re not right for him.”

“Says who?”

“Me!”

Without realizing it, they’d walked toward the master suite on the opposite wing of the second floor.

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