Page 55 of Recipe for Temptation

As if refusing was even an option.

Reese’s phone rang as she stepped through the front door that evening, her arms laden with shopping bags. Bumping the door closed with her hip, she divested herself of her baggage and fumbled the phone out of her handbag on the final ring.

“Hello?” she answered breathlessly.

“Hey,” Michael’s deep voice poured into her ear.

And just like that, her knees went weak.

Dragging her fingers through her hair, she made her way into the living room and sank into the nearest chair. “I just got home,” she said in lieu of a greeting.

“I know.”

“You know?” She glanced around, half expecting to find him lurking in the shadows with his phone to his ear.

Michael chuckled, as if he’d intercepted her paranoid thoughts. “I just spoke to Marcus. Samara called to tell him they were dropping you off and would be home soon.”

“I see. I’m assuming you’d already instructed Marcus to give you a heads-up?”

“Pretty much.” There was a smile in his voice. “How was the shopping trip?”

“Fun. Exhausting.” She sighed. “I see why Lenox Square Mall is considered the shopping Mecca of the South. And Asha wore me and Samara out.”

Michael chuckled. “And she’s the older one. What’s wrong with that picture?”

Reese grinned. “What can I say? The woman was in her element.”

“I can imagine. So, did you get something pretty?”

“I got a lot of something pretty,” Reese said laughingly, surveying the mountain of bags bearing the emblems of glitzy, upscale shops. Not only had Asha handpicked every outfit for her—the woman knew fashion like nobody’s business—she’d also footed the bill for the entire shopping excursion. Though Reese had vigorously protested, Asha refused to take no for an answer.

As expected, they’d received red-carpet treatment everywhere they went, greeted by gushing salespeople who’d tripped over themselves to do Asha’s bidding. The first time they were served champagne, Reese had gaped at Samara, who’d shrugged and grinned, saying, “It’s a pain in the ass, but you get used to it.”

Reese didn’t see how that was remotely possible. Though she’d thoroughly enjoyed shopping with Asha, the dizzying pace of the experience had left her craving a hot, relaxing bath and a glass of chilled wine.

But first she had to get Michael off the phone.

She opened her mouth to tell him goodnight, but what came out instead was, “Where are you, anyway?”

“At the restaurant.”

“You’ve been there all day?”

“Yeah.”

She slipped off her flat sandals and rubbed her sore feet, thinking of their sublimely sensual midnight encounter. It alarmed her to realize that this man, whom she hardly knew, could possess such mastery of her body. If they ever made love, she’d be ruined forever.

“I don’t hear a lot of noise in the background,” she observed.

“That’s because I’m sitting on the balcony,” Michael murmured. “At our table.”

Our table. The words reverberated in her mind as a melting warmth spread through her, a deep longing.

She forced out a laugh that sounded strangled to her own ears. “So now we have a table?”

“Yeah,” he said huskily. “We do.”

“Come on,” she scoffed. “Do you really expect me to believe you’ve never taken another woman up to the balcony?”

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