Page 75 of Recipe for Temptation

Inwardly she knew she had no right to expect Michael to spend time with her, especially not after the way she’d practically laughed in his face at the mere suggestion of him being boyfriend material. She wasn’t trying to be unkind, but he’d reacted so angrily, as if he were deeply offended.

After shooting their promo spot on Monday, he’d rushed off for a lunch date, and that was the last time Reese had seen him—until today. He’d been so good with her that morning, holding her hand and trying to ease her stage fright. And she would never, ever forget the look on his face as he’d watched her walk toward him. How could he look at her that way, with such tenderness and fierce pride, then turn around and treat her like she didn’t even exist?

And here you thought you’re the expert on giving mixed signals, her conscience mocked.

“Grant and I are going inside for a while,” Celeste told Reese. “Why don’t you come with us, get off your feet for a bit?”

Reese thought of the separate party happening inside the house, where many guests had gathered in the spacious living room to watch the season premiere of Howlin’ Good. The last thing she needed was a reminder of how much chemistry she and Michael shared.

“It’s your big night, too,” Celeste pointed out. “You were a hit today, and a lot of people would love to get to know you better. Come inside and mingle with your new fans, add color commentary to the show while they watch it.”

“Um, that’s okay,” Reese said with a sheepish smile. “I’m fine out here. In fact, I think I’ll go find Samara. She begged me to rescue her from her mother’s clutches at some point this evening.”

Celeste looked unconvinced, but she smiled and allowed herself to be led away by Grant.

As Reese started across the garden, she snagged a flute of champagne from a passing waiter’s tray. She sipped slowly, smiling when she spied Marcus leading Samara onto the empty dance floor. If anyone could rescue Samara from Asha, it was her husband.

Reese’s smile widened when Manning and Taylor emerged from the house, where they’d snuck off to some time ago. Taylor’s cheeks were noticeably flushed and Manning wore a big satisfied grin. Earlier that evening, Taylor had pulled Reese aside to ask her if it was normal for a pregnant woman to crave sex all the time.

Reese had smothered a smile. “All the time?”

“All. The. Time.”

Clearly she hadn’t been exaggerating, Reese mused with a grin. She watched the naughty lovebirds make their way over to Stan and Prissy, who stood laughing and drinking champagne with several others Reese had met after the taping. Manning’s maternal grandmother; his uncle Theo and aunt Winnie and their twin daughters Maya and Zora; and Quentin’s mother Georgina.

Ignoring the interested stares of several men she passed, Reese found an empty table, sat down and took her phone from her tiny clutch. The screen was filled with notifications.

She set her champagne glass down and unlocked the phone to scroll through an endless barrage of text messages, missed calls and social media alerts. There were congratulatory messages from family members and friends, patients and colleagues, neighbors and old professors. Former college and high school classmates had even reached out to her. Most of the comments were some variation of “I can’t believe you’re famous!” and “Michael Wolf is sooo HAWT! I’m jealous!”

There were hundreds of notifications. So many she thought she’d never reach the end of them. Conspicuously, there were no messages from Victor. She didn’t know if that was a good or bad sign.

Before arriving at the party, she’d FaceTimed with her family. Her ears were still ringing from her mother and sister’s excited squeals.

“We’re so sorry we couldn’t be there with you today,” her father had reiterated. “But we definitely plan to attend a future taping. Just keep shining the way you do.”

Reese had smiled. Even if she hadn’t followed in her father’s footsteps and become a doctor, she knew he would always be proud of her.

“Hey, beautiful.”

Reese glanced up from her phone, surprised to find Quentin towering over her, his bright hazel eyes twinkling with that irrepressible mischief she remembered so well.

She smiled. “Hey, yourself.”

“Mind if I join you?”

“Not at all.” Reese wondered if any female with functioning X chromosomes ever refused Quentin Reddick.

She slipped her phone back into her clutch as he folded his long body into a chair and stretched out his endless legs.

“Having a good time?”

Reese grinned. “Not as good a time as you were obviously having with Asha’s models.”

He chuckled lazily. “Blame it on my personal motto.”

“Which is?”

“Work hard, play even harder.”

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