Page 99 of Recipe for Temptation

“I’ve watched the show. After you told me about your apprenticeship I was angry, and I didn’t plan to watch a single minute. But I’m glad I finally did.”

Reese swallowed hard. “Victor?—”

“I hope to hell you know what you’re doing,” he said harshly. “Michael Wolf is a damn celebrity. When he breaks your heart, maybe then you’ll realize he wasn’t worth what you’ve given up.”

The line went dead.

Reese closed her eyes, grateful, at least, that she’d been spared having to make a long, painful breakup speech.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Michael paced up and down his living room floor, his phone pressed to his ear. “Come on, come on,” he muttered under his breath. “Answer the damn phone. Answer the damn?—”

“Hello.”

Relief swept through him like a tidal wave. “Reese? I’ve been trying to reach you since last night! What the hell are you doing in Houston?”

“I came home for the weekend.” She paused. “I guess Drew’s assistant told you.”

“She did,” he snapped. “But why the hell did I have to hear it from her instead of you?”

“Don’t worry,” she said coolly. “I’ll be back on Wednesday to tape the grand finale.”

“I don’t give a shit about the show!” Michael shouted.

“Really? You were singing a different tune yesterday.”

“What’re you talking about?”

Reese sighed. “I overheard the comment you made to Drew before our meeting.”

“What com—” Suddenly Michael froze, the words echoing through his mind like a cruel indictment. She’s a ratings magnet. How could I not be crazy about her?

He’d regretted the careless remark as soon as the words left his mouth. It was a stupid thing to have said, and so far from the truth it was laughable. Except he wasn’t laughing now.

And neither, apparently, was Reese.

“I didn’t mean what I said,” he told her. “You know that, don’t you?”

“Actually, I think you did.” She sounded so calm. Resigned. “I think what you told Drew was more honest than anything you’ve ever told me.”

“What? How can you say that? How can you believe that?”

“The question is, how could I have ever believed otherwise?”

Dread coiled in Michael’s gut. “Reese, listen to me. I?—”

“I’m not angry, Michael,” she interrupted in that mild, implacable tone. “Deep down inside, I’ve always known that our relationship was too good to be true. It’s time for me to stop chasing a fantasy and get back to reality.”

He scowled. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means that I’m returning to Houston after Wednesday’s final taping. Layla’s funding got cut, so she’ll be home early next week. There’s no reason for me to stay in Atlanta.”

“What about me?” Michael growled, desperation mingling with anger. “What about us?”

“There is no us.”

The quiet finality in her voice ripped his heart in half. “Reese, don’t?—”

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