Page 13 of Recipe for Temptation

Which, of course, was an understatement. He’d sold out at every signing and had lines wrapped around the block. Before he returned home, his editor called to tell him that the cookbook had just gone into a third printing.

He relayed the good news to his father as he seasoned and whisked the eggs.

“That’s my boy,” Sterling said, beaming with pride. “Life’s good, ain’t it?”

Michael had to agree. His cookbooks were bestsellers, his restaurants were thriving and his TV show still boasted top ratings. Life was definitely good.

So why did he suddenly feel so damn restless and unsatisfied?

As he melted butter in a preheated skillet, his father gave him a sly, knowing smile. “Meet any pretty ladies while you were on the road?”

“Of course.” But none had appealed to him even half as much as the woman from the restaurant.

Shit, he thought with a fresh stab of irritation. He wished he’d stuck around long enough to at least get her real name. Not having that piece of information was bugging the hell out of him.

Giving himself a hard mental shake, he poured the egg batter into the skillet and let it cook for a minute, then added chives, ham and mushrooms. The appetizing aroma saturated the air, bringing a pleased grin to his father’s face.

“I sure have missed your cooking, son. Don’t get me wrong. Frizell’s a good chef, and I appreciate the healthy stuff she makes for me. But she’s no substitute for you. When I woke up this morning and smelled your biscuits baking, I thought I was dreaming. And then I remembered you were back in town.” Sterling’s grin widened. “I couldn’t get downstairs fast enough.”

“Gee, pops, that’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me,” Michael teased.

Sterling chuckled. “The days you cook for me are the highlight of my week. It’s the only time I get to eat whatever I want without having to worry about my cholesterol or fiber intake. Your cooking is a special treat for me, son. So tell your publisher not to send you on any more book tours.” He winked. “At least not for another ten years or so.”

Michael laughed. “I’m sure that’ll go over real well.” He grabbed the skillet handle and flipped the omelet into the air with an elaborate flourish.

His dad grinned with boyish delight. “No matter how many times I’ve seen you do that, it always amazes me. You’re gonna have to teach me that trick one of these days.”

“It’s all in the wrist.”

“So you always say.” Sterling chuckled, perusing the front page of his paper. He’d sooner walk over hot coals than read his daily news online. “Mama Wolf told me you’ve been on her heart lately. Did she get ahold of you?”

“Yeah, we talked yesterday,” Michael said, smiling fondly. His great-grandmother was off doing relief work somewhere in Ghana. The family matriarch was a tireless humanitarian, a renowned genealogist and one of the oldest living residents in Savannah. Nothing slowed her down. She was a phenom, and universally revered.

“She’s really sorry she won’t be here for your season premiere,” his father said, echoing what Mama Wolf had repeatedly told him over the phone, despite his assurances that he understood. “You know she wouldn’t miss the taping without a good reason. You were her first great-grandbaby, and though she’d never admit it, you’ve always been her favorite.”

“I know,” Michael acknowledged with a wink, “but don’t tell anyone.”

“Never in a million years,” his father laughed, flapping open his newspaper. “Anyway, the others will be back from their cruise next week, so they’ll definitely be at the taping.”

By “others” he meant his brother and his wife, along with their eldest son and his family. Four years after tying the knot, Manning and Taylor already had two kids and a third one on the way. They’d been busy, to say the least.

“So what’s on your agenda today? Got a full plate?”

“Yeah,” Michael replied. “Got a meeting with my producers and a couple TV interviews lined up. When I’m done with those, I’m heading straight to the restaurant.”

“You’ve missed being in the kitchen,” his dad said knowingly.

Michael nodded. One of the drawbacks to being a celebrity chef was that he sometimes felt like he did more performing than cooking. Although he understood that touring and promoting his brand were vital to his success, he often wished he could leave that stuff to someone else so he could focus on what he enjoyed most: cooking. He loved being a chef. He loved rising to the challenge of creating unique, delicious meals that would satisfy even the most finicky eaters. He loved the pressure-cooker intensity of the kitchen. He loved taking a new cook under his wing, and he thrived on the camaraderie he shared with his staff. Hell, he didn’t even mind the long hours. Being a chef was physically, mentally and emotionally demanding.

And he wouldn’t trade it for the world.

Turning off the stove, he slid the omelet off the skillet and onto a plate. He garnished it with fresh basil and removed the biscuits from the oven, adding two to the plate and drizzling gravy over them.

As he served his father, Sterling gleefully rubbed his hands together. “Have I told you how grateful I am that you’ve found your calling?”

Michael chuckled. “You may have mentioned it once or twice.”

Sterling ate a forkful of omelet, closed his eyes and let out a hearty groan that made Michael grin.

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