Page 2 of Recipe for Temptation

“Ma’am? Are you okay?”

Reese glanced around, embarrassed to realize that the driver was staring at her, patiently waiting for her to get out so he could be on his way.

She mustered a smile. “Sorry. Got distracted by the scenery.”

“You wouldn’t be the first.” He flashed a congenial grin. “Enjoy your dinner. You can’t go wrong with anything on the menu.”

“So I’ve heard. Thanks for the ride.” Clutching her snakeskin handbag, Reese climbed out of the car.

As she joined the flow of patrons heading into the brick-front restaurant, she couldn’t help feeling an unfamiliar thrill of excitement.

For the past three years she’d dreamed of visiting Wolf’s Soul, a world-renowned restaurant made famous by owner and executive chef Michael Wolf. Reese, whose favorite hobby was cooking, had been a huge fan of the hunky celebrity chef ever since he burst onto the national scene with his cable television show Howlin’ Good. Reese owned all four of his bestselling cookbooks, religiously DVR’d his program and had prepared many of his award-winning recipes for her family and friends, who often teased her about having a crush on the popular chef. Not that anyone in their right mind could blame her. With his dark good looks and smoldering charisma, Michael Wolf had stolen the hearts of women everywhere, solidifying his status as a bona fide sex symbol.

Located just a few blocks from the Fox Theatre in Midtown Atlanta, Wolf’s Soul boasted a clientele that included famous celebrities, athletes and politicians whose images were captured in framed photographs that graced the mahogany-paneled walls. Over the years Michael Wolf had hosted everyone who was anyone—from movie mogul Tyler Perry to President Barack Obama, who’d made a stop at the restaurant during his historic election campaign.

As Reese waited in line to be seated, she wondered if she’d be lucky enough to catch a glimpse of Michael Wolf tonight. Despite his busy schedule—which included the daily taping of his show, book signings and regular visits to his six other restaurants scattered around the country—he still managed to put in several hours a week at the Atlanta location whenever he was in town. As luck would have it, she’d heard on the radio that morning that he’d just returned from a national media tour to begin taping the new season of Howlin’ Good. After years of admiring him from afar, the possibility of seeing Michael Wolf in person filled Reese with giddy anticipation. She’d even brought a copy of his very first cookbook in the hopes of getting his autograph.

As the maître d’ escorted Reese to her table, she eagerly took in her surroundings. With the restaurant’s high ceilings and recessed lights turned strategically low, she felt as if she were entering the heart of a plush cave. The tables were made of gleaming mahogany and accentuated with soft candlelight. Music floated from a baby grand piano tucked into a shadowy corner. The soft, bluesy notes enhanced the intimate ambience without drowning out the pleasant buzz of laughter and conversation.

Reese was led to a small table in a private corner that gave her an unobstructed view of the entire dining room, which was perfect. She could enjoy her meal and people-watch in peace.

After she was seated, the maître d’ passed her a leather-bound menu and a thick wine list. Almost at once, a waiter appeared to fill her water glass and drape a linen napkin across her lap.

After placing her order, Reese glanced around the restaurant. Even on a Tuesday night the place was packed, every table and booth occupied. She made eye contact with an attractive stranger seated alone at a nearby table. When he smiled invitingly and raised his glass, she returned his smile before glancing away.

She hadn’t come to Atlanta looking for romance. In fact, romance was the last thing on her mind these days. For the past year she’d been dating one of her colleagues at the hospital, a cardiothoracic surgeon named Victor Carracci. Handsome, intelligent and gifted, Victor was everything Reese could ever want in a man. In the beginning he’d wined and dined her, bought her flowers and made her laugh. They’d enjoyed each other’s company and seemed compatible…at first.

Over the past several months she’d sensed a growing distance between them. Once a good listener, Victor now seemed distracted when she talked, often interrupting or abruptly changing the subject. Dates were canceled and never rescheduled. Romantic gestures had become few and far between, and she honestly couldn’t remember the last time they’d made love.

She told herself their busy careers were putting a strain on their relationship, but deep down inside she knew their problems were more complicated than conflicting schedules. Somewhere along the way they’d lost their connection, and she didn’t know how to get it back—or if she even wanted to. After losing Deidra Thomas, she didn’t have the emotional bandwidth to deal with a relationship on the rocks.

Victor hadn’t approved of her taking a sabbatical. As a workaholic, he couldn’t fathomwhy any respectable physician would forego her duties for two whole months. He worried that her absence would jeopardize her career, and he took every opportunity to tell her she couldn’t solve her problems by running away.

His lack of empathy was hurtful and disappointing, widening the chasm between them. The night before she left town, they’d gotten into a big argument. Nerves frayed from his constant poking and prodding, Reese had finally had enough.

“Whether you like it or not, Victor, I’m leaving tomorrow,” she told him in a steely tone. “I suggest we use the time apart to figure out what we both want.”

He frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s pretty obvious we’re not clicking anymore.” His eyes flickered, but he didn’t deny her assertion. He couldn’t, and they both knew it.

“I think it’d be best if we took a break.”

“What’re you saying?” His frown deepened. “Are you breaking up with me?”

Reese exhaled a breath. “I’m tired, Victor. Tired of bickering with you. Tired of pretending we’re okay. We’re not okay. Not even close.”

“Reese—”

“I need space, Victor. I need peace of mind, and we need time apart to do some soul searching and decide where we go from here.”

He pressed his lips together. “You’ve been emotionally fragile since your patient died. You’re not thinking clearly. Don’t make a rash decision you’ll later regret.”

“The only thing I regret right now is not speaking up sooner.”

He shook his head at her. “What you’re suggesting is highly risky. What if we grow apart during this so-called break? What if we meet other people?”

She frowned. “I’m not looking for a new boyfriend?—”

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