Page 37 of Recipe for Temptation

She met his gaze then, but only for a moment before her eyes slid guiltily away.

Coward, he silently mocked her.

“It’s complicated,” she mumbled.

“What the hell does that mean?”

Instead of answering him, she walked over to the table. “I’m going to put these in water and then, uh, we can go.”

As she scooped up the box of roses, a small white card floated to the floor. She didn’t see it, so intent was she on beating a hasty retreat. As she continued to the kitchen, Michael crouched down to pick up the card. Unable to resist, he read the typed message.

You didn’t say I couldn’t send roses. I miss you. Come back to me. Love, Victor.

Michael clenched his jaw as some strange new emotion washed over him—raw, fierce, primitive. Entirely foreign. Entirely unwelcome.

He stood slowly as Reese returned to the foyer, sucking her thumb where she’d presumably been pricked by a thorn.

“Okay,” she said briskly. “I’m ready to go.”

Michael held up the card, and watched as a deep, embarrassed flush swept across her face. “It fell out of the box,” he told her.

“Oh. Thanks,” she muttered, practically snatching it out of his hand. She tapped it against her open palm for a moment, then looked up at him with an unspoken question in her eyes.

He didn’t have to guess what she was asking. She wanted to know if he’d read the card.

He just looked at her, letting the tense silence hang between them.

Not surprisingly, she was the first to glance away. “We should probably go,” she mumbled.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Michael said flatly.

She started away from him. “I left my handbag in the?—”

“Did your boyfriend send the roses?”

“I don’t?—”

“Did he?” Michael demanded.

“Yes!” She rounded on him, those dark eyes flashing with fiery defiance. “Yes, the roses are from my boyfriend! His name is Victor. We work at the same hospital. He loves my cooking. Anything else you want to know?”

“Yeah.” Michael smirked, surprised by the strength of the jealousy he felt. “How does your boyfriend feel about you kissing other men?”

It was a low blow, and he knew it.

Reese flinched, hurt and anger flaring in her eyes. She took a step backward, glaring at him. “Maybe you should just leave,” she said coldly.

“No,” Michael snarled, his heart beating so savagely he thought he might go into cardiac arrest. “I came to take you to the studio, and that’s what I’m doing.”

“Fine,” she snapped. “Then I’m getting my damn purse.”

“Fine. I’ll wait in the damn car.” He turned and stalked out of the house.

Reese joined him in the idling Maybach a few minutes later, slamming the door hard enough to make his teeth snap together.

Without sparing her a glance, he threw the car into drive and gunned the accelerator, pinning her against the seat with a tight-knuckled grip on the door handle that gave him a perverse twinge of satisfaction.

He knew he was being irrational, that he had no right to feel so possessive over her. Yet he couldn’t help himself. He wanted her, damn it. Wanted her like no other woman he’d ever wanted before. But as long as she had a boyfriend, she was completely off-limits to him. Because as much as he enjoyed playing the field, he’d always drawn the line at sleeping with women who were already taken. There were too many other fish in the sea for him to poach on another man’s territory.

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