Page 42 of Recipe for Temptation

“I don’t know which would be worse,” Victor muttered darkly. “You leaving me for a playboy chef or some broke loser you met at a club.”

Reese squeezed her eyes shut, curling in on herself. Now would be a good time to tell him about her new apprenticeship, before he found out on his own. She should just blurt it out and get it over with. But she couldn’t bring herself to say the words. Not now.

“You better hope I don’t ever meet my celebrity crush,” Victor said in a surly voice.

Reese sighed. “You know what?—”

“Can you just promise me one thing? Promise me you won’t give up on us.”

“Victor—”

“Things will be different when you get back home. I’ll make time for you. For us. I’ll prove to you how much you mean to me. And maybe next summer we can go to Italy like you’ve always wanted.”

Reese’s throat pinched. “Victor, I?—”

The doorbell rang.

Victor heard it. “Go answer the door. I’ll stay on the phone.”

When Reese opened the long box and saw two dozen red roses nestled inside, she remembered that Victor had sent her the same arrangement the day after their first date, and she couldn’t help smiling a little.

And then Michael had arrived—and all hell broke loose.

If Reese were being honest with herself, she would admit that Michael wasn’t entirely wrong for being mad at her. The truth was that she’d been giving him mixed signals ever since they met. First she’d asked him to drive her home with the intent of seducing him. Then she’d spent an entire day with him, laughing and bonding, basking in his company.

From his perspective, she was acting like a tease, saying one thing and doing another. It wasn’t fair to him, and all things considered, it probably wasn’t fair to Victor.

So it had to stop, Reese vowed.

No matter how powerful the attraction between her and Michael, she had to resist temptation and keep their relationship strictly platonic. It was the only way she’d get through the next two months with her integrity—and sanity—intact.

But when she glanced up and caught Michael’s dark gaze in the rearview mirror, instant heat swamped her body.

Swallowing hard, she jerked her eyes away and smiled brightly at his mother.

No one ever said resisting temptation was easy.

Thirty minutes later, Reese found herself leaning toward the window as the car glided down a winding country road flanked by huge magnolia trees. She stared, riveted by the sight of a sprawling redbrick house with tall picture windows overlooking riotously blooming flowerbeds.

Michael turned into the long driveway, passing an acre of scrupulously manicured lawn and a small lake at the center before he came to a stop behind a silver Buick.

“Wow.” The single word escaped Reese in a hushed whisper.

Beside her, Celeste Rutherford beamed. “Amazing, isn’t it? Michael and his brother bought this house for their father several years ago. The first time I came here, I was simply blown away. Wait until you see the backyard. The garden will leave you breathless.”

They climbed out of the car, and while Michael and Grant retrieved the luggage from the trunk, the two women started toward the house. They were met at the front door by a middle-aged woman who introduced herself to Reese as Frizell Randolph, Sterling’s personal chef.

“Where’s Sterling?” Celeste asked the woman as they entered the house.

“He’s in the backyard with Ms. Dubois. Last I checked, they were discussing seating arrangements for the reception dinner. Samara just left to pick up the twins from daycare. She promised to hurry back as soon as she can, along with Marcus.”

Reese looked around in awe, taking in the double-height foyer, butterfly staircases and sparkling chandeliers. Scattered area rugs adorned glossy hardwood floors, and fresh flowers were arranged in expensive vases on gleaming wood tables.

“Let me show you the backyard while Michael and Grant carry the bags upstairs,” Celeste said, draping an arm around Reese’s shoulders.

As they started across the foyer, Grant could be overheard grumbling to Michael, “I don’t know why your mother insisted on packing so much clothes. We’re only staying for two weeks.”

Michael chuckled. “Or so you think.”

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