Page 46 of Recipe for Temptation

Michael paused, his gaze straying to where Reese was playing hide-and-seek with the twins. The boys were giggling hysterically, their short, sturdy legs pumping as they tried to evade capture, a task made easy by Reese’s exaggeratedly slow running.

Michael watched them, his chest squeezing as he envisioned Reese pregnant. Holding his baby in her arms. Chasing their child around the yard.

Shaken by the images, he jerked his gaze back to the phone where Lexi was awaiting his response to her invitation. He wondered what she would say if she knew about his growing feelings for Reese, the very same woman he’d vehemently objected to having on his show just four days ago. He’d always sought Lexi’s advice about women, but for some reason he didn’t want to tell her about Reese. His feelings for her were too new, too confusing, too powerful. Too damn scary.

Are you there?

Michael cleared his throat and quickly typed:

Can’t meet for drinks. But how about lunch on Thursday?

Your treat?

Of course.

Then you’re on, baby.

Have fun tonight and tell Q to behave, or else....

He sent the message, then stuffed his phone into the back pocket of his jeans.

As his brooding gaze wandered back to Reese, Marcus climbed onto the veranda and cautiously approached, eyeing Michael as if he were a feral animal who might pounce at any moment.

When Marcus had nearly reached the table, he stopped and asked, “Is it safe to proceed?”

Michael just looked at him.

“Remember when we were younger, and I’d take stuff from your room and forget to put it back before you noticed it was missing? Remember when I was six and I accidentally tore your autographed Dominique Wilkins poster? Well, the way you’re looking at me now is the way you looked at me that day. Man, I was so scared you’d beat the crap out of me that I peed on myself. Remember that?”

Michael tried but couldn’t stifle his laughter.

Marcus grinned, looking relieved as he pulled out a chair at the table and nimbly straddled it. “Dad was so mad that I’d ruined a new pair of pants that he whipped my butt, anyway.”

“Believe it or not, Little Man, you got off lucky that day. I was mad enough to strangle you. I loved that poster.”

“I know. But at least I made it up to you.”

“Yeah. You did.” Marcus had invited the NBA legend to Michael’s fortieth birthday bash. His gift from Dominique Wilkins, of course, was an autographed poster to replace the one Marcus ripped years ago.

Michael smiled at the memory, feeling some of the tension ebb from his body.

It didn’t last.

“So what’s up with you and Reese?” Marcus demanded, dropping all pretenses of making small talk.

Michael frowned. “Nothing’s up with us.”

“Like hell,” Marcus snorted. “You’ve been sulking all night, and she’s been going out of her way to treat you like the Invisible Man. What the hell happened between you two?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” Michael bit off.

Undaunted, Marcus pressed, “What changed between yesterday morning and today? Q says you and Reese looked mighty cozy together when he saw you at the restaurant.”

Michael glared at his brother. “He told you about that?”

Marcus gave him a come-on-now look.

Michael swore under his breath. Of course Quentin had run his mouth to Marcus. He always did.

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