Page 70 of Recipe for Temptation

“That’s my boy,” Stan boasted proudly. “Keep giving us beautiful grandbabies. The more the merrier.”

Manning’s grin widened. “Don’t worry, pops. We understood the assignment.”

His father chuckled.

“Speaking of babies,” Quentin said, “Reese is an ob-gyn. I’m sure she and Taylor will have plenty to chat about when they meet after the show taping on Wednesday.”

Mason rocked back on the heels of his signature Nikes, rubbing his big hands together. “Can’t wait to make the lovely doctor’s acquaintance.”

When Michael glowered at him, he winked. He loved to get under people’s skin, on and off the football field. He was good at it, and he damn well knew it.

“You’re definitely the MVP of the day, Mike,” Montana said. “You saved us from having to hear Mason’s mouth over dinner. We all know how much trash he talks whenever his team wins.”

“You ain’t lying,” Maddox agreed. “If the Falcons ever win the Super Bowl, his head’s gonna get so big?—”

“Gonna?” Magnum snorted. “If that boy’s head gets any bigger than it already is, they’re gonna start flying him over the stadium.”

Everyone broke out in raucous laughter.

Chuckling, Mason peeled off his sweat-soaked shirt and tossed it at Magnum’s face. Flexing his muscles like a bodybuilder, he raised his arm and kissed his bulging bicep, declaring with a cocky grin, “They hate me ’cause they ain’t me.”

Groans and guffaws went up from the group. Mason laughed, catching the wadded-up shirt that Magnum hurled back at him.

Sterling clapped his hands together. “All right, fellas. Let’s hit the showers so we can go eat. I’m in the mood for steak and lobster. Losing team’s footing the dinner bill,” he reminded everyone of the new rule.

Magnum grinned. “I’ve got a better idea,” he said, slinging an arm around Mason’s shoulders as they all headed to the locker room. “Since baby bro here just got that big contract extension, he should buy everyone dinner.”

There was a rumble of amused agreement.

“That’s cool,” Mason said languidly. “I’ll pay for everyone but you.”

“What?” Magnum protested. “Why not me?”

“I don’t pay for bums. Play better next time and maybe?—”

Magnum slapped the back of Mason’s meticulously cornrowed dome. “Big head.”

The group howled with laughter.

Chapter Twenty-Three

“Nervous?”

Reese cut a sideways glance at Michael, who stood beside her in the backstage tunnel leading to the set of his show. “What do you think?”

He grinned, unfazed by her rancor.

The more relaxed he seemed, the tighter her stomach knotted until she was one big ball of nerves, sweaty palms and a galloping heartbeat. She’d expected some stage fright when the big day approached, but this was ridiculous. She hadn’t been this nervous since her days of doing clinicals as an intern. Her anxiety that morning was further exacerbated by the growing rumble of crowd noise as the studio audience awaited their entrance. She thought there had to be at least a thousand people out there. She was afraid to ask.

“I think I’m going to be sick,” she announced in a thin voice.

Michael chuckled. “That should make for good ratings. My new apprentice, puking all over the set of my kitchen. Nice.”

Reese closed her eyes, trying to concentrate on deep-breathing exercises. A moment later her eyes snapped open, and she stared at Michael in fascinated disbelief.

“Are they…chanting your name?”

“I believe so.” He winked at her. “I much prefer it when you do it, though.”

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