Page 74 of Recipe for Temptation

Manning and Marcus shared a look.

“No pressure, right?” Manning said.

“None whatsoever.” Marcus gulped and made an exaggerated show of tugging at his collar.

Everyone laughed.

Chapter Twenty-Four

“There you are!”

Reese turned and smiled as Celeste and Grant approached her, both elegantly dressed in dark eveningwear.

“You and Michael were simply amazing today,” Celeste exclaimed, clasping both of Reese’s hands in hers. “I always watch my son’s show and thoroughly enjoy it, but that was one of the most exciting episodes I’ve ever seen.”

Reese warmed with pleasure, though she’d been receiving similar compliments all day. “Thank you, Mrs. Rutherford. I’m so glad you enjoyed the show.” She grinned ruefully as she confided, “I was a nervous wreck.”

“No one could tell,” Celeste assured her. “You were a natural.”

“My wife is right,” Grant said, smiling affably at Reese. “If you were anything but a physician, I’d encourage you to go into show business.”

“Didn’t I see Michael’s talent agent speaking to you during dinner?” Celeste asked.

Reese laughed. “He gave me his business card and urged me to call him if I ever grow tired of delivering screaming babies for a living—his words, not mine.”

Celeste and Grant laughed.

“And speaking of show business,” Celeste said, giving Reese an admiring once-over, “you look stunning enough to belong on a red carpet.”

Reese beamed. “Why, thank you very much.”

Outfitted in one of Asha’s exclusive designs, Reese had never felt more glamorous in her life. Wanting to accentuate Reese’s figure, Asha had chosen for her a sleeveless white dress that molded her full breasts, hugged her slim waist, glided over the curves of her hips and thighs, and ended in a frothy swirl around her feet. It was a sexy, sophisticated gown that reminded Reese of something worn by silent-era Hollywood stars. To complete the effect, Asha’s stylist had arranged her hair in a simple but elegant twist, while the makeup artist had given her a smoky eye and slicked her mouth with a glossy red lipstick.

When they’d finished, Asha had taken one look at Reese and sighed. “Darling, you’re a vision.” While Reese twirled in front of the full-length mirror, Asha had murmured under her breath, “If this doesn’t do the trick, nothing will.”

“Everyone has been buzzing about today’s show,” Celeste said, breaking into Reese’s musings. “If I didn’t know better, I would think it was Michael’s, not Asha’s party.” The satisfied gleam in her eyes made it clear what she thought of anyone stealing Asha’s spotlight.

After everything Asha had done for Reese, she would have felt guilty taking sides against her. And she didn’t necessarily agree with Celeste’s assessment, anyway.

But one thing every attendee could agree on that night: Both Michael and Asha knew how to throw one hell of a party. Asha had spared no expense, and Michael’s catering crew had more than delivered. The food had been lavish and plentiful, wine flowed freely and the decorations were top-notch. The lush garden sparkled with thousands of fairy lights, and piazzas had been specially erected on platforms to represent Asha’s new line of Italian-inspired clothing. Tables grouped together invited guests to linger after dinner to enjoy the starlight and the elegant music performed by a five-string quartet.

As Reese surveyed the sea of guests garbed in glittering attire, she couldn’t help feeling a little dazzled. So many celebrities and fashion heavyweights had turned out en masse to celebrate the grand opening of Asha’s latest boutique. There were editors from Vogue, Mademoiselle, Essence, Cosmopolitan, along with some international reporters and members of the local press.

With Samara in tow, Asha circulated among her guests—greeting friends with double-cheek kisses, introducing acquaintances and lightly admonishing reporters who tried to claim an exclusive with her. “The time for interviews is over, chère,” she could be heard saying. “Now it’s time to play.”

She was totally in her element.

And so, apparently, was Michael.

As Reese’s gaze traveled reluctantly across the garden, she saw him, Quentin, Montana, Magnum, Maddox and Mason surrounded by—what else?—leggy, gorgeous models. It was easy to see why the women had flocked to the group of men. They were devastatingly handsome in black bespoke tuxedos that emphasized their wide shoulders and long legs.

As Reese watched, one of the runway kittens leaned close to whisper something in Michael’s ear. The sight of his slow, lazy smile was like a knife between Reese’s ribs.

Between overseeing his catering staff and mingling with the guests, she hadn’t expected to see much of Michael that evening. But she hadn’t expected him to completely ignore her either. She was surprised by how hurt she felt. Hurt and angry.

Celeste, who’d followed the direction of her gaze, regarded Reese with an expression of gentle maternal sympathy. “Boys will be boys,” she quipped in a feeble attempt at humor.

Reese forced a shrug and an aloof smile.

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