Page 9 of Recipe for Temptation

“But of course.” Michael gave her a long, appraising look. “Do you enjoy what you do for a living?”

Reese’s grin faded at the reminder of the hospital, and Deidra Thomas. She turned away, staring out the window. “I do enjoy my job,” she said quietly. “I enjoy it very much. But if it’s all the same to you, I’d rather not talk about work.”

Michael said nothing.

She could feel his gaze on her and could only speculate about what must be going through his mind. She hoped to God that she hadn’t offended him. Things had been going so well between them. She didn’t want to ruin the evening with depressing topics of conversation.

After a prolonged silence, Michael murmured, “You’re quite an intriguing woman, Miss St. James.”

Reese was about to tell him to call her by her first name when she got sidetracked by a giant image of him splashed across a billboard along the freeway. It was an advertisement for his TV show. In it Michael stood with his arms akimbo, a white chef’s hat slanted low over one eye and a wickedly sexy grin curving his mouth. who’s afraid of the big bad wolf? the bold caption declared.

“Very clever,” Reese said, laughing. “But what does the big bad wolf have to do with cooking?”

Michael chuckled. “They couldn’t resist the play on my last name.”

“Clearly.” She stared wonderingly at him. “Do you ever get used to it?”

“What?”

“Being famous. Seeing your face plastered everywhere—on TV, on billboards, on book and magazine covers.”

“It took some getting used to at first. But nowadays I don’t give it much thought.”

“Really?”

He glanced at her. “Fame can be fleeting. Here today, gone tomorrow. It always helps to keep things in perspective.”

Reese felt her admiration for him go up another notch.

Soon they exited off I-85 and headed into Buckhead, an affluent section of Atlanta renowned for beautiful mansions, upscale shopping and fine restaurants. Reese’s friend Layla lived in the historic Buckhead Forest neighborhood, an eclectic enclave of cottages, ranch houses and European stucco homes situated on large wooded lots.

As Michael pulled up to a Tudor-style bungalow, the butterflies in Reese’s stomach returned. This is it, she thought. Once you invite him inside, there’ll be no turning back.

As if sensing her nervousness, Michael reached over and touched her hand, a subtle stroke that sent her pulse jumping. Their eyes met and held in the shadowy interior of the car.

“Thank you for the ride,” Reese said softly.

“My pleasure. I’m glad you enjoyed your dinner tonight.”

“Oh, I did. Very much.” She smiled demurely. “Your company made it even better. I must have been the envy of every woman in the restaurant.”

Michael smiled wryly. “I’m the one who was getting dirty looks from all the guys who’d been trying to work up the nerve to approach your table.”

Reese laughed. “If that’s true, I’m glad you beat them to it.”

“Me, too,” he murmured, his eyes roaming appreciatively across her face.

Reese’s heart was hammering. Never before had she been so powerfully aware of a man. But this wasn’t just any man. This was Michael Wolf, who, for the past three years, had had a starring role in her steamiest fantasies.

But this wasn’t one of her fantasies. Tonight she didn’t have to settle for daydreaming about Michael after watching an episode of Howlin’ Good. Tonight she could make her dreams a reality.

So what are you waiting for?

Drawing a deep breath to summon her courage, Reese gave Michael what she hoped was her most alluring smile. “Would you like to come inside for a cup of coffee?”

His eyes gleamed wickedly. They both knew what she was really offering, and it had nothing to do with the dark roast blend stashed in the kitchen cupboard.

But Michael played along. “I’d love some coffee.”

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