Page 85 of Recipe for Temptation

Amari nodded and mouthed, Gotcha, boss.

“We’ll get that table cleared for you and Reid,” Michael said. “Why don’t you grab a seat at the bar while you wait. Drinks are on the house. Lunch, too, of course.”

“Aye, that’s what’s up, Mike.” Grinning, Mason dapped him up and then playfully slung an arm around Reid’s neck. “C’mon, youngblood. Let’s go get blitzed.”

Michael tsk-tsked. “Not very role model-ish, Mason.”

He tossed a laugh over his shoulder as he and Reid headed to the bar, sauntering past a group of attractive twentysomethings on their lunch break. When the girls saw Mason and Reid, all laughter and chatter stopped. Forks and drinks suspended in midair, they stared at the two star athletes. When Mason winked at them, they burst into breathy giggles, craning their necks to follow the fellas’ path across the room.

Stopping at Quentin and Lexi’s corner booth, Mason swiped the last stuffed mushroom off their appetizer plate before introducing them to Reid.

Lexi almost did a spit-take. Putting her drink down, she delicately dabbed at the corners of her mouth with a napkin. Then she smiled demurely and slid her hand forward to shake Reid’s. When he bent to kiss the back of her hand, she giggled like a schoolgirl while batting her lashes up at him.

Quentin scowled.

Michael had to laugh at Reid pulling a Mason move—the ol’ back-of-the-hand-kiss-with-direct-eye-contact combo. The kid was definitely enrolled in the Mason Wolf School of Pimping.

Michael’s phone buzzed in his back pocket. He pulled it out and looked at the screen, his pulse leaping when he saw a text from Reese.

Hi.

A smile wreathed his lips.

Hi. What’re you up to?

Waiting for Samara and Taylor to pick me up. They invited me to their yoga class.

Michael smiled. He loved that Reese had bonded with his in-laws. Samara and Taylor were amazing women, and he appreciated them even more for welcoming Reese into the fold. They would be a wonderful support system for her if she and Michael ever?—

Reese texted back, breaking his train of thought—and probably not a minute too soon.

How’s your day going?

He was crazy about her, head over fucking heels. But he couldn’t afford to start thinking about their future, daydreaming about the possibilities. Not until her boyfriend was out of the picture, a distant memory.

Good. Been busy.

Dots danced on the screen, then disappeared. He stared down at them, waiting to see what she would say.

You seem distracted. I’ll let you go.

Don’t. The protest surged up from deep inside. His thumb hovered over the button to call her, to hear her voice, to make her laugh.

But he held back, texting instead:

Have fun with the girls.

I’m sure I will.

He stood there staring at the screen, calling himself all kinds of an idiot.

“Mikeee!” a deep voice boomed across the restaurant, causing heads to turn and warm laughter to break out.

Michael tucked his phone away, watching in amused disbelief as Manning came swaggering toward him, broad shoulders swaying from side to side. His tie hung askew around his neck, and he had the biggest shit-eating grin on his face.

“Yo.” Michael hitched his chin at him. “Why you rolling up in my restaurant causing a commotion? What’s?—”

Manning grabbed him by both sides of his head and boisterously kissed him on the cheek like something out of a mafia flick.

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