Page 84 of Recipe for Temptation

Quentin and Lexi sat in a corner booth enjoying each other’s meals. Every so often, Lexi would throw back her head and burst into a peal of laughter. Quentin would grin as he watched her, leaning back in the booth with one arm draped along the cushion’s headrest. He loved to make her laugh. Always had.

Michael’s gaze was drawn to the front entrance as Mason came striding through the door with his friend, a young hockey phenom named Reid Holden.

He and Mason met at the ESPYs last year, where both won awards. They’d hit it off at the afterparty and became fast friends. As the baby of the family, Mason welcomed any opportunity to mentor younger players. He’d paid his dues and now commanded nothing but respect as one of the league’s top wide receivers and a future Hall of Famer. As such, he had plenty of wisdom and experience to impart.

Mason spotted Michael across the room and pointed him out to Reid before they started making their way over. They were playing in a celebrity golf charity tournament tomorrow. After that they were off to Vegas for a wild weekend with a bunch of other dudes.

“Yo what’s up, big cuz?” Mason playfully shadowboxed Michael before introducing him to Reid.

The kid was tall, no less than six-four. Messy dark hair fell over the bluest eyes Michael had ever seen. A crazy shade of blue not found in nature.

“Good to finally meet you, Reid,” Michael said, shaking his hand.

“Same here, man. Heard nothing but great things about you.”

“Likewise.” Michael grinned. “Congratulations on your phenomenal rookie year. You put up some insane numbers. Hella impressive.”

“Thanks, man,” Reid said with a rueful tilt of his mouth. “Would’ve been sweeter if we made the playoffs.”

“It’s all good. You and that Swedish kid were tearing shit up all season.”

“Sandström? Yeah, he’s dope,” Reid agreed. “He definitely deserved to win the Calder.”

“For sure. But that rookie of the year race was pretty close. The trophy could’ve gone to either one of you.”

“Maybe.” Reid hitched his chin at Michael. “So you watch hockey?”

“Sure do.”

“Mike was a baller back in the day,” Mason elaborated, “so he watches all kinds of sports. He appreciates raw talent and dominance at any level.”

“Awesome.” Reid looked pleased. Hockey was clearly his favorite subject. When he talked about it, his face lit up.

“Don’t trip about missing the playoffs,” Mason consoled, circling back to Reid’s earlier comment. “The team’s rebuilding, getting the right pieces in place. Making the playoffs won’t happen overnight. But y’all are definitely in a much better position after drafting that bruiser from Vegas.”

“Brassard, right?” Michael said. “Yeah, that boy’s a beast.”

“Hell yeah. I’m glad we grabbed him at number one.” Reid grinned. “Now if we could just get Duchene as a free agent, we’d be fucking unstoppable.”

“Oh, most definitely. Dude is a sniper,” Mason agreed. “I know you said he’s not happy in Edmonton. But the Oilers ain’t giving him up without a shit ton of draft picks.”

“I know,” Reid conceded. “I’ve been lobbying for him. I’m not giving up till he’s rocking a Rebels jersey.”

Michael chuckled. “I’m surprised you want Hunter Duchene as a teammate,” he teased. “Wasn’t he your college rival? When you were at Boston College and he was at Yale?”

“Oh, that’s right,” Mason said, laughing. “I remember watching that game when Reid and Hunter got chippy. Got all up in each other’s faces, almost dropped the gloves and squared off. They called it the battle of the captains.”

Reid chuckled, crossing his tattooed arms. “Wasn’t really a rivalry, though,” he said with a shrug and a cocky grin. “We only played Yale twice in four years, and we beat ’em both times.”

Michael and Mason laughed.

Reid scraped his hair back from his face, glancing around at the crowd. “Mason wasn’t exaggerating about the restaurant being popular. It’s packed in here.” He grinned at Michael. “Good problem to have though, right?”

“Exactamundo.” Michael clapped him on the shoulder. “You hungry?”

Mason snort-laughed. “This boy stays hungry. I’ve seen him put away two whole pizzas by himself. Last night when we had dinner at Ma’s, he inhaled three plates of food and still had room for dessert. Ma was on cloud nine.”

“I bet,” Michael chuckled, looking around for an open table. After spotting a couple of suits settling their bill, he motioned to one of his waiters, gesturing toward Mason and Reid.

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