Recipe for Temptation

Prologue

May 2010

Houston, Texas

“T
ime of death.” Dr. Reese St. James glanced up at the clock hung on the east wall of the operating room. “Nine thirty-four.”

A somber hush fell upon the room.

The medical personnel gathered around the operating table watched as Reese slowly pulled the sheet over Deidra Thomas’s lifeless face.

Reese couldn’t believe her patient was gone. It seemed impossible, like a horrific nightmare from which she would soon awaken.

Everything had happened so quickly. One minute Reese had been performing a routine cesarean section on Deidra Thomas. The next minute the woman was coding, in the throes of sudden cardiac arrest. Pandemonium had erupted in the operating room as Reese and her colleagues raced to save both mother and child.

But it was too late for Deidra.

A hard lump of sorrow rose in Reese’s throat. Her gaze traveled across the room to where the pediatric surgeon, flanked by two nurses, was tending to the newborn. Feeling as though she was in a trance, Reese walked over to the warmer to get a better look at the baby girl she’d just delivered.

She was flailing her tiny arms and wailing in protest of being poked, weighed and measured. But as Reese approached, the infant turned her head and eyed her curiously.

Reese’s throat tightened when she saw that the baby had inherited her mother’s almond-shaped brown eyes and dimpled chin.

Reese smiled tenderly. “Hello, Faith.”

The newborn grew silent, gazing alertly at her.

The attending pediatrician glanced up from his patient to look at Reese. Above his surgical mask, his green eyes were kind and sympathetic. “She’s going to be fine, Reese,”

he assured her. “She’s perfectly healthy.”

Reese nodded, swallowing with difficulty. “I have to go…tell her father.”

The pediatrician nodded. As Reese turned away, he gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze.

With slow, painstaking precision, Reese removed her bloodstained surgical gown, gloves and mask, then dropped the soiled items into the biohazard waste container near the double doors. Raw emotion was clawing at her throat, choking her, but outwardly she remained calm and composed. She had to. She was a professional. So she had to forget that Deidra Thomas was the first patient she’d ever had. She had to forget that she’d delivered all of Deidra’s babies. She had to forget that Deidra and her family held a special place in her heart.

Drawing a deep breath, Reese left the operating room and started down the brightly lit corridor on leaden legs.

Ian Thomas was anxiously pacing back and forth in the waiting room. He’d been at his wife’s bedside when she began seizing. For as long as Reese lived, she would never forget the sound of his panicked shouts as he was hastily removed from the operating room.

He glanced up now as Reese approached. He took one look at her face and began shaking his head in vehement denial. “No. No.
Nooo!
”

Reese gently explained, “Deidra had an amniotic fluid embolism, Mr. Thomas. It’s a rare disorder where amniotic fluid enters the mother’s bloodstream, causing the heart and lungs to collapse. We did everything we—”

“No. This can’t be happening.” Ian Thomas’s face contorted with anguished grief.

“Please God… Not my Deidra.
Not my Deidra!
”

Reese’s heart constricted in her chest. Tears burned her eyes. Yet all she could say was, “I’m so sorry.”

Chapter 1

Two months later

Atlanta, Georgia

“M
a’am? This is your stop.”

Reese blinked, dazedly staring out the window of the taxicab she’d taken into Midtown Atlanta that evening. She couldn’t believe she’d already reached her destination.

She’d meant to take in the sights and sounds of the bustling metropolis during the cab ride into town. Instead she’d zoned out, succumbing to painful memories of the day her patient died in childbirth.

Deidra Thomas’s untimely death had left her husband and family reeling with shock and grief. Although Reese had tried her damnedest to distance herself emotionally from the tragedy, every time she closed her eyes at night, she saw Ian Thomas’s ravaged face, heard his anguished wails of denial. Every time Reese delivered a new baby, she was gripped by a terrible fear that something would go wrong. She was losing sleep, becoming withdrawn and finding it difficult to concentrate at work, which was not only unfair to her patients, but dangerous, as well.

And then one day out of the blue, she’d received a phone call from her longtime friend Layla Chase. An award-winning photojournalist for
National Geographic,
Layla had mentioned that she was looking for someone to house-sit for her while she was on assignment in Somalia for two months. Almost immediately Reese had known that this was the lifeline she’d so desperately needed, an opportunity to take a sabbatical before she had a nervous breakdown. She’d made the arrangements with Layla, cleared her leave of absence with the hospital, then packed her bags and headed to Atlanta.

She’d made a pact with herself not to discuss or even
think
about work for the next two months. Yet there she was, torturing herself with thoughts of Deidra Thomas and the motherless children she’d left behind.

“Ma’am? Are you okay?”

Reese glanced up, embarrassed to realize that the cabdriver had opened the back door and was patiently waiting for her to get out so he could be on his way.

Glancing quickly at the electronic meter, Reese fished three twenties out of her Louis Vuitton handbag and passed the money to the cabbie. “Keep the change,” she told him as she climbed out of the taxi.

He beamed at her. “Thank you, ma’am. Enjoy your dinner. You can’t go wrong with anything on the menu.”

“So I’ve heard,” Reese said with a smile.

As she joined the flow of patrons heading into the brick-fronted restaurant, she couldn’t help feeling a thrill of excitement. For the past three years she’d dreamed of visiting Wolf’s Soul, a world-renowned restaurant made famous by owner and executive chef Michael Wolf. Reese, whose favorite hobby was cooking, had been a huge fan of the hunky celebrity chef ever since he burst onto the national scene with his cable television show
Howlin’ Good.
Reese owned all four of his bestselling cookbooks, religiously TiVoed his program and had prepared many of his recipes for her family and friends, who often teased her about having the hots for the popular chef. Not that anyone in their right mind could blame her. With his dark good looks and smoldering charisma, Michael Wolf had stolen the hearts of women everywhere, solidifying his status as a bona fide sex symbol.

Located just a few blocks from the Fox Theatre in Midtown Atlanta, Wolf’s Soul boasted a clientele that included famous celebrities, athletes and politicians whose images were captured in framed photographs that graced the mahogany-paneled walls. Over the years Michael Wolf had hosted everyone who was anyone—from movie mogul Tyler Perry to President Barack Obama, who’d made a stop at the restaurant during the historic election campaign two years ago.