Recipe for Temptation (4 page)

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 the house, 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 glinted 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.”

Reese waited as he got out of the car and came around to her side. “Thank you,” she said as he helped her out of the Maybach.

The night air was thick and sultry. Even the clouds drifted sluggishly across the moon.

“Is it always this hot during the summer?” Reese asked as they started up the walk.

Michael smiled lazily. “They don’t call it Hotlanta for nothing.”

“Right. Of course.”

“Being from Houston,” Michael drawled, “I would think you’d be used to this kind of heat.”

“Oh, I am.”
I’m just making inane small talk to hide the fact that I’m nervous as
hell!

“Is that your friend’s car?” Michael asked as they passed a silver Lexus parked in the driveway.

“No, her car’s in the garage. That’s mine. I took a cab to the restaurant tonight.”

“Hoping you’d meet me and talk me into giving you a ride home?” Michael teased.

Reese laughed. “Not quite.”

Once they were inside the house, she set her handbag on the console table and turned on the small lamp. The soft amber glow spilled through the foyer and into the living room.

“Layla will be sorry she missed you,” Reese told Michael. “She’s eaten at your restaurant several times, but she’s never had the pleasure of meeting you.”

“How long will she be gone?” Michael asked.

“Two months.”

“So we’ve got the place to ourselves…all night long.”

Reese felt a quiver of anticipation at his words. Holding his gaze, she murmured,

“All night long.”

That was all the invitation Michael needed.

Before Reese could react, he dragged her into his arms, bringing her flush against his hard, powerful body. Her breath caught, and her heart rate tripled. As she stared up into his eyes, he framed her face between his hands and slanted his mouth hungrily over hers.

Pleasure exploded in her veins. She wrapped her arms around his neck, melting against him with a low moan.

His lips were even softer than she’d imagined, moving sensually over hers. The taste and heat of him were unbearably arousing as he eased his tongue into her mouth slowly, deeply. She opened her mouth to him, shaking so hard she could barely stand. One of his arms went around her, holding her tightly. She kissed him back, licking into his mouth the way he was doing to her. A dark, savage sound came from his throat.

She didn’t realize he was backing her up until she felt the wooden edge of the foyer table digging into her backside. Without warning an image of Victor penetrated the intoxicating haze of lust clouding her brain.

Abruptly she tore her mouth from Michael’s and buried her face against his hard chest. “W-we have to stop.”

He growled something that she could barely hear over the rampaging pulse in her ears.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, “but I can’t do this.”

“Why not?” he demanded hoarsely.

“Because…” She trailed off, words failing her. Beneath her burning cheek, she could feel his heart pounding as hard and fast as her own. She wanted him, craved him with every fiber of her being. But she couldn’t have him. Despite their recent problems, she owed Victor her loyalty.

Still, it took every ounce of her willpower to pull away from Michael, and almost at once she felt bereft. “We really have to stop.”

Michael stared down at her with a mixture of fascination and wry amusement.

“Bravo, Miss St. James. I must admit I didn’t see that coming.”

Reese frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“You. Playing hard to get to make me want you even more.” He shook his head slowly. “You’re not the first woman who’s ever tried that tactic, but you’re definitely the first woman who’s been successful. Congratulations.”

Reese bristled. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I wasn’t playing hard to get.”

“Weren’t you?”

“Of course not.”

A shadow of cynicism twisted his mouth. “Right.”

Reese scowled, her temper flaring. “Look, I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong idea—

” He laughed.
“If?”

She winced, an embarrassed flush heating her face. “Okay, fine. I asked you to drive me home tonight because I intended to seduce you. But I changed my mind. I’m sorry if I bruised your ego—”

Again his nasty bark of laughter cut her off. “My ego isn’t what’s bruised, sweetheart. If that kiss had lasted a second longer, you would’ve had me begging to make love to you. Trust me, that had
nothing
to do with my ego.”

Her face grew hotter. “Look, the kiss was a mistake.”

His jaw hardened. “You’re damn right it was, Miss St. James, or whatever the hell your real name is.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Reese demanded, frowning in confusion. “That
is
my real name.”

“Right,” Michael said mockingly. “I suppose you’re also going to tell me that you’re a food critic.”

“
What?
Why on earth would I tell you something like that?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because you’re delusional. Or maybe because you’re a damn liar.”

Stunned, Reese gaped at him, feeling as though she’d been transported to some alternate universe where all of the inhabitants spoke in strange riddles. What Michael was accusing her of made no sense whatsoever.

Striving for composure, she said evenly, “Look, there must be some misunderstanding. I never claimed to be a food critic—”

“My maître d’ seems to think otherwise.”

“Then he’s mistaken!”

“Is he?” Michael challenged, his eyes narrowing on hers. “So what about that line you fed me in the car? The one about ‘any food critic worth her salt’ knowing that multiple visits to a restaurant are necessary to write fair reviews. Weren’t you implying that you’re a food critic?”

“No! I was just flirting with you!” Struck by a sudden realization, Reese eyed him incredulously. “Wait a minute. Are you suggesting that I pretended to be a restaurant critic just to get your attention?”

“I think that’s obvious.”

“No, it’s
ridiculous.
You must be out of your damn mind!”

“Said the pot to the kettle.”

Reese glared at him. “If you think I’m such a nutcase, why did you agree to drive me home? What does that say about
you?
”

His expression hardened. “I plead temporary insanity. Trust me, it won’t happen again.”

Without another word, he spun on his heel and stalked out the front door.

Reese charged after him, her chest heaving with fury. No way was she letting him have the last word!

“I know this may be hard for you to accept, you arrogant son of a bitch, but you’re
not
God’s gift to women. Believe it or not, there
are
a few of us who are perfectly capable of resisting your charms.”

Pausing at his car door, Michael glared back at her, his eyes hard and glittering in the night.

Reese wasn’t finished. “I’m so glad I found out what an asshole you are before I wasted another second of my time watching your damn show. And you wanna know something else? I’ve always liked Bobby Flay better, anyway!”

Before Michael could respond, she slammed the door hard enough to give the neighbors something to talk about.

As far as she was concerned, being fodder for gossip was a small price to pay for the sweet satisfaction of having the last word with Michael. After the abominable way he’d treated her tonight, she’d take whatever victory she could get.

Chapter 3

M
ichael was still in a foul mood when he woke up the next morning at his father’s house, where he often spent the night to keep Sterling Wolf company.

To burn off steam, Michael threw on some sweats and went for a run through the idyllic Stone Mountain neighborhood.

He couldn’t get the woman from last night out of his mind. Every time he replayed the encounter in his mind, he grew more angry and disgusted with himself. But what bothered him more than anything was that he couldn’t shake the nagging suspicion that he’d been wrong about the woman. Maybe she’d been telling the truth after all. Maybe her last name really
was
St. James, and somehow Griffin had gotten her confused with the Houston food critic.

Michael’s cell phone rang as he returned to the silent house. He dug it out of his pocket and checked the caller ID. It was Drew Corbett, the executive producer of his cooking show.

“Hey, Mike,” Drew greeted him, brisk and annoyingly upbeat even at such an early hour. “How was the whirlwind book tour?”

“Great,” Michael muttered, heading toward the kitchen to start breakfast before his father woke up. “I’m already looking forward to the next trip.”

“Of course. We all know how much you love being on the road.” Drew paused.

“Not!”

Michael grinned wryly. One of the drawbacks to being a celebrity chef was that he sometimes felt like he did more performing than cooking. Although he understood that touring and promoting his brand were vital to his success, he often wished he could leave that stuff to someone else so he could focus on what he enjoyed most: cooking. He loved being a chef. He loved rising to the challenge of creating unique, delicious meals that would satisfy even the most finicky eaters. He loved the pressure-cooker intensity of the kitchen. He loved taking a new cook under his wing, and he thrived on the camaraderie he shared with his staff. Hell, he didn’t even mind the long hours. Being a chef was physically, mentally and emotionally demanding.

And he wouldn’t trade it for the world.

After taking a swig of bottled water, he asked, “What’s up, Drew? You calling to tell me the meeting’s been rescheduled?”

“Not at all. Actually, I just wanted to make sure you hadn’t forgotten about it. I figured you’d be sleeping off some jet lag this morning, so I decided not to call you too early.”

“Thanks,” Michael mumbled.

“Everyone at the studio is really excited about the new season of
Howlin’ Good,
”

Drew said. “I think our viewers are gonna get a real kick out of the apprentice series. As you might imagine, we were inundated with contest entries from all over the country.

We’ve finally gone through all of them and selected our ten finalists.”

“That’s good.”

“Our test kitchen favorite was a curry chicken soufflé submitted by a woman from Houston,” Drew continued. “I think even
you’d
be impressed with the recipe, that’s how good it was.”

“Is that right? And you say she’s from Houston?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s her name?”

“Hang on a sec.” The noise of rustling papers could be heard in the background.

After another moment Drew came back on the line. “Here’s the file. Her name’s Reese St.

James.”

Michael blinked. “Come again?”

“It’s Reese St. James.” Drew sounded puzzled. “Is there a problem?”

“No.” A grim smile curved Michael’s mouth. “It’s just…ironic.”

“What’s ironic?”

“I met a woman last night who claimed her last name was St. James.”

“Claimed?”

“Long story. Anyway, tell me more about this finalist.”

“According to her entry form, she’s an ob-gyn at Methodist Hospital in Houston.

She enjoys cooking as a stress reliever. She wrote that if she weren’t a doctor, she’d probably be a food critic.”

Michael went still. Could Reese St. James be the same woman he’d met last night?

What were the odds?

“I already called to notify her that she finaled in the contest,” Drew said.

“You spoke to her?”

“No, I left a message on her voice mail yesterday. I was going to try her again this morning. She’s the only finalist I haven’t spoken to, and I want to make sure she’s available to fly here for the auditions on Friday.”

Michael frowned as a new thought occurred to him. If Reese St. James was the woman he’d met last night, had she known that she was a finalist in his contest when she showed up at the restaurant last night? If so, why hadn’t she mentioned it to him? Had she planned to seduce him in the hopes that he’d choose her to be his apprentice?

Only one way to find out.

“Why don’t you let me call her back?” he suggested.

“You?”
Drew asked in surprise.