Recipe for Temptation (12 page)

For years he’d despised Grant Rutherford for luring his mother away from Sterling.

Grant hadn’t respected Celeste’s marriage or her responsibility to her family. He’d seen something he wanted and had gone after it, consequences be damned. As far as Michael was concerned, real men didn’t go around stealing other people’s wives. They found their own.

Given his personal convictions, it would be hypocritical of him to pursue Reese when he knew she was in a relationship. And if she cheated on her boyfriend, how could Michael ever trust her to be faithful to
him?

Halfway to the downtown television studio, a burst of song from his cell phone cut through the frigid silence in the car. Out of the corner of his eye, Michael saw Reese raise a brow at the ring tone—“Fight the Power” by Public Enemy. It was his personal theme song for his brother, Marcus, the crusading lawyer.

In no mood for small talk, Michael snatched up the phone and growled, “Let me call you back later.”

“Whoa.” Marcus was taken aback. “Damn, what’s wrong with
you?
”

Michael impatiently switched lanes. “This isn’t a good time, little man.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, because I need a favor.”

“What?”

“Can you pick up Mom and Grant from the airport?”

“Tonight?”

“No.” Marcus sounded puzzled. “What’re you talking about? They’re not arriving tonight.”

Michael frowned. “When does their flight get in?”

“In an hour.”

“
What?
Since when?”

“They changed their flight a couple weeks ago. Oh, yeah, that’s right—you were on your book tour. I thought Dad told you.”

“He must have forgot. Anyway, I’m on my way to the studio. Why can’t you pick them up from the airport?”

“I had planned to,” Marcus said grimly, “but I’m still at the office.”

“Why? I thought you and Samara took another week off from work to spend time with the family.”

“We did. But I had to come in to help put out a fire involving one of our big clients.”

“What about Samara?” Samara Wolf was a public relations consultant, so her schedule was more flexible.

“She’s out running around with her mother, finalizing preparations for the reception next Monday.”

“Asha’s already in town?” Michael asked in surprise. Her grand opening wasn’t for another week.

“Yeah. She flew in yesterday afternoon. She was hoping to meet with you to discuss the reception menu, but you never answered your cell phone.”

“I was out,” Michael muttered with a sideways glance at Reese. She sat ramrod straight, her hands clasped tightly in her lap as she stared through the windshield, simmering with hostility.

“You turned off your phone yesterday?” Marcus asked.

Michael grunted an affirmative. He hadn’t wanted the outside world to intrude on his time with Reese.
What a joke.

“That must have been one helluva date,” Marcus said slyly.

Michael scowled. “It wasn’t a date.” He felt rather than saw Reese stiffen even more in her seat.

“Whatever you say, bro.” Marcus chuckled. “So can you swing by the airport, then drop Mom and Grant off at Dad’s house?”

Yet another surprise. “Why aren’t they staying with you and Samara like they always do?”

Marcus heaved a sigh. “You know Mom and Asha don’t get along. It’s like they’re in competition with each other to see who can be the best grandmother. They’re always one-upping each other with gifts for the twins, and Mom thinks Asha purposely scheduled the grand opening of her boutique to coincide with Mom’s summer visit so
she
could steal the spotlight.”

Michael rolled his eyes in exasperation. “Women and their drama.”

“Tell me about it,” Marcus agreed with a wry chuckle. “Needless to say, Samara and I didn’t think having them under the same roof was such a good idea. So since Asha arrived first, she got dibs on accommodations.”

Michael grinned. “Given the way she and Dad are always at each other’s throats, staying with him was out of the question.”

Marcus laughed. “You got that right. They’d probably kill each other before the week was over.” A low murmur of voices could be heard in the background. “Listen, Mike, I gotta run. My client just arrived. Thanks for picking up Mom and Grant for me on such short notice. I owe you.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Michael hung up and returned the phone to the center console, then glanced over at Reese. “We have to make a detour to the airport to pick up my mother.”

She looked stricken. “You’re taking me with you?”

“I don’t have time to turn around and drive you back home. We’d never make it to the airport in time. Not in this traffic.”

Biting her lip, she glanced down at her snug T-shirt, denim capri pants and pink flip-flops.

Interpreting her thoughts, Michael said impatiently, “Relax. You look fine. And even if you didn’t, so what? It’s not like you’re being introduced as her future daughter-in-law.”

Reese bristled. “You should be so lucky.”

“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’ll let
you
figure it out.” Fuming, she turned away to glare out the passenger window, adding under her breath, “Jerk.”

Michael scowled.

So much for their truce.

Chapter 9

C
eleste Rutherford was a typical mother in that every time she came for a visit, she reacted as though it had been years since she’d last seen her children, when in her case it had only been four months. She’d flown to Atlanta earlier that year to spend Easter with the family, and before that she’d stayed for two weeks following Christmas. She would have remained longer if her husband—after enduring one too many winter nights alone—hadn’t begged her to return home to Minnesota.

When Michael saw his mother standing alone in the bustling airport terminal, he wondered if she’d left Grant behind again. At the sight of Michael, she beamed with such radiant joy that he couldn’t help asking himself how he’d ever doubted her love for him.

“Darling!” she cried warmly, rushing forward and wrapping him in one of those rib-crushing embraces that belied her slender, petite frame.

Michael smiled, holding her close. “Hey, Mom. How are you?”

“Couldn’t be better, now that you’re here.” She clung a moment longer, then drew back and cradled his face between her hands, her cinnamon-brown eyes shining with tender adoration. “I swear you get handsomer every time I see you. How is that even possible?”

“I don’t know.” Michael grinned crookedly. “Are you still refusing to wear your bifocals?”

She laughed, lovingly stroking his cheek. “You look just like your father. It’s like stepping back in time.”

Michael smiled. “And speaking of that, you look really good, Mom. All your friends must hate you.”

“Oh, go on with you, boy,” she guffawed, blushing prettily.

At sixty-five, Celeste’s smooth café-au-lait skin glowed with an age-defying health and vitality. Her hair was liberally woven with silver and cropped in short, sleek layers that accentuated the serene beauty of her face. Since becoming a frequent flyer in recent years, she’d learned to dress for comfort rather than style, though she still managed to epitomize casual elegance in a breezy summer top, pleated linen slacks and jeweled sandals.

Michael glanced around curiously. “Where’s Grant?”

“In the restroom. He’ll be right out.” Celeste’s gaze suddenly landed on Reese, who’d hung back a little to give mother and son privacy. With a discreet glance at Reese’s hourglass body poured into snug denim, Celeste undoubtedly reached the conclusion that she was one of her son’s latest conquests.

“Hello,” Celeste murmured politely.

Michael turned as Reese stepped shyly forward. “Mom, I’d like you to meet Reese St. James. Reese, this is my mother, Celeste Rutherford.”

Celeste offered a friendly, if not distant, smile. “How nice to meet you, Reese.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Rutherford,” Reese said warmly. “Did you have a good flight?”

Celeste looked pleasantly surprised, as if she hadn’t expected Reese to sound so gracious or articulate.
Damn,
Michael thought with a pang of irritation.
What kind of women
does she think I date? I’m not Quentin!

“Yes, I did enjoy the flight,” Celeste answered smoothly. “Thank you for asking, Reese.”

Noting the speculative gleam in his mother’s eyes, Michael hastened to explain.

“Reese just won my apprentice contest.”

“Oh! Congratulations!” Celeste exclaimed, clasping both of Reese’s hands between hers. “You must be so excited.”

“Ecstatic,” Reese enthused. “It’s an opportunity of a lifetime. I’m a
huge
fan of your son’s.”

Celeste beamed with pleasure, completely missing the sardonic glance that passed between Michael and Reese.

“I can’t tell you how many friends and coworkers tried to bribe me into putting in a good word with Michael,” Celeste confided. “After the contest was announced, you won’t believe the number of cards, gifts and baked goods I received. And every time I turned around, someone was dropping by for a surprise ‘visit.’” She grinned, shaking her head at Reese. “You’re going to be the envy of
a lot
of heartbroken women.”

Reese sighed dramatically. “Better them than me, I suppose.”

Celeste laughed, amused and delighted.

Michael had never been more relieved to see his stepfather approaching. Grant Rutherford was of medium height and build, with a receding thatch of curly gray hair and sharp green eyes that revealed his biracial roots. Dressed in a crisp polo shirt and neatly pressed khaki trousers, he looked like he’d just strolled off his favorite golf course.

He grinned broadly and greeted Michael with a quick bear hug. “Good to see you, Michael. Your mother has been looking forward to this trip ever since she returned from the last one.”

Michael smiled. “I’m glad you both could make it.” Turning to Reese at his side, he quickly performed the introductions.

As Reese shook Grant’s hand, she said, “You wouldn’t happen to be Dr. Grant Rutherford of the Mayo Clinic, would you?”

Grant nodded. “That would be me.”

Reese’s face lit up with excitement. “Oh my goodness! It’s such an honor to meet you, Dr. Rutherford. I’ve been following your studies on stem cell research in the
New
England Journal of Medicine.
”

“Is that right?” Grant beamed, his chest swelling with pride as he eyed her with keen interest. “Young lady, are you a physician?”

Reese nodded. “Obstetrics and gynecology. I work at The Methodist Hospital in Houston.”

“You don’t say?” Grant’s brows arched with obvious approval. “Methodist is a very good facility. I understand it was recently recognized as one of the nation’s best hospitals by
U.S. News & World Report.
”

Reese grinned. “Yes, sir. We’re very proud of that accomplishment.”

“As you should be. Where did you go to medical school, Reese?”

“Johns Hopkins.”

Grant and Celeste traded looks of such unconcealed delight, you’d have thought Reese had just announced she’d found the cure for cancer.

As they left the busy airport terminal and headed toward the parking garage, Grant and Reese talked shop while Celeste fell in step beside Michael, slipping her arm companionably through his.

“Reese seems like such a wonderful young woman,” she gushed. “It looks like you really struck gold with your apprentice search.”

Michael did a mental eye roll, wondering if there was
anyone
Reese couldn’t charm and impress. His only hope was Sterling, who’d hated practically every woman Michael had ever dated. Though he’d never admit it to the old man, Michael had always valued his father’s opinion above anyone else’s. Not only did Sterling genuinely have his best interests at heart, but after thirty years as a homicide detective, he’d acquired an uncanny ability to read people. He knew bullshit when he smelled it, and he never hesitated to call a spade a spade.

If anyone could resist Reese’s charms, Sterling Wolf could.

Michael only wished he could say the same for himself.

Reclining in the luxurious backseat of the Maybach with Celeste Rutherford, Reese fielded questions about work, her family and growing up in Houston. She asked Grant Rutherford about his latest clinical research study and chatted about everything from the weather to the bad economy. But if asked later to recall specific details of the conversation, she would have been at a complete loss.

She’d been unable to concentrate on anything since arguing with Michael that morning. She was still reeling with shock, anger and confusion over the way he’d lashed out at her for having a boyfriend. He’d reacted like a scorned lover. Which was absurd, considering that he and Reese had hated each other’s guts just yesterday. If
she
hadn’t shown up at his penthouse seeking a truce, they’d still be bitter enemies today. He had no right to be jealous of her relationship with another man. But he
had
been jealous, and that realization left her shaken and more conflicted than ever.

When she’d received a call that morning from a local florist notifying her that a driver was en route to her house, Reese had known right away that Victor had sent her roses. Exasperated by his stubborn persistence, she’d thanked the florist and called Victor, intending to give him another earful about not respecting her boundaries. But he’d masterfully deflected her ire, and by the time the doorbell rang, he’d had Reese laughing and reminiscing about the first time they’d ever met. Before the conversation ended he’d told her that he loved her and missed her, but he was willing to give her the space she’d asked for.

And then Michael had arrived—and all hell broke loose.

If Reese were being honest with herself, she would admit that Michael wasn’t entirely in the wrong. The truth was that she’d been giving him mixed signals ever since they’d met. First she’d asked him to drive her home with the intent of seducing him, then she’d spent an entire day with him, laughing and bonding with him. From Michael’s perspective, she was acting like a tease, saying one thing and doing another. It wasn’t fair to him, and it sure as hell wasn’t fair to Victor.