Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
T he next morning, Michael was awakened by his ringing phone. Rolling over, he grabbed it off the nightstand and looked at the screen. His heart gave an involuntary bump when he saw that the caller was Reese, saved in his contacts as “Beautiful One.”
He pressed the answer button more eagerly than he’d have preferred. “Hey, you.”
“Good morning,” that soft, smoky voice spilled into his ear like sun-warmed honey. “I know it’s only seven-thirty. Did I wake you?”
He smiled. “For the second day in a row, sunshine.”
“Uh-oh.” She sounded amused. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re positively terrifying first thing in the morning?”
He chuckled softly. “I’m not a morning person. Especially if I’m operating on less than three hours of sleep,” he added pointedly.
She laughed. “Touché.”
His smile widened. He was enjoying this too damn much. “Actually, Reese, I was going to call you as soon as I woke up.”
“You were?”
“Yeah. I wanted to see what— Hello ?”
The line had gone dead.
Michael held the phone away from his ear and stared at it in bewildered disbelief. Had she just hung up on him? Or had they gotten disconnected ?
Frowning, he called her right back.
When she answered the phone laughing, he had his answer.
“Sorry,” she said, sounding anything but apologetic. “I just couldn’t resist.”
“Of course you couldn’t,” Michael murmured, humor tugging at the corners of his lips. “I said I was going to call you, so you figured you’d let me do it. Clever.”
“ I thought so.” She sighed contentedly.
He grinned wryly. “I see that you’re a morning person.”
She chuckled. “I’m a doctor. I’m used to getting calls at all hours of the night. Babies who decide to be born at two a.m. don’t care whether or not I’m a morning person. So I’ve learned to adapt my moods. Anywho,” she continued cheerfully, “the reason I was calling was to find out what time you wanted to go to the studio. I have to run a few errands.”
Run them tomorrow , Michael thought . I’ve been dreaming about you all night and I can’t wait to see you again. The sooner the better.
Aloud he said smoothly, “Take your time. We can go around eleven.”
“Are you sure? I don’t want to mess up your schedule.”
“Nah, it’s all good. I need to hit the gym for a couple hours, anyway.”
She groaned. “That’s what I should be doing. I need to burn off all that food you let me gorge on yesterday.”
Michael grinned. He could think of at least one way he’d like to help her burn off calories—and it had nothing to do with the use of Nautilus equipment.
“You must spend a lot of time in the gym,” she said appreciatively. “You’re very…in shape.”
He chuckled at the subtle compliment. “I played basketball in high school and college. So, yeah, keeping fit is important to me. Especially since I’m surrounded by food all the time.”
“Good point. Where do you work out?” she asked. “I might as well find a gym while I’m in town.”
“There’s a fitness center in my building. You’re more than welcome to join me anytime.”
“You’re allowed guests?”
“Of course.” At the thought of seeing her banging body glistening with sweat after a good workout, his mouth watered and blood rushed straight to his groin. “You wanna come today? ”
“Well...” she hedged.
He held his breath.
“No, that’s okay. I’d better go ahead and take care of my errands. Besides,” she added as an afterthought, “between sightseeing and playing paintball yesterday, we did a lot of walking and running. So that should tide me over for another day or two.”
“Excuses, excuses,” Michael teased.
She laughed. “I know, I know. But I’ll be there with you in spirit.”
She’d been “there” with him for the past six days. He couldn’t get her out of his mind.
“I’ll call you when I’m on my way,” he told her.
“Sounds good. See you soon.”
Not soon enough , Michael thought as he hung up the phone and set it on the nightstand.
Smiling, he clasped his hands behind his head and gazed at the ceiling as images from yesterday tumbled through his mind. He remembered their incredibly romantic breakfast on the balcony at his restaurant. When he introduced her to his staff afterward, he’d been fascinated by the way she’d laughed and chatted easily with everyone, charming the apron off his temperamental pastry chef and graciously accepting Griffin’s profuse apologies for the mix-up with the food critic.
Reese had a way about her, an infectious warmth coupled with an earthy sensuality that was utterly bewitching. As the day progressed, Michael had found himself falling deeper under her spell. By the time they’d finished shooting each other up with paintball guns—the most fun he’d ever had with a woman, bar none—he knew he was in trouble.
In the span of one day he’d gone from wishing he’d never laid eyes on her, to lamenting any time spent apart from her.
“ Whoa ,” Michael whispered, shaken by the turn of his thoughts. He couldn’t believe what was happening. Here it was barely eight o’clock in the morning, and he was lying in bed with a goofy ass smile on his face, obsessing over some woman he hardly even knew.
What the hell?
It was crazy. Totally out of character for him. He’d lost his damn mind.
Yet as he untangled himself from the covers and swung out of bed, he knew the extra spring in his step had everything to do with the fact that he’d be seeing Reese again very soon .
And the sooner the better.
But three hours later when he pulled up to the now-familiar bungalow and saw a florist’s delivery truck parked at the curb, he got a sinking feeling in his gut. And that was before he saw Reese standing in the doorway, her phone cradled between her ear and shoulder as she signed for the delivery. When the driver handed her a long white box tied with a red satin bow, she beamed with pleasure.
It was like a blow to Michael’s chest.
He waited until the delivery truck had rumbled off before he climbed out of the car and slowly started up the walk. By the time he reached the front door, his good mood had completely disintegrated, replaced by a dark, seething emotion he didn’t want to identify.
“Michael.” Reese looked surprised to see him. Or maybe guilty was a better word. “I thought you were going to call when you were on your way.”
He’d been so eager to get there he’d forgotten to call. Not that he was about to tell her that. “Since I said we could go around eleven,” he said mildly, “I figured you’d be ready.”
“I am. I just…Never mind.” She opened the door wider and nervously gestured him inside.
As he stepped into the foyer, his gaze went immediately to a box of two dozen long-stemmed red roses lying open on the table.
“Nice,” Michael murmured, slowly removing his sunglasses. Roses were the kind of gift a guy sent to get himself out of the dog house—or into a woman’s bed. Unoriginal, but highly effective.
Reese wouldn’t meet his gaze. “Yes, they are nice.”
“For you?” Please say no. Please say they came for your friend Layla.
Reese hesitated, then reluctantly nodded. “Yes. They’re mine.”
His heart sank, though he should have known better than to get his hopes up. “So my hunch was right about you,” he said, his voice pitched low.
Her hand fluttered to her throat. “What hunch?”
“I suspected you might have a boyfriend. And you do.”
She met his gaze then, but only for a moment before her eyes slid guiltily away .
Coward , he silently mocked her.
“It’s complicated,” she mumbled.
“What the hell does that mean?”
Instead of answering him, she walked over to the table. “I’m going to put these in water and then, uh, we can go.”
As she scooped up the box of roses, a small white card floated to the floor. She didn’t see it, so intent was she on beating a hasty retreat. As she continued to the kitchen, Michael crouched down to pick up the card. Unable to resist, he read the typed message.
You didn’t say I couldn’t send roses. I miss you. Come back to me. Love, Victor.
Michael clenched his jaw as some strange new emotion washed over him—raw, fierce, primitive. Entirely foreign. Entirely unwelcome.
He stood slowly as Reese returned to the foyer, sucking her thumb where she’d presumably been pricked by a thorn.
“Okay,” she said briskly. “I’m ready to go.”
Michael held up the card, and watched as a deep, embarrassed flush swept across her face. “It fell out of the box,” he told her.
“Oh. Thanks,” she muttered, practically snatching it out of his hand. She tapped it against her open palm for a moment, then looked up at him with an unspoken question in her eyes.
He didn’t have to guess what she was asking. She wanted to know if he’d read the card.
He just looked at her, letting the tense silence hang between them.
Not surprisingly, she was the first to glance away. “We should probably go,” she mumbled.
“You didn’t answer my question,” Michael said flatly.
She started away from him. “I left my handbag in the?—”
“Did your boyfriend send the roses?”
“I don’t?—”
“ Did he ?” Michael demanded.
“Yes!” She rounded on him, those dark eyes flashing with fiery defiance. “Yes, the roses are from my boyfriend! His name is Victor. We work at the same hospital. He loves my cooking. Anything else you want to know?”
“Yeah.” Michael smirked, surprised by the strength of the jealousy he felt. “How does your boyfriend feel about you kissing other men?”
It was a low blow, and he knew it .
Reese flinched, hurt and anger flaring in her eyes. She took a step backward, glaring at him. “Maybe you should just leave,” she said coldly.
“No,” Michael snarled, his heart beating so savagely he thought he might go into cardiac arrest. “I came to take you to the studio, and that’s what I’m doing.”
“Fine,” she snapped. “Then I’m getting my damn purse.”
“Fine. I’ll wait in the damn car.” He turned and stalked out of the house.
Reese joined him in the idling Maybach a few minutes later, slamming the door hard enough to make his teeth snap together.
Without sparing her a glance, he threw the car into drive and gunned the accelerator, pinning her against the seat with a tight-knuckled grip on the door handle that gave him a perverse twinge of satisfaction.
He knew he was being irrational, that he had no right to feel so possessive over her. Yet he couldn’t help himself. He wanted her, damn it. Wanted her like no other woman he’d ever wanted before. But as long as she had a boyfriend, she was completely off-limits to him. Because as much as he enjoyed playing the field, he’d always drawn the line at sleeping with women who were already taken. There were too many other fish in the sea for him to poach on another man’s territory.
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 phone cut through the frigid silence in the car. Out of the corner of his eye, Michael saw Reese raise a brow at the ringtone—“Fight the Power” by Public Enemy. It was his personal theme song for his brother, 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’ve forgot. Anyway, I’m on my way to the studio. Why can’t you pick them up from the airport?”
“I was planning 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 Wednesday.”
“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 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 in surprise.
Michael grunted an affirmative. He hadn’t wanted the outside world to intrude on his time with Reese. What a pathetic joke.
“That must’ve 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 first 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.