Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
“ U ncle Mike! Uncle Mike!”
Michael had just stepped out of his car when two miniature tornadoes—in the form of his three-year-old nephews—came hurtling down the driveway toward him. By the time he closed the car door, the twins had launched themselves at his legs. Laughing, Michael reached down and scooped them into his arms, planting an affectionate kiss on top of each boy’s head.
“Hey, pups,” he greeted them. “How was Disney World?”
“Fun!” Matthew and Malcolm Wolf chorused, their identical faces lit up with wide, dimpled smiles. “You shoulda come with us!”
Michael chuckled, watching as his brother Marcus sauntered toward him. “I wish I could’ve, but I had to work. Maybe next time.”
“You promise?” entreated Matthew, who’d already established himself as the more demanding twin.
Coming to Michael’s rescue, Marcus said chidingly, “Little boy, your mother and I need to catch our breath before we even think about taking any more trips to Orlando.”
Michael grinned at his brother. “Ran you ragged, didn’t they?”
Marcus chuckled. “Let’s just say I’ve never felt so old in my life.”
“That’s because you are old.”
“Hey, look who’s talking! ”
Though almost six years apart, Michael and Marcus had often been described as dead ringers of each other. Like Michael, Marcus was tall, broad-shouldered and long-legged, with smooth dark skin and the strong, masculine features they’d both inherited from their father. A prominent tort attorney, Marcus had been enjoying the carefree lifestyle of a renowned ladies’ man—until he went to Washington, D.C. four years ago and got tamed by Samara Layton.
As Marcus plucked Matt out of his brother’s arm, Michael swung Malcolm over his head and onto his shoulders, making the boy squeal with delight. Marcus did the same with Matt, lest he feel cheated.
“Where’s Samara?” Michael asked his brother as they started up the walk toward their father’s house.
“Getting her hair done.” Marcus smiled. “I told her to treat herself to a massage while she was at it, so we might not see her for a long time.”
Michael gave his brother an amused sidelong glance. “What a kind, thoughtful husband you are.”
Marcus shrugged. “What can I say? Nothing but the best for my queen.”
If the comment had been made by anyone else, Michael might have rolled his eyes in laughing disbelief. But he knew better than anyone how much Marcus loved Samara. He worshipped the ground she walked on and would do anything for her. So when he called her his queen, Michael knew he was speaking from the heart.
“Grandpa!”
Sterling Wolf was waiting in the doorway, an excited grin wreathing his face at the sight of his sons and grandchildren. As they drew nearer, he snapped a picture with the expensive digital camera he’d received as a Father’s Day gift last month.
“Beautiful,” he pronounced, beaming with pride as he tucked the camera into the front pocket of his polo shirt. “You boys look just like your father and uncle did at your age.”
Michael and Marcus had barely set down the twins before they rushed into their grandfather’s wide-open arms. Sterling hugged them tightly, bellowing with laughter as they began babbling about their adventures at Disney World.
“Whoa,” Marcus called out, raising his voice to be heard above the cacophony. “Grandpa can’t understand a word you boys are saying. One at a time.”
“Aw, leave ’em alone,” Sterling said good-naturedly. “This is music to my ears.”
Michael and Marcus exchanged amused glances. “Do you ever remember him saying that when we were growing up?” Marcus asked.
Michael grinned. “Nope.”
Pointedly ignoring them, Sterling whispered conspiratorially to his grandsons, “Ms. Frizell has a special treat waiting for you in the kitchen. Why don’t you go see what it is?”
With eager squeals, the boys took off down the hall in a flash of matching blue T-shirts and white sneakers.
Sterling smiled as he watched them go, the epitome of the proud, doting grandfather. He’d wept with joy the day the twins were born—the first time in years Michael had seen his tough, hard-nosed father reduced to tears.
Heaving a deep sigh of contentment, Sterling turned to Michael and Marcus. “It’s good to have the Wolf Pack together again,” he declared, draping an arm around each son’s shoulders as they started from the foyer. “Thanks for coming over and spending your Saturday with your old man.”
“You don’t have to thank us, Dad,” Marcus said, taking the words out of Michael’s mouth. “You know you’re the main reason Samara and I decided to move back to Atlanta. We wanted to be closer to you, and we didn’t want to deprive the boys of growing up around their grandfather.”
“I sure do appreciate that,” Sterling said earnestly. “The day you called to tell me that good news made me as happy as the day I found out your brother had strong-armed the network executives into letting him tape his show here instead of New York.”
Michael chuckled. “I didn’t ‘strong-arm’ anyone.”
“Actually, you did,” Marcus countered wryly. “When it was time to renegotiate your contract, you gave the network an ultimatum. Either they relocated your set to Atlanta, or you walked. But not only did you threaten to walk, you told them you’d approach Ted Turner with a proposal to use your show to launch a rival food network based in Atlanta. With Howlin’ Good being such a huge ratings hit, you knew how badly your producers wanted to keep you, so you played hardball.” His tone was laced with admiration. “And here I thought I was the ruthless lawyer in the family. ”
Michael and Sterling laughed.
When they reached the kitchen, they found the twins perched on high-backed stools at the center island, munching happily on cupcakes decorated with miniature Mickey Mouse ears. Their hands and mouths were smeared with purple frosting, and when they looked up and flashed chocolaty grins, everyone dissolved into laughter.
After settling down the twins with an animated movie, Marcus joined his father and Michael on the veranda. Flopping into a chair at the wrought-iron table, he grabbed the glass of iced tea that’d been poured for him.
“Ahh. Good stuff,” he declared after taking a long, appreciative sip. “Another thing I missed about home—sweet tea. They don’t know the first thing about brewing good Southern sweet tea in Washington. One of these days I’ll have to ask Ms. Frizell what her secret ingredient is.”
Sterling grunted. “Good luck with that. I’ve already tried, and she won’t give it up.”
Michael chuckled. “She adds a little baking soda. It acts as a preservative to keep the tea from becoming cloudy and bitter.”
Marcus shook his head at Sterling. “Shoulda known she’d tell him . The chefs always stick together.”
“Of course.” Michael grinned.
“So how’s Lexi?” Sterling asked him. “Talk to her lately?”
“Doesn’t he always?” Marcus said with a grin.
Michael frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I believe your brother’s trying to imply that you and Lexi never go a day without talking to each other,” Sterling explained.
“So? What’s wrong with that? She’s one of my closest friends.”
“Right,” Marcus said dryly. “And it never occurred to you that she might want to be more than just a friend.”
Michael rolled his eyes. “Of course it occurred to me. The first time we met was at a party where everyone we knew was paired off into couples.” Inwardly he smiled at the memory of the sloppy, drunken kiss he and Lexi had shared, the sparks that failed to ignite between them. In the ensuing years, she’d become that female friend every guy should have—the one he went to for dating advice and to get a woman’s perspective on the female psyche .
In all the time they’d been friends, Michael never once suspected that Lexi was secretly carrying a torch for him. He knew she wasn’t.
But Marcus seemed hell-bent on proving otherwise. “She’s never liked any of your girlfriends?—”
“Neither has Dad.”
“—and she never misses an opportunity to tell you why she thinks someone is wrong for you.”
“Again, neither does Dad. That’s what people who care about you are supposed to do.”
“All right,” Marcus said, pinning his brother with a direct gaze. “Since you’ve got an answer for everything, here’s something else for you to consider. Lexi’s marriage only lasted two years. Why do you think that is?”
Michael met his gaze steadily. “Not everyone can be as lucky as you and Samara.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” Sterling murmured.
Michael and Marcus fell silent, remembering the way their parents’ marriage had ended in bitter divorce after their mother was caught cheating on Sterling. Although Michael had made peace with her long ago, he’d never forgotten how her infidelity tore their family apart. Seeing their father reduced to a shell of his former self had taken such an emotional toll on Michael and Marcus that they’d sworn off getting married or having children.
Marcus had had a change of heart.
Michael didn’t think he ever would.
Leaning back in his chair, Marcus said quietly, “You’re right, Mike. Samara’s the best thing that ever happened to me, and not a day goes by that I don’t count my blessings. I guess what I’ve been trying to get at is that it’s not too late for you.” He glanced at his father. “For either of you.”
Sterling guffawed. “I’m too damn old to be bothered with all that.”
“No, you’re not,” Marcus protested.
“Trust me, boy, I am. But your brother isn’t.” Sterling cut a sideways grin at Michael. “Back to what we were discussing before?—”
Michael held up a hand. “There’s nothing going on between me and Lexi. We’re just friends, and that’s all we’re ever gonna be.”
Seeing the look that passed between his father and Marcus, Michael felt a surge of irritation. Pushing back his chair, he stood and walked over to the railing that wrapped around the veranda .
New visitors to the house always gushed over the sprawling backyard, which boasted a gazebo, a guesthouse, a small pool and a series of garden beds that added vibrant splashes of color to the landscape. A surrounding canopy of trees kept out the scorching summer heat and gave the yard an air of seclusion. In a glowing feature article published several years ago, Better Homes & Gardens described the yard as an “architectural paradise” and “a slice of heaven to rival Callaway Gardens”—lines that Sterling couldn’t resist quoting to anyone who visited the house.
Not surprisingly, the backyard was the family’s favorite gathering place, playing host to summer cookouts, pool parties, birthday parties, scavenger hunts for the twins and—most memorable of all—Marcus’s wedding.
Michael couldn’t help smiling at a mental image of Samara, a vision in white wafting down a rose-strewn aisle in the picturesque garden. If the day hadn’t been so profoundly special, Michael might have teased his brother about the tears that’d streamed freely down his face as he gazed at his bride. But the truth was that even Michael had gotten choked up during the ceremony. And in the deep, dark recesses of his heart, he’d wondered if he would ever get his own fairy-tale ending.
“So what’s going on between you and that doctor you were arguing with the other day?” Sterling asked, breaking into Michael’s thoughts.
Michael frowned. Just when he’d fooled himself into believing he could go an entire hour without thinking about Reese St. James.
He turned, arms folded across his chest as he glared balefully at his father. Undaunted, Sterling grinned like the proverbial cat that ate the canary.
“What doctor?” Marcus demanded, looking from one to the other. “What’d I miss?”
“Nothing,” Michael grumbled.
“Plenty,” Sterling said at the same time.
A slow, knowing grin crawled across Marcus’s face. “I’ll take your word for it, Dad. So what happened?”
“Well, on Wednesday I overheard an argument between?—”
Michael snorted. “ Overheard ? Pops, you were eavesdropping.”
“It ain’t eavesdropping?—”
“—if the conversation takes place under your roof,” Michael and Marcus finished, then laughed. How many times had their father used that line to justify eavesdropping on their phone conversations when they were growing up? He’d given the same rationale for snooping through their belongings to make sure they weren’t hiding drugs, though he’d always assured them that someday they would thank him for his vigilance. The Wolf brothers were the only kids in the neighborhood who’d been subjected to random drug testing until they left home for college.
“As I was saying,” Sterling continued pointedly, “I overheard an argument between Mike and a woman he met at the restaurant. Apparently he’d ticked her off pretty good by accusing her of impersonating a food critic.”
“ What ?” Marcus’s surprised gaze swung to his brother. “Why would you do something like that?”
Biting back an impatient oath, Michael quickly and succinctly explained what happened on Tuesday night, glossing over the kiss he and Reese had shared. When he’d finished his account, Marcus shook his head in amused disbelief.
“Is she unattractive?” he asked.
“Far from it,” Michael grudgingly admitted.
“Then why would you even think she’d have to resort to a stunt like that?”
“Like I said,” Michael ground out, “it was an honest mistake, one that could’ve happened to anyone. Anyway, it doesn’t matter now. She got her revenge.”
“How so?” Sterling and Marcus asked in unison.
Michael smiled grimly. “She’s going to be my new apprentice.”
His father and brother listened raptly as he told them about the riveting audition performance that made Reese a shoo-in to win the competition. By the time he finished describing her sassy comedic shtick, both men were laughing pretty hard.
“Damn,” Marcus said. “Wish I could’ve been there to see it.”
“Me, too,” Sterling agreed with a grin. “Reese sounds like a little firecracker.”
“Oh, she is,” Michael muttered as a memory of glittering, defiant eyes flashed through his mind. And the mouth on her. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been both infuriated and aroused while sparring with a woman. “She’s definitely gonna be a damn handful.”
Marcus gave him a knowing grin. “Think you’re up for the challenge?”
“Of course,” Michael retorted, thinking, God help me if I’m wrong!