Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
M ichael was still in a foul mood that evening.
Nursing his second glass of merlot, he cast a surly glance around the long dinner table, which had been set with Sterling’s best china and decorated with fresh flowers from the garden. Ms. Frizell, with minor input from Michael, had prepared a lavish five-course feast fit for royalty.
Everyone seemed to be having a good time. Presiding at the head of the table, Sterling engaged Grant in a spirited debate about the best golf courses in Georgia versus Minnesota. Marcus and Samara had their hands full with the twins, alternately cajoling the boys to eat their vegetables and laughing at their antics. Even Celeste and Asha were being civil to each other, honoring their unspoken agreement never to argue in front of their grandchildren.
And then there was Reese.
Reese, whose radiant smiles and engaging personality made it impossible to treat her like an outsider.
In brooding resignation, Michael watched her work her charm on his family, laughing and bantering with that natural ease he’d grown to admire. Even his nephews fell under her spell, giggling at the goofy faces she made at them and vying for her attention .
Michael couldn’t take his eyes off her. In contrast, Reese had barely spared him a glance all evening.
Earlier, he’d returned from meeting with Asha to find Reese and his father right where he’d left them on the veranda, sipping lemonade and sharing a laugh like old friends. Michael knew the verdict even before Sterling met his gaze and mouthed: She’s a keeper, Mike .
Those four unforgettable words, never before uttered by his father, had plunged Michael into an even blacker mood—a volatile cocktail of anger, frustration and longing. And the more Reese ignored him over dinner, the worse his mood became.
After dinner, everyone gravitated to the backyard as dusk approached. While the others roamed the landscaped grounds, Michael stayed on the veranda under the pretext of making some phone calls. He checked his voicemail messages, then dialed the restaurant to see how things were going. After speaking to his sous chef for a few minutes, he hung up just as he received a text from Lexi.
How’s the family visit going? Is the diva still breathing?
Michael couldn’t suppress a wry chuckle. Lexi knew all about his parents’ acrimonious relationship with Asha Dubois. She’d often had Michael in stitches as she concocted slapstick scenarios in which Sterling and Celeste plotted to get rid of Asha, only to be thwarted at every turn by the “diva who wouldn’t die.”
Smiling, Michael typed back:
The diva’s alive and well. And fine as hell.
You sound just like Q.
Low blow.
Sorry. Couldn’t resist. Anyway, some friends and I are meeting Q for drinks. Wanna come? You can keep your boy in line.
Michael paused, his gaze straying to where Reese was playing hide-and- seek with the twins. The boys were giggling hysterically, their short, sturdy legs pumping as they tried to evade capture, a task made easy by Reese’s exaggeratedly slow running.
Michael watched them, his chest squeezing as he envisioned Reese pregnant. Holding his baby in her arms. Chasing their child around the yard.
Shaken by the images, he jerked his gaze back to the phone where Lexi was awaiting his response to her invitation. He wondered what she would say if she knew about his growing feelings for Reese, the very same woman he’d vehemently objected to having on his show just four days ago. He’d always sought Lexi’s advice about women, but for some reason he didn’t want to tell her about Reese. His feelings for her were too new, too confusing, too powerful. Too damn scary.
Are you there?
Michael cleared his throat and quickly typed:
Can’t meet for drinks. But how about lunch on Thursday?
Your treat?
Of course.
Then you’re on, baby.
Have fun tonight and tell Q to behave, or else....
He sent the message, then stuffed his phone into the back pocket of his jeans.
As his brooding gaze wandered back to Reese, Marcus climbed onto the veranda and cautiously approached, eyeing Michael as if he were a feral animal who might pounce at any moment.
When Marcus had nearly reached the table, he stopped and asked, “Is it safe to proceed?”
Michael just looked at him.
“Remember when we were younger, and I’d take stuff from your room and forget to put it back before you noticed it was missing? Remember when I was six and I accidentally tore your autographed Dominique Wilkins poster? Well, the way you’re looking at me now is the way you looked at me that day. Man, I was so scared you’d beat the crap out of me that I peed on myself. Remember that?”
Michael tried but couldn’t stifle his laughter.
Marcus grinned, looking relieved as he pulled out a chair at the table and nimbly straddled it. “Dad was so mad that I’d ruined a new pair of pants that he whipped my butt, anyway.”
“Believe it or not, Little Man, you got off lucky that day. I was mad enough to strangle you. I loved that poster.”
“I know. But at least I made it up to you.”
“Yeah. You did.” Marcus had invited the NBA legend to Michael’s fortieth birthday bash. His gift from Dominique Wilkins, of course, was an autographed poster to replace the one Marcus ripped years ago.
Michael smiled at the memory, feeling some of the tension ebb from his body.
It didn’t last.
“So what’s up with you and Reese?” Marcus demanded, dropping all pretenses of making small talk.
Michael frowned. “Nothing’s up with us.”
“Like hell,” Marcus snorted. “You’ve been sulking all night, and she’s been going out of her way to treat you like the Invisible Man. What the hell happened between you two?”
“I don’t wanna talk about it,” Michael bit off.
Undaunted, Marcus pressed, “What changed between yesterday morning and today? Q says you and Reese looked mighty cozy together when he saw you at the restaurant.”
Michael glared at his brother. “He told you about that?”
Marcus gave him a come-on-now look.
Michael swore under his breath. Of course Quentin had run his mouth to Marcus. He always did.
“On second thought,” Michael groused, “maybe it wasn’t such a good idea for you to hire Q. The two of you have way too much time on your hands at the office.”
Marcus smiled. “Actually, I think we’re pretty productive. And you haven’t answered my question. How did you and Reese go from being lovey-dovey to not even speaking to each other?”
Scowling, Michael shoved to his feet and stalked over to the railing. Striving for calm, he stared out across the sprawling yard, mentally cataloguing the idyllic scene before him. His mother and Grant lounged in the gazebo, while Sterling and Asha strolled along the walkway swinging their grandsons between them. Reese and Samara now sat talking by the small pool, their bare legs dangling in the shimmering water.
As Michael watched Reese, a deep ache of longing washed through him. He recognized it as the same feeling he’d experienced at Marcus’s wedding, a feeling that had resurfaced in recent days.
The day after he met Reese, to be exact.
Marcus joined him at the railing. Following the direction of his brother’s gaze, he smiled. “Those two look like they’ve been friends for years.”
Michael grunted in agreement.
Marcus sighed. “I’ve always hoped that our future wives would be as close as we are.”
Michael slanted his brother a look that would’ve sent a lesser man scurrying for cover. But Marcus merely grinned.
“Don’t go planning any weddings just yet,” Michael grumbled. “Reese has a boyfriend.”
“Ahh.” Marcus nodded wisely. “That explains the tortured expression on your face every time you look at her.”
“I don’t have a ‘tortured’ expression.” But even as the swift denial left Michael’s mouth, it rang hollow in his ears.
Marcus gave him an almost pitying look. “I can definitely see how you got blindsided. Reese is a beautiful woman. Smart as hell, too.” He chuckled. “Mom can’t stop mentioning that she’s a doctor.”
“Yeah,” Michael said, his mouth twisting cynically, “and we all know how Mom feels about doctors.”
It was an ugly thing to say, a barbed reference to the way their mother had deserted them to be with Grant Rutherford, the rich, handsome surgeon at the hospital where she’d worked. For years Michael had despised doctors so much he couldn’t even watch them on TV. And now here he was making a fool of himself over—of all things—a doctor. Oh, the irony .
“So what’re you gonna do about it?” Marcus asked, resting his forearms on top of the railing.
“Do about what?”
“Your obvious feelings for Reese. What’re you gonna do about it?”
Michael frowned at his brother. “Didn’t you hear what I just said? She has a boyfriend.”
“Is it serious?”
“How the hell should I know?” Michael snapped. He didn’t want to know. The thought of Reese with another man made him feel downright homicidal.
“So that’s it, then. Because she’s already in a relationship, you’re backing off. Just like that.”
“Damn straight.”
Marcus nodded thoughtfully. “Interestingly enough, I didn’t see a ring on any of her fingers.”
“Doesn’t matter. You know my rule.”
“Right. The rule.” Marcus’s tone was faintly mocking. “You know what they say about rules, don’t you?”
“What?”
“There’s always an exception.”
That shut Michael up. He faltered for a moment, then blew out a harsh, exasperated breath. He could feel a vein throbbing in his neck and he flexed his fingers, fighting a vicious urge to punch Marcus in the mouth. He loved his brother to death and would do anything for him, but ever since he got married, Marcus had become way too invested in Michael’s love life. It was as if he’d made it his personal mission to get Michael hitched so he’d be as deliriously happy as he was.
Marcus released a dramatic sigh. “If you’re not interested in going after what you want, Q says he’d be more than happy?—”
“Like hell he will,” Michael growled, skewering Marcus with a lethal glare. “If Q goes anywhere near Reese, you’re gonna have one less lawyer on your damn payroll. Feel me?”
“Oh, most definitely,” Marcus chuckled, edging away from him.
Michael clenched his jaw, his nerves stretched dangerously taut.
After a prolonged silence, Marcus said offhandedly, “Samara and I are gonna crash here for the night. Why don’t you and Reese do the same? You know Dad’s got plenty of room, and quite frankly, you don’t look like you should be getting behind the wheel tonight.”
Michael bristled. “I only had two glasses of wine with dinner.”
Marcus grinned. “Your alcohol intake isn’t what I’m worried about. Given your lousy mood, do you really think it’s a good idea for you to be alone in a car with Reese?”
Before Michael could respond, a high-pitched squeal from one of the twins drew his gaze across the yard to Sterling and Asha.
As he and Marcus watched, their father tossed Matt into the air and caught him with a deep, rollicking laugh. Balancing Malcolm on one hip, Asha laughingly admonished Sterling to be careful. Instead of scowling or waving her off, Sterling smiled and brushed a windblown strand of hair off her face.
Michael and Marcus exchanged startled glances.
“Did you see that?” Marcus asked.
“Hell yeah.”
They watched in disbelief as Asha smiled shyly at their father before averting her eyes to kiss Malcolm’s forehead. Sterling gazed at her a moment longer, then blinked and quickly glanced away.
Michael gave his brother a sideways look. “You don’t think…?”
They went still, staring alertly at each other.
“Nah,” they scoffed in unison, and laughed.