Tempt Me at Midnight (6 page)

Lexi shoved her chair back from the table and stood on trembling legs. She’d had enough of her mother’s diatribes for one night. “I can’t do this. I need to go.”

Carlene said nothing as she stalked out of the room to retrieve her coat from the hall closet. She jammed her arms into the sleeves, struggling to get her emotions under control before she got behind the wheel to drive home.

When it became apparent that her mother wasn’t going to see her to the door or even say good night, she sighed harshly and strode back into the kitchen.

Carlene was already lighting up another cigarette.

“Good night, Ma,” Lexi said tersely.

Sucking in a lungful of smoke, her mother gave her a dismissive wave. The same way she’d greeted her when she arrived.

As Lexi slammed out of the house, she wondered, for the millionth time, what the hell was keeping her in Atlanta.

O
n the other side of town, Quentin sat alone at the end of a long mahogany bar in Wolf’s Soul, a popular Atlanta restaurant owned by his best friend, Michael. Quentin was hunched over a bottle of beer he’d been nursing for the past half hour.

Taking a long sip, he looked up at the plasma television mounted above the counter.

A rerun of Michael’s Emmy-winning show,
Howlin’ Good,
was on the air. It was one of the

“macho man” themed episodes, which featured no-frills recipes geared toward “manly”

appetites. Michael hosted one of these shows every season as an opportunity to invite his father’s old police comrades to fill the studio audience. The men stomped, hollered and cheered their way through the whole taping. And viewers loved every rowdy minute of it.

Quentin watched in brooding silence, his eyes glazing over the familiar images.

“Whose funeral was today?”

He glanced around as Michael plopped down on the stool beside him, dressed in his white chef’s jacket and black pants.

“What’s up, man?” he greeted Quentin, clapping him on the back.

Quentin grunted in response.

A bottle of beer materialized before Michael. “On the house, boss,” the bartender said with a wink and a grin.

Michael grinned back, raising his bottle in a mock toast.

The man hitched his chin toward Quentin. “Can I get you another cold one, Counselor?”

“Naw, I’m good. Thanks.”

As the bartender moved off to tend to another customer, Michael took a swig of beer and eyed Quentin’s brooding profile. “Seriously, man. Did someone die?”

“No,” Quentin murmured. “I just have a lot on my mind.”

“Of course.” Michael nodded. “The trial starts tomorrow. That’s all Marcus has been talking about for weeks.”

Last year, Marcus Wolf’s prominent law firm had been renamed Wolf & Reddick, LLP to reflect Quentin’s changed status as joint owner. One of his first moves had been to file a lawsuit on behalf of an employee who’d been wrongfully terminated by a health-insurance company after he spoke out against his employer’s fraudulent claim-denial practices. As lead counsel, Quentin would argue the case before the Georgia Court of Appeals.

The upcoming trial should have been uppermost on his mind tonight. The pure adrenaline rush of preparing for a big case, the anticipation of going up against a formidable adversary.
This
was what he lived for.

So why were his thoughts dominated by a woman he couldn’t have—and had no business wanting?

Michael was talking, his deep voice blending into the other background noise that filled the busy restaurant. “…says you’re the best litigator to take on those health-insurance sharks. He says you’ve been salivating at the opportunity to make mincemeat of them in court.”

Quentin took a long pull on his beer, humming the appropriate “mmm-hmm” to let Michael know he was listening. Even though he wasn’t.

There was a pause.

“On second thought,” Michael continued, “what Marcus
really
said is that you’re gonna totally blow the case. He thinks you’re gonna be outmatched and outmaneuvered by the defense team’s high-powered lawyers.”

“Uh-huh,” Quentin murmured, his mind drifting thousands of miles away to Burgundy, and the balloon ride with Lexi. He remembered the way she’d gazed out across the stunning landscape, her face aglow with wonder and exhilaration. After a while, he’d found himself watching her more than the view. Because as amazing as the sights were, he knew the experience wouldn’t have been the same without her by his side.

“…planning a surprise baby shower. And Lexi says she’s going to—”

Quentin swung his head around to stare at Michael. “What’d you say?”

A knowing gleam filled his friend’s eyes. “So
that’s
what it took to finally get your attention. Hearing Lexi’s name.”

Quentin frowned and glanced away, sipping his beer. But he could feel Michael studying him, his eyes shrewd and assessing. He instinctively braced himself for the question he knew was coming.

“What’s going on between you and Lexi?”

“Nothing,” Quentin lied without missing a beat.

“Bull. I saw the way you two were acting around each other this past weekend.

There were all
kinds
of vibes jumping off both of you. And what about all that stuff Asha was saying over breakfast? Sounded to me like she was on to something.”

Quentin said nothing, absently rubbing his thumb back and forth against the frosty condensation lining his beer bottle. He and Michael had been best friends since childhood.

Next to Lexi, no one knew Quentin better than Michael. Which meant he knew the good
and
the bad. Unfortunately, when it came to Quentin’s track record with women, there was more bad than good.

Michael blew out a long, deep breath. “Look, Q, you know nothing would please me more than to see my two best friends happy. It’d be weird as hell if you and Lexi hooked up after all these years,” he admitted with a rueful grin, “but I’d be totally cool with it—as long as both of you were committed to making the relationship work.”

Quentin knew
he
was the only one whose commitment issues were in question.

“The last thing I want is for Lexi to get hurt again,” Michael said quietly. “We both know how much she went through with that cheating bastard she was married to.”

Quentin clenched his jaw, his fingers tightening around the neck of his beer bottle at the reminder of Adam McNamara. The worthless son of a bitch had done a number on Lexi, leaving her heartbroken and more disillusioned about men than she’d already been.

Two years later, Quentin was still out for McNamara’s blood. The only reason he hadn’t killed the bastard was that Lexi had vowed she’d never visit him in prison, and he didn’t want to call her bluff. He’d promised her that he wouldn’t go after her ex-husband, and he intended to keep his word. But if he ever ran into McNamara in a dark, deserted alley, all bets were off.

“He never deserved her,” Quentin growled with renewed fury.

“Not by a long shot,” Michael agreed grimly. “Anyway, after everything she’s been through, she needs someone who’s reliable. Someone she can trust, someone she doesn’t have to check up on every hour of the day to make sure he ain’t creepin’. She needs someone who’s ready to commit to one woman.”

Quentin smiled cynically. “And you think that someone can’t be me. Because I can’t change my ways.”

Michael pinned him with a direct gaze. “
You
tell
me.
”

They stared each other down, the air between them fraught with challenge.

Michael was the first to break eye contact, his gaze skipping past Quentin to stare across the crowded restaurant. By the way his expression softened, Quentin didn’t have to guess who’d just walked through the door.

He glanced over his shoulder. Sure enough, Reese was heading straight toward them, her round belly protruding through her open lab coat, a stethoscope dangling around her neck. Customers called out friendly greetings to her, and she responded in kind.

As she reached the bar, she said warmly, “Hey, fellas.”

“Hey, baby girl,” Quentin said.

“Hiya, sweetheart.” Swiveling around on his stool, Michael tugged gently on her stethoscope and pulled her close for an affectionate kiss. “You forgot to remove this. Busy day?”

“Very. Delivered eight babies, including a set of twins.” She smiled, looping her arms around his neck. “How was
your
day?”

“Good. Even better now that you’re here.”

Quentin rolled his eyes.

Catching his expression, Reese grinned at her husband. “I think we’re grossing out our friend here.”

“I know. Isn’t it fun?”

“Absolutely.”

They traded diabolical grins that coaxed a low chuckle out of Quentin.

“Are you hungry?” Michael asked Reese.

“Aren’t I always?”

He smiled. “Let me fix you a plate, get you off your feet.”

“No. Sit,” she said as he started to rise. “I’m not an invalid. I can find my way to the kitchen. You boys finish your talk.”

“Naw,” Quentin drawled, “take your man with you. He’s disturbing my meditation.”

“Meditating?” Reese swept an amused glance around the crowded restaurant.

“Here?”

“See, that’s the beauty of meditation. You can do it anywhere.” Quentin grinned wickedly. “Not unlike—”

Michael scowled. “Baby, why don’t you head on back to the kitchen? I’ll be there in a minute.”

Reese laughed, wagging her finger at Quentin before waddling off.

Michael transferred his gaze to Quentin. “So we’re straight, right?”

“About Lexi?”

Michael nodded. “If you’re ready to be that someone, then make your move. But if you hurt her, I’m gonna have to kick your ass.” He flashed a quick, sharp-edged smile that left no doubt in Quentin’s mind that he’d make good on his threat. And then he was gone, easily catching up to his wife.

Quentin frowned after him, even as he grudgingly admitted to himself that Michael had every reason to question his intentions toward Lexi.

“Excuse me, handsome. Is this seat taken?”

Quentin glanced over his shoulder.

A woman stood right behind him.

Out of habit he looked her over, swiftly cataloging her assets. Slender and attractive, light-skinned with long hair and a pretty smile. Nice.

But she wasn’t petite, he noted. And she wasn’t curvy enough. She didn’t have gypsy eyes that a man could drown in. Or a lush mouth made for sin. And her voice wasn’t a soft rasp, laced with a lazy Southern drawl that made her sound like she’d been napping in the sun. Quentin knew that if this woman ever called him “sweetie,” it wouldn’t have the same effect on him.

Because she wasn’t Lexi.

Lexi.

He got abruptly to his feet.

The woman stared at him as he peeled off some large bills from his wallet and dropped them onto the counter. “Drinks are on me, beautiful.”

“Are you leaving?” she asked, sounding disappointed.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Alone?”

Quentin smiled to soften his rejection. “Alone.”

But he wouldn’t stay that way for very long.

T
he first thing Lexi did when she got home was hop into the shower. She always left her mother’s house smelling like an ashtray, and she hated it. Standing under the hot spray, she scrubbed her skin and vigorously shampooed her hair until she was squeaky clean.

When she emerged from the shower, she slipped on a pair of clean underwear and grabbed her blow-dryer. She’d just finished drying her hair when she was startled by a knock on the bathroom door.

“Lex,” called a deep, masculine voice.

She whirled around, staring at the closed door. “Quentin?”

He chuckled. “Unless you’ve got a bunch of other guys running around with a spare key to your house.” He paused. “You don’t, do you?”

“I don’t know.” A smile tipped one corner of her mouth. “I can’t remember.”

Another pause. “That’s not funny, Lex.”

She laughed, secretly relieved that she always closed the bathroom door to keep steam trapped inside the room. The thought of Quentin spying on her while she took a shower brought a hot, embarrassed flush to her body. Not that he’d ever invade her privacy like that, of course. She’d gotten undressed in the same room with him many times, and he’d always kept his back turned like a perfect gentleman. But then again, he saw more than enough pairs of breasts on a regular basis. He didn’t have to resort to sneaking a peek at his best friend’s.

“What’re you doing here, anyway?” Lexi called through the door as she returned her blow-dryer to the linen cabinet and removed a jar of mango body butter. “Shouldn’t you be at the office burning the midnight oil in preparation for the trial?”

“Been doing that for the past five months,” Quentin answered. “I need a break.”

“Slacker,” she teased.

He chuckled softly. “I just came from the restaurant.”

Lexi didn’t have to ask which restaurant. Not a week went by without one or both of them eating at Wolf’s Soul. It was their favorite hangout, and the food was second to none.

“How long have you been here?”

“Not long. I rang the doorbell once or twice. When you didn’t answer, I figured you were in the bathroom. So I just let myself in.”

“No problem, sweetie.” She began smoothing on the rich, scented body butter. First one arm, and then the other.

“You almost finished in there?”

“Almost. Just putting on some cream.”

“Oh.” Quentin’s voice sounded strange, rough. “You’re not, ah, dressed yet?”

“Not quite.” She hesitated. “I had to blow-dry my hair. The heat makes me sweat, so I prefer to get dressed afterward.” She grimaced, wondering why she’d volunteered so much information.

Quentin said nothing.

Bracing one foot on the edge of the bathtub, Lexi spread the fragrant cream over her thigh. She massaged it into her skin, working downward to her feet before moving to the other leg.

“I brought you something to eat,” Quentin told her in that strangely thick tone.

She smiled. “Really? That was very thoughtful of you.”

“I figured you probably hadn’t eaten dinner yet.”