Tempt Me at Midnight (7 page)

“You figured correctly. As usual.” Was she imagining things, or had his voice gotten closer to the door?

She swallowed, licking her lips. Staring at herself in the mirror, she began rubbing the mango butter over her belly. Her muscles quivered, tightened. She paused, then slowly slid her hands up to her breasts. An odd, tingling awareness rippled over her skin.

Without warning, her mind conjured an image of the doorknob being turned. A moment later Quentin stood in the doorway, his lids at half mast over smoldering hazel eyes. Their gazes locked in the mirror.

Without a word he started toward her, a slow, stealthy advance that made her pulse hammer.

When he’d reached the sink where she stood, he dipped his fingers into the jar of cream, scooping out enough to coat both of his hands. Her body hummed with arousal. He moved behind her, staring at their joined reflections in the mirror. A slow, sensual smile curved his mouth. And then he cupped her breasts.

Lexi gasped with pleasure.

He began to massage the cream into her breasts with a circular motion, starting from the outside and deliberately working his way toward her dark, distended nipples. He brushed his thumbs against them, gently rubbing and circling the areolae. Jolts of sensation raced to her groin. Her thighs shook, and her clitoris pulsed.

Quentin kneaded and caressed her breasts until they glistened and her eyes were glazed with desire. As his warm lips nuzzled the side of her throat, one hand began to slide down the front of her body. Her heart thundered. She trembled with anticipation, ached with need. And then his fingers were slipping beneath the waistband of her panties and touching—

“Lex? You okay in there?”

The sound of Quentin’s voice snapped Lexi out of her erotic trance.

She stared in wide-eyed shock at her reflection in the mirror. At the sight of her sharply thrusting nipples, she gasped and flung her arms across her breasts. As if she could hide the evidence of her arousal from herself.

“Lex?” Quentin prompted again.

“I—I’m fine.” Her voice was shaky.

“Are you sure? You made a noise. Like you were in pain.”

Oh, God,
she thought, cheeks flaming with mortification. Had she actually moaned
out loud?

“I, uh, dropped something on my foot. But I’m fine. Really.”

After a prolonged moment of silence, Quentin said gruffly, “I’ll let you get dressed.”

Yes! Please go away!
“I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

“Okay.”

When he’d gone, she let out a deep, shuddering breath and leaned weakly against the sink, her hands braced on the counter for support.

What the hell was she doing? Having erotic fantasies about Quentin?
Quentin?
He was her best friend, for goodness’ sake! Her confidant. The absolute
last
man on earth she should ever be lusting after. Yet that was exactly what she was doing. The steamy daydream had seemed so real, so shockingly explicit, that she’d been on the verge of climaxing before Quentin interrupted her.

Lexi groaned, bending over the sink to splash cold water on her flushed face. This was all
his
damn fault. Him and that scorching New Year’s Eve kiss that had awakened all sorts of feelings and desires she’d never known existed. If he hadn’t acted on a reckless impulse and kissed her that night, she wouldn’t be standing here now—breathless and weak-kneed, with painfully erect nipples and a throbbing clitoris. And that was just from a fantasy! How much worse off would she be if he’d actually been inside the bathroom, doing those wickedly delicious things to her? If he’d actually made love to her?

A deep shudder swept through her.
Don’t even go there,
she ordered herself.
You
and Quentin Reddick will not be doing the horizontal tango. Not in this lifetime!

No matter how sexy Quentin was—
and man, was he ever
—she couldn’t allow herself to become romantically involved with him. If one stolen kiss could wreak such havoc on their friendship, making love would irrevocably alter the course of their lives.

And considering that she’d spent the past two years trying to rebuild her life, the last thing Lexi needed was more emotional upheaval.

Dragging in a deep breath, she tugged on an old Spelman T-shirt and black leggings.

When she’d finished dressing, she surveyed her reflection in the bathroom mirror.

As part of her post-divorce makeover, she’d had her hair cut into a short bob with longish bangs that swooped over one eye. It was chic, sleek and sexy, and the many compliments she’d received had given her a nice ego boost—something she’d needed desperately after Adam’s humiliating betrayal. The best part about the bob was that she could wear it straight and it still looked good. So she didn’t have to worry about curling her hair now to look presentable for Quentin. Besides, he’d seen her wearing big rollers on her head, ugly flannel pajamas and a cucumber mask on her face. Why let vanity get in the way now?

Sufficiently satisfied that she’d wrestled her rampant hormones into submission, Lexi left her bedroom and went in search of Quentin.

She found him in the kitchen, standing at the microwave built into the mahogany paneled cabinets. He’d shed his dark suit jacket and tie, tossing both over the back of a chair at the breakfast table. His white broadcloth shirt was untucked from his pants, the sleeves rolled up to strong forearms dusted with black hair. Lexi stared at the way his wide, muscular shoulders tapered down to narrow hips and those endlessly long legs.

Her mouth went dry. Had he always radiated such raw masculine energy? Such sex appeal? If so, how in the world had she remained immune all these years?

At that moment he glanced over his shoulder—and stared at her with an arrested expression on his face.

Pulse thudding, Lexi shifted self-consciously from one foot to another. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” His lazy gaze ran the length of her. “That shirt you’re wearing. It gave me flashbacks to college.”

Except in college, I didn’t fantasize about you stealing into my bathroom and
running your hands all over my naked body.

Heat suffused her face.

Striving to maintain composure, she wandered into the kitchen, her bare feet padding across smooth hardwood. The mouthwatering aroma of braised baby back ribs wafted from the microwave. “Mmm, that smells good.”

As she brushed past Quentin, he sniffed appreciatively at her. “
You
smell good.”

“What—as opposed to the way I normally do?” Lexi quipped.

He grinned, playfully tweaking her nose. It was something he’d done a thousand times before. But now, even the simplest touch sent shivers up and down her spine.

Fighting to ignore her body’s traitorous reaction to him, Lexi walked over to the gleaming Sub-Zero refrigerator and pulled one side open. “What’s your poison?”

“Water’s good, actually.”

She grabbed two bottles of Perrier.

As she handed one to Quentin, he made a face. “Don’t you ever have any
real
water?”

“Nope. Want real water?” She grinned, pointing to the sink faucet. “Knock yourself out.”

“Damn, Lex, that’s cold.”

She laughed, hopping onto the granite countertop. “That’s what you get for complaining about my Perrier, you ingrate.”

“Keep talking and I’ll eat all these ribs by myself. And you know I can.”

“Don’t you dare!”

He laughed, removing their hot food from the microwave. He passed her a plate, then lowered himself onto the long center island so that they were facing each other.

Lexi bit into a juicy rib, closed her eyes and groaned. “Mmm. How’d you know I was in the mood for barbecue?”

Quentin gave her a lazy smile. “Don’t you know by now that I can read your mind?”

She grinned weakly. “Of course. How could I forget?”
Thank God you really can’t!

“How was your day?” They spoke at the same time, then laughed softly.

Quentin said, “Do you realize we ask each other that question every day?”

“We do?” At his nod, Lexi shrugged. “So? What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing. It’s just that…Mike and Reese…” Trailing off, he shook his head with a low chuckle. “Forget it. It’s nothing.”

Lexi ate a forkful of bourbon baked beans. “So how
was
your day?”

“Busy. Productive.”

“I bet. Big day tomorrow.” She grinned at him. “How’s your adrenaline? Through the roof yet?”

“Not quite.”

“Really?” That gave her pause. “Well, give it a few more hours, and you’ll be bouncing off the walls.”

“Probably.” His answering smile was distracted. “How was
your
day?”

“Good. Samara and I had a conference call with Reese’s sister, Raina, to finalize the plans for Reese’s baby shower next Saturday. We really wanted to have it in Sterling’s garden, but it’s going to be too cold. So we’re having it at the restaurant. Wait till you see how we decorate the place. It’s going to be so beautiful.”

“Yeah?” Quentin murmured, chewing his food.

Lexi grinned wryly. “Wait, what am I thinking? You don’t care about decorations.

You probably won’t even notice them ’cause you’ll be too busy flirting with all the single women there.”

“Of course,” Quentin drawled. “That’s what I do.”

Hearing the note of sarcasm in his voice, she arched a brow. “That
is
what you do.”

“You never know,” he said mildly. “I just might surprise you and keep to myself at the party.”

“You?”
As Lexi started to laugh, he pinned her with a look that instantly shut her up.

Ducking her head over her plate, she reached for another rib.

They ate in silence for a few minutes.

It was Quentin who spoke first. “What else did you do today?”

“Not much.” Lexi hesitated. “I went to see Mom.”

“Yeah?” His expression softened. “How’d that go?”

She shrugged. “It went.”

Quentin frowned. He knew all too well about her tumultuous relationship with her mother, knew about the physical and emotional scars she bore. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” She forced a bright smile. “She really appreciated the bottle of wine.”

Quentin gave her a skeptical look.

“She did,” Lexi insisted. “She thanked me, said she’d enjoy it.”

“Okay.” Quentin searched her face, his eyes gentle and discerning. “What’d you argue about?”

“The usual.” A smile of bitter irony touched her mouth. “If nothing else, Mom’s consistent.”

Quentin’s jaw clenched. He’d always wanted to protect her from her mother, and it bothered him that he couldn’t.

“I probably shouldn’t have gone to see her so soon after getting back,” Lexi murmured ruefully. “I should have allowed the glow from Burgundy to wear off first.”

“Mine definitely hasn’t,” Quentin said quietly.

They traded soft smiles.

After another moment, Lexi sighed. “I’ve been thinking.”

Quentin set his empty plate down. “About?”

“How small my world is. How limited my experiences have become in recent years.”

“What’re you talking about?”

“I’m a professional chef, and I’d never even been to Burgundy.”

“You’ve been to other parts of France,” Quentin pointed out, wiping his hands on a napkin. “Not to mention several other countries. You’re one of the most well traveled people I know, Lex.”

“Maybe.” She released a deep breath. “I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’m starting to feel restless. Like my life has settled into a routine.”

Quentin looked bemused. “You signed a six-figure book deal two years ago. Your first cookbook hits the shelves next month. A whole new world’s about to open up for you.”

At that, Lexi broke into a chorus of “A Whole New World” from the animated movie
Aladdin.
“Come on, Red,” she teasingly cajoled Quentin by invoking her affectionate nickname for him—“Red” being short for Reddick. “You sing Peabo Bryson’s part.”

“I don’t think so.” Quentin chuckled, taking a swig of water.

She grinned at him. “Do you know that song was playing in my head during our balloon ride?”

“Really?” Quentin paused to consider the lyrics, which she’d forced him to memorize years ago after they saw the movie together—also against his will. “I can see that. It fits.”

“Perfectly.”

They smiled at each other.

Sobering after another moment, Lexi said, “What I’ve been trying to get at is that I need a change of scenery.”

Quentin’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

She sighed. “I think it may be time for me to leave Atlanta.”

Quentin went still. “Leave…Atlanta?”

She nodded slowly. “Don’t get me wrong. I
love
the A-T-L. It’s my home, always will be. But there are a lot of painful memories here for me. Everywhere I look, I see reminders of demons I need to exorcise. Even this house feels like a prison sometimes,” she admitted, casting a troubled glance around the large gourmet kitchen. It was her favorite room in the house she’d once shared with her ex-husband, a sales executive she’d met at a nightclub several years ago.

Quentin frowned darkly. “I’ve told you to move, but you refuse.”

“I know. And you’re probably right. I
should
move. But I used to love this house, and I keep telling myself that if I’m patient, I’ll feel that way again someday.” She smiled wanly. “If only starting over were as simple as getting a new haircut and replacing my marriage bed.”

Something inscrutable flickered in Quentin’s eyes before he glanced down, absently peeling the label off his water bottle. “If you left Atlanta,” he said in a low voice, “where would you go?”

“I don’t know.” Setting aside her empty plate, Lexi drew her knees up to her chest.

“Colby and Summer have been begging me to join them in New York for years. They share an apartment, but they said we could get a bigger one if I moved in with them.” She shrugged. “It might be fun to live under the same roof as my siblings again.”

“What about your job?”

“There are other Le Cordon Bleu schools around the country, so I could easily transfer to any one of them. Honestly, with my credentials, I could teach just about anywhere.” She paused. “Maybe even France.”