Tempt Me at Midnight (8 page)

Quentin’s head snapped up.
“France?”

“Sure, why not? I went to a French culinary school. I love the food, speak the language.” She smiled. “Maybe I’d move to Burgundy and open my own café, something cozy where I could work on my cookbooks when it’s not busy. Maybe Asha would let me rent a room in her château.”

“Wow,” Quentin said softly. “Sounds like you’ve given this a lot of thought, Lex.”

“Not before today,” she admitted. “But on the drive home from Mom’s I had time to reflect, do some soul searching.”

“Soul searching,” Quentin repeated without inflection.

She nodded.

Hazel eyes probed hers. “Was there anything else you…searched your soul about?”

Lexi held his gaze for a long, charged moment. “Not really,” she lied.

A shadow crossed his face.

Silence lapsed between them. Stretched uncomfortably.

Quentin was the first to break it. “Well, I should go,” he murmured, rising to his feet. “Got some briefs to look over.”

“Of course.” Lexi swallowed reflexively. “I’ll walk you out.”

She hopped down from the counter, prepared to follow him out of the room.

Without warning Quentin turned around.

Before she could react, he cupped her face between his big hands and crushed his mouth to hers. She gasped, the heat of his lips sending electric shockwaves through her system. Her hands jerked up to his chest to push him away, but her body overrode the mental command and her arms slid around his neck instead. He growled deep in his throat, the primitive sound igniting her blood.

His arms banded tightly around her waist, drawing her fully against him. His body was hot, hard and powerfully male, reminding her of the contrast in their size and strength.

His tongue licked at her lips, then slid past them to tease the tip of hers. She trembled, parting her lips wider to take him deeper. He plunged inside, his tongue exploring her mouth with hungry, masterful strokes that sent liquid fire racing through her veins, pounding into her sex. She found herself lifting on tiptoe to get even closer to him, to press her aching nipples into his chest, to grind her pelvis against the hard, heavy ridge of his erection.

He dragged his mouth from hers to plant kisses across her cheekbone, muttering raggedly, “I’ve been trying like hell to forget what you smell like. What you taste like.

What you
feel
like.” His tongue traced the shell of her ear, making her shiver. “But it’s no use. I can’t get you out of my mind. I
need
you, Lexi. Need you so damn much.”

A whimper of longing escaped her throat.

“You’re not leaving me,” he growled, his voice rough with anger and desperation.

“Not without a damn fight.”

Her heart thundered in her chest. “Quentin—”

He took her mouth again, silencing her with a deep, plundering kiss that left her moaning and clinging tightly to him. All these years, she silently marveled. How could she not have known that he was capable of this kind of raw, soul-shattering passion?
How
could she not have known?

He lifted her with breathtaking ease and set her down on the counter, groaning thickly when she wrapped her legs around him. She clung to his big, muscled shoulders as their mouths meshed and parted hungrily, sharing the same warm breath. She was drowning in the taste of him, the intoxicatingly male scent of him. As she ran her hands down his firm, muscled butt, she wondered what it would be like to experience the full power of this desire unleashed, to allow Quentin to make love to her
just once.

Deepening the kiss, he sank one hand into her short hair, sifting the layered strands through his fingers. With his other hand he reached under her shirt. She shivered as he traced the curves of her body, skimming the underside of her bare breast. He cupped her in his palm, and she cried out at the feel of his fingers kneading her sensitized breast, his thumb brushing across her erect nipple. Need tore through her body.

And finally shocked her back to sanity.

She wrenched her mouth from his, gasping and trembling violently. “No,” she whispered. “We can’t do this.”

He groaned hoarsely. “Lex—”

“
No.
I mean it, Quentin. No more.” She flattened her hands against his chest and shoved him away—or at least tried to. He was as immovable as a concrete wall.

Slowly he raised his head to meet her gaze, his bright, heavy-lidded eyes glittering with fierce arousal. Tension radiated from his body. The hard, pounding rhythm of his heart vibrated against her palms.

She dragged in a deep, shaky breath. “You shouldn’t have kissed me,” she told him with as much composure as she could summon. “And I shouldn’t have let you.”

“Why not?”

“Why not?”
she echoed incredulously. “Because we’re friends, Quentin.”

“Friends make the best lovers,” he murmured, gently stroking a hand down her hair.

Her belly quivered, and she resisted the urge to lean into his touch like a purring, contented cat. Jerking her head away, she said firmly, “Look, what happened in France was a mistake.”

“It didn’t feel like a mistake,” he countered huskily. “And neither did this.”

“Well, it was. And it can’t happen again. I’m serious, Quentin. Don’t push me too hard, or I’ll—”

“What?” he taunted, challenge flashing in his eyes. “You’ll run away? Pretend this never happened? Good luck with that.”

She stared at him, torn between anger and confusion. “Why are you doing this?

Why are you trying to ruin our friendship?”

“I’m not,” he said softly. “Your friendship means more to me than anything, Lex.”

Her heart constricted. “Then don’t do this to us, Quentin.
Please.
”

He held her imploring gaze for what seemed an eternity.

Finally he stepped back and helped her down from the counter. But instead of releasing her, he trapped her against the cabinet with his long, muscular legs on either side of hers. Her breath lodged in her throat.

Leaning down, he brushed a tender kiss across her forehead and whispered in her ear, “This isn’t over.”

She trembled, swallowing hard. “I think it’s time for you to go.”

But long after he had left, his whispered promise echoed through her mind, taunting and tormenting her. Because she knew better than anyone how relentless and determined Quentin Reddick could be when he set his sights on having something, whether he was enduring the rigors of pledging a fraternity or earning a law degree. He’d never let anything stop him from pursuing—and getting—what he wanted.

If Lexi were to have any hope of resisting him, her will would have to be stronger than his.

Much stronger.

Otherwise, she was in for a world of heartache.

“T
his is Valerie Becker, reporting to you live from the Court of Appeals as we gear up for the fifth day of testimony in one of the biggest whistle-blower trials the state of Georgia has ever seen. The defense’s star witness is expected to take the stand today to…”

The woman’s excited voice droned on as Lexi hurried past the buzzing crowd of reporters and cameramen gathered on the courthouse steps. She was running late thanks to traffic, which had been even worse than usual that morning.

As she’d stewed in her car, inching along at a maddening crawl, her insides had churned at the thought of seeing Quentin for the first time since they’d shared that explosive kiss at her house nearly a week ago. She’d been so shaken by the kiss that she’d seriously considered not showing up for any part of the trial. But Quentin was her best friend, and this was one of the biggest cases of his career. No matter what had recently transpired between them, she knew how much he’d appreciate having her there to root him on. That’s what friends were for.

Once inside the courthouse, Lexi passed through a metal detector and another security checkpoint before making her way quickly to the courtroom. As expected, it was packed, filled with spectators who’d been lured by the prospect of watching a corrupt health-insurance company get its comeuppance.

Standing in the back of the noisy courtroom, Lexi scanned the crowd, hoping against hope that she’d find an empty seat near the front. But after several moments she heaved a sigh of disappointment, knowing she’d have to settle for sitting all the way in the back.

As she moved to claim a spot before even more people arrived, she spied a man rising from his seat near the front, just three rows behind the plaintiff’s table. She watched as he strode briskly down the aisle, his expression alarmed as he spoke into the cell phone pressed to his ear.

Seizing the opportunity, Lexi made a beeline to the recently vacated seat before someone else beat her to it. Once settled, she trained her gaze on the plaintiff’s table. Her pulse quickened at the sight of Quentin, who was conferring with one of his associates from the law firm, their heads bent close together.

Lexi stared, her eyes tracing the line of Quentin’s strong profile to follow the path of his broad shoulders beneath an expensively tailored dark suit. Her belly clenched at the memory of clinging to those shoulders as she and Quentin devoured each other’s mouths.

She’d wanted him so damn bad. If she hadn’t come to her senses and pulled away when she did, there was no telling—

“All rise!” the bailiff called out, interrupting Lexi’s reverie—and not a moment too soon. “The Honorable Judge Clayton Greer, presiding.”

Everyone in the courtroom stood as the tall, gray-haired judge emerged from his chambers and took his seat on the bench. His eyes went immediately to Quentin, who was buttoning his suit jacket and smoothing a hand over his silk tie. Meeting the judge’s austere gaze, he smiled—a slow, lazy smile that hinted at his irreverent nature.

The judge frowned and shook his head slightly, no doubt wondering for the millionth time what he’d done to land Quentin—a relentless troublemaker—in his courtroom.

Lexi grinned wryly to herself.
I feel your pain, Judge Greer. Believe me, I do.

Quentin was facing a formidable adversary.

It wasn’t the presiding judge, a grizzled relic whose jaundiced glare made it clear he was no fan of Quentin’s. And it wasn’t the team of smug, high-powered lawyers smirking at him from the table across the aisle.

No, the adversary Quentin faced was fear.

Lexi refused to be with him because she was afraid. She was afraid to jeopardize their friendship. Afraid to trust him. Afraid to get hurt.

So somehow he had to find a way to help her overcome those fears so they could be together. It would definitely be a challenge.

But when had Quentin ever backed down from a challenge?

“Your cross, Mr. Reddick.”

Quentin glanced up from the “notes” he’d been furiously scribbling during the defense attorney’s direct examination of their star witness. He’d actually been doodling on his yellow legal pad. Depending on the opposition, he often pretended to take copious notes during witness testimonies. It gave him the appearance of being scattershot, not well prepared. Distracted, even. In reality, he’d heard every word spoken, deciphered every subtle nuance of the witness’s voice.

And he knew where he’d launch his attack.

Quentin slowly rose from the table. He never rushed his cue. So he hitched up his pant leg, propped one foot on his chair and proceeded to tie his left shoe.

A wave of chuckles and guffaws spread across the packed courtroom. At the defense table, someone groaned in disbelief.

Quentin hid a wicked grin.

Glancing up from his task, he felt a jolt of surprise when he saw Lexi seated three rows back. After the way they’d parted company last week, he hadn’t expected her to show up for any part of the trial. He was deliriously, ridiculously happy to see her.

When their eyes met, she grinned and mouthed,
Go get ’em.

He winked at her.

“Your Honor,” complained the defense team’s lead hired gun. “Mr. Reddick is famous for his courtroom shenanigans. Please try to rein him in today.”

“With all due respect, Counselor, I’ll thank you not to tell me how to run my courtroom. That said—” Judge Greer leveled a stern glare at Quentin “—let’s keep the theatrics to a minimum, shall we, Mr. Reddick?”

Quentin blinked, giving him a look of sham innocence. “
Me?
Theatrical?”

A ripple of laughter swept over the courtroom.

The judge jabbed a finger at Quentin. “You’ve been warned, Counselor.”

“Duly noted, Your Honor.” He glanced down at the row of expensive, gleaming Italian loafers marching down the opposition’s table.

“Nice shoes,” he complimented.

The lead defense attorney gave him a small, patronizing smile. “Whose?”

“All of them.”

The audience laughed. A few jurors looked mildly disgusted as they regarded the team of defense attorneys.

Bingo,
Quentin thought. Since the trial began, he’d constantly looked for ways to reinforce the perception of the big, bad corporation armed with an arsenal of high-priced goons. The common man versus the greedy insurance giant. David versus Goliath.

Everyone loved an underdog. He was counting on this jury to be no exception.

He sauntered toward the witness stand, where Mary Tanner sat calmly waiting to be cross-examined. Spine erect, shoulders squared, hands folded primly in her lap, she was the picture of perfect composure. She’d been coached, and coached well.

So it was Quentin’s job to find the crack in her armor and exploit it to his advantage.

Not unlike what he intended to do with Lexi.

He’d spent years studying the law, just as he’d spent years getting to know Lexi. He knew the inner workings of the legal system, just as he understood the intricacies of Lexi’s mind.

So how do you conquer an adversary like fear? By facing it head-on and never backing down. By presenting incontrovertible evidence that the fear is unwarranted. Not unlike the way you’d deal with a child who’s afraid of the dark by showing her that there are no monsters hiding under her bed or lurking in the closet. By assuring her that she’s safe with you around, that she can rest easy because you’d never let any harm come to her.