Free Recipe for Temptation by Maureen Smith Page B

breath and closed his eyes again, this time looking as if he were trying to find his center of gravity. When he reached up and scrubbed his hands over his face, his thick, muscular biceps bunched and flexed with the movement.
    Reese gulped. Hard.
    After another interminable moment, those dark eyes slanted open and refocused on her face. He looked so big and menacing framed in the doorway that for a moment Reese felt like a hapless camper who’d wandered too far into the forest and awakened a bear from winter hibernation.
    “What the hell,” he growled, “are you doing here?”
    Ungluing her tongue from the roof of her mouth, Reese thrust a covered cup at him.
    “I brought you coffee.”
    He stared at the cup in her hand, making no move to take it. “Coffee,” he echoed flatly.
    She nodded. “From a gourmet coffee shop near Layla’s house. It’s pretty good, though not as good as the coffee I make. Next time I’ll bring you some of mine,” she added, drawing his eyes from the cup to her face.
    One heavy brow winged upward. “Next time?”
    “Sure.” She smiled bravely.
    His gaze roamed over her, from head to toe and slowly back up again. After another moment, he reached out and accepted the proffered cup from her hand. As their fingers brushed, heat sizzled through her veins.
    They stared at each other.
    Unconsciously Reese licked her lips, and watched his hooded eyes follow the path of her tongue. “Aren’t you going to invite me inside?” she asked, a touch breathless.
    Michael hesitated, then staggered aside to open the door wider for her. As she stepped past him, her shoulder grazed the iron slabs of his chest. Her breasts tingled, and her pulse drummed erratically.
    Ignoring her body’s reaction to him—no easy feat—she advanced into the foyer and swept a look around. The stunning two-story penthouse featured Italian marble floors, elegant crown molding, ultramodern lighting and solid, contemporary furnishings done in masculine earth tones. Just off the main living area was a dramatic floating staircase that wound to an upper level. There were walls of nothing but windows that revealed spectacular views of Buckhead and, in the distance, downtown Atlanta.
    The luxurious penthouse transcended the definition of a bachelor pad. It was a showplace—and immaculate to boot.
    Reese whistled softly. “Wow. This is quite a crib you have.”
    Behind her, Michael grunted something unintelligible.
    Smiling, she turned in time to catch him checking out her butt in the formfitting jeans she wore. The hungry gleam in his eyes sent another rush of tingling heat through her body.
    Pretending not to notice what he’d been doing, she grinned playfully at him. “I thought you might live in one of those McMansions that Buckhead is famous for.”
    A shadow of a smile touched his lips, softening his features. “I don’t need all that space. I spend more time at the restaurant and my father’s house than here.”
    “Which would explain why the place is spotless. You’re never home.”
    “Exactly.” He raised the cup to his mouth and took a long sip. As he swallowed, his eyes closed in an expression of ecstasy that made her envy the coffee.
    “Good?” There was a husky catch to her voice.
    He nodded slowly. “Very.”
    She cleared her throat. “I didn’t take you for one of those artsy-fartsy gourmet coffee lovers. So I just stuck with something basic. Something dark and strong.”
    “You done good,” he drawled.
    Reese warmed with pleasure, which made her feel like the world’s biggest idiot.
    “I’m sorry. It didn’t even occur to me that you might be at church this morning…or entertaining company.”
    His eyes glittered with amusement. “Are you asking me if I had a woman over last night?”
    She shook her head quickly. “Of course not. That’s none of my business.” Yet she couldn’t suppress a stab of jealousy at the thought of him spending a long, steamy night between the legs of some