Twice the Temptation. Cara Summers

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      “He goes by Charles now. To match his restaurant and cookware brands, Avec Charles.”

      Reese shifted her attention to the deep-voiced woman at Charlie’s side. She couldn’t see much of her because of the wide brimmed hat and sunglasses. When the woman held out her hand, Reese pulled hers out of Charlie’s to grasp it.

      “I’m Annie Thornway, Charles’s publicist.”

      “Nice to meet you.” Then Reese turned back to Charlie. “Congratulations. Your own restaurant and a cookware brand. That’s amazing.”

      “And I’m thinking of expanding.”

      “He’s checking out locations for a restaurant in the North East,” the woman said. “Someone we ran into raved about your cooking and—”

      Charlie waved a hand to silence her. “I don’t want to talk about business. I wanted to see you, Reese. I need to talk to you. I made a huge mistake in Paris, and I want to do what I can to make amends. Join me for coffee. We can catch up with each other.”

      Reese managed to step on Avery’s foot before he could agree. “Later, perhaps. Avery and I have business to discuss. We have a big weekend coming up.”

      “A Singles Weekend that will fulfill your secret fantasies,” Annie Thornway said. “Charles picked up one of the brochures. You even have a matchmaking ghost on the premises.”

      Reese had time to catch the annoyance in her tone before Charlie said, “Reese, can’t you see it’s fate that we’ve met here in this time and this place? Please, join me for dinner.”

      Fate? Reese felt a ripple of something close to panic before she forced herself to get a grip. She was not going to let herself be pushed into anything. “I can’t, Charlie. Avery and I are working tonight.”

      “Since you’re here, you might consider getting in on the fun,” Avery said smoothly to the couple. “We’re having a big kick-off mixer tomorrow night. Everyone who’s registered at the hotel this weekend is invited.”

      Then taking Reese’s arm, Avery drew her toward a table in the shade of one of the porticoes that framed three sides of the courtyard.

      “Sorry, my darling girl. He led me to believe that he was an old flame.”

      “He was, and the flame went out a long time ago.”

      Avery flicked a glance over Reese’s shoulder. “The way he’s looking at you I’d say the flame has never died for him. Hard to believe he came all the way to Haworth House because someone raved about your food. He came to see you, my darling girl.”

      “Well, he’s seen me. And five years ago, his flame definitely went out. He made that clear when he dumped me.”

      “He dumped you? Silly boy.” Avery signaled a waitress. “Bring us some champagne.” Then he turned to Reese. “He was your first love?”

      She nodded. “First and last.” Turning her head slightly, she glanced up at the tower windows. “And not even Hattie has a blowtorch strong enough to reignite it. So if she has any intentions in that regard, I’m giving her fair warning. Charles Dutoit is history.”

      When she turned back, Avery handed her a glass of champagne and touched his flute to hers. “I’ll drink to that.”

       2

      WHY WAS REESE BRIGHTMAN at Haworth House?

      Mac Davies circled around the side of the hotel and headed down one of the garden paths. According to her agent, she was supposed to be in L.A. working on the cookbook they would launch with her new cable TV show. That was why he’d thought it safe for him to check out the place she called home.

      In spite of the fact that he’d sold thirteen episodes of her show, he wasn’t completely satisfied with the product yet. It was still missing something. So he’d flown across a continent hoping that Haworth House would provide the answer. It had.

      The instant he’d seen the gray tower rising into a cloudless blue sky, he’d felt it—that special feeling he always got when something just clicked. And the moment he’d entered the lobby of the hotel, he’d experienced it again.

      Finally. Using Haworth House as the setting for Reese Cooks for Friends would provide that special element, that difference, that had built the reputation of Mac Davies Productions. And it should also bring Reese’s show the kind of megaratings that the cable network had hired him to provide.

      But reaching that moment where everything “clicked” had been a challenge. It usually didn’t take him three tries to nail a concept. And he’d never flown cross country to personally check out a location.

      The problem was Reese. She’d affected him on a deeply personal level from the first moment he’d set eyes on her. So he’d avoided dealing with it. And her.

      Reaching a gazebo, he climbed the steps and then looked back at the hotel. He’d never intended for their paths to cross. In the six months he’d spent working on the development of her television show, he’d made sure that they’d never met face-to-face. He’d turned down her request for a personal meeting after he’d changed the concept of the show for the third time. Hadn’t she interfered with his concentration enough?

      Now they had met. Up close and personal. When the staff member assigned to the lobby door had pulled it open, she’d barreled right into him, and in that brief moment of contact, his mind had emptied and filled with her. Every soft curve and angle of that body had branded his.

      The reality of the contact had surpassed whatever he’d conjured up in the fantasies he’d been having about Reese Brightman for the past several months. And he’d had quite a few.

      Mac let his mind drift back to the first time he’d ever seen Reese. She’d been giving an interview for her first cookbook on a talk show he’d produced. The instant her image had flashed on the screen, the stir of desire he’d felt had been both intense and raw. He’d felt a connection with her that bordered on recognition.

      But he’d never met her before. That much he was certain of. Intrigued, he’d moved closer to the TV and spent a few moments trying to analyze his response to her. She wasn’t beautiful. Attractive, yes, with delicate features and a long, lean body. But she definitely wasn’t his type. She wore her dark hair short, and he preferred blondes with long hair. The eyes were certainly unusual—large and slanted at the corners like a cat’s eyes. Or a witch’s?

      She’d definitely cast a spell on him. When the camera had moved in for a close up, she’d smiled, and he’d simply stopped breathing.

      Just for an instant. But it was in that same instant he’d gotten that feeling, that tingling along his nerve endings that Reese Brightman was his next project. He was going to make her a star on the small screen.

      He’d nearly convinced himself that his reaction to her was completely professional when a commercial had flashed onto the screen. Suddenly, she was gone, and the sharp sense of loss he’d felt wasn’t professional at all.

      Reese Brightman pulled at him in a way no other woman ever had. Instinct told him that she might have the power to pull him all the way in. СКАЧАТЬ