Tempt Me at Midnight. Maureen Smith

Still. Here.”

      Resentment darkened her mother’s face. “I know what this is about. You spent the weekend with that bourgeois woman and decided she was a better mother than me because she’s rich and sophisticated and drinks fine wine. Well, let me tell you something. I did everything for you and your siblings when you were growing up. Everything! I have nothing to—”

      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.

      Chapter 5

      On 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.