Tempt Me at Midnight. Maureen Smith

one of her cardinal rules: Always downplay your good fortune to avoid rubbing salt into the wound of your mother’s broken dreams.

      “I have something for you.” Hoping to placate Carlene, Lexi reached inside a bag under the table and withdrew one of the bottles of wine she’d brought back from Burgundy.

      Carlene took the bottle, her dark eyes narrowing on the gold leaf label.

      “Pinot noir,” Lexi volunteered. “It’s a red wine. Very rich.”

      “I bet. It looks expensive. How much did it cost?”

      “I meant rich in flavor. Full-bodied. And it didn’t cost me anything.” Lexi hesitated. “It’s a gift from Asha. From her vineyard.”

      She half expected her mother to hurl the bottle across the room. Instead Carlene arched a surprised brow. “She grows wine, too? On top of running a fashion company? Good Lord, what doesn’t that woman have her hands all over?”

      Lexi shrugged. “She considers herself a connoisseur. Er, she enjoys good wine,” she quickly amended, lest she be accused of throwing around fancy words. “When she bought the château several years ago, she didn’t want the surrounding vineyards to go to waste. So she decided to go into the winemaking business. But she’s pretty much hands-off. Her employees run the whole operation.”

      “While she gets richer,” Carlene said, her voice laced with jealousy. “Must be nice.”

      Lexi said nothing. She would not be baited into a petty argument over Asha Dubois. God knows she and her mother had quarreled enough when she’d told her that she was spending New Year’s at Asha’s second home in France. Carlene had accused her of preferring the company of strangers over her own family, even though Lexi had just spent Christmas with her—unlike her brother and sister, who’d wisely opted to stay in New York for the holidays.

      How many times had Lexi questioned her sanity for remaining in Atlanta all these years? After graduating from the French Culinary Institute in New York, she could have easily justified putting down roots there. But she’d come back home, compelled by forces she couldn’t explain. Her siblings called her a glutton for punishment. Maybe they were right.

      “Thanks for the wine,” Carlene said. “I’m sure I’ll enjoy it.”

      Encouraged by the uncharacteristically gracious words, Lexi smiled. “Maybe you and I could go there together next time.”

      “Where? To France?” Her mother snorted. “Why would I wanna go there? They hate Americans.”

      “Not all of them. I met some very warm, friendly French people.”

      “Sorry, baby. Not interested.”

      Of course, Lexi mused. What was she thinking? Her mother had never stepped foot outside of Georgia, let alone traveled to another country.

      “How’s Michael doing?” Carlene asked.

      “Great. He and Reese are so excited about the baby. They’ve got the nursery set up in their new house, and they’ve been eagerly counting down to the due date.”

      “That’s nice.” Carlene heaved a lamenting sigh. “Shame you couldn’t snatch him up before she did. All those years of friendship. Seems like such a waste.”

      Here we go again, Lexi thought with a sigh. She and her mother had covered this territory so many times, she already knew what was coming next.

      “Maybe if you hadn’t spent so much time trying to be one of the boys, Michael would have seen you more as a woman he could love.”

      Striving for patience, Lexi said evenly, “I know this is still hard for you to believe, Ma, but I’ve never been romantically interested in Michael. And I’m glad he never saw me as more than just a friend. He and Reese are absolutely perfect for each other. I’m happy for them, and I wish you could be, too.”

      Carlene sniffed disdainfully. “I never said I wasn’t happy for them. I’m just pointing out that you’ve known Michael longer than Reese has. So if anyone should have clipped his bachelor wings, it should’ve been you.”

      Lexi shook her head at her mother’s warped logic. “I’ve been friends with Quentin just as long,” she challenged, “and I don’t hear you saying the same thing about him.”

      “Quentin?” Carlene scoffed with a laugh. “Oh, baby, that one’s a lost cause. A rascal through and through. Even his own mama knows he’s never going to settle down and give her grandbabies.”

      “Things change,” Lexi heard herself saying. “People change.”

      Her mother snorted. “Not Quentin Reddick. Even if you were his type—”

      Lexi bristled. “Quentin doesn’t have a ‘type.’ He’s an equal-opportunity womanizer.”

      Carlene’s brows shot up. “Why are you getting so huffy? It’s not like you’re interested in Quentin.”

      “Of course not,” Lexi snapped irritably. “But when you say things like that to me, you make me feel like I’m not even attractive enough to catch the eye of someone like Quentin.”

      “Of course you are. But all the good looks in the world can’t keep a man who’s hardwired to stray.” A nasty, satisfied gleam lit Carlene’s eyes. “You know that as well as I do.”

      Lexi flinched as the verbal dagger struck home. She should have been immune by now to her mother’s penchant for cruelty, but she wasn’t. After years of railing bitterly against unfaithful men, Carlene had felt vindicated when Lexi caught her husband cheating on her. Since the divorce, Carlene had never missed an opportunity to remind her daughter that they were more alike than Lexi wanted to believe.

      “Just once,” she said in a low, strained voice, “could you at least pretend to be sorry that my marriage only lasted two years?”

      Carlene sputtered, taking umbrage. “Why would you say something like that to me? I did feel bad for you!”

      “You sure have a funny way of showing it.”

      “Don’t put this back on me,” her mother snapped. “I told you Adam McNamara was no good, but you insisted on marrying him anyway! If you’d just listened—”

      Lexi threw up a trembling hand. “Can we not talk about this tonight? It’s bad enough that the date of my wedding anniversary is coming up next week.”

      Carlene faltered, something like pity softening her features. “I forgot.”

      Lexi’s mouth twisted sardonically. “I wish I could.”

      In the ensuing silence, her mother removed a pack of Newport cigarettes from the pocket of her robe. She toyed with it for a moment, then reluctantly set it aside. In a more conciliatory tone, she said to Lexi, “You haven’t finished telling me about your trip.”

      Lexi hesitated, then admitted, “It was wonderful.”

      “Really? What was so wonderful about it?”

      “Everything. The food, the wine, the scenery.” She smiled faintly. “The balloon ride was definitely one of the highlights.”

      “Come again?”

      At her mother’s dumbfounded look, Lexi laughed. “Quentin convinced me to go on a hot-air balloon ride with him. Can you believe it? Me, the woman who’s so afraid of heights I have to take sedatives before getting on a plane. Shocking, right?”

      “Not that shocking,” Carlene drawled in amusement. “That rascal can talk a woman into doing anything—and probably has.”

      Lexi smiled distractedly. For the first time in days, she had something other than Quentin’s powers of persuasion on her mind. “You know, Ma, I’ve always wondered why I’m so terrified of heights.”

      Carlene hesitated. “Some people have phobias.