Reese sighed. “True.”
“So what’s the verdict, Madam President?” Lexi asked, lips twitching with amusement. “Are we shunning the mixed chick or nah?”
Reese sniffed, put her nose up in the air and decreed in an imperious tone, “I suppose we could welcome her into the fold.”
The others loudly guffawed and started clowning Reese, making her laugh and hold up her hands in surrender.
“By the way,” Samara pointed out, “I was the first wife to join this little club of ours. So if anyone should be called Madam President, it should be me.”
Laughing, Reese and Lexi made a show of bowing to her.
“Not so fast,” Taylor interjected, holding up a finger. “You may have been the first wife, but I’ve known the Wolf boysandQuentin since I was fourteen years old—long before any of you chicks entered the picture. So I thinkIshould be Madam President.”
This set off more laughter and good-natured bickering between Samara and Taylor.
A sudden burst of feminine squeals across the room announced to everyone that Michael Wolf had just encountered another group of adoring fans. Heads turned to watch as a tableful of fawning women surrounded the celebrity chef, gushing excitedly as he signed autographs and graciously posed for selfies. He looked movie-star handsome in his crisp white chef’s jacket and black pants. His female admirers couldn’t get enough of him.
Taylor grinned at Reese. “How do you deal with women going crazy over your husband like that?”
Reese chuckled. “The same way we all deal with women lusting after our husbands. I remind myself that I have a good man who loves me and cherishes me and respects our marriage vows. So I can trust him not to stray, no matter how many women throw themselves at him. Other chicks can look but they can’t touch.”
Lexi grinned wryly. “Well, don’t look now, but one of those chicks apparently didn’t get the ‘no touching’ memo.”
Everyone’s gazes returned to the crowd of sycophants clustered around Michael. A helpful waiter had appeared to take a group picture. The women crowded in for the shot, giggling breathlessly and tossing their hair as they jockeyed for position, trying to get next to Michael. The young knockout standing closest to him had placed her hand on his back. Before the picture was snapped, her hand was on the move, creeping down toward his ass.
Suddenly Michael shifted away from her and shot her a stern look.
She had the grace to look embarrassed before Michael turned away to flash his trademark killer grin at the camera.
A coolly amused smile slid over Reese’s lips. “She tried it, didn’t she?”
The others grinned. “She sure did. And got shut down.”
Reese lifted her glass to her mouth, dark eyes glimmering with satisfaction. “Hussy.”
The whole table exploded in laughter.
When the humorous moment passed, Samara looked around at her friends’ faces and grinned. “All right, chicas. There’s another reason I wanted us to meet for lunch today.”
Everyone leaned toward her expectantly. “What?”
“I have some wonderful news to share.” She lowered her voice, grinning from ear to ear. “I’m pregnant.”
Squeals of delight erupted around the table, making her laugh.
“Shhh,” she warned as her friends boisterously congratulated her, drawing several curious glances. “Not so loud. I haven’t told Marcus yet.”
“What!Why not?”
“I want to surprise him for Christmas,” Samara explained.
“Really? That’s awesome!”
“He’s gonna be so thrilled!”
“How are you going to tell him?” Reese asked excitedly.
Samara grinned. “I have something special in mind, but I’m going to need everyone’s help.”
