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That afternoon, Sarah sat at Emile’s desk in the restaurant office and looked around with a sinking sensation. Papers were scattered helter-skelter, and nothing was in file folders. A pile of mail covered a stack of purchase orders, and she spotted the printouts she’d intended to give Blake Harrison the day her grandfather collapsed. Glad to have an excuse to postpone sorting through the mess, she stuffed Blake’s documents into an empty file folder and went out the back door into the alley that led to Main Street.
It was a gorgeous day, and she loved to walk downtown. The broad street was lined with shops and little cafés, with pretty flowerbeds at the intersections and encircling the fat trunks of ancient maples. She greeted her fellow merchants, many of whom had set up clothing racks and tables of merchandise right on the sidewalk. Foot traffic was heavy as the downtown community turned out to enjoy the nice weather.
At the end of the row of shops, the street curved off around a small park, and behind that was Riverside Commons, where Blake’s ice cream company had its headquarters.
He was standing on the loading dock when she approached, his hands on his hips and his sleeves rolled up. He signed something on an outstretched clipboard, and the driver turned, went down the steps, and climbed into his truck.
Blake squinted into the light and shaded his eyes, his face breaking into a grin. “Well, if it isn’t the chocolate queen!”
Sarah bobbed her head and smiled, clutching the folder of papers in front of her chest. She stood below him in the driveway, her head tilted back as he towered above her. From this angle, his legs looked ten miles long, and his silver belt buckle flashed in the sun like a lighthouse beacon. The message it sent wasn’t a warning, though. It was a demand for attention.
“Hi, Blake, how’s it going?” She pushed her sunglasses up more securely, keeping her eyes hidden so he couldn’t see where she was looking.
“Not bad.” He came down the stairs and stood next to her in the driveway. “So, what’s up? I stopped in to see Emile this morning. It was good to see him feeling better.” Blake seemed in a very good mood, beaming in fact.
It was sweet of him to visit her grandfather, thoughtful. This guy might have serious potential... if she were interested in a relationship, that was. If she ever dared to trust again.
Blake stepped a little closer, and she held her ground, even though the hairs on her arms stood up when he moved into her space. She inhaled the sweet scent that seemed to float around him like an aura. Her skin tingled.
“Thanks,” Sarah said, enjoying the advantage of being able to look into his eyes while hers were still hidden by the shades. “I’m sure Grandpa enjoyed the company. He’s getting a little antsy, not being allowed in the kitchen.”
His eyes are the most amazing green. Dark but saturated, the color of shadows on grass.
He flicked them over her body, so fast it was like a blink.
She smiled. “By the way, I forgot to give you these the other day.”
“Thanks for thinking of me.” He reached toward her.
She handed him the folder, and their fingers touched. A little zap of energy shot up her arm, and she lifted her foot to step away.
He held her there with his eyes. “Want to come inside?”
“I’d love a tour! I’ve never seen how this is done.” She settled her sunglasses on the top of her head, and they stood toe to toe, with just a few inches of air between them. It seemed to shimmer with tension.
A slow smile stretched his lips. “Lovely.” His gaze slid over her face. “Let’s go in this door.” He put his hand against her back and guided her toward the stairs.
The spot right above the curve of her bottom burned from his touch, and she fought the urge to shiver. It was the most intimate sensation she had felt in ages. She smiled at him, dazzled, and let him steer her into the shipping entrance.
Blake showed the way into a wide, chilly hallway lined with metal doors. “This is where we pack the ice cream into shipping boxes, sorted by customer, and move them into the storage freezers for transfer to the refrigerated trucks.” He stopped to explain the importance of never letting the ice cream warm up and refreeze, as the texture would be ruined by crystallization. This explained why everyone she saw was rushing around. They all seemed cheerful, though, smiling and joking with Blake as he led her through the area.
“Just now we’re making banana fudge swirl.” He put a hand on her shoulder and steered her through to the next room, where she saw the machines that churned the liquid ingredients into frozen custard. The temperature in here felt even lower than in the shipping area, and the workers were dressed for it. Containers printed with Blake’s elegant foil-embossed logo were filled and sealed then moved immediately into the hardening freezer.
He offered Sarah a sample on a small wooden tasting spoon. She rolled the cold, fruity cocoa sweetness around in her mouth and was immediately transported back to when she was a little girl, sitting at the counter in the local diner with Grandma Annie, who was a major fan of banana splits.
“Good?” Blake watched her enjoyment, his eyes appreciative. “You like?” He reached out and touched her cheek, where a strand of hair had strayed.
She looked up at him and smiled, wanting to pull away but unable to move. Something inside her loosened and unfurled, like a rose in the sun. “This is amazing,” Sarah said and meant it. “Delicious and great... um... texture.”
Then Blake showed her the beginning of the production line, where a mixture of milk, cream, sugar, and vanilla chilled in an enormous stainless-steel tub, constantly circulating.
“We make a huge batch of this every morning. It’s the base for all our flavors.” He showed her the natural ingredients that were added to various mixtures. “After it’s almost done churning, we mix in the nuts and chunks. You can add just about anything you want, as long as it doesn’t freeze so hard it’ll break a tooth.” He offered her a sample of the special chocolate chips he used, with a high percentage of cocoa butter so they would stay softer when frozen. When he popped one into Sarah’s waiting mouth, his fingers touched her lips, and the sensation was mesmerizing. She stared into his eyes.
If he told me to cluck like a chicken or bark like a dog right now, I’d probably do it! I’m totally falling for this guy.
She wasn’t just turned on. She was impressed. It was refreshing to talk to someone who was in love with his job. Aside from Paisley and Emile, who were devoted maniacs about cooking, most of the people Sarah knew were working their way toward something better. They were hoping for a windfall, not pursuing a true passion. Blake was different. He was a grown-up, something her ex-husband would never be, even when he turned eighty.
The tour ended in the office, where Blake showed her his overflowing desk. He threw the file folder down on top of a pile. “I’m afraid I don’t spend as much time sitting here as I should,” he said with a shrug.
“That’s okay.” Sarah soothed him with a hand on his back. “You should see Emile’s desk. It’s a disaster area!” She felt the hard muscles move under his shirt as he turned and reached toward her waist, his eyes wide with interest and more than a little heat. Just then the phone rang, and he changed course at the last second, picking up the receiver.
Sarah’s pulse raced, and her head spun. By the time he had finished the call, she was composed and standing near the doorway, waiting politely and poised to run.
Her heart was pounding madly, but he probably couldn’t hear it from across the room. “I really must be going,” she said, slipping toward the exit sign and waving her hand. “Time to set up for dinner!”
“But wait—” He reached toward her.
“Good to see you, Blake. Thanks for the tour. Bye!”
She nearly ran down the front steps of the building and hit the parking lot at a fast clip, afraid to look back. That was a close one. One more minute, and they would have been making out, right there in his office. Anyone could have walked in. And Lord knew what could have happened next. Ohmigod.
Sarah’s legs shook as she rushed down the sidewalk toward the restaurant, but her lips curved in a broad smile. She hadn’t had this much fun in ages. She giggled.
What if he had touched her, after all? What if nobody had been around, as if it were after hours? What if he’d kissed her and bent her back onto that paper-covered desk, leaning over her and pressing his body against hers? What if she were wearing a skirt instead of pants and he slid his hand up under it? No, not that one. Maybe the short black pencil skirt. Yes, that was the one. Now, what if she weren’t wearing any underwear?
“You look like you’re having a good day, little sister,” Jerome said as she walked past him into the kitchen, totally oblivious.
“Huh?”
“What’s that evil grin on your face about?” He raised one eyebrow and grinned back at her, as though he knew exactly what was happening in her mind. “If I didn’t know better,” he said, following her across the room, “I might think you were coming back from a rendezvous with a gentleman caller, if you know what I mean. Where you been at, girl?” Addicted to gossip, he leaned closer and beckoned.
“Just cooling off with a little... fresh air.” Not to mention a stroll through Blake Harrison’s ice cream freezers.
He squinted at her suspiciously, his hands on his hips.
“Really,” she said. “Just chilling, honestly.”
“Okay, baby, that’s cool.”
If you only knew how cool it was, she thought and went to make sense of Emile’s random filing system before the first customers arrived.
* * *
THAT NIGHT, SARAH WAS filling in for the bartender, who had a brand-new baby at home. After the early birds had paid their dinner checks and headed out the door, laden with boxes of cupcakes and éclairs, she noticed someone familiar standing alone at the back of the line for a table. He was hard to miss—a dapper, handsome guy in his midthirties wearing a suit and tie. She made eye contact and called to him.
“It will be about fifteen minutes if you want a table. I can serve you at the bar right away, if you’d rather.”
He showed her a dazzling smile, his teeth bright white against an olive complexion. His hair was black and cut short, his figure trim and his clothes stylish. He looked like a model for a men’s fashion magazine. She thought she’d seen him before but couldn’t place him. He walked over and took a seat at the bar. She noticed an onyx ring on his pinky but no wedding band.
“Welcome,” she said, putting a placemat and silverware in front of him. “Don’t think we’ve met. I’m Sarah. Your first time here?” She handed him a menu. He was really quite handsome—movie-star quality, in fact. It made her nervous to look at him up close.
Then he tipped his face down to glance at the menu, and when the light gleamed on his prominent forehead, she realized why she felt as if she knew him. He was the spitting image of Hercules/Tarzan from her fantasy.
In the flesh. The very lean, strong-looking flesh. He took off his jacket and hung it on the back of his chair, and she watched in fascination. Big muscles rippled under the white shirt, which was fitted to hug his slender waist. The fingers that reached for hers were long and slim, and his eyes were the color of dark chocolate.
“I’m Alonzo, hi. Good to meet you, Sarah.” He pressed her hand between both of his.
“Can I start you off with a cocktail or a glass of wine?” she asked automatically, staring in fascination.
“The pinot noir, I think. Thank you. How is the special tonight? It looks... unusual.” He gestured toward the chalkboard that stood inside the front entrance.
“Well, yes, one hundred percent grass-fed organic beef tenderloin with a chocolate and port wine sauce is one of our chef’s most unique dishes. It’s seasoned with rosemary. The aroma is divine. You’ll love it.”
“It sounds beautiful, Sarah.” He somehow made it sound as though he was complimenting her instead of the food, his eyes roaming over her face. He chose the rest of his meal, and she handed his order to a passing waiter and headed for the kitchen.
She poured Alonzo’s wine and put the glass in front of him.
“Salut!” he said and raised it toward her, nodding his approval after he took the first sip. “So, this is the famous chocolate restaurant I keep hearing about!” He looked around, nodding toward the dessert display case.
“My cousin Paisley is the pastry chef here. She won Best of Show at the regional chocolate festival the past five years in a row.”
“Tell me, how does it work? Are there independent judges who make the decisions?” He watched her avidly as he sipped his wine, as though chatting with her across the bar was the most important item on his to-do list.
“No, this is more of a people’s choice–type award. People pay for admission and get to sample free from each booth, then they vote for their favorites. It would be hard to find qualified judges who weren’t already participating in the competition, so this works better.”
“I see. It sounds fabulous. I’ll have to check it out. The perfect event to bring a young lady to. I’ll bet there are a lot of happy chocolate lovers getting together that evening, afterward, if you know what I mean.”
Sarah felt her face glowing when she saw his sly expression. “Well, um, yes, of course. All that chocolate, it does evoke a certain... mood.”
Alonzo laughed. “You mean, nine months later the maternity wards are very busy? I’ll just bet they are!”
“Hmm, I’ve never really investigated that question, but I wouldn’t be surprised.” She grinned at him, interested to see he was taking a small spiral-bound notebook and a pen out of his pocket.
“Can’t forget to line up a date,” he said when he saw her watching. “I don’t suppose you’re available, are you... love?”
Sarah felt her face getting warm again. “No, um, I probably have to work at our booth, you know. Duty calls. But thanks, anyhow.” Not to mention, she wasn’t dating. Anyone. At all. She sighed, hiding it behind her hand.
Hercules/Tarzan/Alonzo smiled in response as she was called away by a waitress standing at the service station with drink orders. Sarah felt him watching her as she worked behind the bar. His beautiful dark eyes smoldered. It was exactly the same look that the Ape Man gave to Jane right before he carried her off via swinging vine to their sleeping nest high in the trees. Sarah’s pulse quivered, and drawn like a fly to sugar, she was about to go back and engage him in conversation again, but then a thought popped into her mind.
What if it was him? The actual, original Hercules/Tarzan? Alias HotNCold, her online lover? What if he had tracked her down and come to make contact IRL, as Miki had warned her might happen?
A quiver of nerves tightened her stomach, and she hesitated, looking at him again as he ate his tenderloin and wrote something in his notebook. Maybe it was better not to interrupt him. He looked preoccupied. Give the guy some privacy to enjoy his meal in peace.
It couldn’t possibly be HotNCold. That was just ridiculous paranoia talking.
Sarah gave herself a mental shake and tried to focus on bartending. When she turned around with a martini shaker in her hands, she caught him staring at her, and their eyes met, but he seemed totally unembarrassed. There was no mistaking his intentions toward her, that was for sure. When she cleared away his empty dinner plate and handed him the dessert menu, his fingers brushed hers, then his eyes lit up with pleasure as he was clearly captivated by the list of chocolate delicacies.
“I’ve heard a lot about your pastries,” he said excitedly, scanning the menu. “What do you like?”
He settled on a slice of white and dark chocolate marbled cake with ganache drizzled over it. “May as well go all the way,” he said and added a scoop of double-chocolate ice cream to the order.
“A man after my own heart,” Sarah whispered as she passed him on her way to the pastry case, where she plated the cake and bent over the freezer to scoop his ice cream, giving him another long look at her from the back. He was really very sexy, in a metrosexual kind of way. When she turned, she was disappointed to see that he hadn’t even noticed her, preoccupied again with scribbling notes in his little book.
“Terrible memory.” Alonzo shrugged when she stood waiting for him to pocket the notebook so she could put the dessert in front of him. “I was on the road pretty early today. Things are getting fuzzy around now.”
“What do you do for work?”
“I sell HVAC, heating and cooling systems,” he said as he sampled the ice cream with interest. “Fascinating, right? Don’t worry. You don’t have to ask me about work. You’re very polite, but I know how boring it is.” He laughed and dug into the cake, obviously savoring the smooth and spicy flavors. “This is outstanding,” he said, rolling his eyes in apparent ecstasy.
Something nibbled at the back of Sarah’s mind while she stood next to him and watched the pleasure on his face. It felt as though she was intruding on a very personal, intense experience. Then it all came together and hit her. Up early... heating and cooling... hot and cold... HotNCold!
Ohmigod, it’s him.
Sarah jumped away so fast she nearly tripped a waitress coming out of the kitchen with a full tray of food. Without another word, she rushed into the back and found Paisley, who was plating five different dinners all at once, her colorful garnishes making each one a work of art.
“I need you,” Sarah said earnestly, holding her cousin’s arm. “I think I’m in big trouble. You have to help me!”
Paisley quickly read her face then finished what she was doing and put the plates up on the ready-to-go counter. “What is it?” she asked quietly, steering Sarah toward the office, out of the kitchen chaos.
“Remember that guy online I told you about? He’s here, or well, I think he’s here tonight. Sitting at the bar. He... it’s just like Miki said, he tracked me down. You should have heard what he was saying to me.”
“Wait a second. How do you know this is the same guy?” Paisley stroked Sarah’s arm and pulled her down into a chair.
“It’s got to be him. He was dropping all kinds of hints. It’s him. He’s stalking me! Should I call the police?” Sarah felt her eyes open wide, and she started to breathe too fast.
“But you’re really just guessing, is that right? He hasn’t actually said he’s the same person you’ve been talking to online?” Paisley’s calm voice began to soothe Sarah, who clutched her cousin with both hands.
“Right,” Sarah said. “But he said almost exactly the same things and was talking about sex and chocolate. I hope he doesn’t have my home address!”
“Sarah, what if he’s just some guy who thinks you’re pretty?”
“I doubt it,” Sarah said, shaking her head with a frown. “I’m just an old mom, and he’s gorgeous. I mean drop-dead gorgeous, like Tarzan and Hercules and Zorro and Jesus Christ all rolled into one. Here, come and see.”
She beckoned and brought Paisley back into the kitchen to look through the window into the dining room. They hid behind Jerome and Raoul while they scrutinized the bar area, but Sarah couldn’t see anyone sitting there anymore.
“Son of a...” she sputtered, racing out through the swinging door for a closer look. “If he stiffed me for the tab, I’ll—” She stopped short.
Under the empty dessert plate was a hundred-dollar bill with a heart drawn on it in ballpoint pen.
“Will that cover it?” Paisley asked, placing a calming hand on Sarah’s shoulder.
“Oh yeah,” Sarah said. “More than. Nice tip, in fact.”
“Probably just some guy, Sarah. Right?”
“I guess so.” Sarah slumped, a little embarrassed.
Paisley patted her back. “Take it easy. It’s really not an emergency every time some guy makes a pass at you, honey. You can handle it, and we’re all right here with you.”
“Okay. I was being silly.”
“And you’re not just some old mom. You’re a red-hot mama with the longest legs on Main Street and hair like a Viking princess. Speaking for all the short, dark women of the world, I hate you.” Her cousin pretended to scowl, raising her fist.
Sarah grinned, and they hugged. “Thanks, P. It probably wasn’t him.”
“That’s right, cuz.”
“I mean, what are the chances?” Sarah said, and they both laughed.
Her online life and her real life were safely compartmentalized, she thought, relaxing. One would never spill over into the other. The idea was ridiculous.