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Sarah smoothed the deep worry line between her brows, pushing with one finger. She carefully applied some blusher to her cheeks, then eye makeup. It was war paint, magical armor. Tonight she had to be strong, even if Blake stopped by to check on Emile and she was tempted to flirt. Somehow, she had to resist eating chocolate until later, when she went home.
The problem was, a chocolate high sent Sarah exquisitely out of control and filled her with yearning. While under the influence, she had been known to do things later regretted.
Like hooking up with her ex-husband, for example. The first time they had sex was on Valentine’s Day, after he had wined, dined, and seduced her with incredible Valrhona truffles. She’d forgotten the sex by now, but she could still taste those truffles. It made her go all dreamy just to think of them, but then her eyes filled with tears.
Thinking about Jim always made her feel the same way it had when her father teased her about pimples or the braces on her teeth. A twist of anxiety throbbed in her stomach, with a sense of failure that brought tears to her eyes. She’d never been perfect enough for Dad. He hadn’t cared that she got straight As, was captain of the debate team, and could sell ice to Eskimos. He got a little excited when she tried out for the basketball team, as she knew he would, but she hadn’t been picked, and that seemed to make it worse. He was disappointed in her again. Initially, because she wasn’t a boy, and next, because she wasn’t an athlete. Sarah kept trying, but the things she was good at just didn’t impress Dad.
They didn’t impress Jim, either. In fact, it seemed to irritate him when she was promoted to the top level of executives at the ad agency where she worked after college. He made fun of her job, accusing her of using sex appeal to lure clients into signing contracts. Her intelligence and creativity didn’t seem to count for anything with Jim. He’d belittled her accomplishments, bragged about his own, and changed the subject.
Just like her father, who had always made an embarrassing big deal of her shortcomings. She’d struggled to live up to his standards, but it was hopeless. Then one day, Dad left for work and never came back. He had a stroke at his desk, and his secretary found him dead when she delivered his lunch. Sarah never had the chance to make him proud. When Jim disappeared from her life too, it felt like history repeating itself. Once again, she had failed.
She never saw it coming. With a three-year-old in day care, an old house in mid-restoration, and her high-pressure job, she’d thought it natural for Jim to be taking business trips alone. She hired a housekeeper and a lawn service, and he went to Miami, Atlanta, Chicago, and Las Vegas.
Then one evening, the travel agency called. She could still replay the conversation in her head. They had a question about the ticket for Ms. Sherry Smith. Was that a round trip from Miami to Las Vegas direct, or via the same two stops that Mr. Westwood’s ticket included?
Sarah said she had no idea, but it wasn’t really true. She had a lot of ideas. She overflowed with them, in fact.
All night long.
The next morning, Sarah went straight downtown and withdrew all of their savings then set up a new personal account at another bank. She removed the contents of their safe-deposit box and took everything with her to the office, where her secretary locked it away. Then Sarah called the credit card companies and reported all their cards stolen, closing the accounts. She opened a new one in her name alone and had the card sent via FedEx overnight.
Then she waited.
It could all be undone if there was some mistake. He was due home in a few days.
Sarah’s only mistake was not changing the locks on the house. He came in while she was at work and took away his things, the Oriental rugs, and all the sterling silver their families gave them when they got married.
But he left Devon. And that was worth so much more than everything else, Sarah had never regretted the way things ended up. Even though she’d been laid off from her corporate job and now struggled to pay the mortgage with only sporadic child-support checks and a much smaller paycheck than she was used to.
She went downstairs and found Miki and Devon playing a game on the wide-screen TV. They paused it to say goodbye to her.
“Don’t worry. Have a good night!” Miki called out. Her hair had purple streaks today, and it matched her purple hoodie and striped socks.
“Night, Mom. Bring me something good.” Devon loved the leftover food from the restaurant. Their home had the best-stocked refrigerator on the block.
“Will do, sweetie.” Sarah gave him a hug and kiss, slipped into her denim jacket, and went to work.
* * *
BLAKE LOOKED AT HIS watch for the third time in ten minutes. He pushed Send on the private message window and closed his laptop with a snap. When Sarah checked her phone, a note would be waiting for her at the online dating site. She would likely check it pretty soon, because it was nearly eleven, and he knew the restaurant had stopped taking dinner orders at ten. He had happened to be passing by several times to walk his dog and noticed her routine. Okay, he’d been stalking her, but only in the nicest possible way. He was waiting for a chance to get her to open up. Tonight might be his chance, since they had shared a personal moment earlier and were both concerned about Emile.
He snapped a leash on Kahlua’s collar and went outside then walked down the steps from his townhouse, just a few blocks from the restaurant. He broke into an easy jog, the Lab trotting by his side as they moved down the sidewalk toward the river. When they came to the restaurant, he stopped, standing in the shadows while he looked through the windows.
Sarah stood behind the bar, pouring herself a tall glass of water. She was still wearing her long chocolate-brown French waiter’s apron, but she’d unpinned the updo she wore while working and let her hair flow free. It rippled down her back as she tipped her chin to drink. Blake tried to catch his breath from jogging, but the sight of her standing like that, her breasts thrust forward as she bent back her head, seemed to make it impossible. His pulse pounded.
What a pathetic doofus you are, he thought, simmering with frustration. Get a grip!
Two waiters wiped down the dining room tables and chairs, while a third ran the vacuum. They’d already turned off the lights in the front windows and foyer. At the back of the room, he could see through the open door into the brightly lit kitchen. Empty dish racks were lined up before the Hobart, which billowed steam from what looked like the last load. He could hear that somebody had turned off the dinner music and put on a mellow jazz CD. Jerome was singing along with the vocalist.
Blake pulled the dog after him to cross the street, walk toward the river, then cross back over to stand by the restaurant door. Now it looked as if he was coming from the other direction and had stopped on the way home to his condo down the street.
That’s better, he thought. Don’t let her see how desperate you are.
He resolved to keep his cool, no matter what. No matter how sexy she looked right now, for example, bending over to unload bottles from a case of wine.
Blake’s self-confidence vanished in a flash, but somehow he managed to step forward and tap on the glass door.
* * *
THE EVENING HAD GONE well, and Sarah was exhausted. They’d been mobbed, and being two chefs short in the kitchen while the whole staff was distracted by worrying about Emile really put the pressure on everyone. She stood up, her arms filled with wine bottles, and took them behind the bar to slide into the wooden rack. Turning around to check on the cleaning crew, she heard a knock on the front door.
Blake Harrison stood outside on the sidewalk. Standing next to him was a chocolate Lab who looked a lot like Hershey, wearing a red collar and leash. The dog gazed at her through the glass and wagged his tail.
She went over and unlocked the door.
“Hey, buddy, who are you?” she said to the dog, patting his head when he nudged her hand. “He’s beautiful, just like mine! I have a chocolate Lab too.”
Blake continued to stand outside the open door. “Oh? Yeah, he’s a good boy. Kahlua seems to like you.” He held the leash taut so the animal’s paws didn’t cross the line into the restaurant, where pets were not allowed. “I just wanted to check on Emile. Took this guy for a walk down by the river, so we were passing by. How’s your grandfather?”
The dog sat, and Sarah bent over to shake the paw he offered. “He’s okay, for now. They’re keeping him tonight, maybe longer. Paisley isn’t back yet.” She stood up, and so did the dog, tugging Blake forward with a jerk so that he stepped right beside her.
She inhaled the scent of something delicious. “Mmmm,” she hummed before she could stop herself, her eyes falling shut. “You smell great. What kind of ice cream were you making today, may I ask?”
Her mouth watered, and she swallowed, then she opened her eyes and looked up at him. She was tall, but he was taller, and it was nice to be the little one for a change. Next to Paisley and Emile, the petite French side of the family, Sarah was used to feeling like a clumsy giant.
“Strawberry with fudge swirls.” Blake’s eyes glowed in the light from a nearby streetlamp, and he smiled. His shoulder muscles moved under his shirt as he controlled the dog, who bounced eagerly toward her again.
Before she had a chance to talk herself out of it, Sarah said, “Want to come in for a quick drink? We’re just finishing up.”
“Sure, let me just take this guy back to my place real quick. It’s close.”
Blake disappeared down the sidewalk, and she went inside, removing her apron then ducking behind the bar to get a cocktail shaker and two martini glasses. Just one drink, and then she would kick him out. She shouldn’t, but he was so appealing. And it was nice of him to stop by and ask about Emile. She owed him this much.
Sarah’s low energy level was crying out for chocolate and alcohol. She struggled with the craving for a moment then caved in. When Blake reappeared a few minutes later, she was assembling the ingredients for one of her favorite cocktails: crème de menthe, crème de cacao, Kahlua, vodka, and light cream, shaken with ice and served straight up, garnished with a thin curl of dark chocolate and a mint leaf from Emile’s herb garden in the building’s rooftop greenhouse.
Blake sat on a barstool and watched her mix the potion, one of his eyebrows rising higher and higher. When she threw in the third and then the fourth shot of liquor, his eyes blinked in obvious amazement.
“Whoa!”
“If you’re only having one drink”—she put the lid on the shaker and rattled it briskly—”you may as well make it a doozy!” She told him the name of the cocktail, Mocha Mint Madness.
“Can’t wait to try it.” He leaned forward on his elbows. His sleeves were rolled up, as usual, and she noticed his muscular forearms were strong and defined. “I could use a little madness about now. I started early today.” He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms.
Sarah held the strainer over the mouth of the shaker, poured the frothy brown liquid into the glasses and added the garnishes. They picked up their drinks and looked into each other’s eyes across the bar. Sarah felt a fizzy electric charge shoot through her, starting in her brain and ending up in sparks all over her body.
Blake raised his glass. “To Emile, may he heal quickly.”
“To Grandpa.”
Their glasses clinked, and Sarah tasted Nirvana. The sugar and cream masked the bite of the spirits, and the dark flavor of chocolate lay smooth and rich under the refreshing perkiness of the mint. A moment later, the double kick of cacao and alcohol hit her, and she started to loosen up. Her cheeks grew warm, and she knew without looking in the mirror behind the bar that they were rosy. She unfastened the top two buttons of her tuxedo shirt.
Blake watched all of this with obvious interest. He dragged his gaze away from her flushed cleavage and scrutinized her face. “So, what do you like to do when you aren’t working?” He put his hand on the bar, a scant centimeter away from hers, their fingers almost touching.
Tingling energy filled the space between them. His eyes were the cool deep color of shadows on grass, and Sarah started to float away into them, then she remembered he’d asked her a question.
“Me?” She smiled. “Oh, mostly I hang out with my son, Devon. I’m a single mom, you know.”
“I heard. Just me and Kahlua at my place. He’s chatty, but his vocabulary is limited.”
“Woofs and growls can be very expressive. Hershey actually moans when I rub his tummy.” She cocked one eyebrow, waiting to see if he’d take the bait.
“Hmmm. I can imagine why.” He flashed her a sly glance and played along. “But the trouble is, my dog is addicted to National Geographic specials, and I prefer a good mystery.”
“Me too. Sherlock Holmes is the best.”
“Yes!” He nodded. “The old black and whites, with Basil Rathbone. Kahlua does like that fellow’s name, especially the ‘bone’ part.”
Sarah laughed. “The Scarlet Claw. Hound of the Baskervilles. He should love those.”
They both grinned, and she giggled. The cocktails were slipping down very smoothly. She poured them each a tad more, emptying the shaker. Then she got caught up in watching the way the muscles in his forearm flexed when he picked up his glass and raised it to his lips. His fingers were long and slim.
“Where do you live, Sarah?”
She widened her eyes, coming back to reality as the zip of chocolate percolated through her veins.
“Up on Franklin. The old blue-and-purple Victorian. Come over for a tour sometime.”
How about tonight? she thought. I’ll give you a personal tour.
“The huge one?” he said. “With the fish-scale trim and the big porch? That place is enormous. How do you find time to take care of it?”
“I do my best. With whatever assistance a seven-year-old can offer, that is. He’s great about pitching in, just kind of easily distracted.”
Sarah thought about the last time Devon had tried to help her, when he’d had one of his meltdowns that ended with a crying jag. But this guy didn’t want to hear about her parenting problems. He was probably used to single women with tons of freedom who could take him home to bed whenever the spirit moved them.
As it was undeniably moving her right now. She leaned toward him, noticing his eyes flicker to her breasts as they rested on her folded arms. A little bubble of intimacy had formed around Sarah and Blake, filled with the spicy scent of mint and cocoa.
“Yes,” Blake said, “I remember that age. I was lost in fantasyland most of the time.”
“At the moment, he thinks he’s Little Joe from Bonanza,” she said. “He wants me to get him cowboy boots and a pinto pony.”
That’s the way to play it, Sarah thought. Focus on the cute things about having a kid. Maybe he won’t be scared off right away. The stretch marks on my belly will take care of that, if he ever gets close enough to see.
“Cool, he could keep it in the garage, right? And ride it to school?” Blake nodded with approval.
“You got it. Think of all the gas money I could save.”
“You’re lucky, Sarah. You know that?”
“I guess.” She looked at him with wonder. Lucky? A painful reflex in the pit of her stomach signaled the memory of loss. Then she took another sip of her chocolate cocktail, and a warm glow eased the sensation.
Chatting about the townhouse he owned in the building next to the bank and how hard it was to remove old paint from woodwork, they finished their drinks and ate the chocolate curls, the cocoa butter melting on their tongues. Blake shivered, closing his eyes in an exaggerated swoon. Sarah watched him with a mixture of delight and fear.
“Hey, guys, how’s it going?”
Her voice sounding hoarse and strained, Paisley walked in from the kitchen, followed by her current boyfriend, Wayne Gallaway, the restaurant’s wine supplier. He was carrying a bottle of red under his arm and went behind the bar to pull the cork. Sarah and Blake shook their heads when he offered them a glass, while Paisley nodded and smiled. She gave Sarah a curious glance.
Paisley answered questions about Emile while Wayne poured the wine into two rounded goblets. He slid a glass over to her, and she took a sip. “Wow, that’s great!”
“Our new Pinot.” Wayne showed her the label. “When do they think he can come back to work?”
“They need to do more tests, but the echocardiogram went well. He definitely needs to take it easy. Real easy. He can’t work in the kitchen until further notice, and he can’t do the wedding job. That’s the bottom line.” She looked at Sarah. “I called my brother and my parents, by the way. Dad was going to call your mom. He offered to come tonight, but I said no, let’s wait and see how Grandpa does. Dad can’t just walk out on his job like that, and it’s been a long time since he cooked professionally. He’d probably be more trouble in the kitchen than help. I can bake and cook, but I can’t charm the clients and run everything. If you don’t handle the chocolate wedding, we’re screwed.”
Sarah’s stomach lurched, and her forehead started to sweat. “Um, okay, I guess. If you guys help me. I have no idea what’s involved or even what the food safety issues are. We don’t want to poison anyone, right?”
Paisley spoke in soothing tones. “That’s my girl! We’ll teach you everything you need to know, have no fear. You’ve always been a quick study, and nobody is expecting you to actually cook anything.”
“That’s a relief, huh?” Sarah remembered the last time she’d tried to help in the kitchen. She did not cook well under pressure.
Blake stood and excused himself, saying he had to be up early in the morning to make deliveries. He thanked Sarah for the drink and said how glad he was that Emile was feeling better. Sarah walked him to the front door.
“See you soon,” he said with a funny expression on his face. His cheeks were flushed, and his eyes glittered in the dim light. He looked as if he had something else to say.
Oh no, Sarah thought, her heart pounding. He’s going to ask me out. I flirted with him, and now I’m in trouble. I like him, and he’s so cute, but can I trust him? Will it end badly again?
She quickly stepped inside and closed the door, waving cheerfully. His eyes stared through the glass as she turned the dead bolt, and he hesitated then raised a hand in farewell and turned away.
Blake walked down the sidewalk into the darkness, but as she stood just inside the doorway, watching him go, the tantalizing scent of strawberries and chocolate lingered on.