Sweet Chocolate Ecstasy

SWEET CHOCOLATE ECSTASY …She rose and looked out the window. He was leaning against the huge oak tree near the garage,...

Author: Valader Carolina

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SWEET CHOCOLATE ECSTASY

…She rose and looked out the window. He was leaning against the huge oak tree near the garage, arms crossed, his white shirt open at the throat, his dark trousers snug over strong thighs and the thick bulge of his sex. Little tremors of desire surged through her. His long, black hair, hair the color of hers, gleamed in the moonlight. Shadows accentuated the perfect planes of his face and changed his eyes into pools of darkness, but she knew his eyes were the rich blue of sapphires. Almost cobalt. Like her eyes. Primordial joy soared within her as she recognized him. She hugged herself, her body aching from his absence. She had waited a very long time, and he was such a beautiful being standing there in the moonlight, calling to her. She longed to be near him, to be absorbed by him, overwhelmed by him. Pushing away from the tree, he stood with his hands at his sides and turned his palms toward her. “Come to me,” he said, his voice quiet in the still air. Rising on pointe, she pirouetted to meet him, her white gown drifting gossamer through the silver night. When she reached him, he seemed to encircle her with the moist coolness she’d craved all through the hot, difficult day. Out here, the fragrance of night blooming jasmine had faded to a faint delicious scent. Crickets chirped softly all around them. They were enclosed in their own special world…

ALSO BY CAROLINA VALDEZ Dark Stranger Knight of the Captive Heart

SWEET CHOCOLATE ECSTASY BY CAROLINA VALDEZ

AMBER QUILL PRESS, LLC http://www.amberquill.com

SWEET CHOCOLATE ECSTASY AN AMBER QUILL PRESS BOOK This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. Amber Quill Press, LLC http://www.amberquill.com All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher, with the exception of brief excerpts used for the purposes of review. Copyright © 2005 by Carolina Valdez ISBN 1-59279-424-6 Cover Art © 2005 Trace Edward Zaber

Layout and Formatting provided by: ElementalAlchemy.com

PUBLISHED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

To chocolate in all its many forms, but, most especially, to dark chocolate. And, as always, to Trace Edward Zaber, Creative Director, Editorial Director, and Cover Artist extraordinaire. With thanks to my excellent new editor, E. J. Gilmer, and the helpful staff at the Village Candy Kitchen.


CHAPTER 1

The deep melodious tones of the clock outside Kramer’s Jewelry Store had just stirred the night air by striking nine when she first heard the voice. “Sa…van…nah.” She was so absorbed with the raft of papers in front of her, it barely registered in her brain. She was staring at the invoices for her shop on the left side of her desk, comparing them to the much smaller pile of accounts receivable on the right. Elbows on the desk, the palms of her hands supporting her head, she closed her eyes. This was trouble. Big trouble. Figures didn’t lie. She needed to see Carl Mallory, her C. P. A., about this. Through the warm smell of fudge that Carol, one of the community college students who worked for her, had made in one of the copper kettles in the kitchen earlier in the evening, the voice came again. Soft. Subtle. 1


“Sa…van…nah.” Forcing her thoughts away from the discouragement she felt as she wrestled with the sheaf of accounts, she rose from the desk in her cramped office and stepped to the door to call down the short hall to the front of the shop. “Yes?” Carol, one of the community college students who worked for her, was mopping the shop floor. She paused, pushing long strands of blonde hair out of her face as she looked up. “What?” “You called me?” “Not me.” Carol shrugged. “There’s no one here but me. I’ve already locked the door. I’m almost finished. I covered the chocolates and candies, wiped down the tables, put up the chairs, and closed the shutters.” “Great. Thanks. Where are you parked?” “On Eighth Street.” “Let me know when you’re ready, and I’ll drive you there. My Miata’s parked right here by the side door to the alley.” “But I’m only three blocks away,” Carol protested. “So, humor me. A woman walking alone at night, even in as gentle a town as Orangethorpe, is not a good thing. Besides, there aren’t any street lights on Eighth, so get your little buns in here when you’re through.” “Yes, boss,” Carol replied, with a grin of mock capitulation Back in her office, Madison sank into the desk chair. Savannah. It was just coming through to her addled brain that the voice had called her Savannah. Of course Carol hadn’t called her. No one in Orangethorpe had called her because no one here knew that was her first name. When she’d closed the door on her childhood, she’d left that name behind believing Madison to be much more sophisticated. Maybe she’d been born Savannah Madison Ruhl—Madison being her mother’s maiden name—but through her college years and now, she was simply 2


Madison Ruhl. No one had called her…she’d imagined it. I must be tired. Time to go home and hit the sack. Can’t solve these problems tonight anyway. She stacked the piles of papers, slid them into a drawer and turned the key. Running her hands over the worn patina of the cleared desk top, she thought, Don’t I look organized? No one knows about the clutter hidden in the drawer. She felt a little hypocritical. “I’m ready,” Carol said from the office doorway, interrupting Madison’s thoughts. Carol stepped into the alley first. Madison came out behind her after setting the alarm and locking the door, unable to stop the swell of pride she experienced every time she saw the fancy gold letters stenciled on the door…Sweet Chocolate Ecstasy. Owning her own shop was a dream come true. For many of her friends, the goal had been to find the right man, marry, and have kids. For Madison, it had always been about being. What did she want to be? From the time she’d been in middle school, she had wanted to be a chocolatier with her own shop. Her Uncle Ralph, her mother’s brother, had been a chocolatier. After Madison’s father had abandoned his small family, her mother took a job to support them. Every day after school, Madison and her older brother went to their uncle’s sweet shop until her mother arrived to collect them after work. Their uncle was a kind and good man, steady as a rock. In his shop, surrounded by the pervasive scent of warm chocolate, spinning taffy, and the gleam of copper kettles hanging from hooks in the candy making room, she’d fallen in love with the idea of someday owning her own shop. It was from her uncle she’d learned the art of crafting candies. “Man, there’s a weird feel to the air tonight,” she heard Carol say as she turned. Madison felt it too. The heat of the August day had been a stifling 3


one-hundred-and-two degrees, and some of that warmth lingered. A faint, almost tropical breeze silently teased a crumpled paper in the alley. It didn’t blow, it wafted, ruffling and lifting the paper as if with a gentle hand. The breeze caressed her bare arms and the exposed skin of her legs below her cargo shorts with a silken, sensual touch. It created a faint haze around the glow from the street light at the entrance of the alley, like something out of a Harry Potter film. She searched for and found no description that suited the quality of the night air. “Weird’s as good a word as any,” she agreed after a moment. Carol had moved to the passenger side of the convertible, and Madison realized she was waiting for her to unlock the doors. “It’s open. I never lock it.” “You’ve got to be kidding.” Madison watched her peer into the back of the sports car. “Nope. The first thing thieves do to a locked convertible is slit the canvas top. Replacing that costs almost as much as the entire car, so it isn’t worth it.” “But anyone could get in and wait for you, especially in this alley. Talk about not safe even in Orangethorpe.” Madison couldn’t help but laugh. “I don’t think there’s much danger of that. He’d have to be pretty small to fit in that back space, wouldn’t he?” Carol, whom she knew had checked out what passed for a back seat before she’d gotten in, didn’t answer. “Here, help me put the top down. We’ll get rid of the heat, and it’s a beautiful night to let the wind ripple through our hair. Too bad I don’t have a dog that could let its ears flap in the wind.” Carol laughed. Reaching Eighth Street, Madison dropped her employee off and waited until Carol’s less-than-reliable car had started. Carol rolled down the window. “Thanks, and, oh, I forgot to tell 4


you…I don’t think the A/C is working right. See you tomorrow morning.” Madison planted a smile on her face and waved goodbye, but her heart was a rock in her chest. The air conditioning, critical to controlling the climate for making the chocolates and other candies, had been repaired at the beginning of the summer. “Lady, this unit’s on its last legs. Cain’t be fixed no more. You better pray for a cool summer,” the tech had pronounced. And thank you, kind sir, for that very welcome news. She’d felt a sudden urge to punch him in the paunch hanging over his belt. Well, maybe just a little punch. But then, didn’t they say not to kill the messenger? So instead, she’d written out a check for the service call and repair. It had not been a cool summer. There’d been record breaking heat. Just where she was to get the money for a new air conditioning, she didn’t know. She turned east and headed out of town. The heat and the mounting problems with her business were making her head hurt. The town lights faded as she drove past the residential area until the four street lanes became a two-lane country road bordered by grove after grove of citrus. Orangethorpe was named for its citrus and William Thorpe, the man who had founded the town. In the spring, black-and-yellow bees would buzz and swarm over a lacework of waxen blossoms whose floral scent would fill the air, whose nectar would beckon to them for sipping and pollinating. By Christmas, oranges with belly buttons on their undersides would hang like sunlit ornaments on the trees. For now the trees wore coats of thick foliage in the dark groves. Tired as she was, Madison was enjoying the drive. Above her the sky was a canopy of dark blue dotted with the lights of an occasional star. Gazing into the distance she noticed that what she thought, at first, were more stars were actually the white lights of three airplanes. 5


Alarm stirred in her. They were flying too low and frighteningly close together. She watched as they picked up speed. For part of her life, Madison had lived in Wichita Falls, Texas, near Lackland Air Force Base. She knew colored navigational lights were required for night flying, but these planes had only a single white light apiece. The lights should be revolving, but they were stationary. The idiots. Those pilots are breaking every rule in the book. A tremor flitted through her as she thought of the too-close wings touching and the horrendous crash that would follow. She slowed the car, unwilling to move any nearer to where they were. Suddenly a blinding eruption of brilliant purple light lasting only seconds absorbed the three stationary lights. And then they were gone…without a sound. Like the jump to light speed in Star Wars. She waited for a sonic boom or a crash. Nothing. There was only the soft silence of the night around her and the blink of an occasional star. The hairs on her arms were standing on end. Oh, boy, I am really, really tired. First I’m hearing things. Now I’m seeing them. She pressed down on the accelerator. Home was a rental house three miles out of town, an older Victorian flanked on three sides by groves. It had beveled windows, a footed bathtub, and a pull chain toilet. After turning up the drive at the side of the house that led to the back, she braked the Miata and left the motor running while she got out to pull open the wooden garage doors. When she’d settled the car inside the protection of the barn-like structure, she shut the doors again and quickly crossed the yard to the back porch. After dark, she always experienced relief when she was out of the garage with its high ceiling. It was silly, she knew, but she had an overactive imagination. She half expected giant size bats to come swooping down with wings spread and teeth bared. Even the shadows of her battered pick-up truck beside the garage spooked her. Tonight her house key was temperamental, and her breathing and 6


anxiety accelerated as she struggled to open the door. As soon as she was inside, she slammed the door shut, turned the deadbolt, and switched on the light. Then she slumped against the door as if she’d barely escaped the bogeyman. She remembered how, as a child, she’d gone through a stage where she was sure there was an alligator under her bed at night. She would almost wet her pajamas as she lay there planning how to get up and make it to the bathroom without having the reptile slide out and snag her. Of course, one never did. Madison shook herself and laughed. The eeriness of the night was doing things to her—that and fatigue. The house was stifling. The day’s heat had turned the pleasant scent of the night blooming jasmine that seeped in through the windows cloying. Upstairs she switched on the swamp cooler and cracked a few windows before changing into pajamas. She would sleep nude, but for now she chose something short and light. At some point, the upstairs bedroom adjacent to hers had been converted into a bachelor’s apartment with an outside entrance. It had its own kitchen and bath. It wasn’t rented, but Madison always double checked the lock on her side of the door and she did so now. Downstairs, she put on the latest Brian Setzer Orchestra CD and poured lemonade over lots of ice in a chilled glass. For a time she held the cold glass against one cheek, then against the other, and finally to her throbbing forehead. She sat on the couch to enjoy the lemonade’s sweet tartness, leaning her head against the pillowed backrest. Gradually, her tension eased. It felt good to still her worries over the shop and let her thoughts drift and rest. “Sa…van…nah.” It was the voice she’d heard in the shop—a man’s voice, low and husky. It drew her to him as surely as the tide follows the pull of the moon. 7


She rose and looked out the window. He was leaning against the huge oak tree near the garage, arms crossed, his white shirt open at the throat, his dark trousers snug over strong thighs and the thick bulge of his sex. Little tremors of desire surged through her. His long, black hair, hair the color of hers, gleamed in the moonlight. Shadows accentuated the perfect planes of his face and changed his eyes into pools of darkness, but she knew his eyes were the rich blue of sapphires. Almost cobalt. Like her eyes. Primordial joy soared within her as she recognized him. She hugged herself, her body aching from his absence. She had waited a very long time, and he was such a beautiful being standing there in the moonlight, calling to her. She longed to be near him, to be absorbed by him, overwhelmed by him. Pushing away from the tree, he stood with his hands at his sides and turned his palms toward her. “Come to me,” he said, his voice quiet in the still air. Rising on pointe, she pirouetted to meet him, her white gown drifting gossamer through the silver night. When she reached him, he seemed to encircle her with the moist coolness she’d craved all through the hot, difficult day. Out here, the fragrance of night blooming jasmine had faded to a faint delicious scent. Crickets chirped softly all around them. They were enclosed in their own special world. “You cut your hair, your lovely hair,” his voice teased, yet caressed. She felt fingers gliding through and testing the length of her short curls. “I know,” she whispered, leaning against his chest, feeling the thick mat of curls cushioning her face. “It made me hot when it was long.” Like it, like it, she thought. It was so important that he like it. “It will grow again. I won’t cut it again if you don’t like it.” She tried to keep the pleading tone out of her voice even though she felt it. He didn’t answer, but to her relief she sensed no displeasure from 8


him. He drew her to him, his fingers kneading and massaging her temples and neck. “You have a headache, don’t you?” Under the probing, cooling fingers her headache lessened, disappeared. His lips, cool and gentle, sought her throat, cheeks, and earlobes. “Beautiful, so very beautiful,” he murmured as he moved to kiss her closed eyelids. Need flared inside her—the need to feel his mouth on hers, to drink of his taste and feel his tongue inside her, to explore the slippery wetness of his mouth. She turned so their lips might meet, but his were drifting once more to the hollow of her neck and down toward her shoulders. “Your skin’s the color of pearls and as warm as the Tahitian sea.” Her gown had a drop shoulder neckline, leaving her bare until the swell of her breasts began. They were lovely breasts, she knew, the envy of women less well endowed. Extending her neck so he might taste all of her, she reveled in his soft, sucking touches and the sharp almost painful tingling they aroused in her. On the one hand, she wanted to stand quietly and let the feelings flood her entire body so she could savor them forever; on the other, she wanted to rip her dress apart and bare her breasts to those lips, to feel him suck and nip, to catch her breath as his teeth grazed her nipples until the shock made them leap erect into his mouth. And she wanted to touch him. All over. To run her hands over his tight buttocks, across his strong chest and arms, to tongue his nipples and kiss his belly, to hold his engorged organ in her hands, to gently twist and pull the smooth softness, kiss away the beads of moisture forming on the tip, until she heard him cry out as he spilled his semen into her caressing hands and mouth. Her need of him grew like a great ocean swell. She pressed closer, 9


one hand reaching to pull her gown from her shoulder so her full breasts might spill out to him, but he stopped her and, as dismay crested within her, he stepped away. “No, please, don’t let go of me, don’t leave me,” she cried. Without his cooling presence, the night air seared her. “I won’t, my love. Dance with me, princess.” Heady and aching for the return of his embrace, afraid he would leave if she protested, she consented, resting her left hand behind his shoulder. One arm about her waist, the other touching her free hand, he led her in a waltz, her gown swirling and flowing, his lead cool and sure. One, two, three…One, two, three… Under a velvet sky diamonded with stars, to the sound of a cricket orchestra through jasmine-perfumed air, they circled and dipped until they were breathless. He teases me , she thought. He began with stately movements, holding her, yet almost not holding her, bodies apart. Only the touch of his hands connected them when what she wanted was so much more. Gradually, he drew her closer and closer until her breasts brushed his chest and her cheek rested against his clean shaven one. He smelled of the sea on a summer evening, felt alive and vibrant where her body touched his. Pulling her up from the final dip, when her senses were filled with the scent and feel, the rhythm of him, he kissed her. With a moan of happiness, she opened her mouth for him, sucking his tongue into it, tasting its saltiness and then exploring the silken feel of his mouth with her own tongue as he sucked and seemed to ease hers to the very center of his being. She ground her pelvis against his swollen penis. He sighed and groaned as if he, too, longed for this coupling. Hungrily, she took his hands and slid them up to her breasts and then to the fabric of her gown where it covered her shoulders. 10


“Ah, my wanton princess, is that what you wish?” Eyes closed, she felt her dress float loose of her arms and upper body. As she felt her breasts spring free, she said with a small laugh, “My knees are weak with the need of you.” “Are they now?” he said, his voice rough with what she knew was desire. “Yes, I’m afraid they are.” His hand moved to her back, the other swept under her knees as he lifted her. As if she were no heavier than a blossom petal, he moved easily to the nearby gazebo and carried her up the steps to the wide chaise lounge. And then he was beside her on it, teeth to one breast, the other breast filling a hand that pulled and pinched, pulled and pinched its nipple. His hands seemed to be everywhere, removing her gown and letting it drop with a whisper to the wooden floor, sliding over every part of her, bathing her in coolness while building a raging fire within her. Her hands engaged in the business of undressing him, pulling at his shirt and tugging to release his trousers so his erection could spring free of the constricting fabric. Her breath caught in her throat at his beauty—his strong, slim body, the dark hair across his chest that led down to his navel and below to splay across the base of his penis. She ran her hands across the darkness, groaning with pleasure at the springy hairs. “Don’t tease me. Come inside me. Now.” She spoke through waves of desire unlike any she’d ever known. “Patience, princess. I want to look at all of you, naked in the moonlight and writhing with wanting.” “You want to see all of me?” “Yes, all of you, my beauty, my princess.” “Especially this part?” Slowly, languidly, her gaze on the dark pools of his eyes and the planes of his face, she drew her knees up and 11


spread them. She reveled in his sharp gasp as he looked down at her moist folds, the engorged clit, and the entrance to the most sensual, most private part of her body. She felt him tremble as he slid his hands up her inner thighs and across her vulvae as if in worship and then to her hips to anchor her to him. He knelt to kiss and suckle her folds, pressing his face hard against her aching clit as he caught it gently between his teeth. It was her turn to gasp as delicious sensations roiled through every part of her body and began to build. She grunted, pushing against him for the tantalizing release that still eluded her. He stopped. She cried out in frustration. She had been so close to exploding. “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice husky. Her answer was to lift her hips frantically once more to his mouth. *

*

*

Her body fully aroused, her sexual appetite unappeased, Madison struggled through confusion to clear her mind over a rapidly beating heart and lungs that gasped for air. She fought to waken. Eventually, her unsatisfied body quieted and the swelling between her legs subsided. All that was left was a gentle ache in an old childhood scar on her right ankle. She sat up. Where was she? Where in heaven’s name was the man she’d just had foreplay with? Why had he left her so abruptly? Now a tinge of anger at how he had teased and then abandoned her after arousing her to such heights rose within her. When her thoughts had cleared, she looked around. The light was on, and she was on the couch in the old house. Alone. Instead of a gossamer gown, she wore the lavender pajama set of bikini panties and wispy top she’d put on before she drank the 12


lemonade. The empty glass was on the table beside the couch. Out of curiosity she crossed to the window and looked out. Yes, there was an oak tree next to the garage, but her truck obscured its trunk. There was a battered gazebo, its white paint flaking in the moonlight, but it was empty. There was no chaise lounge. There never had been a man. It had all been a dream. “Thank goodness,” she said as she leaned on the window sill. Now that desire had fled, she could say this with intense relief. Although she seldom recalled details of the occasional dreams she had, this one she remembered with humiliating clarity. Enticing a stranger by spreading her legs right in front of his face and pushing the most private part of her body up to his mouth? Oh…my…Lord, how could I have done such a thing? Embarrassment caused the blood to rush to her cheeks. Yet in the dream he really hadn’t been a stranger, had he? He’d been someone she’d known, had waited for. Maybe that made it okay, she rationalized. Maybe. “Woman, you are some basket case.” Shaking her head, she switched off the light, and climbed the stairs. Removing her pajamas, she crawled into bed, half afraid, half desiring to dream again, to repeat and end the marvelous sexual encounter. Sighing, she pulled the sheet over her head. It was as unreal as having an alligator under her bed. *

*

*

He waited on the porch until he saw the light click off in the upstairs bedroom, unsure why he had not taken her when she’d offered herself to him, why he hadn’t immersed himself in her until they rode together on the frothy crest of a tidal wave of feeling and crashed on a rock strewn shore. Even now he wanted this woman. She slept, but he still had an erection that pained him. 13


Sighing, he turned away. He needed salt, and it was time to report to the queen. Entering the round bathysphere their ship had deposited in the blinding flash of purple light witnessed by Savannah deep in an orange grove a mile away, he watched the diaphanous white gown of the queen as it floated around her. Her blue sash and the blue points around her shoulders and on her crown glowed with luminescence. Her penetrating gaze, from eyes the color of sapphires, bored into him. “Prince,” she acknowledged. “My Queen,” he said in obeisance. She waved the courtiers away, and when they were gone, she addressed him again. “Well, son, will she come with you?” The feel of Savannah in his arms—her warmth, the pearlescent smoothness of her skin, the taste of her body under his tongue, and her hot, moist folds as she offered herself to him—flashed in his mind. Then he shut down these thoughts. There were some things a man did not share with his mother, even if she were queen. “Mother, I cannot rush her.” Her luminescence flared in irritation, lighting the salt water that filled the bathysphere. “I marked her for you in the sea when she was but a child. She belongs to you. It’s time for her to come to you.” He chose his words carefully so as not to upset her further. “If she’s meant for me, she will come. She will choose our kind of life. But I will not rush her. I must be sure. Hasn’t the oracle declared that she must come willingly, and how can she do that, if she doesn’t know what her life would be if she chose me?” “It must be soon,” his mother said, her tone clipped. “Time is running out.” She swam away, ending the audience. As he drifted above a bed of red coral and purple urchins, his form as diaphanous as his mother’s, the points of his own crown glowing 14


cobalt, he felt again the reluctance he’d had when Savannah had offered herself to him without inhibition. He’d wanted her with hungry desperation, and yet he had not taken her. All those years ago his mother had planted in Savannah’s mind the idea that she knew him, longed for him, but it wasn’t true. Savannah did not know him. He wanted someone who understood and accepted his nature, someone who would love him as he truly was; not as a man, but as a creature who had the ability to borrow the form of a man. Now that he’d held this warm and vibrant woman in his arms, he wasn’t sure that would be enough for her. Still, he thought with a sigh, I’ll try. She’s too lovely not to try.

15


CHAPTER 2

It had been difficult to forget the strange dream she’d had the night before, and Madison overslept. The day’s heat already scorched the dry ground when she wakened. Unlocking the alley door to Sweet Chocolate Ecstasy and stepping inside to coolness, she knew Carol had arrived before her. She heard humming and the scrapes and thumps of black lacquer chairs being lifted from the marble tops of the small round tables and set on the floor. “I’m here,” she called out as she tossed her keys onto the desk. “Hi,” Carol answered. “I think we’re going to need more truffles sometime soon.” “Thanks. Let me know when.” After withdrawing the statements and invoices from the drawer and replacing them with her purse, Madison pulled out the desk chair and sat. 16


She dialed Carl Mallory and made an appointment to see him the next day, then she studied the flyer she’d also pulled from the drawer. She stared at the announcement of a fifteen thousand dollar first prize for outstanding candy design at Chocolate Fantasy, the biennial national convention for candy designers and chocolatiers. It was to be held in the Westin Bonaventure Hotel in Los Angeles in a month. Designers from all over the country would be there to display, sell, and enter their candies in various competitions. There would be lesser prizes for chocolate confections and hard candies, but the top prize would be for fancy spun ribbon candy design. Madison had attended one of these conventions while in college, and the rich scents from a gigantic fountain of warm, flowing chocolate in the center of the convention fairway and the hot machine that spun pink cotton candy much as silkworms spin their cocoons still lingered in her nostrils’ memory. The top award had been won for a Japanese Geisha doll made of sheer ribbon candy. The foot-high figure had been exquisite, and the dress, complete with kimono, obi, and fan, had been perfect in every detail. If she hadn’t known better, she’d have thought it was made of blown glass. This year’s entry fee was five hundred dollars, and she had entered. Now she felt her nerves fray at what she’d done. The risk she was taking could mean the loss of the shop, the loss of jobs Carol and Alicia, her college student employees, needed. But she’d made her decision and there was no turning back. Without the fifteen thousand dollar prize, Sweet Chocolate Ecstasy was gone anyway, but with it, Madison could clear some of her debt. Winning would gain her a national reputation and the financial ability to expand to an online market. It was time to tell Carol. When Alicia arrived in the afternoon, she would be told as well. “Carol, before you open up, would you come in here, please?” 17


Carol slipped into her office wearing denim shorts and a clean, sleeveless white blouse. A brown apron embroidered with the shop’s name in bold pink on the bib covered her to the edge of the shorts. Madison motioned her to a chair. There was no reason to frighten her workers by telling them how grave things were or that the shop might fold. Besides, what if they found a job somewhere else and left prematurely? That would be difficult for her. She said, “I’ve been thinking of ways to draw in more customers, so I’ll be making some changes.” Carol leaned forward. “Today they’re delivering a coffee machine so we can offer coffee, expressos, lattes, mochas, macchiatos, and cold, blended coffees. We’ll also have baked goods people can eat with their coffee…” “Donuts?” Madison screwed up her face since donuts didn’t match her idea of her elegant shop. “No, croissants, brownies, bagels and cream cheese, muffins, sweet breads, that kind of thing.” “MacLean’s been serving sandwiches and soup for months now in addition to his candies. It’s about time we added something else too. They have a lot more business than we do.” Madison tensed. Clement MacLean was her arch rival, a man older than she was who looked like he ate too much of his product and who peered at her as if she were a speck on the wall. MacLean also sold gifts. She’d resisted some of his marketing ideas, until she realized with somewhat wounded pride that Clement was successful while she was tottering on the brink of bankruptcy. “One thing more. I’ve entered us in Chocolate Fantasy.” “Cool! That’s the biggie, isn’t it?” Carol said. “It is, and the candy designer I hired is due shortly after we open. A Mr. Craig Winslow. Let me know as soon as he comes in, will you?” “A man? Isn’t that a little strange for a candy maker?” 18


Madison stared at her, then said, “Willy Wonka was a man.” As a picture of the eccentric Mr. Wonka settled in their brains, they both laughed. As Carol headed for the front of the shop, Madison asked as an afterthought, “Do you know anyone who waltzes?” “No, isn’t that pretty old? Ballroom stuff? Gosh, I don’t think even my parents dance like that. Why?” “Just wondering. Nothing important.” But it was important. Why had the man of her dreams wanted to waltz? Maybe it was old stuff, but, sighing, she remembered how romantic waltzing with him had been. When she remembered what it had led to, a serious ache began in her nether parts. She still wanted him to make love to her. Stop it, Madison. Get a grip. She forced her thoughts back to tackling her finances and tinkering with a new marketing plan she would use when she won Chocolate Fantasy. Half an hour later, Carol came back to her office. “He’s here. That Mr. Winslow’s here. Arrived on a Harley,” she said, rolling her eyes and fanning herself. Raising her eyebrows because she didn’t understand what Carol was trying to convey, she said, “Send him in.” When next she looked, Craig Winslow was literally filling her doorway, and it was obvious why Carol had been fanning herself. As Alicia would say, he was one hot hunk. In his left hand he held the neck of a leather jacket flung over his shoulder. His thick biceps were ringed with a simple chain pattern tattoo with a small, red heart in the center on the outside. Extending below the cap sleeves of his T-shirt, those biceps were bigger than any she’d ever seen on someone his age, an age near her own. Before rising, she looked up into eyes that were the deep green of natural emeralds. His gaze held hers in a steady, open look. Obviously 19


there wasn’t a speck of shyness in the man. His medium length hair, despite being damp and flattened by his helmet, had natural wave to it and was the color of dark caramels streaked by sunlight. The planes of his face were rugged and interesting. Her gaze swept down over his shirt with its Harley imprint to leather pants stretched tight over wide thighs and the male bulge at his crotch. She took in the heavy motorcycle boots, the gloves in the helmet hanging casually from a strap from the hand holding his jacket, and then, without thinking, she looked once more at the outlines of his maleness at his crotch. Oh my… A sensual tremor swept through her. She felt her cheeks flush. I’m still horny from that damned dream. His gaze hadn’t left her face, and he chuckled softly. He saw me look. Let me know by laughing, however quietly. So he was bold, was he? Well, he’d just shown that he lacked class. He’d never do as a designer here. She stood, unable to get the vision of that bulge out of her mind as she wondered if he really was as large as… She was still dealing with that tremor, and how could she help it? The man just exuded sex. Standing, she said in her most business-like voice, “Mr. Winslow? I’m Madison Taylor, owner of Sweet Chocolate Ecstasy.” Stepping inside with a casual grace that belied his muscular body, he took her extended hand and shook it with one that engulfed her own. His head easily cleared the doorway, but he was solid and broadly built. His hand was hot, and now she felt a stirring deep in her belly at his touch. Again, that lazy knowing smile. Damn him, she thought with dismay. How can I work with someone like this? How can I be his boss? Quickly withdrawing her hand, she motioned for him to have a chair. In her most aloof business manner, she interviewed him, exploring his designer background and education before explaining the 20


job more fully. He surprised her. Not only had he studied under and designed for one of the leading chocolatiers in Paris, he also had a degree in liberal arts from a small Nebraska university. He’d won a couple of design prizes in state competitions, and the spun sugar designs that had won him those awards were inventive and unique as detailed in photos he showed her. Madison was impressed. “You have very good credentials. How long have you been in California?” “A while.” His smile was enigmatic, as if he knew something she did not, and she would have laid down money that it charmed every woman he met. Actually, how long he’d been here really wasn’t her business. Clearing her throat, she continued. “You realize this position is temporary, at least until we see how your entry in Chocolate Fantasy does? If we should win, you’ll receive your cut of the prize money, of course, but beyond that I’m not sure I can offer you more work.” He nodded without comment. “Any questions?” “I’d like to see where I’d be working.” She led him into the candy room, conscious of the radiant heat from his body because they collided when they tried to cross the threshold at the same time. He simply took her by the elbows and lifted her over the threshold ahead of him as if she were weightless. The memory of someone dark and beautiful who had also lifted her, someone who had brought coolness instead of the heat this man generated at his touch, caused her a moment of faintness. “Hey,” she heard him say with concern. “You okay?” Shaking the memory away, she smiled at him. “I’m fine. Inside, she showed him the machines, proud that some of them were new and of the latest design, but even as they moved about the room, 21


she was always aware of his nearness. Maleness literally emanated from him. Sweat from riding in the heat in leather pants and jacket made him smell very male. At one point, she leaned to show him one of the baking ovens, and she heard his intake of breath and realized the lean widely exposed her breasts where they nestled in the v-neck of her sheer white blouse. Quickly covering her skin with one hand, she tried to continue talking, but she heard again the low chuckle indicating he knew she knew he’d looked and he found it amusing. Rising, she bumped her head on a cupboard, cried “Ouch!” and then turned too fast and found herself bumping up against him. To her horror, full frontal. Her breasts punched against a hard chest, her navel slammed him just above his penis. His hands went to her shoulders to steady her, and she thought for a moment he would pull her even harder against him and kiss her. Shock riveted through her breasts and shot down to settle between her legs. His gaze held hers, and then he moved as if drawn to her mouth as she nervously licked her lips. “Do you find it hot in here?” he asked. Did she find it hot? Did she find him hot? Oh, my, she did. “Uh…yes,” she stammered like a school girl as she deliberately stepped away from him when what she really wanted was to be enclosed in those steadying arms. It was irrational. She’d only just met the man. “Is your A/C working?” Feeling foolish for having thought his first question had been sexual, Madison shook her head to clear her thoughts while rubbing the small bump rising where she’d hit it. “Carol, the girl who brought you back to me, did mention last night that she thought it wasn’t working correctly. But it was late and I was tired. I’m afraid by this morning I’d forgotten about it.” “I can’t produce what you want unless the climate is controlled.” 22


“I know, but…well…” Madison hesitated, not wanting to share her finances with him. “Well what?” “It’s just that I don’t know where I’m going to get the money to have it repaired. The tech who was here three months ago told me it was on the verge of dying and they couldn’t get parts for it any more.” He had turned away to pull the refrigerator door open, kneeling to peer inside. His tee shirt pulled up in back, leaving his skin bare above his leathers and revealing a single short line repeat of the pattern tattooed around his biceps. His skin looked smooth and tan, and Madison fantasized what it would feel like if she ran the tips of her fingers over it and of what his penis would do when she did. Her mouth went dry. Stop that, Madison, stick to business. “Have the landlord fix it,” he said. “What?” She almost swallowed her tongue in embarrassment over her thoughts. “Unless you own this building, it’s the landlord’s job to pay for repairs.” He stood and turned to her. “You don’t own the building, do you?” Madison backed up to the huge wooden table in the center of the room not only to put space between them for comfort but for the support, shaking her head in the process. “Actually, I deal with the rep from the management company, and she’s not very cooperative. Pretty much of a flake. Won some kind of settlement because she claimed the police beat her up when the vice president of the United States made a stop in San Lugo. She and a small group picketed with placards they’d painted that read ‘No nukes.’” He laughed. “She rented this to you as a candy shop, right? And climate control’s essential, isn’t it? Anyhow, rental laws in this state say that if they don’t have a new unit installed for you, it’s allowable 23


for you to put one in yourself. You deduct the cost from your rent.” Did she know that? Yes, she knew that. She felt very stupid, but at the same time, relief swept over her as she realized he’d just eliminated one of her worries. Now she could also deduct the cost of the repairs she’d paid for in late spring. “I noticed you don’t serve nougatines.” He stepped toward her, and something roared in her aching head. Sparks leaped between them when he reached around her to run his hand across the table top. Madison managed to keep her face still, but she sensed from the brief hesitation he made that he felt those sparks too. Oh, this was tantalizing, but also dangerous. “Why don’t you serve nougatines? This wooden table with the metal top is perfect for making it.” Forcing herself to step away from him again, she replied, “That’s what it was intended for, but the fact is the students and I don’t have the strength to roll it out.” “That wouldn’t be a problem if I were here.” She wanted to reach out and touch his biceps to test their steeliness and then slide her hands down his arm to his hands. Which she would turn over and tongue, but she refrained. Instead, she replied, “No, I guess it wouldn’t. Would you have time for it?” He nodded. Pausing to think, she said, “The recipe makes a big batch, and I’m not sure how it would sell.” “Give a sample away with every purchase of your other candies. The big guns do that. Word of mouth, you know…” He smiled at the pun. His teeth were white and even, Madison saw as she studied his lips and mouth. Don’t go there, Mad, don’t even go there. “Is it always this hot in the summer here?” Thankful for the interruption of her wayward thoughts, she told 24


him, “Always. I hope you parked your motorcycle in the shade.” “Certainly did. I’m sweltering in these leathers, but skidding across hot asphalt without them in an accident would be worse. Still, I don’t want to climb onto an already burning seat as well.” The thought of the tender skin of his inner thighs and scrotum settling on a hot seat caused her heart to thud in pain. “Well?” “Well what?” “Do I have the job, Ms. Ruhl?” Not wanting to seem too eager despite needing him desperately, she answered, “Why don’t you come in tomorrow and show me something of what you can do? If I like it, we’ll close the deal.” “Fair enough. What time?” “It will be cooler at six.” He winced at the early hour, but agreed. Carol popped her head in just then. “Sorry to interrupt, but they’re here with the coffee maker and stuff. It’s huge!” Carol’s excitement spread to Madison. Madison motioned for Craig to follow her to the front. “I need to sign for this. We haven’t had the foot traffic I’d hoped when I opened, so I’m going to start serving coffee, tea, and goodies. We have all those tables and chairs, but no one seems to sit there to eat chocolates. I’ll serve iced coffee and tea as well.” She couldn’t keep the excitement from her voice. The coffee machine was indeed big. It was also beautiful—dark green enamel with the manufacturer’s name engraved on a polished brass plate. The spigots for the coffee and the arm to heat and froth the milk were satin finished stainless steel. There were two separate coffee bean grinders—one for regular and one for decaf—and a machine to make blended ice and crème drinks. Madison scribbled her name on the delivery order, then invited Winslow to stay if he wished while the installer demonstrated how to 25


use the machines. “If I hire you,” she whispered, “I’ll pay you for your time today.” “Good enough,” he said with what she thought was some amusement. Once the installer had demonstrated and they’d each worked the machines until they’d mastered cappuccinos, lattes, macchiatos, caffé mochas, and various frappaccino drinks, the installer and the Harley man left. “Did you hire him?” Carol asked, bursting with curiosity. Heady from the scent of freshly ground coffee and chocolate, Madison said, “Not yet. I need to check his references. I asked him to come in early tomorrow to show me what he can do.” “We’re going to need more truffles.” “Good, I’ll let him start with those.” Leaving Carol to wait on customers, Madison returned to her office with a happier heart than she’d felt in months. She telephoned the references Winslow had provided, and they were good. Maybe he was a tattooed Harley man, but he was evidently almost a saint. There was only one negative reference, and it was simply that he’d left without notice. Alicia’s reaction to the new menu items and entry into Chocolate Fantasy was markedly different from Carol’s. The short, rotund girl, whose dark hair was pulled back into a ponytail, said, “Oh, Mr. MacLean’s entering that too. He’s got some super duper guy to do his design.” Stunned, Madison asked, “How do you know that?” “It’s in today’s San Lugo News.” Although she kept the newspaper out for customers, Madison hadn’t even thought about looking at it this morning. The headline read “Orangethorpe Confectioners Enter Contest,” and the story began, “Clement MacLean, owner of MacLean’s Candies and Gifts…” An 26


interview of Clement followed. Sweet Chocolate Ecstasy was mentioned, but her name didn’t appear anywhere. “Damn, but that’s crummy,” she said. “Didn’t interview me and didn’t even give my name.” Alicia, her dark eyes round, said, “I thought that was strange too, but my mom said he’d been born here and has been on the Chamber of Commerce board…whatever that means.” “I guess it means I haven’t been here long enough to have any pull in this town,” Madison muttered. “Well, I’ll give the reporter a call. The event organizers must’ve sent out the news release, otherwise how would the reporter know I’d entered?” The reporter was in when she called, and they arranged for him to do an interview the next day. After she’d met with Carl Mallory. The afternoon sizzled under the late summer sun and her only customers were a few teenagers. When she closed up at five, Madison didn’t stay any longer. It was too hot to cook, so she stopped at Brier’s Delicatessen to buy ham slices, rye bread, and potato salad before heading for home. There she stripped to her panties and bra in the trapped heat of the house and opened a cold beer. Slathering mayonnaise and trans-fat free margarine on two pieces of the rye, she piled on a few thin pieces of ham, a kosher dill pickle, and some butter lettuce. Adding a generous dollop of potato salad onto the plate beside her sandwich, she sat down to eat. Tomorrow would be busy. She’d wanted to brighten the show room with small crystal vases filled with spring flowers for the center of each table, and she’d made arrangements for them with the woman who owned Andra’s Bouquet just three blocks from Sweet Chocolate Ecstasy. Her plan was to get Winslow started, and then, when Carol came in, Madison would walk over to pick up the centerpieces. Her appointment with Carl was later in the morning, and the reporter would be there in the afternoon. 27


A flurry of anticipation ruffled through her as she thought about what Winslow would show her. Thinking of him also caused a resurgence of the now familiar ache in her vulvae. She wondered what he would be like as a lover; probably not a disappointment. Supper over and dishes washed, she set up her laptop. Expanding her offerings required publicity, and although she intended to get some free publicity through the reporter’s article, she needed brochures to leave at the Chamber of Commerce and in the shops of other members of the Orangethorpe Merchant’s Association. It was late when she turned off the downstairs lights and went up to her room. Checking the deadbolt on the door to the adjoining apartment as was her custom, she took off her clothes and climbed into bed to sleep naked with only a sheet over her. *

*

*

He came to her again, the prince whose hair was as black as hers, whose eyes reflected the cobalt blue of her own. He called her name and waited for her to come to him, cupping her face with his hands when she reached him then leaning to kiss her. This time, in the deepest part of her being, she knew it a dream. Still, desire flared between them as he pulled her to him, his hands sliding down her shoulders to caress the curve in the small of her back and then settle on her firm buttocks. She was naked, and without foreplay, he pulled her hard against his aroused body. His lips were demanding as he sought hers again, and she returned his kiss with a fervor matching his, spreading her legs at the same time so his swollen penis pressed against her muff. When the kiss ended, she whispered, “What happened the last time you were here? Why did you leave me?” For an instant his features dissolved in sadness, but the solemn face she knew returned and then broke into a smile that reached to her heart. He cupped her face once more, his hands cool against the heat of 28


her skin. “I’m sorry I left without a word. Someday I’ll explain, but for now I must leave you again, my love. Forgive me.” Touching his lips to her forehead, he disappeared. *

*

*

The emotions from the dream encounter lingered long after she’d wakened. Her ankle hurt again, but at least she’d slept better this time. Even at five o’clock it was hot. No doubt the heat had caused her to dream. Nude or not, she was covered in a sheen of perspiration, and she’d need to shower before leaving for the shop. She toweled her hair lightly and then ran a brush and her fingers through it. The coolness felt good and her hair would be dry by the time she reached work. Dressing in a short blue skirt, a crop top that exposed her navel periodically, and rope sandals she’d purchased across the border in Mexico, she boiled an egg for breakfast and downed a can of low sodium tomato juice. Coffee she’d try in the shop from her new machine. Driving through the groves with the sun at her back, she noticed the sun glinting off two parallel rows of silver hexagonal boxes about a foot high and set about four feet apart running through the trees. She’d never seen anything like them before and wondered what their purpose might be. At first she thought they protected baby shoots of something from the sun, but, slowing, she didn’t see anything underneath them. Deep in the grove, however, she spotted a huge sphere of rough, dark metal. That, she thought, must’ve held oil in the old days. Before the invention of wind machines, she’d been told, they lit smudge pots filled with oil on cold nights to keep the oranges from freezing. Strange that she’d never noticed it or the silver boxes before. A little rivulet of unease trickled through her mind.

29


CHAPTER 3

Craig Winslow was waiting for her outside the alley entrance, his face even more rugged because it sported the five o’clock shadow of a beard. He walked toward her with easy grace. “Good morning.” “Hi,” she said, surprised by how at home he looked outside her door, and how happy she was to see him. Her heart jangled and something twisted low in her belly at the sight of him. He was dressed in Nikes, clean dark blue Wranglers, and another white T-shirt. This one had no logo. His hair had disappeared under a black do-rag—the bandanas NFL players tied around their heads to absorb sweat under their helmets. He resembled both a rake and a pirate. Arms folded, the gaze from his green eyes moved slowly from her face to linger over the fullness of her breasts, then to her skimpy skirt, down her legs, and casually back up to her face. He might as well have 30


given a cat call. Heart racing, she automatically brought her legs together under the skirt and stood straighter. “What do you think you’re doing?” She allowed an employer’s disapproval to arrange her face and color her words, although at this point she wasn’t sure just which one of them had grounds for filing a sexual harassment suit. “Well, you looked me over. I thought I’d do the same.” Her cheeks turned hot, and she touched one of them. Yes, definitely, she was blushing. The glint in his eyes told her he was teasing, so when he reached for her key, she handed it to him without a word. He ran his thumb over the gold lettering on the glass, and she felt as if he were caressing her. “I like that name.” Then he unlocked the door and reached for the top of it to hold it open for her. “Thanks.” Walking under his arm, she saw a hint of hair peeking out from his sleeve. Thank heavens he wasn’t into shaving there. Shaving there didn’t seem manly to her. He helped her open the windows to let the overnight warmth escape before they turned on the air conditioning. She showed him where she kept the ingredients he would need. When she unlocked the storage room and led him inside the narrow galley-shaped pantry, his proximity to her again made her conscious of the raw heat emanating from his body. He’d obviously showered, for parts of his do rag were damp. The clean scent of motel soap and shampoo lingered faintly. “Where are you staying?” “In the Shady Rest Hotel on Easton until I can find something to rent.” She nodded. “Carol tells me we need to make truffles this morning. If you’ll hand me the footstool, I’ll get the canister of cocoa powder down.” 31


Instead, with one hand on her left shoulder he reached around her with his right hand and lifted the canister down. Enclosed briefly in the circle of his arms, she wanted to back against the broad chest and rub her butt against him. Why did she sense that was exactly what he wanted too? How long had it been since she had sex with a man? Too long, my friend, obviously too long. He cleared his throat. She was free of his arms. Realizing she was just standing there like an idiot, Madison shook herself slightly, then reached with determination for the sugar. When they had everything they needed, she noticed he avoided touching her or coming too close again. Thank heavens…and damn. By the time Carol arrived, Craig was well into making the truffles. Madison locked her desk and office door, then left Carol in charge while she walked to Andra’s. “I have them in a box for you, and I slipped in some white paper doilies to go under each vase. See if you like that effect. The doilies will help protect the marble too,” Andra said. In addition to a touch of greenery, each vase had pink carnations, white baby’s breath, and dianthus whose flat blossoms moved from a dark throat across a pale pink surface to a magenta border. “Perfect. I’m going to start serving continental breakfast stuff now and cold blended coffees as well as hot. Would it be okay if I left some brochures with you as an addy? There’s a coupon for a free nougatine in them.” “Sure. I didn’t know you had nougatine. I love it.” A tingle of pleasure rippled through her at the thought of Craig’s strong arms working the nougat. “Not yet, but in a few days. I’ll bring in the brochures then. Thanks.” The pervasive aroma of melting chocolate and coffee assaulted her senses when she opened the alley door. Craig, she guessed from the sounds emanating from the kitchen, was washing up pots. The truffles 32


must be ready. Carol took the box from her hands, and together they put a doily and vase on the white marble top of each table. “Cool,” Carol said when they stood back to view their work. “Yeah, I think they add a certain touch. Hmm, that coffee smells good. If it’s ready, I’ll have a cup. You have one too if you like.” They sat together sipping the hot, black liquid and evaluating it as they discussed what kinds of baked goods would be popular. Then Madison sent Carol to the store for cream and sugar substitutes. She made a note to buy some commercial goodies for the next day. As she expected, the workroom table was covered with pans of truffles in neat rows on parchment paper awaiting the next stage, which would be to roll them in chocolate sprinkles or cocoa powder. “Hi, Ms. Ruhl,” he said without turning. There was a slightly mocking tone to the “Ms. Ruhl,” as if it were a ridiculous formality. It seemed so to her as well. “You knew it was me.” “Uh-huh. Your perfume.” “I’m not wearing any.” Her heart beat faster. “Lavender, I think. You must have showered and shampooed with it.” Turning, he eyed her dark hair and face. “It goes with your hair and eyes.” She laughed. “Mr. Winslow, I doubt you could smell my shampoo over the smell of chocolate in this room. Tell me,” she teased, glancing at the bandana, “are you a rake or a pirate come into my life?” In one step he was beside her, lifting her arm to twirl her under his own in a dance move before dropping her into a low dip, his other arm strong beneath her waist, his face, his mouth hovering dangerously close to hers. “You don’t want to know,” he said in a voice so husky it brought her senses alive. Time stopped. 33


Then, with a sigh, he lifted her easily to her feet and, still holding her hand, brought her to the table to see his work. “Sprinkles or powder?” “Powder, I guess.” He was truly mesmerizing. After deftly rolling one of the balls in a pan of cocoa powder, he fed it to her. The first bite coated her tongue with the rich flavor of the chocolate, and the perfect soft center smeared on her lips with the next, reminding her of the ritual where brides and grooms fed each other slices of wedding cake and ended up with cake and icing all over their faces. The taste of his chocolate in her mouth and on her tongue created a tingling in her mouth that shot down to her breasts, and she felt her nipples harden. A picture of the dark prince of her dreams flared in her mind, and there was no mistaking the sadness on his face. Guilt flitted through her. Shaking off the image as she reminded herself the prince was only a dream, she looked at Craig to find he was staring at the chocolate on her lips. For one wild moment she felt electricity surge from him and she thought he would lick it away, and she wanted him to lick it clean and then kiss her and savor the remaining chocolate inside her mouth. Instead he said, “Sorry,” as he used the end of a tea towel to wipe it clean. She was sure she saw regret that he had not kissed her cross his face. Shocked at the sensations coursing through her body, she stepped away from him, her breath coming in short, shallow bursts. She managed to say, “The truffles are wonderful. That’s not my recipe.” He smiled. “No, it’s mine.” Recipes among chocolatiers were closely guarded secrets, so she did not ask for the formula. While he was here he might use his own recipes, but when and if he left, they would go with him. The idea that 34


he would leave flooded her with feelings of loss. The bell on the front door jingled, heralding Carol’s return. Madison was relieved to have an excuse to leave the room and the temptation this man presented. As she hurried out, she could have sworn she heard him say under his breath, “Saved by the bell.” She wondered just who was saved—him, her, or both of them? *

*

*

After studying the papers Madison had brought, Carl Mallory pushed his chair back from his desk and locked his hands behind his balding head. “How on earth did you get yourself into this mess, Madison?” While he studied her books, Madison had been staring out the window of the house, which had been converted into offices, onto one of the many tree-lined streets that added to Orangethorpe’s charm. Bringing her attention back to the C.P.A., she shrugged. “Too optimistic, I guess. I didn’t realize it would be so difficult to attract people if I only had candy in the store. See’s carries nothing but candy. But the management company raised my rent twenty per cent three months ago, which really hurts, and then there’s my competition.” “MacLean.” “Yeah.” Carl brought his hands back to the desk and picked up a mechanical pencil. He hesitated before saying, “You know who owns that building you’re in, don’t you?” “I thought the management company did. If not, then who?” “Clement MacLean.” Madison stared as he twirled the pencil between his fingers. Her sense of betrayal made her choke. “The Chamber of Commerce is supposed to be an advocate for business. If MacLean’s been on the board, he must have a short memory. That bastard, he wants me out of 35


there!” “I’d think so, but not necessarily because it’s you or because you operate a candy store. He may just think he can get higher rent on that property.” Madison wasn’t convinced; she thought MacLean didn’t want another candy store in town. “What am I going to do?” “I’d start by looking for a rental property he doesn’t own. You can hold out long enough to see if the coffee and baked sweets increases your traffic, but I do think you may not survive unless you find lower rent and win that prize money.” “I can always sell my Miata, but that would only pay my rent another month. I can drive that rattletrap truck to work or bicycle in.” It would kill her to sell the little convertible. It was the first new car she’d ever owned, but if it came to Sweet Chocolate Ecstasy surviving or selling the car, the Miata would have to go. “I wouldn’t sell your car just yet. Give things a chance to work out. I’m here if you need to consult me again.” “Thanks, Carl. Send me your bill.” Even that made her cringe; he made a lot more per hour than she did. On her way back to the shop she called Carol on her cell phone and asked her to find out when Craig could make the nougatines she was planning to give away. He said he would do it any day she wished. “Tell him I’ll let him know after I find out how soon I can get these flyers back.” She dropped off her flyer master at Orangethorpe Print Shop, and made arrangements to pick them up on Monday. They were going to add the coupon. It was lunch time before she reached Sweet Chocolate Ecstasy. Carol would be leaving soon and Alicia would come in. Carol was busy packing up a pound of chocolates for a customer and two other customers were waiting. Madison worked with them, and by the time 36


she came up for air, Carol had left and Alicia had come on board. The last customers ordered coffee, and Madison offered them the paper when she brought them their cups. She was standing beside her desk when Craig came to ask for the afternoon off to attend to some business. That was fine with her because the reporter was due to interview her, and she really didn’t want him here then. “Tomorrow I’ll bring in some preliminary sketches for the candy design I have in mind.” “No problem about the afternoon off, and I’d love to see your sketches.” He smiled a slow smile that made his eyes dance and triggered another pang deep in her belly. “I just bet you’d like to see my sketches.” He ran one finger lightly over the bare skin exposed between her crop top and her skirt. She startled. That feeling deep in her belly had flared anew, and, damn, her face was hot. She was blushing again. She turned to her papers without answering, but she heard him chuckle as he went out the door. He does enjoy discomfiting me, she thought as she watched his tight bum leave the office. *

*

*

The interview went well. The reporter asked about her background, where she learned to make candies and chocolates, why she’d chosen Orangethorpe to set up her shop, and had she previously participated in Chocolate Fantasy. It was pretty standard fare. Madison mentioned the nougatine giveaway and the addition of coffees and pastries to the shop, as well as a new recipe being used for truffles. It was the day for rotating the candies, and she assigned that weekly chore to Alicia while she checked the freshness of the refrigerated creams, butters, and candies that needed to be kept cold. By closing 37


time there were fresh candies in the cases, among them Craig’s truffles. She was pleased when she saw Alicia had displayed the truffles in the most prominent place in the case. “They’re delicious,” Alicia told her. “Hmm, I know. Better than mine I’ll admit.” *

*

*

The dream prince didn’t appear that night, but in the wilting heat she tossed and turned in dread and anticipation that he would. Her thoughts were all tangled between a dream-man and a real man. She didn’t understand why they each had such a stranglehold on her emotions. She had offered Craig Winslow a contract that morning before he left. He would work part-time five days a week at a wage she thought she might indeed have to sell the Miata to cover. She agreed to see that he had any tools or supplies he needed when he began the design. If she expected noises of pleasure at the offer, she was disappointed. He signed the contract with bold strokes from a strong hand. “By the way, what about the A/C?” “I can get the unit, but installing it’s a problem. With this heat wave, they’re telling me two weeks and then get on a waiting list.” “If they’ll deliver it and pull the old unit, I’ll finish the installation of the new one. You can pay me what they’d have charged, and I can put that toward my rent.” He broke into a smile that would just about melt any woman’s heart, and Madison wasn’t immune. It was certainly doing things to hers. And then he was on his way, the roar of his motorcycle magnified in the close confines of the alley. She stood with her mouth open as he waved goodbye. When she’d recovered, she called and made the arrangements he’d requested. She couldn’t believe her luck. 38


*

*

*

Back in his hotel room, Craig dialed a private line. “I’m in.” “Good.” There was a malicious tinge to the older man’s response. “You didn’t tell me she had great knockers.” The other man laughed. “You have permission to play, my boy, as long as you don’t forget what I hired you to do.” *

*

*

Madison opened the shop at six the next morning for Craig, and the first thing he did was install the new air conditioning unit. A slight breeze had come up, blowing hot air into the wall opening for the conditioner. Fine beads of sweat collected on his face and his shirt grew damp under his arms. She brought him a glass of iced coffee and handed it up to him. “Thanks,” he said. His smile reached his eyes and seemed to hold special meaning just for her. She watched his mouth close over the rim of the glass and wondered how his lips would taste against hers. How they would feel against the most personal part of her body. Then she made herself leave the room. Just as she had promised, she deducted his fee from her rent for that month and paid him in cash. As the days progressed, it seemed the most usual thing in the world for this man to be in her candy kitchen. They fell into a natural rhythm as if they’d worked together all their lives. She’d need something from the high cupboard, and before she could reach for the step stool, he’d have it down for her. When she needed cream from the refrigerator, she would turn to find he’d anticipated her need and it was on the counter beside her, along with the slab of unsalted butter that came next. When she saw him add a huge block of bittersweet chocolate to a pan to melt and then unlock the box he carried with him to draw out 39


one of his recipes, she immediately left the room so as not to read his recipe. Out in front, she checked on things until she knew the ingredients would have been measured and the recipe locked away once more. Today she knew he was making amaretto fudge when the heady scent of the almond-flavored liqueur made her mouth water as it wafted from the workroom. “Hmm, that certainly smells good. I’ll have some of that too,” said Mrs. Atherton, an elderly woman whose head shook slightly from a mild palsy. Carol was packing up some vanilla chocolates for her. “It’s amaretto fudge, but it’s not quite ready. If you’d like I can bring you a small box of it after work,” Madison said with a smile. She was fond of Emma Atherton. “That’s very nice of you, Madison.” Then, conspiratorially, she said, “Not at all like at MacLean’s. You wouldn’t find them being helpful about much of anything.” Madison just patted her hand without speaking. Craig was brushing on the traditional swath of raspberry pink coloring when she returned to the work room. “I’ve already sold some of your fudge, but I’d like to taste that first piece.” He worked without looking up, but his voice was low and seductive. “I heard that. I also heard you make house calls.” Shaken at the sexual implication of his remark, she was speechless. Now he smiled, his green eyes gleaming with a glow that reached right into her. But when he reached for the knife to cut a piece for her, she backed away as she recalled the rush of raw emotion she felt when he’d fed her the truffle. “Uh, not now. Maybe after lunch.” When you’re gone and it’s safe. Then he said, “You know Alicia has difficulties at home, don’t you?” 40


Surprised at the sudden change of subjects, she nodded. How quickly he’d won Alicia’s confidence when it had taken Madison months to discover the disadvantages the Hispanic girl dealt with. But, then, there was a comfort level when you were with Craig that made it easy to confide in the man. “She’s having trouble with math, there’s no place to study at home, and she doesn’t feel safe going to the college library at night. I tutored when I was in college, so would it be okay if I returned on a few Wednesdays just as the shop closes to work with her for half an hour? You’d need to be here because I wouldn’t want to be alone with her, but I’d really like to help her out.” Just as he anticipated her needs in the workroom, he’d recognized Alicia’s needs and wanted to help. She wanted to hug him. “Of course. We just need to work this out together so I’m sure I’m here.” He nodded, then stood to put on his helmet and gloves. He tucked his recipe box under one arm. She accompanied him to the alley door, marveling at this macho man who was so comfortable as a chocolatier, who casually stored his recipes in his motorcycle bags as if they were the weapons of a warrior. “See you Saturday?” She nodded. The amaretto fudge was full bodied, yet melted on the palate like a fine wine. It was the kind of thing that made you want to spread your legs to the man who’d made it. *

*

*

On Saturday, she began French mints while he filled the large copper pot with the ingredients she’d set out for caramels. Soon the two flavors mingled in the warm room air. The sound of the constantly stirring, automated caramel pot was like a summer song in her ears. As Craig moved about the kitchen, he occasionally came in contact with her. Once he knelt to pick up something from under the table, and 41


his denim covered thigh slid down her bare leg as he bent over. Another time she felt his hand briefly touch her side where her crop top exposed her skin, and the tingling his touch left made her sway slightly toward him. He absentmindedly rubbed her arm when she did. Contentment spread through her, while her skin was alive with sensual shivers. Craig checked the caramel batch’s temperature and consistency periodically, and just as he was about to add the vanilla, salt, and baking soda, the electricity went out. The pot slowed to a hum and died. Madison stood next to the pot she was stirring, listened and watched. Ten minutes later, when the electricity had not returned, she felt her happiness sliding away. Thankful that her stove was gas and not electric, she said, “I suppose the caramel will be ruined even if it comes back on soon.” She shut the dollar amount those ingredients had cost out of her mind. “I’m afraid so,” Craig said. “It’s too large a batch and too stiff now even for me to stir, but your candy will be okay.” He reached for the mint flavoring, sensing exactly how much and when to add it as she stirred. Preparing the space to spread the candy when it was ready, he lifted the copper pot, biceps rounding only slightly with the lift, and poured it out for her. She quickly ran a spatula along the top to smooth and even it. Using her cell phone, she learned that a violent summer storm had knocked out the area where the grid for most of Orangethorpe was located. It would be hours before it could be repaired. “I guess it’s time to see your sketches,” she said, shoulders slumping after she hung up and explained the problem to him. “Since they’re secret and Carol and Alicia can’t see them, this is as good a time as any.” “Right.” She poured cups of steaming coffee for them before the 42


pot could lose its heat. He drank it strong and black; she added substitute creamer to hers because she couldn’t risk opening the refrigerator and letting cold air out. She apologetically sent Carol home when she arrived, asking her to stop by Alicia’s house and tell her not to come in unless the electricity was restored. She promised to try to make up the hours they missed, although dismay had come to roost in her head. Income from one of her busiest days lost, the contents of the entire refrigerator would need to be replaced; she was staring another disaster in the mouth. After Carol left, she said to Craig, “I just hope I can do that. Things are pretty tottery here in the shop. It’s why I entered Chocolate Fantasy. The income from this job is so important to those young women. As you know, their home lives aren’t the greatest, and this little job may make the difference between them making a decent life for themselves or staying in poverty. They’re learning some business and people skills as well as being able to afford their community college fees. I think Carol’s home is only marginally better than Alicia’s. “I need to win at Chocolate Fantasy. I need to keep this shop afloat, not just for me but for them.” She’d spoken passionately, and now she looked down at her hands to find them clenched so hard she’d made marks in the palms with her nails. Craig stared at her, and she thought he looked guilty about something, then her features softened as he ran his fingers gently along the length of one side of her jaw. Again, she thought he would kiss her, but instead he suggested she see his sketch. The figure he’d drawn was that of a Native American man in full dance regalia. It was sketched in shades of black, gray, and white. Craig had captured at once the seriousness, the emotion, and the sacredness of the dance. On his head the dancer wore a gray fox, its nose resting in the 43


center of the man’s forehead just above the bridge of his nose, its ears pricked straight up in back. Black paint covered the rest of the Indian’s forehead and eyelids. Beneath his eyes were finger width crescents of white painted horizontally, and his left check and chin were covered with a vertical design in white. Three wide, black-tipped white feathers had been driven through the animal’s head, and the feathers flowed out on his left side while their long pinions could be seen protruding from the right. The coat of the fox flowed wide on either side, framing his face and disappearing behind his shoulders. His Indian braid with an eagle feather woven in at the end as an extension of the braid had been brought forward to hang down his left chest wall. A plate of thick porcupine quills strung together protected his chest from arrows. His shoulders were covered with the skin of a black bear, its deadly claws clearly visible where it covered his arms. He wore a collared shirt and a bear claw necklace ruff. In one hand he carried a wooden war club with the sharp teeth of a large animal embedded in the end. Any minute you expected him to break into a song and start the slow, pounding shuffle of the fox dance. “Oh, Craig, he’s magnificent!” “Thanks, I like him too. He’s a warrior. Did you know when they dance they believe they actually become the creature they’re dressed as?” “No. Can you really make him?” “Yeah, I can make him,” he said as he slowly folded his drawing and added it to the locked box, but, again, she thought a look of guilt crossed his face. She sat for a long time at her desk after he left, tapping the point of a pencil on the desk, twirling it in hand like a baton and then tapping the eraser end. She should have felt good about this partnership with 44


Winslow, yet it added to her lowering spirits. In the deepest part of her, she knew her feelings for him were a simmering pot that might boil over any minute and spoil the whole employee-employer relationship. The poorly insulated building was slowly heating up, promising to ruin some of the candies in the display cases as well. The ice would be melting in the freezer. Don’t think about that. Think about that fabulous design of Craig’s that’s going to take first place at Chocolate Fantasy for you, Mad. Stop this pity party. Tossing the pencil aside, she got her things together and left the shop. With the darned electricity off, she couldn’t even set the alarm.

45


CHAPTER 4

San Lugo wasn’t affected by the outage. After a stifling afternoon in the house, she took a cold shower and dressed in a short denim skirt bordered with fringe, a white sleeveless blouse, and her best flat-heeled Roper boots. From her ears she hung earrings of slender, feathered arrows in sterling silver. She liked the feel of their movement as she walked. Pulling into the parking lot of the Branded Calf dance club in San Lugo, she put on a black felt cowboy hat with a low crown, positioning it on her forehead just above her eyes. Alicia had once told her she looked sexy with it that way. Madison made it inside just in time for the free Saturday night supper of chili with onions and grated cheese, nachos, hot jalapeño peppers—which she bypassed—tossed salad with tomatoes, and just for good measure, a little German potato salad as well. From the bar she picked up a strawberry daiquiri. Carrying her food carefully to a 46


high nearby table, she joined a group of singles she knew from previous visits to the club. “Hi, Madison,” they greeted her. “Found someplace cool finally, did you?” She smiled in return and waved the hand that held her drink as she slid up onto a high stool. It was dark and loud, hard to see what you were eating or hear the person next to you, but the sound of country western music and the stomp of boots against a hardwood floor lifted her spirits. She heard well enough to know the table talk continued on the power outage in Orangethorpe. Madison didn’t feel much like discussing it, and when she’d finished eating, she slipped onto floor. She knew this dance, and soon the line moved in tandem to the song and the pattern of the steps. As the line moved step-behind-step in the familiar grapevine pattern, then forward and back and turning in the litany of the dance, her tension slipped away. Finally breathless, she left the floor after several dances and returned to her table. Everyone else from the table was out on the floor, and she sat alone, nursing her daiquiri, watching people enjoying themselves. “Dance with me,” a voice behind her said. It was a command, not an invitation. She froze. She recognized the voice that spoke low and husky in her ear, smelled the electricity, the danger smoldering in the air around it. Before she could turn, she felt him slip one arm around her waist to lift her just enough that she was free of the stool and then standing on the floor beside him. Craig took her hand and pulled her back to the floor. He too wore low-heeled Ropers. His Wranglers were dark blue, and his dark green striped shirt with a collar and long sleeves deepened the intensity of the green of his eyes. He wasn’t wearing a hat. Almost country, but not quite. Just country enough, she thought as her heart tightened. Not his boss in this environment, shyness and the 47


instant pounding desire she felt for him made her give him a guarded smile. She lined up beside him for the next song. He knew the line dances and did them flawlessly. When he took her in his arms for the two-step dances, he led her so smoothly they glided together like silk, and her need of him smoldered within her. After several more line dances, a circle dance began, and the men and women partnered up. The partners did a simple pattern that ended with the man twirling the woman under his arm and sending her up to the next man. As she moved from man to man, Madison felt as if she’d been torn from Craig, and when she reached him again at last, her body almost sang. The next dance announced was a waltz. Craig extended his arms, but the memory of being in the arms of the dream prince created such powerful feelings of conflict they almost blinded her. She stepped away, shaking her head. “I…I…need to rest a bit,” she stammered. She could tell he was puzzled, but he acquiesced, not even taking her hand as they walked back to the table. By the time instruction for a new line dance began, she’d recovered. When Craig stood and held out his hand, she took it unhesitatingly, moving with him to the floor. Some people were abnormally upset about their mistakes; others laughed lightheartedly when they turned the wrong way or collided with someone who was moving in the wrong direction. Madison noticed Craig wasn’t bothered by his mistakes. By the time the lesson had ended, however, he had the steps down pat. Next they announced a slow dance. The lights dimmed, and Madison prepared to step into the traditional dance hold, but Craig murmured, “Uh-uh,” as he placed her hands and arms around his neck. He enclosed her waist with his arms, making her feel tiny in his embrace. Weakness invaded her body because he was so close to her. She felt his lips brush her cheek, and she laid her cheek against his, 48


loving the feel of her breasts against pectoral muscles strong enough to handle a Harley on the road. As the music rose around them, he pulled her closer and closer until she could feel how aroused he was. Now she felt melded to him, her body hotter, her emotions stronger than they’d ever been with him. He kissed her gently and slowly. She kissed him back, tasting the remnants of the malt beer he’d had that evening, savoring the warmth of his lips on hers, the fit of their bodies together as they moved to the music. When the music ended and people began to leave the floor, he whispered, “Let’s get out of here before my erection pops the metal buttons on my jeans.” Eyes closed, arms still around his neck, her body pressed tight against his, sensations raiding her body, she could only murmur agreement. “You walk ahead of me and I’ll follow close, very close behind,” he said. Her eyes flew open and she looked into his face. “I’m not kidding. If you don’t want to embarrass us both, you walk in front.” She released him and backed away a little, and when she turned she felt his hands on her shoulders as they walked to the door hiding the state of his arousal. Outside, he took her hand and pulled her into a jog toward a black Lexus with smoked windows in the far parking lot. At the SUV, he pulled her hard up against him and kissed her, his mouth hot and demanding against hers. She returned his kiss greedily, giving in to the delicious tingling that had begun in her mouth. He ran his tongue along the line of her lips, licked at the corners of her mouth, then paused at the center for permission to enter. Once more, she imagined that mouth on the most personal part of her body. With a sigh she opened to him, letting his tongue plunder its way inside. 49


His tongue explored her mouth hungrily, and then she explored the heated wetness of his. She didn’t think she’d ever get enough of him. He lifted her up against the van until her sex met his, and he groaned as he rubbed against her. Mindless now, wanting, needing to free the engorged penis imprisoned in the Wranglers, she reached for his belt buckle. “Jeez, Madison, wait until we get inside.” He laughed, his voice shaky with passion. Using his key rather than the clicker which would flash the lights and call attention to them, he unlocked the door and helped her up to sit on the back seat, and then he climbed in to sit beside her. Frantically, he freed her breasts from the confines of her bra, and she pulled his belt free and dropped it on the floor before releasing the buttons of his Wranglers. His hands flew up to caress and squeeze her breasts. “You’ve got great knockers, you know that? I’ve wanted to touch them ever since the first day I saw you.” She reached to pull her blouse over her head, and he held her arms in that position while he lapped at her breasts and circled her nipples with his tongue. She moaned as pleasure rippled through her. “And I’ve wanted you to touch them, to suck them, and nip me with your teeth. They belong in your mouth, your hands. I’ve wanted to touch your jewels ever since the moment I saw you in my office doorway, but I can’t get to you if you keep my arms up like this.” Sucking and nipping her breasts with his teeth firmly enough to arouse, but not to hurt, he released her arms and ran his hands up her naked thighs and under her skirt. “You’re wearing a thong, a very sexy thong. Lace, I think,” he murmured. “Jeez, but you fill a man with hunger.” Pushing him down on the seat, she straddled him. “That feels so good—your hands on my thighs. But go higher, higher.” She leaned to 50


kiss him, to suck his tongue deep into her throat, moaning as he slid his fingers under the black lace of her thong until he reached her muff. “You’re so wet I can slide my finger right in,” he said. “Then do it.” She pushed her vagina toward the searching finger. She was tearing at his jeans now, pulling them down until his penis, still hooded by dark bikini briefs, popped free of the pants. She danced her body on his finger, rubbing her aching clit against his palm, moaning, her whole body alive with sensations. “Love me now, or I’m going to explode without you,” she whispered. He removed his hand. “Oh, don’t, please,” she begged, not wanting to waste a minute of sensation, yet knowing it had to be. He kissed her. “Wait.” He reached to the small compartment between the front bucket seats, and drew out a package. “You’re going to have to put it on.” Her hands shook as she ripped open the package. She tugged down his briefs until his erection sprang free and slowly rolled the condom over him, teasingly massaging as she did. Then she pulled his penis into her mouth to lubricate it and let the heat of her mouth and the strokes of her tongue excite him. Pulling her thong aside with one hand, she positioned herself over his jutting arrow and sank herself onto him, feeling her walls tighten around his hot shaft. He pushed against her, groaning with pleasure, and she slowly rose until her sensitive opening was over the sensitive under-tip of his glans, and she teased both of them with slight movements in and out, in and out, in and out. He caught her buttocks and stopped her. “Madison, I can’t wait any longer. It’s time, baby, it’s time.” She rode him slowly, letting all her feelings for him flow through her as she rubbed her clitoris against him with each thrust until she felt the shining moment tantalize her, hover to delay the climax it might 51


bring, then swell and bubble into a crescendo that exploded in her whole body. She heard his cry match hers and knew she had brought him with her. When she made to slip off him, he pulled her onto his chest, arms around her. Madison drifted, sated with love, until she felt him shift beneath her. “Jeez, you’d think we were teenagers. Actually, I never did this in a car as a teen. It’s about the most uncomfortable way to have sex I can imagine.” Sex. The word drilled into Madison’s brain and woke her. It was just sex to him. Pain rippled through her heart; it was something deeper for her. Hiding her feelings, Madison pushed up off him and began to rearrange her clothes. “Yeah, pretty uncomfortable. I don’t know what got into me. I’m sorry.” He reached up and touched her face. His voice husky, he said, “I know what got into you, Madison. Me.” Her laugh was nervous. “Well, yes, there was that, of course.” He had leaned up to kiss her, but at her flip words he drew back. In the darkness of the vehicle, she couldn’t read his expression. They finished dressing in silence. “Where’s your car parked? I’ll drive you to it.” She reached for the door. “It’s not far. You don’t have to drive me.” A strong hand clamped down on her wrist. “I’ll drive you.” Remembering how she’d insisted with Carol, she acquiesced and climbed into the front passenger’s seat. When he let her out, he asked if she wanted him to come in Sunday if the power was back. Since the shop would be closed, he’d be glad to help her. She turned him down. He waited until she was in her car and it had started, then he 52


followed her across the city streets and onto the freeway until she turned off at her exit. She’d never felt so terrible in all her life. *

*

*

She was naked again—weeping, chest hurting, eyes burning—when he came to her. He reached for her, and she let him scoop her up in his arms and carry her to the waiting chaise lounge. He sat rocking her, running a cool hand through her dark hair, then up and down her shaking back as she cried, kissing her eyes, cheeks, and lips. His slender fingers circled the dark areolas of her breasts, then tugged and massaged her nipples until they were taut in his hands. “Your skin is so soft and silken, Savannah, so wonderfully warm,” he whispered as he ran his hands up her thighs until he reached her labia and caressed the folds, then slid his fingers inside her and let his palm massage her pleasure spot. Gradually, she stopped weeping as her body responded to the pleasuring hand by returning its thrusts. The feeling she belonged to him, needed him, swept through her like high tide. As he stroked her, he began to speak in a language she didn’t understand, but which soothed and comforted her. He laid her on the lounge and lay on top of her, spreading her legs with his, preparing to enter her, but her need of him swirled into a maelstrom of emotions as conflict clouded her mind. She pushed him off her. “No, can’t…mustn’t…” She felt him draw away. “Savannah, my love, come with me to my kingdom and be my princess. Let me take you away from all of this,” came quietly through the night. Those words she did understand… *

* 53

*


Happiness set Craig to whistling as he drove to the hotel. Stunned at his response to Madison despite the attraction he’d felt for her from the very beginning, he remembered how he’d reveled in the feel and taste of her, in the heated way she had wanted him. He smiled as he thought of her hot, tight box as she impaled herself on him and brought them together to that wonderful point of no return. The contractions of the walls around his penis as he poured his semen into the condom she’d so skillfully sheathed him with, still made him wriggle with pleasure. But as he pulled into the parking lot outside his room, the first ripple of uneasiness at what he’d been hired to do to her rolled over him. *

*

*

It was strange how one could fall asleep in a dream, but when she wakened, Madison knew that was exactly what she’d done. She’d fallen asleep without answering the prince. Another strange thing—she woke rested, the disappointment over Craig, the anger with herself for having given in to what must have been lust rather than love had disappeared. Maybe Craig doesn’t love me, but the dream man does, she thought wryly. Maybe the dream man was really her alter ego, come to convince her she was truly worth loving. It was a problem she’d been told many children who’d suffered parental abandonment had as adults. The electricity was back on, and she drove to Sweet Chocolate Ecstasy, eager to see what damage had happened while it was off. It must have been over one-hundred degrees in the shop, so the first thing she did was turn on the air conditioning. Temperature in the walk-in cooler was good enough to salvage what was in there, but the crèmes, milk, butters, and candies in the refrigerator were too warm. She dumped them, then made a run to Albrekson’s Market to replace them. There was little traffic downtown on Sundays, and she always enjoyed being alone in her shop. Removing her secret recipe for the 54


chocolate caramel candies resembling desert tortoises from her locked desk drawer, she gathered the ingredients. She hummed as she covered the big table in the workroom with carefully laid out, small circles of whole pecans. Next she made the caramel, its sugary scent a welcome relief from yesterday’s failure. When the caramel had reached the correct temperature and consistency, she ladled it over each circle, skillfully keeping the caramel in the center so the outer edge of the nuts lay exposed like the feet, tail, and head of a tortoise. Two things MacLean’s couldn’t rival her on were Ecstasy’s tortoises and candied apples on a stick. The apples she didn’t make until fall, when apples came in season in the foothills above Orangethorpe. Unlike every other candy-covered apple she’d eaten, the secret in her uncle’s recipes kept the candy from sliding down from the top of the fruit. When the tortoises had cooled, she put them on pans she’d covered with wax paper and slid the pans into racks. Monday she would get the dipping kettles of dark and milk chocolate ready. That’s when the chocolate coating would be made on each side. Her mouth always watered when she made the tortoises. She’d finished and had locked the recipe away when she heard a motorcycle roar into the alley and stop. Her head spun. I ought to fire him. Then, remembering who it was who’d been yanking at his belt to open his fly right out in a public parking lot, she decided she wouldn’t fire him. Someone rapped on the alley door. Her mouth went dry. Her nipples tightened. Of course she knew who it was, but still she called out to ask. “It’s Craig.” The pulse in her throat pounded. Surely it would okay to be alone with him in the shop now that she’d shed the pain of knowing where she stood with him. Taking a deep breath, she unlocked the door and let 55


him step inside. “Good morning,” he said, his voice confident and upbeat, his eyes looking straight into hers. “Hi.” He bent to kiss her cheek, but she turned away, dropping her gaze as the now familiar longing in the spot between her legs began again. However differently he had viewed what had happened in the Lexus, the sex had been great. “How did it go with the foods?” With a struggle she stopped thinking of the SUV encounter. While reciting a litany of the damage, she showed him the tortoises. He looked at them with a practiced eye and, with her permission, tasted one. “Classic,” he said in approval. Then he turned to her. “Look, I know you told me you didn’t need me this morning, but I came because I thought it might be a good time to work on my design since Carol and Alicia wouldn’t be here. Is that okay with you?” He carried his recipe box in his hand. “Sure. I can stay for a while. I’ve got to check the candies we put out in the cases Friday anyway.” Soon the shop was filled again with the smell of cooking sugar and later the sounds of the candy being rolled and pounded out on the metal table top. Once she was sure he was past the stage where she would know his secret recipe, she stepped quietly to the doorway to watch him work. With small wooden paddles and sticks, she watched him shape a thin sheath of candy into the upright body of the dancing native man. Craig’s face, with its once five o’clock shadow now the beginning of a light beard, was a study in concentration, his arms, covered with fine brown hair, moved as surely as his deft hands. The tattoos ringing his biceps expanded and shrank in rhythm with his actions. She slipped away to her office to let him work. 56


For now she couldn’t keep her mind on business. Listening to him only heightened her senses, her need to be fondled and explored by his mouth and his hands in foreplay, to be caressed and filled by him as no other man ever had. Madison almost brought her hand to her crotch to relieve herself. Then she remembered how comfortable it had always been to have him working in the shop. The thing was, he was a charmer. And confident. She suspected he would be comfortable anywhere, and others, especially women, would respond to his charm just as she, Alicia, and Carol did. Well, maybe not quite as you did, Mad. Already just thinking of sexual intercourse with him was making her clit swell and pulse. “I need to lock this in the safe, please.” Shocked out of her reverie, she felt her face flush hotly. Turning, she saw that he held a small board. The figure must be on top, for a soft cloth covered something about a foot high. She reached out to lift the cloth, but he stayed her hand. “Can’t I see it?” He shook his head. “When it’s finished.” “I could peek when you aren’t here, you know.” That brought a chuckle from him. “Ah, but I know you won’t.” “You’re right about that. It’ll be hard, but I promise to wait.” The key to her desk drawers also opened the pastry safe and she removed the key from the knee drawer. On shaky legs she led him into the pantry and knelt to unlock the tin-lined pastry safe. Leaning back to let him slide the sugar sculpture inside, the heat from his body enveloped her. He was a solid man, and his thighs next to hers were large and powerful. After the sculpture was safely inside, he stood and stepped away as she leaned and turned the key once more. Before she could rise, she heard the pantry door shut and lock behind her. She waited motionless, sensing, wanting what was to come 57


next. He sighed. “Oh, Maddie, what you do to me. I walk around here half the time with a hard-on so big I think it’ll tear a hole in my jeans. I have to fight not to touch you, not to put you up on the candy table and pull that teensy little skirt of yours up and slide down your panties and stuff myself inside you. No, please, don’t get up.” Desire made his voice husky. She felt and heard him kneel behind her, then inhaled sharply as his hands glided under her skirt and onto her bum. Her heart trip hammered. She was instantly wet. “You don’t know how much I’ve wanted to see and touch this great little ass of yours.” She gasped, thinking she would faint because she ached to have him touch her there. He lifted her skirt and tossed it up over her hips. He ran his wonderful hands over her buttocks, squeezing each globe. His lips were hot and wet against her skin as he kissed first one cheek and then the other. The flick of his tongue making circles on them aroused her as thoroughly as his hand did as it slipped under her thong from behind to caress her clit inside her folds. One finger circled, circled the entrance to her vagina, driving her crazy. She was lost in his hands, his tongue, his gasps and moans, and when she heard the sound of his zipper, she was past the point of resistance. The fire in her belly flared too hotly. “I want to slide inside you, but only if it’s okay with you. Is it?” She was too choked up to answer. Was it okay with her? It was more than okay. “Is it?” he repeated. “Yes,” she said, her voice barely audible, knowing she’d just damned herself with her reply. She was going to have what she wanted and what her body craved, and she was going to regret it afterwards. “Then get that pretty, little ass up in the air for me. Lean forward until your shoulders touch the ground. You’ll need to guide me, babe.” 58


He knew how to play her just right, yet she couldn’t refuse him. She wanted to have him inside her, filling her as she’d never been filled before, pushing into her harder than anyone ever had before. “Move your hand,” she said, then reached underneath herself to take his cock and insert it into that most intimate part of herself. As she felt the swollen glans push past her opening, she inhaled sharply again and cried out at the sensations rocketing through her. He reached for her hips, steadying her as he drove himself into her, pushing hard against her womb, stretching, stretching her body until it accepted all of him. His scrotum, warm and smooth, brushed her with every each push. Every stroke, the rhythm of the soft sac caressing her brought a singing joy into her body. She pushed back against his thrusts, wanting all of him right where he was, wanting him to go deeper than any man ever had in her. Wanting him to reach clear to her heart. Recognizing he was too far gone to bring her to a peak, she pleasured herself with her hand, squeezing and rubbing frantically just above where his penis was plunging in and out of her until she knew he had reached the apex of excitement and it was time for her to climb the mountain to reach him so they could plunge in freefall together. She cried out as they leaped from the heights together. In the floating aftermath of their orgasms, he withdrew and pulled her against him, to lie with her back snugged up to his front. They slept briefly. Craig was the first to move. He sighed as he touched the cap of curls on her head. “I love your hair. I love those spectacular sapphire eyes. I don’t know what gets into me when I’m near you.” She let the stillness settle in around them for a moment. Then she said, “You’ve got it wrong, Craig. It’s you who get into me.” He chuckled. “I walked right into that one, didn’t I?” Adjusting his clothing, he rose and reached a hand to pull her up. 59


After unlocking the door, he turned to her. He ran one hand down her cheek and jaw line, then lifted her chin and kissed her, his lips warm and undemanding now. “You are one hot lady, Ms. Ruhl.” She hesitated, not wanting to ruin the moment, but knowing what needed to be stated, then said, “Craig, what’s happened between us isn’t good.” The surprise on his face was obvious. “We need to get something straight. You’re a consultant. I’m your employer. The students…well, Carol and Alicia are important to me and this isn’t a good example for them. Anyone who walked in here now would know what just happened between us.” “Hey! I care about those young women as much as you do, but they aren’t here now. And have I done anything out of line when they were?” “You know you haven’t. Don’t make this any more difficult for me than it is. I’m just asking you to back off, okay?” For the first time she saw his jaw tighten in anger, and it frightened her. She’d never known a biker before, but she’d heard some awful things about what they could do to women. “Well, Ms. Ruhl,” he said, dripping sarcasm all over her name, “I wasn’t the one trying to pull your pants down in a public parking lot, now was I?” He pushed his right index finger firmly against the bone just above the hollow between her breasts. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He walked to the door and turned. “You don’t have to worry about me when the students are here.” Then he was gone. She crossed her arms in front of her breasts, guarding the tender spot his finger had pressed, and leaned against the wall for support while she waited for the sound of his bike to fade in the distance. The scent of their lovemaking filled her nostrils and made her want to weep. That night she slept in a different room, hoping the dream-man wouldn’t find her. Apparently it worked because there were no dreams 60


to haunt her sleep. *

*

*

The next day Craig worked on his Chocolate Fantasy entry when he arrived at six, and it was carefully locked in the pastry safe by the time Carol arrived. Madison stayed away from the shop as much as possible when he was there. He’d greeted her politely and without animosity as far as she could tell. He’d worked for two hours on his Native American, and then he’d begun on the nougatines. Carol had begun by sweeping up and then cleaning the glass of the display cases. Madison had escaped to pick up the flyers from the printers. Once the shops opened, she carried them around to chat with the business owners and receive permission to leave flyers and coupons. By the time she returned at lunch time, Craig was gone and the nougatines were in the display case. His absence filled her with sadness. “How has business been?” she asked Carol. “Better. Not roaring, but better. Maybe twice as many customers as usual?” Disappointment swept through Madison; doubling the kind of traffic she’d been having wasn’t much, but she kept a smile on her face. “Good! That should pick up after the newspaper ad and as people get word of the nougatine giveaway. How is it, by the way?” “Here, have one.” Madison bit into the rectangular candy. Sweet dark chocolate coated the outside, hiding melded flavors of caramel-like taffy, crushed almonds, and a touch of coconut flavor only a chocolatier would detect. “It’s wonderful.” “Sure is. Craig’s a great candy maker, isn’t he?” “Yes, he is.” Her heart twisted. Craig was great at other things too. 61


CHAPTER 5

On Wednesday, Craig returned at closing time to tutor Alicia just as he’d promised. Madison remained in her office going over the supply orders, listening to Craig’s deep voice as he explained math concepts. Alicia’s higher pitched voice rose excitedly each time she understood what he was telling her and proved on paper that she could do it. When the half hour ended, she heard Craig leave through the front door and the click of the lock as Alicia secured it behind him. Then Alicia appeared at the office door. “My brother’s here to pick me up. I’ll see you in the morning,” “Thanks, and good night.” Waiting until she was sure they were both gone, Madison let herself out the alley door. Turning toward the Miata after she’d locked the door, Madison froze at what she saw at the end of the alley. It was still daylight, but the figure standing there threatened her just by its presence. 62


It was the Funny Woman. She’d first appeared when Madison was about three, but it had been years since she’d last seen her, and Madison didn’t think she’d changed. The woman was of medium height and wore her long, white hair in a braid down her back. Huge, dark-rimmed spectacles covered her face, and for no reason that Madison had ever been able to figure out, something resembling five long feathers stuck up out of the back of her hair. They were narrow and fluffy: from some bird Madison had never been able to identify. The Funny Woman was always dressed in a multicolored peasant skirt and blouse with a print vest. Her legs were covered with cotton stockings that had green and white horizontal stripes. Black pointed shoes with thick heels completed her costume. As a little girl, Madison had been scared of her, but the figure had always seemed benign. This evening, though, she glared with a look so filled with anger and malevolence that Madison shuddered. Madison closed her eyes and rubbed them, hoping to see the apparition gone when she opened them, but the woman was still there. Madison didn’t know what to do. “Who are you? Why are you here? What do you want?” she called out. Silence. For a time she waited for the Funny Woman to do something, to do anything, but she didn’t. Finally, heart pounding, her mouth dry with fear, Madison turned to get in the Miata. Remembering Carol’s warning about someone hiding in it if she left it unlocked, she thought she might pass out as she looked. The car was empty. Taking a deep breath, she climbed in, hurriedly locked the doors, rolled up the windows, and slowly drove toward the woman. The Funny Woman disappeared. There was no other way to describe it. She just disappeared. Relieved yet still tense, Madison thought about her early experiences with the apparition while she drove. She’d been so young it 63


took a while for her mother to realize her daughter wasn’t talking about the imaginary playmates some children create when they’re lonely. Later, Madison had seen other unusual things as well…silver objects in the sky…weird creatures in the sea the year they vacationed at the shore. When she began to speak at school of the things she’d seen, the principal suggested she be examined by the school psychologist. That was when Madison came to understand she must not speak again of the strange things, and so she had not. By the time she was seven or eight, the sightings had ceased. Until tonight. Madison thought she was losing her mind. Later, safely in her house, doors and windows locked, and the air conditioning off so she could hear any intruders, Madison drank three Coronas, took two aspirin and a Vitamin C tablet to ward off a morning hangover, then went to bed in the room she had slept in the night before. *

*

*

Something inside Craig lit up when he saw the little Miata turn into the alley and roll to a stop at Sweet Chocolate Ecstasy’s door. Watching Madison step out of the car wearing dark linen shorts today instead of a brief skirt, something swirled deep in the pit of his stomach and he knew his day had just brightened. Ever since that first moment when she’d looked him over carefully, her gaze lingering much too long on his crotch to be a mistake, he’d been interested in her. And her hot, driving need for him that night in his SUV…well, that had been more than satisfying. But there were other things about her—things that had nothing to do with sex—that wove their way around his heart. It was crazy how important she’d become to him in the few weeks since he’d met her. Plus it was nice to be liked just for himself. What had turned out as a prank of sorts had deepened into something else, and his feelings for this woman were 64


stronger than he’d ever felt for anyone before. He wasn’t ready for this to be over; he wanted to hang around long enough to get to know her better. He’d planned to confront her about avoiding him, but one look at her stopped the words on his lips. Lord, what had happened to her? She looked like she hadn’t slept, or maybe had slept in her clothes. Her hair had lost its luster, and her lovely eyes were puffy. The lavender scent was absent; she didn’t even smell like herself. His chest ached for her. Of course, he hadn’t done so well either since she’d rejected him after they’d made love in the pantry. He was kicking himself for giving in to his feelings for her and rushing her. If he’d lost her, it was his own fault. Thoughts of how in synch they were when they worked together, of her pride in and love for the craft and her shop, of her concern for Carol and Alicia washed over him. Even her body fit him. He’d felt lost in her when she touched him, when she let him caress her, when their passion exploded and crystallized into splinters in the air around them. Now, watching the pain in her face, he wanted to put his arms around her and shelter her from whatever caused it. Instead of confronting her he asked, “Are you all right?” Looking at him with eyes that registered his presence for the first time, she smiled, but he knew it was a pasted-on smile. “Hangover,” she said. Hangover on a week night? She’d only had the one daiquiri at the Branded Calf, and hangover didn’t seem to fit what he knew of her, but he accepted the explanation with a nod until he could learn more. “Have time to talk right now?” “Sure.” In her office, she sat staring at her hands rather than looking him in the eye when he spoke. He sighed. “I know you’re avoiding me, and I’m sorry that great 65


sex between us made you feel you had to do that. If I rushed the sex bit, I’m sorry, but I don’t want to lose you. I told you I’d be careful here in the shop, and I meant it, and I have been.” He took her hands in his, rubbing them because despite the heat of the morning they were stiff and cold. “Chocolatiers are a dying breed, Maddie. We need to stick together. You hired me to help you, and it’s time to set up the production schedule for Chocolate Fantasy. I need to know what candies you plan to display and what you’ll enter in the competitions or I can’t do what you’re paying me to do.” She still wasn’t responding to him, and he realized she wasn’t capable of doing any planning right now. “Have you eaten anything this morning?” Putting a hand to her stomach, she shook her head. “Stay here while I’ll get something for that nausea. You need to eat in order to feel better.” He started the first pot of coffee for the day. He knew that coffee, contrary to popular opinion, never sobered anyone up, but it would hide the bitter taste of the concoction he was going to bring her in a few minutes. Cranking up his Harley, he headed for the Shady Rest Hotel. When he returned, he poured an ounce of the dark syrup he’d retrieved into a cup of coffee and added cream and sugar, then made her drink it. He laughed as her face screwed up at the taste. “Awful stuff, huh? It’s a recipe my Cherokee grandmother several generations back supposedly devised from barks and herbs. Trust me, it works.” Half an hour later, he made her eat a croissant he’d warmed in the microwave and slathered with real butter. “Take it slow, babe. No need to overload that queasy stomach.” When at last she announced how much better she felt, the ache in his chest eased. It was the day to pick up fresh centerpieces from Andra’s, and Craig 66


insisted on doing it for her. When he left that morning, he told her to be ready to have lunch with him and take the afternoon off. He asked where she lived and told her what to wear. *

*

*

The familiar loud sound of the Harley announced his arrival in her driveway. She let him in, dressed as he’d told her in jeans, boots, a turtleneck, and a heavy jacket. He didn’t touch her, just handed her a helmet and instructed her how to wear it. She was to ride on the back of the motorcycle, her arms around his waist. The thrill of being away from the shop was enough for her. The joy of being with him on the Harley, this motorcycle ride a first for her, was enough to drive away any remnants of the hangover, her worries about her business, and the delusions she’d had. She hugged him tightly, laughing as they rode out of her driveway and headed toward the mountains. Her tensions fell away as they rode on switchbacks into the mountains, and she leaned with him as he leaned with the cycle. The smell of pine trees became stronger as the air grew cooler, and she’d never felt so free in her life. She didn’t want to get off when they stopped at one of the public parking spots. Rummaging through the saddle bags, Craig withdrew a blanket, two thermoses, and a sack of food. They were the only hikers, and when he led her off trail to a single picnic table in a stand of pine and cedar trees, she stretched and breathed in the fresh air. The stillness was broken only by the occasional rustle of a bird or a squirrel. “I’ve always loved the mountains. Hated the seashore, loved the mountains.” Spreading the blanket on the weathered bench, he gestured for her to have a seat before he sat beside her. “I hope you like chicken salad and ice tea.” 67


“Hmm, sounds wonderful.” They ate without talking, and his presence beside her seeped into her very bones. He’d brought amaretto fudge for dessert, and although he didn’t feed it to her as he had the truffles, still its taste made her want to spread her legs for him. When they had finished dessert, he turned to say something to her just as she turned to him. Their faces were inches apart, and she stared into his eyes while holding her breath. He didn’t move. They remained that way for what she thought was an eternity, and still he didn’t move closer. Finally, with a sigh, she reached for his face to cradle it in her hands and kiss him. It was a chaste kiss, long and slow, their lips sweet with the taste of fudge against each other’s, undemanding, just drinking in the happiness of the kiss. When she slid her arms under his to embrace him, he groaned. “Maddie, don’t start something you’ll be sorry we finished.” A little wriggle of stubbornness, something over which her will had no control, made her slide his jacket off and unbutton his shirt. He sat entirely quiet and still as she trailed kisses down his neck and across his chest, tonguing his nipples then nipping them while she ran her fingers through his hair. Easing his shirt off, she reached for his belt. When she had that off, she pushed him off the bench until they were standing. When she’d undone the buttons on his jeans and he still wasn’t erect, she sensed he was holding back because she’d rejected him after their lovemaking in Sweet Chocolate Ecstasy. Reaching around him, she trailed her fingers across the spot where she knew the chain tattoo to be, watching with a smile as his penis filled and stiffened in response. He grabbed her hands to stop their progress, then kissed her, saying against her lips, “Maddie, you’re driving me crazy. Don’t do this if 68


you’ll regret it.” “Oh, I’ll regret it all right. Where’s the blanket?” As it was, he didn’t make love to her lying on the blanket. He led her to stand with her back against a tree. When they’d frantically ripped off the rest of their clothes, she wrapped the blanket around his back and covered both of their bodies so as not to startle a passerby. Their mouths clashed, their tongues heady from the almond liqueur flavor in the chocolate, searching as if to find what they had not found before. She slid her hands to cup his buttocks, relishing their firmness, and then she slid across smooth skin untouched by the sun, to his hips, then down to cup his sac, and next to stroke his satiny, swollen organ until it throbbed against her fingers. His hand and fingers separated her folds to find the sensitive clit hidden within and she spread her legs to give him easy access. Skillfully coaxing her to wetness, he groaned with pleasure as he slid inside her, now stroking the tight walls of her feminine opening with his penis while continuing to tease her clit with his hand. Their murmurs mingled with the call of blue jays and the rustle of squirrels in nearby trees. His thrusts drove her hard against the tree, but she was too excited to care. She sucked on his neck harder with every thrust, pushing her breasts against the mat of hair on his chest until her nipples were rubbed raw and beaded with desire. “Oh, yes, yes…” she cried as she felt her body build toward that dazzling moment when her orgasm would begin in her toes then rush hotly and swiftly up through her entire tingling body until the walls of her vagina tightened around his penis as if never to let him go. He grunted, and she felt that final push that drove them both over the edge and into freefall once more. She clung to him as he leaned, recovering, with his hands against the tree on either side of her. 69


Finally he pushed away and wrapped the blanket around them. “Who’s going to dress first?” he whispered as he kissed her ear lightly. She laughed at the crazy thing they’d just done, and then he laughed. “I guess it’s ladies first,” he said. He held the blanket around them while she struggled into bra, panties, and the rest of her clothes in the tight space. She had to take his arm to steady herself when she pulled on her boots. It seemed like the most natural thing in the world for him to see her totally without clothes and dressing. When it was his turn, she studied him as he dressed, drinking in the proportions of his body that most men would envy. “The Druids called them honor marks,” she said softly as he pulled his jeans up. “What?” “Your tattoos. The ancient Welsh Druids called them honor marks. They only earned the right to wear them after years of study in the healing arts, the art of war, and the meaning of honor and integrity.” She ran a finger over the chain on the arm nearest her. He was seated on the table bench, leaning to pull on a boot. He stopped; he didn’t look up, didn’t speak. Fear niggled at her mind. Something was wrong. She sensed it, and it frightened her. Then he chuckled and pulled the boot on. “How do you know what the ancient Druids did?” “A book. It was in a novel I read.” Again there was that pause, and then he said, “Well, I know something about the healing arts, don’t I?” Thinking of the awful potion he’d given her that morning, which had cleared her hangover, she agreed. She helped him gather his things. He took her hand as they walked to the Harley, and she convinced herself she’d been mistaken in 70


thinking something was amiss. He cautiously guided the motorcycle down the steep mountain curves, as if his own life might not matter but that of the precious cargo he carried did. Love welled up inside her. When they reached the outskirts of Orangethorpe, she directed him through the groves to her house. They passed the unusual silver hexagons and the large, round oil drum she’d first seen just after she’d met him. As she got off the Harley in front of her place, she asked him if he knew their purpose. He shook his head. “I didn’t see anything like you describe. Sorry.” Still on his cycle, he leaned to give her a quick kiss and then roared away. Disappointment that he hadn’t noticed the hexagons swept through her. They still puzzled her. Maybe she should just get brave enough to knock on the door of the grove’s owner and ask. *

*

*

The next morning Craig was all business despite the fact her heart jumped in happiness when she greeted him. “Hi.” His voice was quiet and he didn’t touch her, but the green of his eyes deepened and his gaze held her own as they would for a lover. He might as well have caressed her, for her tummy warmed deep inside. Side by side in her tiny office, they set up the schedule for the convention. He offered to make his amaretto fudge and his truffles, and they agreed she’d use her recipes for the chocolate caramel tortoises and candied apples. These were the items they’d enter in the chocolate competitions. She’d take an assortment of other candies to sell, but the pièce de résistance for the big prize would be his Indian fox dancer. He had left for the day and Madison was out in the front when Carol said, “I almost forgot about this. Do you by any chance have a 71


twin?” “No. Why?” “Some guy was in here asking for you yesterday, and he looked so much like you it was wild. Your black hair, your blue eyes, that porcelain-like skin you have. He wouldn’t leave a name, but he seemed really disappointed you weren’t here.” Madison’s chest tightened in alarm. “You didn’t give him my home address, did you?” “I know better than that. He was real nice, but didn’t seem like just a regular guy. Kind of formal or something. I don’t know, I guess he just seemed special.” Vertigo struck Madison so hard she had to sit down. He’s special all right…he’s not supposed to exist. For Carol’s sake, she needed to pretend to be normal, she needed to say something…anything. “Well, maybe he’ll return when I am here.” Then, thinking about the strange items in the grove, she asked, “You come down Alta Vista on the way into town, don’t you?” “Yep.” She described the hexagons to her and asked if she knew what they were. Carol said she’d never seen anything like that in any of the groves, and she walked past that particular grove to get to her boyfriend’s house. “You sure that’s the grove you mean?” “I must be mistaken.” But for sure, she was not. Before she knew it, Carol had slapped down a cup of coffee doctored with cream and sugar just the way Madison liked it in front of her. “You look like you could use this. Something wrong?” Madison shook her head. “Just occupied with plans for the Fantasy. Pressure’s on now that it’s so close.” “I bet it is. By the way, Alicia and I want you to know we really appreciate the chance to sell for you there. We can sure use the extra 72


money.” There it is again, Madison thought, the need for the shop to survive not just because she needed it, but because they did too. There weren’t that many jobs for college students in a rural area like this. Besides, her customers liked them. The doorbell jingled and six customers walked in. The lunch time rush had begun, and Madison waited on them alongside Carol until Alicia arrived and things had slowed. *

*

*

There was no mistaking the silver hexagons when she drove home. Goosebumps rose on her arms when she saw them. Craig hadn’t seen them and neither had Carol, so apparently they were for her eyes only: But why? Long ago she’d learned the Funny Lady only appeared to her and she’d thought it was the same with her Dream Prince, but now Carol had seen him. Struggling to look on the positive side of what was frightening and confusing, Madison realized one comforting thing—if Carol had seen the prince, Madison wasn’t going crazy. When she pulled into her driveway, a black SUV with tinted windows was parked next to her truck. Craig was leaning against his parked Harley. He straightened when she’d parked and climbed out of the small convertible. “What are you doing here?” She smiled. He waved a set of keys at her. “I rented the apartment in front.” Annoyance rippled through her. “You can’t do that!” Shock registered on his face. “I just did, fair lady.” “Everyone in town will know!” “Know what?” His expression was a puzzled one. Frustration at his lack of astuteness about the situation rose in her chest. “This is a small town. They’ll think we’re living together.” “That matters?” 73


“Yes, it matters. My reputation as a business woman matters.” Now she crossed her arms in front of her chest. “Hey, back off for a minute. I didn’t know you lived here when I signed the lease. I only found that out when I came to pick you up yesterday. I’d have told you then, but I wanted to surprise you after I moved my things. Idiot me thought you’d be pleased. I’m sorry, but I’ve already moved my stuff in and my lease is for two months.” Madison stomped her foot. “Damn!” He took her by the shoulders in an effort to calm her. “Maddie, think. Who’s seen us together outside of Carol and Alicia? No one. No one at the Branded Calf who knows you lives in this town, and you can’t see through the tinted windows in my Lexus. I’m only in Sweet Chocolate Ecstasy four early morning hours, and we were alone in the mountains yesterday. You’re just suffering guilt pangs. It’s okay. It really is.” “Well, I don’t own the place so I can’t do anything about this, can I?” Still miffed, she pulled away and left him standing there. The walls of the old house were sturdy, but they didn’t shut everything out that evening that she wished. She knew he fixed stir fry for dinner and drank coffee, then whistled as he washed the dishes by hand. He liked the Brian Setzer Orchestra too. She double checked the lock on the door between her bedroom and his apartment, and wore pajamas to bed for the first time in years, even though she didn’t sleep that night in the room where the prince had visited her in her dreams. As she turned off the light, she finally realized how comforting it was to know that Craig was nearby. *

*

*

Relief washed over her when she looked out the window the next morning and his Lexus wasn’t there. But disappointment flooded her 74


when she saw he wasn’t waiting for her when she arrived at the shop. Unable to think, she paced restlessly. Half an hour later she heard his motorcycle roar into the alley to park, and she breathed again. He entered whistling, greeting her cheerfully, but there was no hint of intimacy in his greeting. By the time he left that day, the Native American dancer was finished. “Oh, Craig, it’s more beautiful than I could’ve imagined.” “Yeah, he turned out better than I thought he would too.” A kaleidoscope of memories of when she and Craig had placed the figure inside for the first time flooded her mind as they entered the stock room to get to the pastry safe. After unlocking the safe, she stood up quickly. Craig slipped the figure inside and left before she knelt to relock the safe. By the time she came out, he was gone for the day. Business had picked up considerably since the announcement of the nougatine giveaway, the coffees, and continental breakfast foods. She worked side by side with Carol the rest of the morning, and then with Alicia that afternoon. Closing up that evening, she was exhausted but exhilarated. She stood a good chance of winning with Craig’s figure, and if business continued the way it had been, she might save Sweet Chocolate Ecstasy. Once in bed, she fell into a dreamless sleep. Craig must have come in late Saturday night or early Sunday morning after she was asleep. When she left Sunday morning early to drive down to San Diego to see her mom, things were so quiet on his side of the apartment she was sure he hadn’t wakened. When she pulled into the garage late that night, only his Harley was there. The SUV was gone Monday morning too. She wasn’t sure he’d come to the apartment that night at all, and a too-large pang of jealousy made her wonder if he’d spent the night with another woman. Again he arrived half an hour late that morning, and she felt as if a huge stack of blocks of chocolate had been lifted from her 75


shoulders…and her heart. They were into the countdown for the weekend of the Fantasy now. As they worked side by side in the candy room, Madison ached because she didn’t know how to erase the wall she’d erected between them. To forget this pain, she concentrated on prepping for the competition, instructing Alicia and Carol in sales, involving them in discussions of what would be available at the Bonaventure in the way of tables and chairs and what they needed to add. She would be renting a portable cash register for them. Alicia seemed to know what change they needed to take. “Another thing we want to thank you for is paying for a hotel room and food for us for the Fantasy,” Carol and Alicia told her. Madison took a deep breath. They had no idea how dearly that might cost all three of them. “You’re welcome,” was all she said. Craig was still there when the certified letter arrived for her announcing a two-hundred-and-fifty dollar per month raise in the shop’s rent beginning the first of the following month. “That bastard! Of course he wants to get rid of me!” she cried as she sank down in her desk chair. Craig was at her office door instantly. “Who wants to get rid of you?” “The man who owns this building, that’s who. He’s raised my rent twice in the last few months. Now that business is picking up, he’s done it again. My success threatens his own business too much.” “Why would you be a threat?” She looked up into a face filled with concern, and love for him welled up again. “Because he owns MacLean’s Candies and Gifts, that’s why. Clement MacLean owns this building.” She thought he paled and his mouth tightened, but he only nodded and returned to the workroom, leaving her to stare at the hated notice in her hand. 76


CHAPTER 6

That night Madison dreamed again for the first time in weeks. The Funny Woman was dragging her by one arm across a beach toward the water, and Madison, who had been afraid of the sea since she was a child, was resisting with all her strength. She dug her bare feet into the sand, but the woman was strong and Madison wasn’t sure how long she could hold out. Her fear of the water was overwhelming, and instinct told her she would die if the woman pulled her into it. “You belong to the prince,” the Funny Woman said, eyes blazing, teeth gritted. “You’re his! I marked you for him when you were just a little girl, but you’ve been dallying with someone else.” Understanding flashed through Madison’s mind: Her relationship with Craig was the reason the Funny Woman had been so angry the night she’d appeared at the end of the alley. The Funny Woman paused, her face once more stained by malevolence as had been that night in the alley. She pointed a long 77


finger toward the scar on Madison’s right ankle. A spark sprang from her finger and stung the old wound. Madison gasped as a hot, lacing pain seared the scar. As she rubbed it several times, the action reminded her it had always ached after the prince had come to her in a dream. Now she remembered that something had stung her when they were at the seashore the summer she was six. She’d had the scar ever since. It was that summer she’d seen the strange creatures, the ones she’d learned not to speak of lest everyone think she was crazy. The woman pulled again. “Let go of me!” Madison said in as stern a voice as she could muster. She felt her strength failing against the pull. “Mother! Stop!” The Funny Woman held onto her, but the pull eased. Madison didn’t know how he’d gotten there, but he was there, his dark hair gleaming in the moonlight’s reflection off the silver sea, his sapphire blue eyes clear in the shimmer from the ocean’s undulating surface. This man for whom she felt a kinship bordering on love; this man whom she knew loved her. “The oracle declared she must come of her own volition. You will kill us all if you persist. Let go this instant, my queen!” He really was a prince then, Madison thought. He wasn’t just her dream prince or her alter ego reassuring her she was lovable. Once more the Funny Woman disappeared. The prince reached for Madison’s hand, and she took it, sensing she had reached a turning point in her life and must know what might lie ahead. “Take this journey with me, my love, only to view the realm over which you would one day be queen. My mother planted the thought in your head that you knew and loved me, but I would not have you be my princess unless it is me you truly care for.” Dream logic told her here was a chance to leave everything behind 78


and strike out on a new life—to walk away from the burden of the shop, her concerns for the students, the anxieties over the Fantasy, the conflicts over Craig and this prince of her dreams. Nodding, she stepped willingly with him into the sea. The cold waters of the Pacific gently tumbled them, but she was not cold and she was not afraid. They floated over beauty her eyes had never beheld—richly colored corals in oranges and pinks, undulating flowers of purple, lavender, and maroon, and bright fishes—loveliness denied her since childhood because of her fear of the ocean. They floated into breathtaking beauty and finally into a palace whose gossamer walls wavered and shimmered. A creature wearing a sheer white gown belted by a ring of luminescent points of blue shaped like balls sat atop a mother-of-pearl throne. Like jewels, the blue balls dotted the neck edge of her gown and the gold crown on her head. Except she didn’t exactly have a head. Or a face. Horrified, Madison turned to ask the prince about this, only to have her terror intensify when she saw he had shifted into the same kind of being. She drew back and would have let go of his hand, but it was unnecessary. No hand held hers; he had no hands. She turned her head to protect him from her distaste. There was sorrow in his voice at her reaction. “This is my kingdom. This is who I am, and I vowed I would have you come to me only if you cared for the creature I truly am.” “But…you were a man…” “And sometimes that’s true, but why do you think my hair was the color of yours, my eyes the sapphire blue yours are?” Her horror intensified and she choked on her words. “You have to improvise from what you see.” “Yes, princess. I have no shape of my own but this.” He had deceived her, in essence created an illusion that was a lie. She realized what she’d felt for him had also been a lie, an hypnotic 79


suggestion planted by the queen. Now he thought she would choose to be with him? Madison covered her mouth to stifle a scream. “No, no, you would be able to shape shift as I did,” he reassured her. “You would not completely leave the world you’re in now. Both worlds would be yours, and this one, as you have seen, is vast and truly beautiful.” “Is this why you always left me? Is it why you never…” “Made love to you the way a real man would? Yes, I suppose it is, but that last time with you, I would have tried if only to make you happy. I confess your resistance was a relief. Now I would like to love you the way I can in this my real form.” Madison looked down at her feet and saw them begin to dissolve as her body morphed to take on the form of the creatures before her. “No!” she screamed in terror as panic welled up inside her. Screaming, she sensed, was the only way she could protest, could stop the horror of what was happening to her. She felt the queen creature, whom she now believed was the thing that had shifted into the figure she knew as the Funny Woman, leave the throne to wrap delicate but powerful tentacles around her throat and body, and tighten. The life was being squeezed out of her, and as if from a distance Madison heard the prince ordering his mother, the queen, to stop. “I told you she doesn’t love me! Let her go!” Agony and love mingled in his voice, and his agony enveloped her with a piercing sadness. The tentacles tightened. Madison screamed and screamed and screamed… *

*

*

Someone was screaming. Someone was pounding on her bedroom door. “Maddie, open this door! Let me in, Maddie! Open the door!” Struggling to waken, Madison realized the screams were hers, and it 80


was Craig pounding on the door. Stumbling toward it, hands trembling, she pushed back the bolt and fell into Craig’s waiting arms. She broke into sobs. He scooped her up and rocked her back and forth. “Shush, baby, shush. You’re okay. It’s just a bad dream.” She tried to tell him about the dream, but nothing coherent came out. She slept again. *

*

*

Craig had been stunned at the power of Madison’s screams. Whatever she had dreamed about had awakened a depth of terror he’d never witnessed in anyone before. She’d readily come into his arms even in half asleep. Her mumblings were inaudible, but they finally stopped as she collapsed into sleep again. He watched over her until she quieted, her body in his arms and on his lap melding naturally into his. He never wanted to let her go. Even though the night wasn’t as warm as previous nights, he noticed a fine sheen of dampness all over her body even though he didn’t think she’d had any covers over her. The skimpy bikini panties and sheer top she wore wouldn’t account for perspiring the way she had; even her short ebony hair was in tight curls, the way curly hair reacted in dampness. A puddle of sweat lay in the cleavage of her beautiful breasts. He wondered if she was coming down with something, but her forehead was cool to his touch. The shop: He decided her nightmare had come from worries over the survival of Sweet Chocolate Ecstasy. She’d probably lose everything she had if it failed, and what would she do? How would she earn a living? That was enough to make anyone sweat from anxiety. She was getting heavy on his lap, and he carried her back to her bed. Returning to the rocker, he dozed for a time. Waking, convinced there would be no recurrence of the nightmares and that she slept so deeply she wouldn’t waken until well after daylight, he lifted her office 81


keys from the top of her bureau dresser. Driving to Sweet Chocolate Ecstasy, he opened her desk to study her financial records and the recommendations of her C.P.A. When he’d returned the records to their places and relocked everything, he sat in the Lexus a long time, his hands gripping the top of his steering wheel in anger as he cursed Clement MacLean. A cock was crowing when he slipped back into her room to replace the keys. She didn’t stir, even when he went into his apartment and quietly shut the door. *

*

*

It had still been the dark of the night when she’d roused briefly to find herself in her own bed and Craig sleeping slumped in the ancient rocker next to her. Pulling the covers up over her chilled body, she turned over and easily fell asleep again knowing she was safe as long as Craig was nearby. She sensed that sunlight had been flooding her room a long time when she finally wakened for the day. Sitting up, she looked at the rocker. It was empty and still. She was alone, but no longer felt afraid. On the way to work, curiosity caused her to drive slowly past the grove on Alta Vista where she’d seen the silver-colored hexagons and the great round container she’d thought had once housed smudge pot oil. They’d never been visible to anyone else, and now they were no longer visible to her. Instinct told her she would never see the prince or his dreadful mother again. Relief flooded her. Boy, can you imagine having that for a mother-in-law? She laughed at her own joke, but it was a shaky laugh at best. Instantly, however, she felt free of a burden she could never have spoken of to anyone. She turned the radio to country western, and began to hum along with Winona Judd. The shadows returned when she reached Sweet Chocolate Ecstasy. Was she strong enough, clever enough as a business woman to save it? 82


Or was she simply too young and inexperienced for what she’d undertaken? Once more she reviewed the resources, all of which were still closed to her just as they had been when Clement began to raise her rent. Her brother had a wife and a young family and no money to loan her. Her mother had co-signed her small business loan and given her all she could when Madison bought the business. Madison was close to maxing out her credit cards, and the banks in town had told her that, without collateral, she was considered too high a risk for another loan. Craig wasn’t there when she arrived. She couldn’t blame him since she’d ruined his sleep with her night terror. Still, when he hadn’t come in by ten, the time he usually left work, she worried about him. “Where’s Craig?” Alicia asked. “I don’t honestly know,” was all she could tell her. She started to say his SUV and Harley had been in the driveway when she left, but she bit back the response just in time. As far as she knew, his place of residence wasn’t known to anyone but herself. This time she was the one who went to Andra’s to pick up the flowers. “Wow, that was some hottie you sent for them last week. Where’d you two hook up?” Madison laughed at the description. “Well, you’re close in your assessment. Carol described him as one hot hunk the first time she saw him. He’s a chocolatier. I have a contract with him for my Chocolate Fantasy project. I advertised for him.” “Working for you? I thought he was the big shot working on the Fantasy for MacLean. I see him coming out of there ’most every night after I close up at five.” Madison’s heart went stone cold, and then pain as sharp as an ice pick pierced it. Putting on a mask of a smile, she said, “Really? Well, there aren’t too many chocolatiers around, and I could only afford him 83


for half days.” “Yeah, but isn’t that kinda tacky? Like conflict of interest or something.” Madison shrugged, still being casual, still hiding her feelings. “These are lovely as usual, Andra. I like the yellows and whites. You know, you haven’t billed me yet.” “Tell you what…you trade me chocolates for flowers. I’d like to carry some of your chocolates here too. Just be sure my card is in each bouquet. That’s advertisement for both of us.” “Sounds good to me. I’ll have Alicia call to find out what you want for yourself and send her over with it. I’d like to wait until after the Fantasy for leaving candies for you to sell. I’m pretty much geared up to take everything we have to the convention.” Her emotions churned as she walked back to the shop. Craig working for MacLean? She couldn’t get her mind around it. Surely not Craig and MacLean. She was due to leave in two days for Los Angeles; the plans were made, the exquisite Native dancer figure was finished. What could he possibly be doing for MacLean? Nausea swept through her. After she’d put the vases of flowers out on the tables and instructed Alicia about calling Andra, she sat in her office and stared at the wall. Surely not MacLean. Finally she made herself get up and have coffee and a croissant for breakfast. She had to force the roll down, and she didn’t enjoy either it or the coffee. “Phone for you,” Alicia said. “I think it’s Craig.” Her hand trembled as she picked up the handset at her desk. “Madison speaking.” “Hi.” There it was—that warm, husky voice that meant so much more than it said. Or at least it made a woman think it did, she thought 84


angrily. “Hello.” “How are you?” “I’m fine.” She forced herself to thank him for helping her. “Why aren’t you here this morning?” This in her employer’s voice. “For one thing, I didn’t sleep too well last night and I overslept this morning. Then I had some business to handle. I’ve only just now had time to call. I’m sorry.” “I was worried about you.” She couldn’t keep the softness out of her voice. “Were you now? I think I like that. Believe me, I was worried about you last night. What was that nightmare all about?” Her laugh was forced, her lie believable. She wasn’t about to tell him about the dream prince. “I’m one of those people who never remembers her dreams. Or nightmares either for that matter. Do you remember yours?” “No, I don’t.” He laughed in return. He obviously didn’t doubt her words. “Are you coming in at all today?” “I can come in after lunch, if you really need me, but I have more business to take care of. I think we’ve pretty much wrapped up what we need to do for the competition, so if I can skip today, I’d appreciate it. I’ll come in at five to tutor Alicia, however.” “That’s okay. I’d like to talk to you after Alicia leaves if that would work for you.” “Sure thing. See you then.” *

*

*

“I quit. As of this moment. Without notice,” Craig said to the middle-aged man with the paunch. From behind his desk, Clement MacLean frowned, then his pockmarked face broke into a grin. “I said you could enjoy the rattles, but I see you’ve been in the playpen. Naughty, naughty.” He wagged a 85


finger at the angry young man standing in front of him. Craig’s hand tightened into a fist, but he commanded it to relax while he counted to fifteen. However much pleasure it would give him to punch Clement in the gut, he’d be the one charged with battery. And just how much sympathy would he, young and fit and a Harley man with tattoos, get from a judge or a jury if he attacked this pillar of the community who had at least twenty years on him. Not much. “What’s this all about, Craig, my man?” “Not your man, Clement. Never have been. It’s about what a selfserving bastard you are—a little fact I wasn’t aware of when I agreed to what seemed like a harmless caper. But I discovered I didn’t like spying on another chocolatier, one I learned you’re determined to drive out of town.” “That’s just business, my man. Just business. You haven’t lived up to your end of the agreement anyway. I ought to sue you.” “You have the entry I sculpted for the big prize and the candies I agreed to make for the other competitions. From the beginning I told you I wouldn’t steal her secret recipes for you—a chocolatier wouldn’t be worth his salt if he did something that despicable to another chocolatier. So just what else is there, Clement? What else was there to our agreement that you could tell a judge?” Craig put one hand on the desk and leaned toward Clement. Startled by the motion, Clement, his face white with fear, leaned back in his swivel chair and almost tipped it over. Craig knew there was nothing else. Clement wasn’t about to admit to any officer of the court that he’d asked Craig to tell him what Madison was entering in the contest, or that he’d wanted him to sabotage, at the last minute, the sculpture she’d hired him to make. “That’s conflict of interest, you sculpting for my rival,” Clement sputtered. “If you’ll recall, I own the rights to that design. As far as the contest 86


goes, I can enter as many sculptures as I want. If more than one is juried into the show, my work competes against all the other works, including mine. It’s an accepted thing in the art world.” MacLean had regained some of his composure. Now he leaned forward and looked Craig straight in the eye. “You told me I’d win!” “No, what I said was I had no idea if either of my pieces would be juried in. And if they were, it would be a turkey shoot. Some phenomenal new designer could come out of the woodwork and win that fifteen grand. You’ve been so busy destroying someone that you’ve forgotten this is a national show. Madison Ruhl isn’t going to be your only rival.” “Get out.” “Gladly. Just remember you owe me thirty per cent if my sculpture for you wins.” Craig was at the door when MacLean shouted, “I cancel our other agreement as well!” Craig smiled. “That’s a relief. You just stole the words out of my mouth.” He gave a little salute to MacLean and walked out. *

*

*

It must have been after three o’clock when the earthquake struck. Madison heard it coming, its freight train rumble low and quick. Later she read that every building had a pitch just as a tuning fork did, and as the buildings swayed they gave off their pitch. That was what made the noise, not the tectonic plates rubbing against each other. Even having heard it coming, she didn’t have time to react before the ground beneath her circled and then swayed abruptly. Alicia was in the front and said she’d dropped to the floor and covered the back of her neck. Carol was in the workroom, and said she’d crawled under the big table, clinging to one leg so it wouldn’t move away from her. Madison was in her office, and there was only time to grab onto her desk and hang on. 87


The quake lasted only a few seconds, although it seemed to go on forever because her heart was at the base of her tongue. Once it had stopped, she called out, “Is everyone all right?” Both women answered they were fine. They checked the building and found only a small crack in the north wall. “I’ll report that to the rental agency,” Madison said. “Thank heavens no one was hurt.” At four o’clock, Carol said, “Does anyone else feel jittery or is it just me?” “It’s not just you. I feel it too,” said Alicia. “Well, if you two were of legal age, I’d take you out for a drink. I feel the need of one myself.” Madison laughed. “That was a real shocker, wasn’t it? Thank heavens it was a little one.” Between the small quake and what she faced once the students had left for the day, Madison hadn’t been able to focus on much of anything. In two days they’d leave for Chocolate Fantasy, and she’d checked and double-checked the list of what they would take. Now they went through everything again to see if any damage had been done to the candies. Most had ridden out the earthquake without problems. “I forgot about Craig’s design piece!” “Oh, can we see it now? It doesn’t have to be a secret any more, does it?” “Yes, you may see it now,” she said, waiting for their cries of delight when they saw the beautiful figure. They followed her to the pastry safe, and she knelt to unlock it. Pulling the door open, she cried out in disappointment. The delicate dancer lay in shards and splinters on the metal floor of the safe. He had not survived the quake. There was absolute silence. Then Carol and Alicia turned stricken faces to her. “Oh, Madison, we’re so sorry!” Madison sat on the floor and closed her eyes against the pain 88


stabbing her already assaulted emotions. She fought to keep the tears building up in her eyes from overflowing onto her cheeks. It was gone, destroyed by an earthquake. Now she would lose the shop. She didn’t have the heart to tell the women until the show had ended. “Who would’ve thought?” “My grandmother always tells me you never know what cards life’s gonna deal you,” Alicia said as she offered her a hand up. “You sure don’t,” Carol agreed. “I think we should close up for the day. We won’t have many customers in the next couple of hours anyway. People will be too shaken up. But I’ll see you two tomorrow?” “Craig’s coming for my lesson at five, but I’m too nervous to concentrate. I don’t have any way to get hold of him. Will you explain why I’m not here?” Alicia asked. “Sure thing.” Craig rapped on the front door at five, and she let him in murmuring excuses for Alicia. “Everything okay here? I was worried about everyone.” “We’re okay.” He wandered through the shop inspecting the building structure. Madison went into her office and sat at her desk, her mind in turmoil, her stomach churning. “Hi,” he finally said quietly from her office doorway. Just the sound of his voice made her heart race. She couldn’t wait to know the answer she feared. She had to force herself to look up into those green eyes whose depths had seemed to promise so much to her. She said it right out; no sugar coating, no lead in, just, “Andra tells me you’re also working for Clement MacLean.” He sighed as he sank into the chair in front of her desk and brought a hand to his forehead. It was as if something he had dreaded had finally come to light. 89


Her heart plummeted to her toes. She remembered her fears in the mountains that something was wrong when she’d talked about the ancient Welsh Druids earning honor marks for integrity. Now his body language and the look on his face told her the answer to the question she was going to ask before she asked it, but she did so anyway. “Is it true?” With a deeper sigh yet he looked into her eyes. “Yes, it’s true. Well it was true—” “Then you’re fired.” “Maddie—” “I never want to see you again.” They said people could die of a broken heart, and she thought hers had just broken. She wasn’t sure how she was going to survive. “Maddie, please, let me explain.” “One more thing before you go.” She had to keep her voice steady. Maybe he was the kind of man who enjoyed wounding women, so it wouldn’t do for him to know how hurt she felt. She led him to the pastry safe, whose door still stood open. She pointed to it wordlessly, and he leaned to look inside. “It didn’t survive the quake. Now I’d like you to leave.” She’d never seen his shoulders slump as they did now. He stood, but didn’t leave. He just looked at her as if drinking in the sight of her for the last time. For a brief moment she wanted to step into his arms and tell him she forgave him, that she loved him, but the sense of betrayal she felt overwhelmed her. “I know you’ve been staying away from the apartment because of what I said, but it doesn’t matter now. I don’t intend to have anything to do with you again, so people can’t really gossip about us. Please use it until your lease is up.” “I’m sorry, Maddie.” “So am I, Craig. I thought you liked me as much as I liked you.” His face grimaced in pain, and he would have stepped toward her, 90


but she backed away, turning her face away from him. He walked out, leaving her without another word. Madison crossed her arms across her chest and rocked herself as tears flooded in silence down her cheeks. She’d never been in such pain, not even when her mother had told her that her father wouldn’t be coming back. Andra had offered her flower shop van for the trip, but Craig had said he would drive them. Madison had rented racks that would keep the candies undamaged until they reached the Westin Bonaventure. When they closed up tomorrow they’d begin packing for the trip, and when she finally got hold of her emotions, she called Andra and arranged to use the flower van after all. *

*

*

It was dark when she heard the Harley roar into the driveway and park. The pain in her chest started anew. She listened, against her will, as Craig unlocked the apartment door and went inside. After a time the scent of Chinese food wafted into her side of the house, and she looked at the row of small white boxes with wire handles from China Kitchen sitting empty on her own counter. She smiled, but when he turned on the country western radio station, she leaned against the door frame to her bedroom and let her tears flood her face again. Maybe they would help wash away her pain. Her need to be near him was so great that after being sure the door into his side of the apartment was securely fastened as usual, she slept again in that bedroom. The dream prince was gone, having left his trail of deceit and lies in her life. Now Craig had done the same, except he was real and had branded her heart with his touch. Get over it, Mad. Get on with your life. You have places to go and things to see. That was what she told her head. She had no clue what she needed to say to heal her aching heart. As she drifted off to sleep she heard the 91


Lexus start up and leave. It was not there in the morning when she left for work. *

*

*

The next twenty-four hours were the slowest of her life. They had one of the busiest days of the year as people flooded in to buy, to order, to wish her well at Chocolate Fantasy. But it wasn’t the same without Craig there, and she moved through the pain of his loss in a sort of cocoon where nothing, not even the well wishes, brought any comfort. The young women were excited, eager to close the shop to begin packaging the candies against transport damage and unhooking the coffee machines to be loaded early the next morning. When morning came, they packed the van carefully. At one point Alicia said, “I thought Craig was going to be here and we were going in his van. I was hoping to ask him some questions about yesterday’s lesson that I missed.” “He was called away unexpectedly. Family emergency or something, I think,” Madison lied. Carol and Alicia chattered the entire trip in to Los Angeles. Neither of them had ever been downtown, and the sight of the Westin Bonaventure with its rounded towers of glass and concrete set them off again. “I’ve seen that elevator before,” Carol said when she spotted one of the glass exterior elevators. “Wow, that’s really something,” Alicia responded. “Actually, the hotel has four elevators, and they’re all different shapes, although I think they’ve named them by color. Either it or one like it was in a Clint Eastwood movie. He played a Secret Service agent, I think, stalked by a killer. But the Bonaventure’s been used in several movies,” Madison explained. “In the Line of Fire. That was the Eastwood thing. I saw it on DVD. Lots of shooting,” Alicia continued. 92


The vendors were setting up in one of the ballrooms, and Madison was amazed at how effective her students were at getting their booth ready to sell. She carried her entries to the various judging sites, and her heart turned over when she saw the locked glass cases with the designer entries. The one that immediately captured her attention above all the others was a modernistic sculpture of angular layers and shapes in different colors that read, “Design by C. R. Winslow,” and then “MacLean Candies and Gifts, Orangethorpe, CA.” Farther down the line was a sign reading, “Sweet Chocolate Ecstasy, Orangethorpe, CA.” That slot was empty. Her chin began to tremble and she turned away. It wouldn’t do to break down in front of the people milling around. She exited quickly to the ladies room and into a stall where she wept into a paper towel to muffle her sobs. Then she came out, rinsed her face and eyes with cold water, dried them with another paper towel, and returned to work. It was the only way she knew how to deal with the bitter disappointment.

93


CHAPTER 7

Ever since those days with her uncle, and when she’d been to that first Chocolate Fantasy, Madison had dreamed of being here as a chocolatier in her own right. As her determination grew that Craig’s deceit and his little sexual foray into her life wasn’t going to spoil this for her, she found she could enjoy the convention unfettered by the grief she managed to temporarily set aside. Networking among the vendors produced a man who asked if she would let him warehouse the tortoises for resale. Someone else approached her about an online business making party and wedding candies. As the day progressed, her future seemed less uncertain. She began to think perhaps, if she found a place to rent that MacLean didn’t own, maybe, just maybe, Sweet Chocolate Ecstasy could survive without the grand prize. Between workshops she relieved her employees so they could explore the hotel. They were amazed by the chocolate fountain, and 94


returned to the booth awed by the incredible spatial ideas of the Bonaventure lobby with its linear and rounded concrete balconies. The glass elevators that originated inside the lobby only to spiral up and outside by the time they reached the next floor intrigued them too. They explored the various entrances on the different levels as well as the lush gardens. Madison’s heart sang because she was opening their eyes to a world they’d never seen, a world that would seem more attainable if they continued in school. She’d chosen Orangethorpe to settle in because she’d seen a wider world. They could have remained because they felt trapped there, but now they’d see they had a choice. The cases for the designer competition had filled except for the one that belonged to her. There were some lovely pieces, but to her eye, Craig’s was the only outstanding one. Of course, you never could tell about judges. The day of the judging she was relieving Carol in the sales booth when Carol came running over and grabbed her by the arm. “What?” Madison asked. “You’ll see. Hurry!” Carol pulled her past a knot of people standing in front of the designer entries case. The murmurs of appreciation rose around the case like bees buzzing over blossoms in Orangethorpe. Carol pushed their way to a place near the front and pointed. The final spot in the case had been taken. A ten-inch high Samurai warrior stood there, his bearing aristocratic, haughty, powerful. Replete with an acorn-shaped helmet in orange with a finely spun gold crescent header board, the fighter’s head and neck were protected by long turquoise and red louvers with onion knots. The chest pleon, sleeves, tasset, and femoral guards were louvers of turquoise and red joined by gold. He held a drawn sword in one hand and stood in battle stance. He was breathtaking. That he could have been fashioned of candy 95


was miraculous. No wonder the crowd was chattering excitedly. “Look!” Carol cried, pointing. Madison stared in disbelief at the neatly printed card that read: Warlord Otomo Sourin’s Armor Design by C. R. Winslow Sweet Chocolate Ecstasy Orangethorpe, CA This time the tears she didn’t need to hold back were mingled with laughter, laughter joined by Carol’s as they hugged and jumped up and down squealing like teenagers. “Let’s get Alicia,” Carol cried, and they ran to pull her to the display. *

*

*

It was a hands-down win at the banquet that night. Madison was grateful she’d brought her nicest dress despite her despair. The long gown was the sapphire blue of her eyes, with a halter neck revealing the porcelain color of her skin, and a plunging neckline showing just enough of her breasts to discreetly tantalize. Aware of how the silk clung to her hips and a thigh-high slit in the skirt revealed her long legs covered in sheer black stockings, she felt elegant and sophisticated as she walked up to receive the check and a Lalique blown glass trophy. For a moment she didn’t recognize the man dressed right out of GQ who came confidently up the aisle to accept the designer’s award. Then he smiled with those eyes the deep green of natural emeralds and said, “Hi, beautiful,” in that low voice meant only for her, and she knew who he was and why he was there. He touched his lips lightly to hers, right in front of hundreds of diners, and the round of applause for their victory was warmer than for any other award that night. They drank champagne together until almost dawn. When he took her hand and led her slightly giddy self to the green elevator shaped 96


like a diamond, she followed. In his room he pulled the dress from her shoulders and let it fall to the floor as she undid his trouser belt. Kneeling to slip her pantyhose down over her hips, he paused to enclose her buttocks with his strong yet skillful Harley hands, then he pulled her to his mouth while taking time for kisses that began at her navel and trailed over her belly until sliding down to find her clit and suckle. His familiar fingers inserted themselves into her body. Steadying herself with her hands on his shoulders, she writhed and groaned with pleasure. Frustration welled when, just before she could climax, he withdrew. With their clothes a rumpled pile just inside the suite’s door, he led her into the huge bathroom and turned on the shower and adjusted the temperature. Pulling her in front of him, he kissed the back of her neck and reached around her to let his soapy hands slide over her breasts as he squeezed, kneaded, and pushed them together then pulled them apart before playing with her nipples until they peaked erect in his playing hands. The warm waters cascaded over them, leaving a froth of soap bubbles about their feet on the tile floor. Sighing, Madison reached behind to grasp his buttocks, pulling him hard against her until she could feel his hard erection against her. “Oh, I’ve missed you, Craig Winslow. Missed you so very much.” “And I’ve missed making love to you, Miz Madison Ruhl,” he whispered as he pumped against her, his breath coming in short gasps. Ready for him, eager for him, she turned, finding his mouth and kissing him deeply. Searching, she took his penis in her hand and, wrapping one leg around him, she guided him and inhaled sharply when he plunged into her. “Oh, you feel so good inside me. Fill me, Craig, fill me all the way.” Taking his hand, she rubbed it over her clitoris until their excitement grew and they mated in perfect unison. 97


*

*

*

They toweled each other dry, and he carried her to the bed. They slept, and when they woke, she stroked the tattoo on his lower back and smiled as she watched his penis rise in response. She licked and sucked him until she tasted the salty first drops of pre-cum on her tongue, then she rode him slowly and then harder and harder until he rolled her over and hammered into her until he’d touched her heart and they were both sated with ecstasy. Room service brought them hot chocolate with rich dollops of whipped cream, fresh orange juice, coffee, and croissants. They fed each other, laughing at how the truffles had excited them in those first moments of love. As they were dressing, Madison said, “Why did you come back, Craig?” Don’t tell me it was just for the sex. Please, her heart begged. He stopped pulling on his jeans. “Jeez, Maddie, how can you ask such a thing?” “Was it just for the fucking?” She couldn’t breathe. “No, it wasn’t just for the f’ing fucking! It was for you. It was because I love you, you idiot. If you only knew the turmoil I felt once I got to know you. Clement is some distant relative by marriage on my mother’s side of the family. Obviously she didn’t know what a weasel he is. He wanted me to lift your recipes…” She gasped. “Which I adamantly refused to do from the very beginning. But he also wanted to know what you would enter in the contest, and that didn’t seem like such a bad thing to find out. When I saw how you looked me over that first day, I decided flirting with you was a way to get the answers I needed. I didn’t know you’d wrap yourself around my heart. Clement wanted his design to be just a tad better than yours. That seemed like a little thing too, until you said what you did about Druid honor marks and integrity. That’s when I realized what seemed like a 98


small thing was really tantamount to throwing a ball game or cheating at cards. When I saw he was driving you out of business, it was the final nastiness. I quit.” “Why didn’t you tell me?” “By the time I knew I loved you, I felt like such a crumb I didn’t have the courage to, so I just walked out on him. Except that was about the time someone else told you, and you wouldn’t let me explain.” She nodded. “I loved you, and knowing you’d deceived me was so crushing I just wanted you out of my life so the pain would go away. Only it didn’t.” “Now let me tell you another agreement I had with him.” She looked up, frightened. “You don’t know who I am. Do you?” “You’re…” “Did you ever wonder why I could drive a Lexus SUV and a Screamin’ Eagle Electra Glide 2 Harley that cost thirty thousand on a chocolatier’s income? Why I could afford to work only half a day? Why I had the skills to design those figures? I’m Craig Richard Winslow.” So that was what the R stood for…Richard. No, Madison thought, she’d been so wrapped up in her own problems she hadn’t thought about any of those things. Richard Winslow. Why did that sound familiar? “Richard Winslow, the architect.” “The Winslow building here in Los Angeles,” she cried. “That’s right. I was designing a new building for Clement, but when I quit, I tore up that contract too.” He kissed her. “Tell you something else.” “What?” “You’re going to have to move out of his building immediately. That little crack in the north wall is in a support beam and it’s serious. 99


Aftershocks will make it worse. FEMA will give you some money to relocate.” Then he laughed hard and long. “It’s going cost that bastard a ton of money to bring the building up to standard—way more than you’ve paid him in extra rent.” “But where would I go? I haven’t looked for another rental.” He touched the tip of her nose. “I have. That’s what I was doing the day I didn’t come in. There are two possibilities I’d like you to look at.” When they were dressed and out in the vendor area to pack up, Carol and Alicia flooded him with questions. “When did you do the Samurai?” “I’d already made him, and, actually, he’s promised to the Smithsonian. When I saw the quake had destroyed the Native American dancer, I flew to my home in Michigan to pick him up. My return flight was delayed, and I barely made the entry deadline. I was really sweating it.” They’d sold almost all the candy they’d brought and there was little to pack, so they stayed for lunch in one of the restaurants at the Bonaventure before driving home. Craig followed in his van. Traffic moving east was congested and slow. The students fell asleep. The days were already getting shorter, and Madison was relieved to find that the heat wave had broken by the time they reached Orangethorpe. She could almost smell fall and feel its softness in the air. It was time to pick raspberries in the foothills to make pie and jam. It wouldn’t be too many weeks before the apples would be ready and she would sell them candied again, in a new place, of course, a building not owned by someone mean and unpleasant. She dropped Alicia and Carol off at their homes since there was no point in having them return to a shop she wasn’t supposed to occupy until it was inspected. She and Craig were the ones who unloaded the coffee pots and racks into it, then he followed her to Andra’s house 100


where she returned the van and picked up her convertible. Dusk had fallen by the time she was in the Miata with the top down and Craig was in line behind her. She looked up at the sky to watch the faint twinkle of stars beginning to appear, and suddenly there they were again…the three strange lights she had seen once before. Idiot pilots she’d thought then, flying too close together without proper navigational lights. This time she knew these were not ordinary pilots in planes. This time there was no blinding flash of soundless light and a sudden disappearance into nothingness because this time there was no reason to prepare a landing field outlined with reflective silver hexagons in a grove where a round bathysphere filled with sea water would be deposited. The lights flew low over her head, dipping slightly as they passed and then disappeared soundlessly. Happiness warmed her heart, and she sensed the dream prince knew it. This was his acknowledgment that he did; that he’d found his own kind of happiness as well. Letting go of her anger at his deceit, her mind sent back a message of friendship and thanks. He had saved her life. He had let her go. She switched on the radio and tuned to a country western station. Tonight she would unlock the door to the adjoining apartment. Tonight it would be Craig Richard Winslow who danced with her. Perhaps they would even dance a waltz.

101

CAROLINA VALDEZ

Carolina Valdez’s foray into sensual writing began with the 2004 Amber Heat Wave winner, Dark Stranger, which placed third in the 2005 Lories Best Published Novella competition. Next came Knight of the Captive Heart, a “5 Angels--Recommended Read” from Michelle at FAR. In Sweet Chocolate Ecstasy, Valdez tries her hand at a contemporary setting with a paranormal element. *

*

*

Don’t miss Knight Of The Captive Heart, by Carolina Valdez, available from Amber Quill Press, LLC

England’s widowed Earl of Gladsbury has a problem: Christiana, his only child and heir, binds her breasts and often dresses as a boy in denial of her womanhood. She longs to be a knight. The earl knows that should he die in battle while Christiana is unwed, she and Gladsbury would be at the mercy of the king. It’s not only time that she marry, but that she learn a noblewoman’s duties of managing as well as defending the castle. Hoping to awaken her sensuality, the earl assigns her for defense lessons to his most eligible knights—Guy de Bere and the mysterious new arrival, Rowan du Veau, the Dark Knight. What the earl does not know is that Guy’s heart is tainted by lust and greed; he wants Christiana and Gladsbury. Rowan’s heart has

been captured by a distant noblewoman; he needs land and wealth in order to become betrothed to her. Under their tutelage, will Christiana discover the true nature of these strong men? Is a man capable of changing his loyalties? Will the earl’s hopes that his daughter learn to revel in the power of her womanhood come to fruition, or will she, like many noblewomen of her day, become just a pawn for one man’s greed or another man’s need?

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