In Her Wildest Dreams

by Rochon, Farrah

  “I think so, too,” Gavin said.

  She cast another quick glance his way, a self-deprecating smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “I guess the same could be said about me, huh?”

  “Not necessarily.” Gavin took a sip of his beer. “You still have time to do the smart thing.”

  She lifted her eyes to his. In a small voice, she asked, “How much time?”

  He stared at her for a moment. “Some,” he finally answered, then added, “But I won’t wait forever, Erica. We’ve been skirting around this issue long enough. We’ve both known that this was inevitable.”

  “Did we?” she asked. She tossed her chopsticks aside and cradled her face in her hands. With a groan, she said, “This is all so confusing. One minute, you’re the same old Gavin I used to clown around with, and the next you’re looking at me as if you want to…I don’t know…do something. Something that best friends definitely don’t do.” She looked up at him. “When did things start to change?”

  Shaking his head slightly, Gavin cocked it to the side. “Are you saying you’ve never thought of me in this way, Erica? Never?”

  She didn’t answer, just buried her face in her palms again.

  Gavin reached across the table and tugged at her arm. “Look at me,” he ordered, forcing her to uncover her face. He waited until her eyes met his before speaking.

  “I want you to be one hundred percent honest with me,” Gavin said. “Nearly every day for the past year you’ve come into my shop, always teasing, always flirting. Never once did it cross your mind while we were trading those sexy little comments that this could turn into something real? Has it always been just a game to you?”

  “No,” she said. “It’s not…” She shook her head. “Gavin, I would be lying if I said I never thought about you in that way.”

  Her softly spoken words hit him square in the chest, arresting the air in his lungs. He’d known these feelings weren’t one-sided.

  “So, what’s holding you back?” Gavin asked. “What are you so afraid of?”

  “I…I don’t know.” She ran a shaky hand through her hair.

  Her obvious turmoil shot a bolt of resentment straight through him. Why did admitting that she felt something other than friendship toward him look as if it was causing her physical pain?

  She trained those pleading eyes on him. “Can we not have this conversation right now?”

  “Then stop bringing it up,” he said. “Don’t talk about how good a catch I am if you’re not willing to get caught.”

  “I know I’m not being fair.” Erica looked out the plate-glass window, to the Mississippi River. “Gavin, I’m sorry. I had no intentions of making you hate me when I came over today.” After a couple of beats of silence, she looked over at him, her brow furrowed with a hint of worry. “Aren’t you going to say that you don’t hate me?”

  Gavin remained quiet for a moment. “I’m still trying to decide.” Then he totally ruined whatever leverage he had by allowing a grin to crease his face.

  Erica’s expression relaxed, gratitude surfacing in her warm brown eyes.

  “Come on,” Gavin said, throwing a napkin over the remnants of their dinner. “Let’s go on our carriage ride.”

  ***

  They strolled along Decatur Street at the base of the French Quarter. The wind coming off of the river was brisk and further chilled by the water. Gavin felt Erica shiver slightly next to him and pulled her more securely against his side.

  “I’m not sure if this is a good time of year to ride in an open horse-drawn carriage,” she said.

  “Anytime of the year is a good time for a carriage ride. The carriage driver will have a blanket for your legs.”

  “Really?” she asked.

  He looked down at her. “You really haven’t done any of this yourself, have you?”

  “I told you I haven’t. I’ve lived here all my life, and I’m ashamed at how much of this city I take for granted.”

  “This is one of the most romantic places in the world,” Gavin commented.

  “Yeah,” Erica said with a wistful sigh. “Just one more reason why Your Wildest Dreams, the franchise, probably won’t work in other parts of the country.”

  “Oh, they’ll make it work,” Gavin huffed. “The Hawthorn Group would never have approached you if they had not already crunched the numbers and figured out a way to make the business as profitable as possible in every market they plan to bring it to.”

  “I’m sure they’ll try,” she said, “but it won’t be as special in Boise, Idaho.”

  “No, I’d imagine it wouldn’t.” Gavin laughed. “It’s a trade-off, Erica. You have to figure out whether or not you want to compromise. To be honest, I can’t imagine that you would go for something like this.”

  She glanced up him. “Why not?”

  “After everything you’ve sacrificed for this business, how could you voluntarily allow someone else to just step in and start running things? I’ve been there; it’s pretty demoralizing.”

  “I told you that it’s not the same thing you went through, Gavin. I would still be the face of Your Wildest Dreams. Others would pay me for the right to own a franchise of my company. Just thinking about what the extra money could mean gives me goose bumps.”

  Gavin squeezed her hand. “You know if you ever needed anything, money-wise, all you have to do is ask, right?”

  “I know, but I’m not taking money from you, Gavin. I owe you enough for all the chocolate I’ve eaten. Speaking of which,” she said, and pulled one of Decadente’s dark brown and gold miniature sampler boxes out of her purse. She popped the truffle in her mouth.

  Gavin’s head flew back with a crack of laughter.

  “Let’s not add up your chocolate bill,” he said, then he sobered. “I’m serious about this, Erica. If money is your sole reason for even considering this franchising thing, don’t do it.”

  “It’s not just the money. It’s—” She groaned. “I don’t even want to think about this anymore. Let’s just enjoy tonight. Let’s pretend we’re on an actual Your Wildest Dreams experience and soak it all in.”

  That word “pretend” ran down his back like fingers on a chalkboard.

  “There you go again,” Gavin said. “Why does it have to be pretend, Erica?”

  He felt her stiffen against his side, and Gavin’s jaw clenched in frustration. Why couldn’t she see how good they would be together?

  Gavin spotted the horse-drawn carriages lined up in front of Jackson Square. He stopped walking, turning Erica around to face him.

  “Answer me, Erica. Why am I good enough to joke around with, but not good enough for the real thing?”

  She sighed. “I thought we weren’t having this conversation right now?”

  “I changed my mind,” he said. “Tell me, why am I not good enough for you?”

  “Gavin, don’t do this,” she pleaded. “You know there’s nothing wrong with you. You can have any woman on the planet.”

  “Yeah? Then why don’t I have you?”

  Her eyes found his, and Gavin made the decision to go for what he wanted. He leaned his head in and finally, finally, did what he’d been dying to do since the minute he’d stepped through the doors of Your Wildest Dreams nearly three years ago.

  He’d kissed Erica before, on the cheek for her birthday, or to celebrate a milestone in her business. But never before had Gavin given into the all-consuming need to take her like this, the way a man kissed a woman whom he wanted to explore in every possible way.

  He put everything he had into the kiss, sweeping his tongue along her lips and urging them to open. When they finally parted, he dipped his tongue inside, nearly dying at how good she tasted. He could taste his chocolate in her mouth, which made the kiss even more erotic.

  Gavin used everything he’d ever learned to make Erica want him just as much as he wanted her. He moved his tongue inside her mouth. Licking. Tasting. Exploring.

  He slipped his hand up her spine, holdi
ng her closer to him. The front of her coat parted and he felt the pointed tips of her nipples press against his chest. The sensation stoked the fire that had lit within him, urging him on, making him crave her even more, if that were possible.

  A cacophony of catcalls, whistles, and applause broke through the sensual spell that had woven its way around them, reminding Gavin that they were standing in the middle of the sidewalk, in full view of the public.

  Erica stepped back, a dazed expression on her face. He reached for her, but she took another step back. Then another.

  “Erica…”

  She raised her hand, backing away.

  “Erica, don’t leave.”

  But that’s exactly what she did. Gavin stood in the middle of the sidewalk and watched as she hurriedly retreated, walking back the way they’d come. He could follow her if he thought it would do any good, but after the look of dismay that had crossed her face after their kiss, Gavin’s feet remained planted.

  He balled his hands into tight fists, hoping that one impetuous kiss hadn’t ruined their friendship. As much as he’d been dying to kiss her like that, it wasn’t worth losing Erica as a friend.

  Even so, Gavin couldn’t stop the smile that crept up his lips as he remembered the way she’d tasted, the way she’d felt against him. No matter what the fallout would be, he had to admit kissing her was better than he’d ever dreamed.

  Chapter Six

  Laptop resting in his lap, Gavin glanced up at the muted television to check the score of the basketball game. The Hornets were still losing by double digits, which meant he could fully concentrate on the job description he was writing. Tonya had threatened bodily harm if he didn’t get it posted by the end of the day.

  A reminder popped up on his screen, reminding him that he needed to send the ad he was running in the newspaper for Decadente’s Valentine’s Day special. He started to dismiss it, but he’d hit that postpone button nearly a dozen times already. The deadline was 11:59 pm if he wanted the ad to run the full two weeks before Valentine’s Day.

  Gavin clicked over to his email and quickly composed the ad.

  There was a knock at the door.

  “Shit,” he said. He started to save the draft of the email, but with the way things were going, he knew he’d probably forget to go back to it. He gave the email a cursory glance and hit “Send,” mentally checking off another thing on his to-do list.

  Gavin went over to the door and opened it. It was Dalton.

  “I thought you had decided to stand me up,” he greeted his friend.

  “Things got crazy at the office this afternoon,” Dalton said, walking into the living room and tossing his briefcase on the couch. “Tell me you have beer.”

  “In the fridge.” Gavin gestured toward the kitchen with his head. “There’s a pizza in the oven if you haven’t eaten dinner yet.”

  “Thank God,” Dalton said. A minute later, he returned to the living room with a beer in one hand and a slice of pepperoni and sausage pizza in the other. He hadn’t even bothered to take off his coat.

  Shaking his head, Gavin gave his friend a superior look. “All these years later, and I’m still taking care of your ass.”

  Dalton managed to flip him the bird with the hand that held the beer can. “You ready to do this?” he asked around a mouthful of pizza.

  “I guess so,” Gavin said, tabling the job posting yet again. “Just tell me what I need to do.”

  “You’ll need to login to the firm’s system. The program is saved in my work files. Can I trust you with my logon info?” he asked.

  “I have no plans to sabotage the company I built,” Gavin said.

  He pulled up the remote login page for Technology Concepts and logged in using the credentials Dalton rattled off.

  “Give it here.” Dalton finished up his pizza and sat next to Gavin on the sofa, pulling the laptop from the coffee table and settling it in his lap. “You will not believe what these guys have come up with, Gavin.”

  He pulled up the file, downloaded the program onto Gavin’s laptop, and started giving Gavin a tour of a social networking program designed specifically for the video gaming community.

  “Members can play against each other online, they can trade games, there’s even a feature that allows members to earn credits to buy things from a central store.”

  “Where does revenue come from?”

  “Advertisers will support the free version, or gamers will be able to buy into a premium ad-free membership.”

  “I’m not a gamer, but I’m pretty sure there are already a few Websites like this one,” Gavin said. “What makes this special?”

  A huge smile broke out across Dalton’s face.

  “This,” he said. He opened his briefcase and pulled out a small black box, no bigger than a deck of cards, with a tiny lens on one side of it. Using the attached USB cord, he connected it to the laptop, and then positioned the screen so that the webcam brought both him and Gavin into a small frame in the corner.

  Dalton clicked a couple of keys and a basketball court appeared on the screen with a computer-generated figure holding a basketball. The graphics were pretty elementary; Gavin was already running through a mental list of things he could add to spruce it up.

  “Okay, now stand,” Dalton said.

  Gavin gave him a reluctant look, but stood. Dalton typed a bit more, set the laptop on the coffee table, and then pulled his hands away. “Now, take a shot.”

  Gavin gave him a quizzical look. “What?”

  “You heard me.”

  He pretended to make a jump shot. The computer-generated figure mimicked his movements, but then, out of nowhere, another figure appeared and blocked his shot.

  “Whoa,” Gavin said. “What the hell was that?”

  Another small box popped up and two young men appeared. Their grins were huge. “Sorry for blocking your shot,” one of the men said.

  “Wait a minute? They’re playing against me?” Gavin asked.

  Dalton nodded, his grin matching those of the MBA students. “Meet Michael Baker and Rashard Lambert,” Dalton said. “Guys, this is the former business partner I was telling you about. One of the best software engineers you will ever meet.”

  “Former software engineer,” Gavin automatically corrected him, though his mind was more on what he’d just seen on his computer than his current job title. “Get up,” he said to the guy on the screen. “Let me see how this works again?”

  The one that had been introduced as Michael stood, and he and Gavin went back and forth on the screen. After a solid ten minutes, Gavin had worked up a sweat. It felt as if he’d been on an actual basketball court, engaged in a heavy game of one-on-one.

  “Hey, Dalton, we’ve got a party to go to,” Michael said. “We’re still meeting in a few weeks, right?”

  “Yeah, I’ll see you guys later. Have fun,” Dalton said. “Don’t get drunk.”

  The guys both laughed, and then the small pop-up screen that held their video feed went black. Dalton turned to him, and said, “Impressive, right?”

  Gavin nodded as he reached for his beer. “I’ve got to give it to you,” he said. “This takes it to the next level. Incorporating live game play against another live opponent right into the program? You can have two best friends across the country keep up their weekly basketball game.”

  “Not just basketball. Tennis, ping pong, golf. Even bowling. We haven’t figured out a way to do football, but they’re working on it.”

  “The problem is your interface,” Gavin said. “It’s way too rudimentary to compete with what’s on the market right now.”

  “Why do you think I came to you?” Dalton asked.

  Gavin shook his head. “I don’t know, man. That’s going to require a lot of work.”

  “I’m not asking you to do it for free, Gavin.”

  “I wouldn’t,” Gavin said. “But it’s not as if I need your money. It’s the time. We’re gearing up for what will likely be our busiest time
of the year at Decadente. This is the absolute worst time for me to take on something like this.”

  Dalton let out a sigh, and Gavin had a feeling he knew what the issue was. “You want to debut it at the IT Expo, don’t you?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” Dalton said. “You already know what this could mean if it makes a big splash there.”

  “Bank,” Gavin said. “Lots and lots of bank.”

  He sipped his beer as he stared at the computer screen, seeing the lines of coding in his head. He knew exactly how he would write the program to make the virtual players more lifelike and to add more colors and sharper images. He would design it so that people could choose what type of basketball setting they would like: a school gymnasium, an NBA regulation court, an inner-city playground. A person could pick the environment they were most comfortable playing in, and it would be as if they were there.

  He couldn’t take this on. He was a chocolatier now. He loved being a chocolatier, was beyond content with the way things were.

  “Give me some time to work with it,” Gavin heard himself say.

  “Really?” Dalton asked.

  No, that little voice told him. He was no longer a computer guy. He dealt in chocolates now. But Gavin nodded. “You’re meeting with the guys soon, right? Let me play around with it, see what I can do.”

  Dalton pumped his fist. “I knew you’d come through, man.”

  “I’m not saying I’m in one hundred percent,” Gavin warned him. “I just said I’ll take a look.”

  Dalton held his hands up. “That’s all I’m asking. Just give it a little of that Foster magic.”

  Gavin grimaced. There was that “magic” word again. Erica called the kitchen where he made his chocolates the “magic” room. He’d become a regular Merlin.

  ***

  Erica kept her eyes on the clock as she went over the final details with Steven Aristophonicholi for the Valentine’s Day experience she was creating for him and his girlfriend. He was the kind of client Erica adored. He gave her specific instructions on what he wanted, which took all of the guesswork out of the job and almost guaranteed a satisfied customer in the end. He also gave her a money-is-no-object budget. Oh, how she loved to hear those words.