The Chocolate Touch (Love at the Chocolate Shop Book 8)

by Melissa McClone

  For that to happen, Chantelle had to continue to prove her worth to Delacroix Chocolates and the family. She would do anything it took.

  Being on her own was hard. And lonely.

  “Just let me know what you need,” she said.

  “You’ve been an excellent resource already,” Philippe said. “You’ll be here in Bayonne before you know it.”

  Yes! Chantelle shimmied her shoulders. She missed her parents and wanted nothing more than to be part of a family again. Soon. “Happy to help.”

  “Call me after you visit the shop.”

  “The tasting isn’t until the evening.”

  “Then email me.”

  “Sounds good.” She stifled a yawn. Traveling from the East Coast and being “on” for the signing was making it hard to stay awake.

  Philippe disconnected the call without saying goodbye. Not unusual for him, but she hoped that changed eventually. She also wished they could talk about more than just chocolate one day. He was the closest thing she had to a sibling. Still, she had no complaints. Her plans seemed to be on track.

  Contentment settled over her.

  Chantelle had a feeling everything she’d dreamed about was finally within her grasp. Wriggling her toes, she grinned. She couldn’t wait.

  *

  The next day, sunlight streamed through her window, but she wasn’t tempted to explore Marietta. Chantelle stayed in her room to write Monday’s blog post based on her notes from a tasting she’d attended, and then she drafted an article about pairing wine with chocolate for a food magazine.

  Words flowed until lunch arrived via room service. After that, she wrote until it was time to do a phone interview with a Denver radio station about her book.

  Yes, people have told her she has the chocolate touch.

  No, she doesn’t give chocolate kisses.

  Her favorite chocolate is whatever she’s eating at the time.

  Of course chocolate is good for one’s health, especially dark chocolate.

  She could answer the questions in her sleep because she heard the same ones each time, but her publicist claimed doing interviews would spur book sales so Chantelle kept answering them over again. Not that she minded. She loved talking about chocolate almost as much as she enjoyed eating it.

  Bells chimed from her phone.

  She’d set her alarm so she’d remember the chocolate tasting. Once she got working, she lost track of time. A trait her father had said she’d inherited from her mother. She wanted to be more like her. Marie Delacroix Cummings had been loving and kind. She also made the most amazing chocolates ever.

  A glance in the mirror told Chantelle something was missing from her outfit. None of her necklaces looked good with the chunky earrings she wore, so she tied a scarf around her neck. That looked better and more in line with what a Delacroix would wear. With her purse and jacket in hand, she headed out of her room.

  A uniformed valet held open the front door. “Have a wonderful evening.”

  “Thanks.” She flashed a smile in his direction, and then she stepped outside.

  The sun was disappearing. A slight breeze blew, but nothing that made her want to put on her coat. She might need it for her walk home after the tasting, but the temperature now was springtime pleasant.

  She crossed Front Avenue, walked along First Street, and then turned left on Main Street. Quaint-looking shops lined both sides of the street. Parking was readily available, and the sidewalks were empty. Few cars were on the road.

  Hmm. A slow time or was this normal for the time of day? She’d been so focused on getting to the bookstore on time yesterday she hadn’t noticed. That was one more thing on her list to check out.

  Her uncle had started off by offering to buy small shops in tourist towns to rebrand as Delacroix stores. The shop’s recipes would be used to breathe new life into the Delacroix line.

  Chantelle had thought this was a good strategy. The purchase offers were above market value and allowed the owners to continue working as Delacroix employees or leave the chocolate business if they so desired. Her uncle, however, hadn’t counted on tourists wanting to purchase local products, so he was no longer interested in the shops themselves, only their recipes.

  Up ahead on her left was Copper Mountain Chocolates. As she opened the door to the shop, a bell jingled. Familiar smells hit—cocoa and spices. The scent of vanilla was strong, along with a hint of cinnamon and so much more.

  She inhaled.

  The aroma was delicious and soothing. It brought back memories of home when her mom would make chocolates in the kitchen and let Chantelle help. Each time they made one together, she wrote down her mother’s recipes and helpful hints in her diary with a lock that didn’t quite work. A warm feeling flowed through her. She’d forgotten much about her mom over the years, but she remembered the chocolate.

  “Welcome to Copper Mountain Chocolates. I’m Dakota.” The woman standing in front of a glass display case had been the one at the bookstore.

  Chantelle silently repeated the woman’s name. “Nice to see you again, Dakota.”

  Now maybe Chantelle would remember the name.

  Dakota wore clothes similar to the ones she had on last night—an indigo-blue shirt, jeans, and a copper apron. Her hair was pulled back in a high ponytail, and her eyes were a gold-brown color. Not hazel like the hottie passing out chocolate at the bookstore last night. But her coloring was close to his.

  Was this the eye candy’s sister?

  Must be. Chantelle hadn’t seen any other chocolate shop employees at the bookstore last night, but she wasn’t here to ask about the woman’s brother.

  Time to push distractions aside and focus.

  She studied the display case. Inside, chocolates were stacked in pyramids on plates. A few items had been decorated with pastel color swirls or coatings. There was quite a variety—from truffles to caramels. A nice dash of color with some of the other spring-themed varieties made the whole display aesthetically pleasing.

  On top of the case, flower-shaped molded chocolates filled colorful vases. Perfect for spring and the upcoming Mother’s Day. Black-and-white photos of the chocolate process hung on the wall behind the display case. The pictures were artistic and professional.

  Dakota stepped forward. “I’m so happy you decided to join us for the tasting.”

  Her mannerisms suggested she was the friendly type, a nice woman who would deliver soup and chocolate to those she cared about.

  “Chocolate tastings are one of my favorite things.” Chantelle meant that. Tonight, she could taste and do research at the same time.

  “Mine, too.” Dakota’s smile brightened her pretty face. “Please take a seat. We’ll be starting shortly.”

  “Thank you.” Chantelle glanced to her right where people sat at small tables. A few spots remained. “Is there assigned seating?”

  “No. You can sit wherever you’d like.”

  As she looked around again, the shop’s décor brought a sense of relief. Some stores were more whimsical or old fashioned. Not this one. The cocoa-and-vanilla-inspired colors brought chocolate to mind. Purely intentional on the owner’s part. Smart. Shops like this one not only sold chocolate, but also provided a chocolate experience.

  Wood shelves along the far wall added warmth and a place to display products. The copper boxes added a bit of gleam and bling to the otherwise neutral shop. Nice branding, too.

  Each chocolate shop she visited was different, but this one impressed her. Copper Mountain Chocolate was designed for repeat customers as well as tourists. The feel, however, was completely opposite from that of a Delacroix Chocolate shop where luxurious and rich described the décor and the product that was sold in a light blue-and-gold keepsake box.

  One thing, however, was wrong with this place.

  The tables.

  Six tables were three too many. There was hardly room to move. Less space to display products. Such a waste.

  Unless this layout was only for
special events. She would return tomorrow during normal business hours to see if it looked different.

  Now…where to sit?

  Three of the tables were occupied. Two were half full. One had a man typing on his cell phone. He wore a forest-green polo shirt that contrasted nicely with his sun-streaked brown hair.

  Good looking enough that she took a second look.

  And this time, she recognized him.

  He was the guy from last night. Only he wasn’t wearing an apron. And he’d shaved.

  The scruff had given him a sexy, bad-boy edge, but she had to admit the smooth skin was just as appealing.

  He looked up from his phone and caught her staring at him. His shirt brought out a green tint to his hazel eyes.

  Since it was too late to look away, she smiled instead.

  He grinned back. “We meet again.”

  A simple greeting, but her tongue felt big and heavy.

  Stop overreacting, she chided herself. He’d greeted her, not flirted. “Hi.”

  “I don’t think I introduced myself last night. I’m York Parker.”

  “Chantelle Cummings.” She caught herself, blushing. “But you know that.”

  Another nod. He motioned to the three empty chairs at his table. “There’s room if you’d like to join me.”

  York didn’t look like a man who had to go anywhere without a date. “Are you expecting anyone else?”

  He shook his head. “One sister is working the tasting. My other sister and her boyfriend had tickets, but they stayed home with the new foster that arrived today.”

  “Foster child?”

  “Cat. His name is Zip, and the poor little guy is afraid of every noise and movement. If he’s not in the closet, he’s under the bed.”

  Chantelle had never had a pet growing up. She never thought about having one now, either. Not with how much she traveled. Once she was settled, she would get a dog or a cat. Maybe one of each.

  York pulled out the chair next to him.

  She sat.

  Pencils and sheets of papers sat in baskets in the center of each table to be used during the tasting. She hadn’t noticed those before. Only him.

  “That’s nice of your sister and her boyfriend to do,” she said.

  “Dakota volunteers at a local rescue, so there are always foster animals at the house. But we all agree that Zip is pretty darn cute.”

  Chantelle could say the same about York. He was better looking than she remembered.

  “He just needs some socializing,” he added.

  Did York? He cleaned up nicely. Not that he’d looked bad last night.

  “You’re not wearing an apron,” she said. “Are you off tonight?”

  He nodded. “I’m not a regular employee. I’m filling in as needed. One employee is currently out of town and another is having a baby at the end of the month.”

  “Standing all day would be tiring if you’re pregnant.”

  “Portia’s been doing great up until now, but there’s no reason for her to push herself too hard.”

  Curiosity got the best of Chantelle. “Portia?”

  “She’s the one having a baby. I’m taking over some of her shifts, so Dakota doesn’t have to.”

  “You have time to do that?”

  “I’m between jobs right now.” His answer only raised more questions that were none of Chantelle’s business. “I don’t want Dakota to get too stressed. I’m here, so it makes sense to help out.”

  Something inside Chantelle melted a little. York Parker seemed like a nice, thoughtful guy. Based on her dating experience, those were a rare breed, and her interest in him grew. “You’re a good brother.”

  He shrugged. “I try to be.”

  She bet he succeeded more times than not. “Are you the oldest?”

  “Yes. I’m four years older than Dakota.”

  His answer didn’t surprise Chantelle.

  “What about you?” he asked.

  “I’m an only child.”

  “You get all the attention.”

  Got. Chantelle ignored the pang in her heart. She supposed that was one benefit, but she would have rather had siblings. Especially now that her dad was gone.

  York waved at his sister, but the woman’s forehead wrinkled when she saw Chantelle sitting with him. Protective of her brother or worried?

  Chantelle almost laughed. No one had anything to worry about with her. All she wanted was to taste chocolate tonight. The more delicious it was, the happier she’d be.

  He turned back to face her. “How do you like Marietta?”

  “I haven’t seen much of the town yet. Walking around is on tomorrow’s agenda.”

  He cocked an eyebrow. “You have an agenda?”

  If the shop’s chocolates were tasty enough for her uncle to make a purchase offer, then yes, she had an agenda, but until she knew more… “More like a plan.”

  One that didn’t include a good-looking guy who made her feel like she was a teenager with a crush. But she’d sat here and would stay put. That was the polite thing to do. She needed information about the shop and being rude would make her job harder.

  “Anything in particular I should see?” she said.

  “This is only my third day in town. When we were kids, we spent summer vacations here, so my favorites were the park and the movie theater. I’ll ask my sisters for suggestions. Dakota has lived here a few years. Nevada’s in town temporarily.”

  “Nevada and Dakota? Your sisters are named after states.”

  “So am I. My parents thankfully dropped the New from York.”

  “Geography buffs?”

  “My mom and dad haven’t told us why we were named after those states. Although, I have a pretty good idea.”

  The suggestive tone in his voice sent Chantelle’s pulse racing. “Maybe they just like those states.”

  “Maybe.” He didn’t sound convinced.

  “Not where you were born?”

  “I was born in Montana. My dad was overseas at the time. My mom was staying with her aunt and uncle, who lived in Marietta.”

  “I’m sure your parents had their reasons.”

  He nodded. “What’s it like being a chocolate expert?”

  Chantelle pulled one of the tasting forms toward her. It seemed to have all the correct information. “Best job ever.”

  He laughed. “Can’t beat that.”

  “You can’t.” She took a pencil and wrote her name on the sheet. No need to pull out her tablet. This would give her a place to take notes. “I travel all over the world, taste chocolate, and write about my experiences.”

  “Sounds like the perfect gig.”

  “It is.” Gig described what she’d been doing these past three years. She couldn’t wait to close this chapter in her life and move to France. She’d been doing what her uncle asked. At the same time, she’d built a solid reputation in the industry on her own. She would be an asset to Delacroix Chocolate.

  An older gentleman walked to the table. “Looks like another sold-out event at the chocolate shop.”

  “I heard that’s been happening lately,” York said. “Walt Grayson, this is Chantelle Cummings.”

  “You wrote The Chocolate Touch.” Walt’s grin reached his eyes. “I’m sorry I missed your event last night, but I’m enjoying your book. Chocolate is the sixth food group. A necessity for human survival.”

  “Thank you,” she said. “I like the way you think.”

  York smiled. “Walt is one of the regulars at Copper Mountain Chocolates.”

  Walt nodded. “One of many, though the staff makes us feel like we’re all VIPs.”

  “Does the shop have a strong clientele year round?” she asked him.

  “Yes,” Walt said. “Business has only gotten better since the shop started these once-a-month special events like tonight’s tasting.”

  Wanting to learn more from the man, she motioned to the empty chair across from her. “Why don’t you join us?”

  Walt sti
ffened, his smile fading. “I don’t want to intrude.”

  “You’re not,” York said. “This is the table for those who came alone. Speaking of which, where’s Bryce?”

  The smile returned, and Walt sat. “At home.”

  “When there’s chocolate to taste?” York asked.

  Walt sighed. “Can you believe my son doesn’t like chocolate?”

  “I’ve heard those people exist,” Chantelle joked. “But I’ve never actually met one.”

  “Well, if you come across Bryce Grayson while you’re in town, that’s him.” Walt shook his head as if he couldn’t understand his son. “On the flip side, his not liking chocolate means more for Dakota and me.”

  “Dakota and Walt’s son are dating,” York explained to Chantelle. “His son came to town when Walt broke both his legs last fall.”

  “I’m sorry that happened,” Chantelle said. She could imagine that must have been a tough time. “You seem to be getting around well now.”

  “I am. Thanks.” Walt’s blue eyes twinkled. “I worked hard with my PT so I could be ready when Bryce and Dakota make things official.”

  “They will, but there’s no rush.” York glanced at his sister on the other side of the shop. “That’s what my sister keeps saying, and I agree. Marriage can wait until Dakota’s ready.”

  “Did someone say my name?” Dakota placed a plate filled with apple slices and bread on each table. “The tasting will be starting shortly.”

  Chantelle couldn’t wait. She liked what she’d seen so far. The shop knew the importance of cleansing the palate between each piece being tasted. She hoped the chocolate didn’t disappoint.

  “Where’s Rosie?” Walt asked Dakota.

  “In Los Angeles with her brother,” Dakota said. “She planned the trip so she could be back in town before Portia has the baby.”

  Chantelle had no idea who they were discussing, but she made a mental note. Rosie must be another member of the staff, along with Dakota and Portia. York was temporary help.

  Now to see how Sage fit into all of this. Was she a hands-on owner? Was she a micro or macro manager? How committed was she to the chocolate shop?