Chocolate Kisses

by Francis Ray

  Her breath caught. Reaching in she withdrew the miniature cake, inhaling the rich aromas of cocoa and coffee. Unable to resist, she popped one of the pecans in her mouth and sighed with pleasure. But as delicious as it was, there was another taste that she remembered, craved . . . Lucian’s.

  Her eyes popped open. Quickly she placed the cake back into the box, put the top back on, and took it to the kitchen as if she could put away the erotic memories of Lucian as easily. He was not disrupting her life again.

  On Tuesday, Miranda received a chocolate-raspberry tart wrapped in chocolate-colored foil and tied with another beautiful bow, this one raspberry-colored. She’d eaten the tart in one sitting, just as she had eventually eaten the cake last night.

  By Wednesday morning at 8:45 she was waiting for the messenger, who had arrived promptly at nine both days. If she didn’t stop eating all that chocolate she wouldn’t be able to fit into the clothes for the trunk show.

  Since she had no willpower, there was only one way: She had to refuse the delivery. She was torn by her decision because she wouldn’t know the chocolate treat he’d sent, or read the sweet note. Tuesday it had read:

  Chocolate was once thought to be a sacred source of power and strength. You possess those same qualities. Your design will be stunning. Dinner?

  Lucian

  She had to give it to Lucian: He was as persistent now as when they were in college together. And since she now knew the intense pleasure found in his arms, resistance was much more difficult. For too long there had been no time for a social life. She’d sometimes worked eighteen-hour days to get where she was.

  But his note had inadvertently reminded her of why she couldn’t take him up on his offer. She was no closer to coming up with the design than she was a month ago.

  She glanced at her watch: 9:05 A.M. Brushing the sheer drapery aside, she looked out the bay window in the living room. There was no white delivery van in sight. Nor was there one at nine thirty or ten.

  Miranda didn’t know what to think. Had Lucian stopped sending the treats because when she’d called both days to thank him she had left the message with his secretary, refusing to wait until she was connected to him? Or was the messenger running late?

  She peered out the window again. She certainly couldn’t call and ask. Nor could she stand there for the rest of the day. She headed to her room for her sketch pad. Today was going to be different.

  “Everything is ready for your inspection, Mr. Faulkner.”

  Lucian glanced up from the monthly report he had been going over. Closing the folder, he stood. “Thank you, LaWanna.” He glanced at his watch: 6:15. “Is the limo here?”

  “Waiting with a chilled bottle of Dom Pérignon and a single red rose.”

  “Excellent.” He came around the desk. “Thanks for staying late.”

  “I wouldn’t have missed it,” she said, following him out of her office on the fifth floor of the office building to the elevator, her notebook in her arm.

  He chuckled. “I bet the employees are wondering what’s going on.”

  “I think they have a pretty good idea,” she said.

  The elevator door opened. Devin, his expression thoughtful, stepped back. “Just on my way to see you.”

  “The office grapevine is working well, I see,” Lucian said without heat. Stepping inside he punched G.

  Folding his arms, Devin leaned against the oak-paneled wall. “You’re a fast learner.”

  “You sound disturbed,” Lucian answered.

  “You’re making it very difficult for the rest of us to top you.”

  “You haven’t seen anything yet,” Lucian said, stepping off the elevator.

  “That’s what I was afraid of,” Devin said, and followed.

  Chapter Four

  MIRANDA OPENED THE REFRIGERATOR Wednesday night and groaned. It was as bare as it had been the other times she’d looked. She didn’t know how Simone subsisted on yogurt, fruit, and cottage cheese, but she had warned Miranda. She’d planned on taking a cab to the grocery store today, but hadn’t gone for fear of missing the deliveryman. The door closed with a thud.

  She had waited all day for nothing. Served her right. She shouldn’t have been so sure Lucian would keep sending her chocolates.

  Putting your faith in any man is the first step to heartache.

  Miranda heard her mother’s words as clearly as if she had been standing in the room. She threaded her fingers through her hair. Her mother was right again, and Miranda’s stomach was paying the price.

  So she’d order takeout again. She opened the drawer for the phone book just as the doorbell rang. The deliveryman. Shoving the drawer closed, she hurried to the front door.

  Whatever he had, she was accepting. Maybe that was Lucian’s plan; to throw her off guard and catch her at a weak moment. She was too hungry to worry about his strategy or the pounds.

  Unlocking the door, she swung the door open. Her eyes widened in surprise. “Lucian.”

  The smile on his face disappeared. “You didn’t check to see who it was first?”

  “I—I thought it was the deliveryman,” she confessed, darting a quick glance at the stretch limo in the driveway.

  His dimpled smile returned. “In a way you’re right.” He handed her a long-stemmed red rose. “The rest was too big to deliver. You’ll have to go to it.”

  “Lucian, I’m not sure about this.”

  “I am.” He knuckles tenderly grazed her cheek. “Come with me. If you don’t like the surprise or want to stay, I’ll bring you back.”

  Was it sensible to go with a man who with just one touch could make her knees weak? What would happen if he did more . . . if he touched her in all the secret places she still craved to have him touch, no matter how hard she tried not to?

  “Please. I promise to be on my best behavior.”

  Having a man as handsome as Lucian practically begging her to go with him was difficult to resist. Besides, if nothing else, she could ask him to stop for takeout on the way back. It was partly his fault that all she’d had to eat that day was an apple.

  “I have to change.”

  “No, you don’t,” he told her, taking in her slim-fitting black slacks and white blouse. “You look perfect.”

  Since he wore a houndstooth sports jacket with a white shirt and no tie, she decided not to argue. “I’ll get my purse.”

  In her bedroom she gasped on seeing her hair standing up on her head and her face devoid of makeup. She quickly took care of both. It wasn’t primping. She didn’t know where Lucian was taking her. People expected a fashion designer always to be flawless.

  “Ready.”

  He closed the front door, then took her by the arm and led her to the limo. As soon as they were seated the driver took off. “Champagne?”

  She shook her head. “Not on an empty stomach.”

  “Haven’t been grocery shopping yet,” he correctly guessed.

  “I plan to do it tomorrow,” she said. She wasn’t about to tell him why the pantry was still bare.

  “How did the design go today?” he asked.

  She sighed. She’d rather not talk about that either. “Not very well.”

  “What are you aiming for?” he asked, giving her his full attention and appearing genuinely interested. It was all the encouragement she needed.

  “Romantic, glamorous, alluring.” She lifted her slim hand, only to let it fall again. “A fabulous creation that will make a woman feel seductive yet elegant.” A thought struck. “When you look at a woman, what draws your attention?”

  He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “I don’t know.”

  She smiled and folded one long leg underneath her. “Come on, Lucian. You said we’d toss ideas.”

  “Yes, but I didn’t know they might get me in trouble.” He frowned. “Why don’t you talk with Devin? He’s the ladies’ man.”

  “You were listed in People as an eligible bachelor as well.” Her gaze narrowed. “In fact, a couple of
women at the bridal shower were practically drooling over you.”

  “I was too busy drooling over you to notice,” he said softly.

  Her pulse raced. She had been doing the same thing over him. “Th-that will not get you out of answering the question.”

  “All right. Let’s see.” His gaze slid over her like silent fingers, lingering on her parted lips, her full breasts. “I assume you mean clothes?”

  She drew in a shaky breath. “Do you notice her or the clothes first?”

  “Depends on the woman. It could be the seductive innocence of a young woman on the verge of learning the power of her sexuality, or the lure of a woman who knows her power.”

  Miranda’s breath snagged. He was talking about her when they had first met and now.

  Lucian fingered the silky material of the collar of her blouse, then lowered his hand until his knuckles rested lightly on her breast. “If she’s wearing soft, feminine clothes that shape to her body, it makes a man wonder if her skin is as soft underneath. If he already knows the answer he anxiously waits for the time they’ll be alone so he can explore all the hidden places that only he is allowed to see, to taste, to savor.”

  She couldn’t have spoken if her life depended on it. All she could do was wait for his mouth to slowly descend toward hers. The first, tender brush of his warm lips caused her eyes to close, her body to shiver, the ache to sharpen.

  “Miranda. Sweet Miranda.”

  As if she were a piece of his delectable chocolate, he nibbled on her mouth, slowly driving her senseless with need. By the time he finally covered her mouth with his to deepen the kiss, she was whimpering and clinging to him. His large hand gently cupped her breast; his thumb raked across the nipple, wringing another cry from her.

  His head lifted and he crushed her to him. “I should have waited to kiss you, but you’re too tempting.” Taking a deep breath, he set her away from him, rebuttoned her blouse, and ran a shaky hand though her hair. “I hope you’ll forgive my bad manners when you see your surprise.”

  Miranda realized they had reached their destination and blushed. She’d been too lost in Lucian to notice.

  “We’ve only just stopped,” Lucian reassured her as if reading her mind. Getting out, he reached back to help her.

  Fighting embarrassment, she took his hand and stepped out. She straightened and gasped. On the bank of a small lake was a beautiful harem-style tent in bold colors of red, blue, and gold. The opening was tied back with gold rope and tassels to reveal two high-backed red-cushioned seats and a table with a lamp on top. Several waiters stood nearby.

  “I take it you approve,” he said.

  “Lucian, it’s breathtaking.”

  “If it makes you happy, it must be.” Circling her waist, he escorted her to her seat.

  Almost immediately they were served the first of six courses that consisted of lobsters, sablefish, and lamb laced with Valrhona chocolate from France. Soft music played in the background. From their seats they could see the full moon suspended over the placid water of the lake.

  When the waiter started to serve the white-chocolate cheesecake with a brownie crust, Miranda shook her head. “I couldn’t eat another bite.”

  “Please box it,” Lucian requested. “Coffee?”

  “No, thank you. I can’t eat or drink another thing,” she said, smiling across the table at him. “I’ve never eaten a more scrumptious meal.”

  “I’ll convey your comments to my chef. Few people realize that chocolate has the ideal flavor profile to coax out the subtler qualities in food.” He stood. “I’d like to show you something.”

  She didn’t hesitate to give him her hand. “Lead on.”

  Smiling, he circled her waist, pulling her close. “We should be able to get a glimpse of them in the moonlight.”

  “Them?”

  “Yes. We’ll have to be quiet. Just a few yards farther.”

  Willing to follow instructions, Miranda walked beside Lucian, enjoying the beautiful night, the tender way he held her, the heat and hardness of his body against hers, the spicy scent of his cologne.

  “There.”

  It took Miranda a few moments to stop thinking about Lucian and follow the direction he was pointing. At first she didn’t see anything, but as her eyes adjusted to the night and with the help of the full moon she finally saw what he was pointing at—several black swans.

  “Lucian, they’re beautiful,” she whispered.

  Stepping behind her, he curved his arms around her waist, drawing her back against him. “This end of the lake is more of a wetland for them, and far enough away from the main plant that they’re undisturbed.” He kissed the top of her head. “They’re very territorial and mate for life.”

  “Too bad people aren’t the same way,” she said, unable to keep the regret out of her voice.

  Slowly he turned her to him, staring down into her face. “You never talked much about your parents except to say they divorced when you were young and that your father died two years later.”

  She shrugged. “What else was there to say? On the other hand, you always talked about your close-knit family and the crazy things you and Devin did while growing up.”

  He studied her closely. “It wasn’t that easy for you, was it?”

  “I made it, and that’s all that matters.” She turned toward the swans. “How did they get here?”

  For a long moment he was silent, then: “It was my parents’ idea to acquire the first pair after seeing them in Australia when they were on their second honeymoon. By the time the swans were settled it was decided that they would be the perfect symbol of love and devotion for our chocolates.” His hands rested on her shoulders. “They’re nesting now. If you plan to be here for the next few weeks, you can come back to see their chicks.”

  “I’d like that.” She glanced over her shoulder at him. “Can we go back now?”

  Once again he hesitated. “Certainly.” Taking her hand, he led her back.

  They were twenty feet from the tent when a gust of wind caught the end of the flap loosened by the workman taking it down and sent the silk brocade material flapping in the night breeze. With the night backdrop and the lanterns around the tent, the sight was a beautiful dazzle of color.

  “Looks like I’d better give them a hand,” Lucian said.

  “Wait!” Miranda caught his arm, her eyes glued to the unrestrained cloth.

  “What is it?”

  “The way the light catches the material gave me an idea for my design.”

  “Leave it alone,” he shouted, causing the two men unsuccessfully trying to catch the material to stop and stare at him. The chef and the servers had already left.

  Eagerly Miranda started forward. “I need pen and paper.”

  Lucian handed her a pen and a small notepad from the breast pocket of his jacket. She shook her head. “Bigger.”

  “I have a notebook in my briefcase in the limo.”

  Lucian was back in no time, giving her a tablet.

  “Thanks.” Her hand flew across the page, noting color as she sketched a voluptuous, floor-length black cape lined in red satin over a long-sleeved clinging red gown that plunged to a waist, cinched with a sparkling jeweled buckle.

  Lucian watched Miranda’s hand dance across the page, her brow knitted in concentration as she stared at the tent, her mouth softening when the idea hit, then after ten minutes, a pleased expression taking over her face when she finally turned to him.

  “Can I see?”

  She didn’t hesitate. “It’s not finished, but it’s a good beginning. Thanks to you.”

  “I can see you in this,” he said. “The cape will make people wonder what is underneath, and when they see, they’ll be spellbound.”

  “You understand,” she said, amazed.

  He stared down at her. “It’s what I feel when I look at you.”

  Emotions clogged her throat. “Lucian, don’t do this to me.”

  “Do what?”

&nbs
p; “Make me want you.” She hugged the sketch closer to her. “I can’t go though that again.”

  “Miranda . . .” he began, but she had already turned and started toward the limo.

  Lucian’s troubled gaze followed; then he turned to the two men. “You can continue now. Thank you.” He wasn’t sure how the wonderful night had gone so terribly wrong, but he intended to find out. Miranda was not walking out on him again.

  Miranda was miserable. Arms folded, she stared out the window of the limo, too aware of Lucian’s silent presence beside her to pay attention to the passing scenery. She only hoped he thought the sniffling sounds she kept making were from a cold and not her attempt to keep tears from falling.

  She’d badly miscalculated her ability to resist Lucian and his effect on her. Not even the final breakthrough of designing the gown helped eased the emptiness she felt. Without him she would still be stuck, and each time she thought of or saw the gown she’d remember him and his words that had gone straight to her heart.

  It’s what I feel when I look at you.

  “We’re here.”

  Startled by his voice, she looked at him sitting at the other end of the seat. “What?”

  “Grocery store,” he said simply. “You’ll probably be too busy tomorrow to think about grocery shopping. I don’t want you hungry.” Opening his door, he came around and opened hers. “Since you don’t have much, this should be pretty easy.”

  Miranda got out of the car and stared at Lucian. She had rejected him and he still thought of her welfare. “Why aren’t you angry with me?”

  His hand tenderly cupped her face. “My anger helped drive you away before. I learned my lesson.”

  She shook her head, misery in her face and voice. “It wasn’t your fault. I couldn’t stay.”

  He stepped closer, staring down into her troubled face. “Why, Miranda? Was it something I did or didn’t do? Why did you leave?”

  “My dream,” she whispered softly, then stepped back on legs that wobbled. It was time. “My work has to take precedence over everything. It did then and it always will.”