by Teri Wilson
“No, there’s nothing I need to know.” She shook her head. “I told you. Leonardo Mezzanotte is none of my concern. Zero. None. At all.”
Alegra lifted a dubious brow. And that tiny, seemingly inconsequential gesture spoke volumes.
Thou doth protest too much.
Damn it. Juliet twisted the dishrag in her hands into a knot. “Fine. Spill. What is it?”
“He was engaged to be married.”
“So? Lots of people have failed engagements.” Juliet shrugged.
It was true. No big deal.
Then why are you wringing out that dishrag so tightly that your knuckles are white?
She threw it on the counter. “Look, I know he’s a Mezzanotte and therefore on equal moral footing as the Antichrist. But this is silly. We danced. He was once engaged. I see no connection between the two.”
“That dance you two shared—” Alegra picked up the abandoned dish towel and folded it into a neat square “—was on what would have been his wedding night.”
Juliet blinked. A couple times. “Wait. What?”
Alegra nodded. “Yep. The invitations had gone out and everything. Just a couple weeks ago he called it off. Out of nowhere. Poof. That poor girl. Can you imagine?”
No. No, she couldn’t. Nor did she want to.
Her stomach did a little flip. She’d kissed the man. And danced with him. On his almost-wedding night.
Common sense told her she was reacting over nothing. There’d been a diamond engagement ring in her evening bag at the very moment she’d grabbed Leo by the tie and reeled him in for a kiss. Who was she to judge?
Yet for some reason, she couldn’t get the image of him dancing with a woman in a fluffy white wedding gown out of her head. Nothing—not one thing—about her encounter with Leonardo Mezzanotte made sense. Common, or otherwise.
“Be careful. That’s all I’m trying to say. I don’t want you to get hurt.” Alegra cast her a cautious glance.
“I don’t need to be careful. I told you. Leo Mezzanotte is nothing to me, other than a competitor. The only thing I’m worried about right now is what he’s making for the festival tomorrow.” She told herself what she was saying was true.
“Enough talk of what’s going on across the street. We’ve still got loads to do if we’re going to be ready by tomorrow morning.” Alegra clamped the lid closed on the last box of glittery strawberries.
“I couldn’t agree more,” Juliet said, more than ready to abandon talk of Leonardo Mezzanotte, his degree from Le Cordon Bleu and his erstwhile fiancée.
She had over two hundred sea salt and maple bacon hearts ready and waiting to come out their silicone molds. And she couldn’t very well show up at Nuovo tomorrow without a few wine-inspired offerings. This was Napa Valley, after all. She’d already prepared dozens upon dozens of truffles—both milk chocolate champagne and dark chocolate Cabernet Sauvignon varieties—but they still needed to be rolled in confectioners’ sugar and cocoa powder. In short, she and Alegra still had plenty to keep them busy.
They worked silently, side by side, with Cocoa snoring at their feet, until sometime around one in the morning. Finally, when every last truffle, chocolate heart and strawberry had been packed up in insulated containers, it looked as if the bulk of the work was done.
“Why don’t you head on home? I can finish cleaning up this mess by myself.” Juliet grabbed a spray bottle of eco-cleanser and aimed it at the countertop.
“Are you sure?” Yawning, Alegra picked up a sponge. “Because I can stay.”
Juliet plucked the sponge out of her hand. “Go home. You’re dead on your feet.”
Alegra slipped her apron over her head. “Okay, but I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow morning. You’re picking me up at five, right?”
Five. Less than four hours away. Why, oh, why, were the hours just after sunrise the most stable for hot air ballooning? It hardly seemed fair. “I’ll be there.”
Juliet gave Alegra a quick hug and locked the door behind her. Cocoa whined and paced at the doorway, no doubt wondering if they’d ever get to go home, too.
Juliet gave the dog a comforting scratch under her chin. “Be patient, girlie. We’re just about done here.”
She wiped everything down as quickly as she could, starting with the countertop and finishing with the stainless steel sink. By the time she reached for Cocoa’s leash and flipped off the overhead light, her eyelids were growing heavy. She was weary to the bone.
Cocoa took full advantage of Juliet’s exhaustion by taking off into the darkness as soon as they stepped outside. The leash slipped right through Juliet’s fingers, and the big dog darted into the street.
“Cocoa!” she screamed, her heart leaping straight to her throat. “No!”
Great. This was the last thing she needed.
At least it was far too late at night to worry about Cocoa being hit by a car. This area of town was typically deserted after midnight. Still, she didn’t know what she’d do if Cocoa got lost. And it really wasn’t like her to run off.
Juliet ran after her and soon found the impetus for the dog’s hasty getaway—a tiny white ball of fluff masquerading as another dog. The miniscule thing was quivering on her back, belly-up in the grass on the opposite side of the road while Cocoa sniffed her from head to tail.
“Cocoa, what have you got there, a new little friend?”
Cocoa’s tail beat against the ground in a happy tempo.
Juliet bent to pick up the end of the leash and to check the little white poodle for identification tags. As soon as she squatted down, a familiar masculine voice pierced the darkness.
“Her name is Sugar.”
Juliet flew upright. “Leo. What are you doing here?”
“I could ask you the same thing.” He nodded to the quaint shop less than five feet away, with its delicate white gingerbread trim and scrolling, decorative window script.
Mezzanotte Chocolates.
Oh, God. For all practical purposes, she was standing in the Mezzanottes’ front yard.
“I’m sorry. It’s my dog...she ran across the street, and I just followed her. I wasn’t thinking.” Panic coiled in Juliet’s belly. At least she assumed it was panic, even though it felt oddly like anticipation. Maybe even some sort of longing.
Clearly she was sleep deprived.
Leo’s mouth curved into a wicked smile. “By all means, don’t apologize.”
Juliet took a giant step backward and almost tumbled over Cocoa and her petite companion.
“Careful, there.” Leo reached for her, and before she could register what was happening, he’d managed to scoop her up in his arms and deposit her back on her feet in perilously close proximity to himself.
The words sweep me off my feet swirled in Juliet’s consciousness. She blinked. Hard. “Thank you. Well, I should get going before someone sees...”
Her gaze darted toward the warm cozy light coming from the windows of Mezzanotte Chocolates.
“No one’s here. Just me. Your secret is safe.” He lifted an amused brow. “Again.”
She cleared her throat. Why did this keep happening? She’d managed to avoid Mezzanotte territory her whole life up until the past week. Accidentally, of course.
There are no accidents. Only fate.
Isn’t that what her mother was always saying? She wondered what her mom would think about the hands of fate leading her daughter to the door of Mezzanotte Chocolates.
On the other hand, maybe she didn’t want to know what her mother would think about anything having to do with Leo.
“I’ve been meaning to thank you, actually,” she said.
“For?” His voice was like melted caramel. Warm. Rich. Smooth.
“For keeping your promise and not saying anything to your family abou
t the circumstances surrounding our meeting. I owe you a debt of gratitude.” A salty ocean breeze drifted through the valley, lifting Juliet’s hair and sending it flying in all directions.
“‘The circumstances surrounding our meeting?’ That sounds awfully clinical. Forgive me, but I don’t remember it quite that way.” He reached for an errant strand of her hair and tucked it behind her ear.
A shiver coursed through her. Juliet would have loved to blame it on the gentle wind, but she would have just been fooling herself. “Fine. Thank you for not mentioning the kiss.”
He tilted his head, his blue eyes searching, probing. “Don’t you mean the kisses? I’m certain there were more than one.”
Like she’d kept count. He’d pretty much kissed away her ability to reason, much less undertake anything involving math. “You know what I mean.”
“Yes, I believe I do.” His gaze fell squarely on her mouth.
She needed to get out of here. Immediately. Before she did something monumentally stupid.
She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. “Like I said, I should go. I have an early day tomorrow.”
She gestured to the dogs. Cocoa had lowered herself to a commando crawl position and was thus now on even ground with the poodle. The little dog was pawing at the big one with dainty swipes of her paws. “You said her name was Sugar? Do you know who she belongs to?”
His muscular shoulders rose and fell. “Sure, I do. She’s mine.”
Juliet snorted with laughter. “You’re telling me that this is your dog?”
“Yes.”
Why wasn’t he laughing? Surely this was a joke. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
He furrowed his brow. “What’s wrong with my dog?”
“Look at her.” Juliet waved a hand at the petite poodle and saw something twinkle in the moonlight. Was that a rhinestone collar? Oh, this was just too good to be true. “She’s miniscule. And a little on the feminine side. And you’re...well, you’re...”
Now she was in trouble. How was she supposed to complete that thought without mentioning his obvious masculinity? His commanding presence? His big, strong hands? The lean, hard muscles she knew lay buried beneath his shirt?
He crossed his arms and narrowed his gaze at her. Even in the semidarkness, the mischief in his blue eyes was clearly visible. “I think the words you’re looking for are virile and manly.”
Bingo.
She swallowed and looked away. “Those work, I suppose.”
“Come inside.” He nodded toward the chocolate shop.
Surely she’d heard him wrong. “What?”
“You heard me. Come inside.”
He’d thrown out the invitation so casually, as if it were no big deal. As if crossing that threshold wouldn’t be tantamount to treason.
He was delusional. She’d never in her life come close to setting foot in the Mezzanottes’ store. To her knowledge, no Arabella ever had.
“No. Absolutely not.” She turned to go, picking up Cocoa’s leash and giving it a gentle tug.
“Suit yourself,” he called after her. “I was experimenting with a new menu item and thought you might like to try it. But if you’re not interested...”
Juliet’s footsteps slowed.
A new menu item?
All week she’d been dying to know what he’d been up to over here. She found it impossible to believe the Mezzanottes would waste the kind of specialty training Leo had undergone in Paris. They were far too shrewd to make a mistake like that. Hadn’t history proven as much?
His grandmother had stolen her grandmother’s recipe right out from under her nose. And the decades since had been filled with backstabbing rumors, innuendos and acts of sabotage. When she was a little girl, she’d seen Leo’s father sneak into their store and drop a live rat from his pocket. The health department had shown up in less than ten minutes. So she knew good and well the Mezzanottes had something up their sleeve. They always did. Why would now be any different?
She could stay for a minute. Five, tops. Just to check things out. It could be an investigation of sorts.
“How about it?” The timbre of Leo’s voice dropped a notch, and she couldn’t help but remember the way he’d sounded when he’d gently lifted her mask from her face at the masquerade ball.
Lovely, he’d said, gazing down at her, his tone riding a fine line between tenderness and heat.
Sometimes when she closed her eyes she could hear that word, exactly as he’d said it that night.
Exactly as he sounded right now.
She turned to face him. The memory of a black velvet night spent kissing among the grapes of the Manocchio Vineyard danced between them, a sultry, irresistible rumba. Juliet could feel its slow, beckoning rhythm, beating in time with her heart.
Who was she kidding? Leo’s chocolates weren’t the only things she wanted to investigate.
That would have been his wedding night.
“I don’t think so.” She sounded breathless, maybe because she was breathless. Again.
Damn it.
She’d held on to a slender thread of hope that their first meeting had been a fluke. She’d even prayed for it to be so. It didn’t seem possible that the one man who could make her feel this way was the only one who was so strictly off-limits.
It was no fluke. That much was certain.
“You disappoint me, Juliet. As you said, you do owe me a debt of gratitude. The least you can do is act as my taste tester on this one occasion.” He tilted his head, and his gaze traveled from her eyes to her lips, down to the base of her throat, where her pulse had begun to pound wildly out of control.
She couldn’t think of anything more dangerous than spending another second alone with Leonardo Mezzanotte.
On the other hand, what harm could one little bite of chocolate do?
Loads.
There were no words for the kind of harm that could come from an Arabella crossing the threshold of Mezzanotte Chocolates. Swimming with sharks would no doubt be a safer activity.
She opened her mouth, fully intent on saying no, but what came out sounded an awful lot like, “Okay, just this once.”
Probably because that’s precisely what she said.
6
Leo couldn’t help but notice Juliet looked a little shell-shocked as she stood in the entryway of the shop, her enormous dog leaning against her legs.
“I can’t believe it. I’m standing inside Mezzanotte Chocolates.” She shook her head, sending waves of hair the exact color of a perfect Belgian praline tumbling over her shoulders, down her back.
Her dog—he thought she’d called it Cocoa—released a single, ear-splitting bark.
Sugar flinched. Leo doubted she even recognized the sound. Nothing remotely that loud or deep had ever come from her tiny mouth.
Juliet spun in a slow circle, her eyes wide, taking in her surroundings. “It’s really quite charming.”
“I know the Mezzanottes are your sworn enemy.” Woof. “But surely this isn’t the first time you’ve been here.”
She laughed. “Oh, I assure you, it is. When I was a little girl, I thought I would burst into flames if I ever walked through the door of Mezzanotte Chocolates.”
Woof.
Leo narrowed his gaze at Cocoa. “Is it my imagination, or does your dog bark every time she hears my last name?”
Juliet’s cheeks flushed a stirring shade of pink. “Maybe.”
Leo refused to believe it. There were already more than enough opinions about this heated flirtation he and Juliet had going on without adding her dog’s to the mix.
He looked at Cocoa again. She’d slumped to her belly, and was resting calmly with her head on her shaggy, outstretched legs at Juliet’s feet.
The only way
to know for certain was to put his theory to the test. “Mezzanotte.”
Cocoa’s head popped up. Woof.
Leo slid his gaze to Juliet. Her flush intensified.
“Arabella,” he said, doing his best to ignore the musical way the word rolled off his tongue.
Cocoa simply yawned.
“Butter.”
Nothing. No reaction at all.
“Cream.”
Still more silence.
“Mezzanotte.”
Woof.
Leo shook his head. “Well, I’ll be damned.”
“Sorry.” Juliet bit her plump bottom lip, which was enough to make Leo forget about the crazy dog.
Almost.
“Did you teach her to do that?” He nodded toward Cocoa.
“Don’t be silly. Of course not. It’s just something she picked up. I don’t know why you’re so surprised.” She rolled her gorgeous green eyes.
“You don’t know why I’m surprised that your dog hates me?” He frowned at Cocoa. “And she’s rather vocal about it, too.”
“She doesn’t hate you. She’s just accustomed to your name being said in the heat of the moment, that’s all. It’s kind of brilliant, actually. She picked it up all on her own. You should be impressed.”
“Oh, it’s made an impression.” Animals loved him. He’d rescued Sugar off the streets of Paris. Her coat had been so matted and filthy, he’d been surprised to discover she was white once he’d cleaned her up.
Maybe it was time for Sugar and Cocoa to have a chat.
“I tried to tell you the feud was serious. You wouldn’t listen.” Juliet rested her hand on Cocoa’s head. The dog’s tail thumped against the hardwood floor.
Leo would be willing to bet the dog had no idea where she was. And he wasn’t about to tell her. “Trust me. I’ve since been properly schooled in the seriousness of the matter.”
“You, too?” Juliet smiled, but there was subtle sadness about her that unsettled him.
He’d heard about Royal Gourmet dropping the Arabellas like a stone. The news had been delivered courtesy of his uncle Joe, of course, who’d been beside himself with glee. No doubt the hostility between their families only exacerbated the situation.
