by Teri Wilson
Knees definitely weakening.
Juliet crossed her arms in an effort to hold herself together. “Earlier today I saw you talking to George. What was that about?”
Leo’s eyes softened. “Juliet...”
He didn’t need to say another word. So it was true. The French Laundry would be serving Leo’s chocolat chaud while Arabella Chocolate Boutique faded further into oblivion.
“I see,” she said, swallowing what little was left of her pride.
“It’s nothing personal. It’s business.” The wistfulness in his tone seemed to scrape Juliet raw, from the inside out.
Everything about him—the concern in his gaze, the care with which he chose his words—told her that he had a good idea of how much trouble her business was in, and he felt badly about it. He probably even felt sorry for her.
The look on his face was the wake-up call she so desperately needed. As much as she’d been through in recent weeks, being on the receiving end of pity from a Mezzanotte was a new low.
“Everything about this is personal. It was personal between our grandmothers, and it’s personal between the rest of our family.” She drained her cup. The sparkling wine fizzed on her tongue, and her head spun a little, but with each sip she was forgetting how heroic she’d found Leo before he pitied her. “Why wouldn’t it be personal between you and me?”
“So, you’d have me refuse the generous offer from your former fiancé?” His eyes narrowed. The knot in his jaw throbbed to life. And he looked a little less intent on kissing her.
Good.
“Of course not. I’m simply saying we can’t separate ourselves from our businesses. That’s precisely why this balloon ride, romantic as it is, is not a date.”
He smiled again. A cocky, satisfied grin this time. “So, you find it romantic. I knew it.”
“You’re impossible.” She grabbed his arm, lifted it over her head and slipped out from his grasp. “And you’re going down next weekend at the Napa Valley Chocolate Fair. I’m going to murder you. Consider yourself warned.”
He reached for the bottle of Nuovo, refilled her cup and poured one for himself. Then he winked at her as he clicked their cups together in a toast. “I look forward to it.”
* * *
“Let me get this straight.” Marco frowned into his beer and shook his head. After a long, painful pause, he finally looked up at Leo. “You and Juliet Arabella.”
Leo nodded reluctantly. He wasn’t exactly thrilled to be having this conversation. Not one to beat around the bush, however, he’d taken the direct approach as soon as they’d found a table at what had to be the noisiest sports bar in Sonoma Valley, and served up the truth, along with Marco’s bottle of Fat Tire. Not that Leo had a full grasp of the truth himself.
There’s something going on between Juliet and me. That had been the extent of his announcement.
Vague much? He tipped back his bottle of beer and took a long, cold swallow. He might have been more forthcoming with his brother-in-law if he’d had half a clue about what he was doing with Juliet. He still wasn’t sure if they’d actually gone on a date or not.
“You and Juliet,” Marco repeated, as if saying it enough times would make it more believable.
“Yes. That’s the big secret. The cat is officially out of the bag.” Behind Leo, a bowling ball thundered down the lane and crashed into a cluster of pins. His head thundered along with it. Between the bowling, the shuffleboard and the half-dozen big screen TVs, this place was killing him. “But this is between you and me only. I have enough of a headache as it is without Uncle Joe getting wind of this.”
Marco’s brow furrowed. “Wait. Isn’t Juliet engaged to George Alcott?”
Why was he constantly having to answer that question? And why did the thought of George and Juliet together never fail to make Leo’s blood boil?
“No,” he said through clenched teeth.
“I know. I’m just messing with you, bro.” Marco laughed. “I’ve been wondering why you seem to hate that guy so much. Now I know—you’re jealous.”
The night was getting better and better. “Shut the hell up, would you? I’m not jealous. I just wish you’d get your facts straight.”
Marco pinned him with a look. “Gladly. Although you’ve pretty much blindsided me. What exactly are the facts?”
Leo had no idea. But he knew she wasn’t marrying George Alcott. That was the one fact he was perfectly clear on.
He managed not to sigh. “It’s complicated.”
Marco’s bottle of beer paused midway to his mouth. “Complicated? That sounds like more than just a one-time thing. Are you two a couple now?”
Leo’s memory snagged on their balloon ride. She’d stuck to her guns. There’d been no kiss. There’d been a threat or two, but definitely no kiss.
I’m going to murder you.
For some sick reason, he’d enjoyed that as much as a kiss. Almost as much, anyway. She wanted to murder him, and he had no interest in being someone’s soul mate. “No. Definitely not.”
Marco shrugged. “Then you need to put a stop to it. Whatever it is. Sooner rather than later.”
Leo’s grip tightened around his beer bottle. “Not going to happen.”
Marco groaned. He looked about as thrilled as Alegra Arabella had when she’d been dialing the cops. “Have you lost your mind? This thing has disaster written all over it. Gina will have a fit when she hears about it.”
Leo glared at his brother-in-law across the table. “No, she won’t. Because you’re not going to tell her.”
“I don’t have much of a choice. I can’t keep something like this from her. That’s how marriage works.” Marco shook his head. “You’d know that if you’d gone through with the wedding.”
So now they were going to discuss his failed engagement, too? Great. He was beginning to appreciate how much easier life had been in Paris, when he didn’t have to worry about his family meddling in every aspect of his life.
But if life in Paris had been so grand, what was he doing back in the States?
“Rose has nothing to do with this.”
“You sure about that, bro? I mean, the timing screams rebound. And if that’s what this is, couldn’t you pick someone else? Anyone else? Except her cousin. That Alegra Arabella is downright scary.”
Leo signaled the waitress for another round. Clearly, this was a multi-beer discussion. “This isn’t a rebound thing.”
He’d never loved Rose. He wasn’t even sure he liked her much. He wasn’t proud that he’d let things get so out of hand, but it was what it was. He knew better now. He wasn’t made for marriage.
Besides, things were different. He was home. And in the short span of a week, things at Mezzanotte Chocolates were better than they’d been in years. He was a success here. As opposed to Paris, where he’d been just another French-trained chocolatier.
“This thing with Juliet is...” He had trouble choosing an adjective. So many applied. Intense. Unexpected. Maddening. “Different.”
How could he explain what had come over him when he’d first seen her standing barefoot in the vineyard that night? When he’d lifted the mask from her face and gotten his first full glimpse of her emerald eyes and her pillowy, blush-colored lips? Something had shifted inside him at that moment. Whatever it was had felt every bit as real as the moist, fertile ground beneath his feet, the grape-scented night breeze swirling around them and the starlight twinkling overhead. He’d had the surreal feeling that their meeting had been orchestrated by a higher power. Like fate, or destiny. Or some other nebulous force Leo had never before believed in.
Which made him sound crazy.
So he kept his mouth shut about all that.
“Look, when I met Juliet, I didn’t know who she was. All I know is that I felt like I’d never see
n true beauty until that night. I realize that doesn’t make sense, especially now that I know she’s an Arabella. It’s inconvenient, to say the least. But you can’t tell Gina. Not yet. I need more time.” He still sounded borderline nuts. Just how much alcohol had he consumed over the course of the day?
Marco exhaled a long, weary sigh. “I can’t believe I’m even considering lying for you about this. More time to do what? Get her out of your system?”
That actually sounded reasonable. Juliet had made it more than clear she had no interest in a real relationship with him. And Leo certainly wasn’t looking for love. But he wasn’t ready to let her go, either. What he really wanted was to be rid of the overwhelming need she’d created in him and clear his head of these ridiculous notions of fate and destiny. “Yes. Exactly.”
“How much time are we talking about?” Marco drummed his fingers on the table.
“I don’t know.” He would have thought he’d have been more than happy to move on once he’d discovered what a mess he’d wandered into. He should have run for the hills when Alegra got involved, or when Juliet’s first instinct at getting caught with him was to hide in the bottom of a hot air balloon gondola. But apparently he was a glutton for punishment. Besides, she’d looked kinda cute huddled at his feet like that.
“You’ve got a week. I won’t say a word until we get through the Napa Valley Chocolate Fair. Gina will be too preoccupied worrying about it to even notice anything else. But after that, all bets are off.”
Marco set his empty beer down and headed toward one of the shuffleboard tables. He glanced over his shoulder. “Are you coming, or what?”
Apparently, his time frame was nonnegotiable. Fine. Leo was actually somewhat surprised. He’d expected Marco to be on the phone with Gina ratting him out before they’d finished the first round.
Leo swallowed what was left of his beer and rose from his chair.
A week. Seven days to come up with a winning entry for the Napa Valley Chocolate Fair.
Seven days to seduce Juliet Arabella without interference from his family, all while she was plotting to take him down in the chocolate war.
Seven days to come to his senses.
It wasn’t much time, but he’d take what he could get.
11
After dusk had fallen, after all the white food tents had been dismantled, and after Juliet surmised that every last drop of Leo’s award-winning chocolat chaud had been consumed, the rolling hills surrounding the Nuovo Winery were still dotted with illuminated hot air balloons. They shone like a string of oversize Christmas lights in the darkness.
Closing the balloon festival with a Night Glow was a long-held tradition. The balloons were inflated as if they were going to ascend, but instead were held in place by the ground crews. Their burners ignited every so often to keep the balloons full of hot air. The result was a spectacular display visible from one end of Napa Valley to the other.
Juliet was grateful for the light show as she drove from the winery to the animal hospital. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so sleep deprived. A few hundred oversize lightbulbs bobbing on the hillside might have been the only things keeping her from falling asleep at the wheel. All she wanted to do after she picked up her sick dog was relax on the sofa with Cocoa’s head in her lap while they watched Cupcake Wars.
She’d pretty much had the day from hell. Yesterday hadn’t exactly been a cakewalk, but today was no improvement. She wasn’t sure which had been worse—the epic strawberry disaster or Leo being crowned king of hot chocolate. And then there’d been her mother’s surprise visit. Thankfully, by the time Juliet had floated back down to earth in the hot air balloon, her mom was already long gone, no doubt making Nico’s life miserable behind the counter of Arabella Chocolate Boutique.
Juliet had felt guilty when she’d realized that while she’d been sipping champagne and doing her best to somehow not end up in Leo’s arms again, Alegra had taken the brunt of the strawberry fallout. Well, she’d felt guilty for a little while. Until she realized that if Alegra was truly scarred from the experience, she could always cry into her shiny new iPad.
The animal hospital was more hectic than it had been the night before. A line of worried-looking people, some cradling kittens or puppies, snaked around the waiting area. Juliet took her place in line behind a man holding a coughing dog. At least she thought it was a dog. It was completely hairless. As smooth as a baby’s bottom.
Juliet wiggled her nose. Was it her imagination, or did the animal smell like baby lotion?
“Miss Arabella?” The vet tech who’d helped Cocoa the night before motioned to her from the hallway.
Oh, no. What now? Had Cocoa taken a turn for the worse, or was she suffering from withdrawal from Leo’s award-winning chocolat chaud like everyone else in Napa Valley?
Juliet left her place in line behind the naked dog and approached the vet tech. “Yes? Is something wrong?”
He shook his head. “No. Cocoa is doing as well as can be expected. She’s lost a fair amount of weight, but that’s normal. She’s tired and ready to go home. You’ll need to limit her activity for a week or so, which shouldn’t be much of a problem since she’s feeling a little lethargic. You’ll also need to keep her on a special bland diet. Boiled chicken and white rice are best. I can also give you a few cans of special prescription food.”
Juliet nodded. “I understand.”
She’d be cooking for her dog now, while she still dined on her usual Lean Cuisines and grilled cheese sandwiches. But that was perfectly fine. She would have made Cocoa a heaping portion of Julia Child’s famed Beef Bourguignon if necessary, so long as her dog was okay.
“No. More. Chocolate.” The vet tech wagged a finger at her.
“Of course not. It was an accident—one that I promise we won’t be repeating.” Because she wasn’t getting within a foot of Leo or his chocolat chaud ever again.
It was time to get her head in the game. And that meant she had two big priorities. First, she needed to figure out Leo’s secret ingredient so she could duplicate his hot chocolate recipe. And second, but no less important, she had to create something special for the chocolate fair. Special enough to make Leo Mezzanotte look like an amateur.
“Good. I’m glad to hear it.” The vet tech jerked his head in the direction of the exam rooms and kennel area. “I’ll go get Cocoa. Give me five minutes to wake her and put together a case of that prescription canned food for you.”
“Great. I need a minute or two to pay the bill, anyway.” She hated to even think about how much all of this would cost. It wasn’t as if she was rolling in money. And now without Royal Gourmet backing Arabella Chocolate Boutique, she had a feeling there was a significant pay cut in her future.
The vet tech shrugged. “The bill has already been taken care of. That’s why I pulled you out of the line.”
He turned to go.
Um. What?
“Wait a minute.” She grabbed his arm before he disappeared into the recesses of the vet hospital. “What do you mean it’s been taken care of?”
“You have a zero balance.” He formed a perfect O with his index finger and thumb, and he spoke with exaggerated slowness, as if trying to explain something to a toddler. “That means you don’t owe us any money.”
She so did not need sarcasm right now. Not after the day she’d had. “I know what it means. I want to know who paid my bill.”
“Does it matter?”
Yes, it mattered. It mattered very much. “I simply want to be able to thank the person, whoever he—or she—is.”
There was no doubt in her mind it was a he. A very specific he who liked to go around buying people iPads and, apparently, paying exorbitant veterinary bills.
“I’m not sure I’m authorized to give you that information.” The vet tech glanced long
ingly toward the kennel area, then fretfully at Juliet’s fingers, where they still clutched the blue fabric of his scrubs.
She let go, before he decided she was a crazy person. Although from the look in his eyes, she was too late. “It was him, wasn’t it? The guy who carried my dog inside last night?”
“The one who you insisted you weren’t with?” He raised his eyebrows.
She swallowed.
He nodded. “Yeah, it was him. Sounds like a real jerk. Good thing you guys aren’t together.”
Juliet’s cheeks blazed with heat. “We are definitely not together.”
“Yeah, I got that.” He rolled his eyes.
“You don’t understand. It’s complicated.” Why was she explaining herself to a total stranger? Didn’t she have enough problems with people who she actually knew voicing their opinions about things?
“I’m sure it is. Here’s a news flash for you—no one cares.” He jerked a thumb toward the exam rooms. “Is it okay if I go get your sick dog now?”
She blinked. If her face got any hotter, she might burst into flames. “Yes. Please.”
She took a deep breath and didn’t allow herself to exhale until he’d gone. Embarrassment butterflied in her chest. What had gotten into her? She’d brought this on herself. Why didn’t she just keep her mouth shut and pick up her dog, like a normal person? And why had she invited Cocoa’s vet tech, of all people, to weigh in on her personal life?
Because everything about Leonardo Mezzanotte made her crazy. That’s why.
She wanted to scream. Or cry. When would this day ever end? Her vision blurred, and the vet tech’s words bounced around in her head.
No one cares.
If only that were true.
* * *
Leo left the sports bar and drove straight to Mezzanotte Chocolates under the pretense of getting a head start on planning his creation for the chocolate fair. Aside from his near-constant headache, he finally seemed to be getting over his jet lag. But he’d always done his best work alone, and quiet hours at the family chocolate shop were few and far between.
