And Then He Kissed Me

by Curtis, Melinda

  “Me?” Again, he seemed surprised, as if he’d seldom been asked about himself. “Many would say I’m a lot like him.”

  “I hope they mean just the good parts.” She’d hate to learn that Nino was as untrustworthy as her competition.

  He reached for her hand, bringing it to his lips so he could kiss her fingertips and stare at her with longing in the dark eyes. “We are all made up of good and bad parts, mi cielo.”

  I might faint.

  He made her feel giddy and light-headed. “Some of us have more good than others.” She glanced uphill to the regal country club. It would be just like her wealthy nemesis to be sitting in the air-conditioned clubhouse spying on her.

  Nino touched her chin with his fingers and turned her to face him. “You seem worried.”

  “Yes,” Aubrey admitted. “I trusted Eugene. He was interested in the industry and in my work, which most people don’t care about.” This last admission made her grimace. She rubbed her palms over her khaki shorts covering her thighs, resting them on top of her knees. Now wasn’t the time to play the damsel in distress, not with Nino so ready to provide a strong pair of shoulders to lean on. “I don’t give my trust lightly.”

  And she certainly shouldn’t trust Nino, not if he was a friend of Marcos Alfaro.

  Nino placed his hand over one of hers. “I think you have nothing to worry about. This Eugene sounds like his ego is bigger than his knowledge.”

  She stared at Nino’s hand, feeling her heart beat faster, not comforted by his words in the slightest. She was falling for a man she barely knew, swayed by his words and his intense regard. Intellectually, she knew what was happening. But her heart cared nothing for logic or reason or studies on pheromones. Her heart was racing ahead, leaving logic in her dust.

  Nino was wrong. Aubrey had too much to worry about.

  Unfortunately, her current worry had nothing to do with her cocoa innovations and a lot to do with him.

  *

  “I’m having the game of my life!” Dotty crowed, watching her ball fly through the air to land on the ninth green.

  Nino chuckled. Aubrey’s grandmother was amusing, a welcome respite to the tension he felt in his shoulders when Aubrey talked about being wronged by Marcos Alfaro. He shouldn’t care what she thought of him. He should be focused on finding out more about her research. But her question festered: Does he have regrets?

  Who had he harmed in his quest to prove himself and ruin his father? Only his father. There should be no regrets.

  And yet…

  “Oh, if the girls at the club could see me now.” Dotty exhibited some of her dance moves, inspiring Jeron to moon walk.

  Dotty was driving the ball well, but they all were. At this elevation, the ball naturally went farther. Too bad Dotty wasn’t much of a putter. If she had been, she’d have been beating Jeron.

  Nino and Aubrey walked to their balls on the ninth fairway as a pair of swallows flitted past. Nino was only ahead of Aubrey by two strokes. She was a force to be reckoned with, both on the course and, if Eugene was to be believed, in the lab.

  There was a small café at the turn near the ninth green. Smoke rose from the grill in the back.

  “Can you smell those steaks?” Nino sniffed. “Mmmm. Achiote.” A favorite Ecuadorian spice.

  Aubrey sniffed tentatively. “I smell barbecue.”

  “I can almost taste the pepper of achiote on my tongue.” Jeron fitted himself behind his cart’s steering wheel.

  “Pepper?” Aubrey frowned. “I don’t–”

  “See?” Grandma Dotty walked slowly to join Jeron and their cart, using her fairway wood as a cane. “She’s lost her nose.”

  Nose in the air, Aubrey stomped toward her ball.

  Jeron and Dotty drove to the green.

  “You can smell it.” Nino lengthened his stride to catch up to Aubrey, wondering why she was upset.

  “No, I can’t.” Aubrey spun to face him, pounding her club in the grass. “I have no refined sense of smell. Everyone in my family says so.”

  For such an accomplished woman, she lacked confidence in the most inconsequential areas. Who cared if she had a refined sense of smell? Who cared if she couldn’t find the beat on the dance floor? According to the trade journals, she was revolutionizing chocolate.

  “Just because people say so doesn’t mean it is true.” Nino didn’t ask her why having a sharp sense of taste and smell was important. The urge to ease her distress was more vital than his curiosity. “Just try.”

  “No.”

  “Well…” He traced his finger along the length of her delicate jaw, wanting to follow the motion with his lips. “If you don’t want to try, I could kiss you. Isn’t that a custom in the United States? Kissing to make it better?”

  She sucked air through her nose as if she was clearing out her nasal passages. “I smell barbecued meat. End of story.” She tried to turn once more. “I’m a lost cause.”

  He stopped her with a touch to her chin. “I’m the king of lost causes.” So very true. “When I was younger, no one would have bet I’d amount to anything. You can teach yourself how to do anything but only if you believe in yourself.”

  Aubrey scrunched her face the way women did when they rejected a man’s worst pick-up line. She deserved more than a pick-up line. She deserved flowers and wine and declarations of adoration for her grace, for her beauty, for her brilliance.

  The more time Nino spent with her, the more he was coming to adore this fragile, intriguing creature. She was like a delicate flower. Granted, one whose nectar would miraculously heal his company, but a flower nonetheless.

  Jeron and Dotty got out of their cart on the green. Jeron was judging his ball’s lie. It was clear they were going to play on, which gave Nino more time alone with Aubrey.

  “Breathe slowly. The pepper hits the back of your nose.” Nino savored the flavorful aroma the way he’d savored her kiss. “Like this.”

  Aubrey did as he asked, breathing in. Once. Twice. Her demeanor loosened, changed.

  “Pepper,” Aubrey said with a hint of wonder. “It’s sharp. Back here.” She tapped the base of her nose.“ No one’s ever explained where I should look for smells before. Eugene once told me humans can remember smells for a year with two-thirds accuracy. Of course, he also told me I have anosmia.”

  “I assume that means something is wrong with your nose,” Nino guessed. How like his newest employee to be so crass.

  Aubrey nodded. “Not that I agree. I can smell things like fresh cut grass and wet dog. I only seem to have trouble with nuanced flavors and scents.”

  “Smell is interwoven with taste.” Nino moved closer, wanting to taste her again. He could tell by the way she held herself immobile that she was thinking about their kisses, too. He smiled. Let her think. Let her want. “Why don’t we eat at this café? You’ll imprint the taste and aroma of achiote.”

  “We shouldn’t,” Aubrey murmured, although her luminous eyes were contradicting her words.

  “Bravo, Bree!” Dotty shouted. “You’ve found your new sommelier–Nino!”

  Aubrey blinked and stepped back, turning her golf club in her grip.

  “You like wine?” Nino gave her some space, leading them to their balls which were a few feet away from each other. Late morning sun glinted off their white pitted surfaces. “I prefer beer.”

  Aubrey stopped near her ball with the same defeated attitude she’d exhibited before he’d taught her how to identify the simple smell of pepper. “All beers taste the same to me.”

  Nino gasped as if wounded. “You think all beer tastes the same? That is blasphemy to an Ecuadorian. Didn’t your father teach you how to appreciate beer?”

  “No.” A nerve had been struck. Aubrey’s brows lowered. She glared at her ball. “I can’t tell you how badly my father wanted a son. Instead he got five girls, all of which he tried to raise to be traditional New York royalty to be married to New York kings of commerce, a task at which he utterly failed. A
t least so far.” She fought the downward slope of delicate brows with an inconsequential shake of her head.

  Her father had hurt her, too.

  Mr. Summer hadn’t abandoned his daughter to poverty, but he didn’t value Aubrey for who she was. This explained why she worked so hard. She wanted to prove herself to her father.

  “What about you?” she asked. “What was your father like? What did he want out of life and from you?”

  His father’s part in Nino’s past was his least favorite topic, so it was surprising when he admitted, “It’s more like what my father didn’t want.”

  “Move it, Nino,” Jeron shouted. He and Dotty had finished the hole and were returning to their cart. “Or we’ll have to let the best man’s foursome play through.”

  “You’re not getting out of explaining, mister.” Aubrey set her feet, waggled her hips, and sent her ball on a direct course to the green. She spared Nino a challenging look. “Go on. You owe me after I confessed my flaws.”

  Nino approached his ball in silence. He wasn’t used to divulging anything about his painful past. He weighed the cost of his privacy against the possibility that Aubrey would feel closer to him if he shared something personal. He manipulated people all the time, but it felt wrong to do so with Aubrey.

  “I suppose I’ll never get my answer unless I agree to have dinner with you.” Aubrey made her offer sound like a concession made after hours spent at the bargaining table.

  Nino wasn’t used to women treating him as a concession. He frowned at Aubrey over his shoulder.

  Ten feet away, her milk chocolate eyes were hidden behind her sunglasses, giving away nothing.

  Again, he weighed the cost of his privacy, this time against the likelihood that he could kiss her into his bed this evening; against the satisfaction of winning over a woman like her, one who didn’t care about Marcos Alfaro’s power and fortune; against the fallout that would come when she found out who he was.

  Does he have regrets?

  His gut clenched.

  An honorable man would be truthful about his identity. An honorable man would abide by the rules of corporate secret keeping. An honorable man would draw a line separating himself from a woman he found refreshingly intriguing and naïve when it came to corporate games.

  Nino tried to draw a line, but he couldn’t. Because he wasn’t an honorable man.

  But he’d have regrets anyway. He’d look back and think of her integrity and her honesty and regret taking advantage of her.

  “You strike a hard bargain.” Nino squared himself to the ball and drive line. “My father didn’t want…” He drew back his club and swung. The ball sailed low and fast, landing on the green with a good bounce that put him close to the flag, but farther away than her ball. “He didn’t want me.”

  Nino faced her, needing to see her reaction.

  Brow wrinkled, she studied him in return. “That can’t be true.”

  “Ándele!” Jeron cried, barreling away from the green.

  Nino clasped Aubrey’s gloved hand and led her to their cart. “My father left us on December twenty-fourth. The bill collectors showed up the day after Christmas. We were homeless by the new year.”

  “How old were you?”

  “Cinco.” He’d reverted to Spanish subconsciously. He frowned. He never slipped into Spanish when with an American.

  She squeezed his hand. “And your father?”

  “He took what money he had and went to Argentina to start over.” Nino’s voice felt tight enough to crack. “New business. New wife. New life.” Of course, his father couldn’t stay away. The business contacts he needed to leverage to succeed were in Ecuador.

  “And you haven’t seen him since?” There was curiosity in Aubrey’s tone, not pity.

  Nino was grateful for that. “Oh, I’ve seen him.” He’d wanted to face his father the day the chocolate factory changed hands. The meeting had been anti-climactic. He and his father let the lawyers do all the talking. And now his father wanted to speak with him again? Nino couldn’t imagine why.

  Jeron and Dotty were going the wrong way–away from the next hole–looking for trouble, no doubt.

  “Enough of this maudlin talk.” No matter how intriguing Aubrey was, Nino had come today to ferret out her secrets, not to reveal his own. He slid behind the golf cart wheel. “All your talk about your employee being stolen and yet, you didn’t say a word about what your life’s work actually is.”

  She settled beside him. “Most people don’t find plants exciting.”

  Aubrey, he realized, didn’t know what a fascinating woman she was–a charming combination of grace and determination, vulnerability and strength, intelligence and naivety.

  “I’m not most people,” Nino said, keeping his eyes on her face. “I find everything about you interesting.” He was playing a dangerous game. He liked Aubrey. He wanted her in his bed. But he hoped he wanted her knowledge of how to grow and select finer cocoa beans more.

  Aubrey cheeks turned the color of the red roses in his mother’s garden. “I’ve always been fascinated with grafting.”

  “My gardener grafts my trees.” This couldn’t be her secret formula for success.

  “You can’t talk grafting without considering climatology and soil science.” Her eyes took on a distant look. This was Dr. Summer, the scientist, not Aubrey Summer, bridesmaid and grandma keeper. “It’s all symbiotic. One influencing the other.”

  “All of which sound–”

  “Boring, I know.” She sighed and looked like she was about to give another one of her apologies when her grandmother and Jeron sped by in their cart.

  “Whee!” Dotty cried just before Jeron parked in front of the café. “Play on. We’ll catch up.”

  “Grandma Dotty,” Aubrey warned.

  “Let her have her fun.” Nino drove to the green. He stared at Aubrey when he parked, searching her expression to see if she felt she’d said too much. Was that all Bon Bon Chocolate had going for them? Grafting? That couldn’t be why she was upset with him for hiring Eugene…Could it?

  “I love my grandmother dearly.” Aubrey got out of the cart, still looking as if Nino had disappointed her with his reaction to her grafting comments. “But watching her is a full-time job.”

  Nino didn’t speak again until she examined the pitch of the ground between her ball and the hole. “Grafting is commonplace,” he said casually. “What are you afraid your assistant will say to Marcos?”

  “Lab secrets.” She frowned at her ball, but he got the impression she was frowning at him, too. Or perhaps at their conversation. “I’ve spent years working on experiments that have brought me to this point. I’ve risked company funds, my reputation and that of my family.” She squared up to her ball and knocked it the six feet into the cup. “Birdie.” She reached down to retrieve her ball.

  “You’re uncomfortable taking risks.” Nino tapped his ball too quickly. It rounded the rim of the cup and rolled several inches away, a metaphor for the way his subtle interrogation of Aubrey had been going. Close, but no clear results.

  Jeron and Dotty returned to their cart, holding iced coffee drinks and laughing.

  Nino was close to learning Aubrey’s secret for tastier chocolate. He could feel it the way the peppery aroma of achiote teased his senses.

  “I’m not afraid,” Aubrey said evenly. “I take risks all the time. As a researcher, I’ve devoted most of my professional life to experimentation. But in the lab or in a small plot on Bon Bon’s cocoa plantation in Ecuador, it doesn’t matter much if things don’t work out. Did you know that most cocoa is grown and harvested by small farmers in mostly third world countries?”

  He nodded. He did.

  He tapped his ball into the cup, making par.

  “Farmers rely on a full crop twice a year,” Aubrey said. “Those participating in my program are expecting to earn more money since they’re providing us with chocolate for a luxury line. My experiment is in phase two, rolling out throughout the
world. If I fail…If I’m wrong…If consumers don’t like the resulting chocolate, families might lose their farms.” Her voice wavered. “Go hungry. Starve.”

  Nino began to understand. “If your work is taken by another company, you won’t be able to pay your farmers as much for their loyalty.”

  She nodded, smiling wanly. “We’ve made promises. It’s not just my reputation I’m protecting. It’s so much more.”

  Nino thought he understood Aubrey. She resented Eugene’s quest for fame. She rescued whales. She took care of her grandmother. She watched out for the poor.

  Nino watched out for himself.

  She’d probably scoff at Nino’s thirst for revenge.

  Aubrey was a far better person than he was. He didn’t deserve a woman like her.

  It only made him want her more.

  Chapter 5

  The lobby of Caradoc Confections made Aubrey happy.

  It was a dump.

  She tucked her hair behind her ears, tugged the hem of the white blouse she wore over a tank top down, and smoothed her black skirt. There was no need to be nervous. The office was dark. It had dingy beige walls. It looked like a company on the brink of ruin. There was no way pompous Eugene would want to work long in a place like this.

  Irrationally, she wished Nino were here to share her joy in Caradoc Confections being a shambles. Regardless of him being Marcos Alfaro’s friend, she’d enjoyed golfing with him. He was still off-the-charts sexy, but he didn’t intimidate her the way he had last night on the phone. They both had less than perfect fathers, and he’d been patient enough to teach her how to distinguish the smell of pepper. Oh, he tried to play the role of the seducer, but deep down he was nice.

  A man with silver hair sat reading a magazine in the far corner of the lobby. He glanced up when Aubrey came in. He had chiseled cheekbones and black eyes, like Nino. But his expression was grim. The lines framing his mouth were from frowns, not laughter.

  An attractive young woman sat behind the reception desk. Her hair was nearly as dark and beautiful as Layla’s. Her make-up was flawless. She smiled politely. “Puedo ayudarlo?”“Si.” Aubrey explained in English, “I’m here to see Eugene Malcom.”Still smiling, the receptionist switched easily to English. “Is he expecting you?”“No.” But he should be, the traitor. He knew she’d be in Ecuador in March to record the results of her grand experiment. “Tell him Aubrey would like a few minutes of his time.”The receptionist used an outdated, beige rotary phone to summon Eugene, announcing Aubrey’s presence in English.Aubrey paced the lobby, half expecting Marcos Alfaro to charge through the door and demand she get out. The silver-haired magazine reader glanced up at her once, but otherwise paid her no attention. The receptionist played with her cell phone. Aubrey chewed the lipstick from her bottom lip.Her father hadn’t wanted her to go into science. He’d wanted her to marry well, preferably someone with connections he could use. Timothy Summer didn’t have family, he had assets. But he was still Aubrey’s father, and inexplicably, she still desperately wanted to make him proud. Wasting a million of Bon Bon Chocolate’s money wouldn’t make him proud.Aubrey chewed her lip some more. She might be over-reacting. Eugene couldn’t replicate her cocoa bean results without the specific yeast solution that was added by the farmers to the cocoa fermentation process. Specific strains of yeast influenced the taste and aroma of the end product, just as it did in beer and wine. Last year during a trip to Florida for her great uncle’s funeral, Grandma Dotty had been given a jar of yeast Aubrey’s great-great grandfather and her great uncle had used to make beer. The slurry had been propagated since Prohibition.Everyone in the chocolate industry was experimenting with different yeast solutions. Aubrey had already been conducting experiments with different strains of yeast and their influence on different combinations of grafted cocoa plants, but it was her great-great grandfather’s slurry, which had the most significant impact. Cocoa beans fermented with his yeast solution brought forth a richer, more complex flavor in the resulting chocolate. Eugene appeared, looking as disheveled as ever.“Dr. Summer.” He rushed across the frayed tan carpet and hugged Aubrey, releasing her almost immediately. He’d never hugged her before. He must truly hate this place.Aubrey’s hopes soared.With splotches of red high on his cheekbones, Eugene took a step back, recovering his composure. He cleared his throat and shook Aubrey’s hand. “So nice of you to pay me a visit.”The receptionist and magazine reader both stared with unabashed interest.Spies. Aubrey couldn’t shake the thought.“Eugene, is there somewhere we can talk in private?” Aubrey gestured toward the front door. “Perhaps outside.”“Of course, Dr. Summer.” He’d always insisted upon using her title. He held the door for Aubrey, and followed her out, directing her to a bench outside under a pink fringe tree in full bloom.“This place is quite different from Bon Bon Chocolate.” Aubrey had to work hard to keep the glee from her tone, because Eugene was going to come back to work for her. Why else would he greet her with such enthusiasm?“Excuse me, Dr. Summer.” Eugene’s backbone stiffened. He didn’t have much in the way of a sense of humor. “I don’t need marble floors and fancy coffee machines to help a company make good chocolate.”“True.” Aubrey forced herself not to gloat or fidget. “I’m going to the plantation this week. I thought you might enjoy coming along. The latest crop of–” My. “–our cocoa beans are fermenting.” What an incredible suck-up she’d become.That didn’t mean her insides weren’t tied up in knots waiting for his answer. And if he said yes, she’d see if he was ready to come back to work at Bon Bon Chocolate. Comments about marble floors and coffeemakers aside, Eugene was a germaphobe and pompous. Chances were slim a facility like this one would have a clean bathroom reserved for his use alone. “I’m sorry, Dr. Summer.” Eugene’s demeanor changed at her invitation, lightened, as if he was appreciative of her groveling. “I don’t have time for a trip. And I…I don’t think it’s appropriate that I go somewhere with my former employer, especially now that we’re competitors.”“It’s more of a professional courtesy.” The glow over Caradoc’s state of disrepair faded like a too-rapid sunset. “This is awkward.” Eugene rubbed his nose. He’d been blessed with a strong physical attribute that could detect all the things Aubrey’s little nose could not. “Dr. Summer, you have to let me go.”Aubrey’s jaw dropped, perhaps all the way to the pavement.“We can’t be together,” Eugene continued.Aubrey almost fell backward off the bench. Her body might be in shock, but her brain was working overtime, producing a slideshow from the past–Eugene blushing when she complimented him, Eugene dogging her every step in the hallway, Eugene praising her work effusively.Eugene has a crush on me?Her sisters would never let her live this down.“There’s your age, of course,” Eugene said crassly. “But professionally, we can’t be seen as being romantically linked. It would tarnish my good name.” He stared at her with puppy dog eyes that belied his scold. All it would take was one word from Aubrey and he’d throw everything to the wind. How badly do you want that nose back?She imagined returning to the Brighton Hotel with Eugene on her arm, imagined running into her new-found friend Nino, imagined Eugene leaning in to kiss her goodnight as Nino watched. Air as stale as moldy hay stuck in her throat.I don’t want the nose back that badly.There had to be another way. One that didn’t involve her romancing her former intern.Aubrey touched his hand. “Eugene…”His chest swelled. His eyes widened. He expected her to profess her undying love for him right there on the steps of her competition?Pride sucked the stale air right out of Aubrey’s throat. She couldn’t say another word.Nor did she have to.The receptionist stepped outside without her welcoming smile. “Mr. Malcom. Mr. Alfaro is on the phone for you.”Aubrey got the feeling the receptionist had called her boss the moment she and Eugene had stepped outside. Or perhaps she’d been texting him while Aubrey waited in the lobby.“Gracias,” Eugene said, standing. He smiled at Aubrey apologetically. “Mr. Alfaro and I are working closely together. I’m sure you’ll understand that we…that I…This job is very important to me.”“Right.�
� Aubrey couldn’t keep the sarcasm from her tone. More likely, Marcos Alfaro was keeping Eugene under lock and key while making him feel important. Marcos had made his bed, and he could lie in it with Eugene. “If you tire of that relationship, I’m staying at the Brighton Hotel until Sunday.”“A week,” Eugene said absently. “I understand.” He scuffed the soles of his faded brown loafers as he returned to Satan’s lair.