The Chocolate Comeback (Love at the Chocolate Shop Book 7)

by Roxanne Snopek

  A big, loopy grin spread over his face like a sunrise. “You look like a peacock. So pretty.”

  Something about Mark’s unvarnished admiration touched her deeply.

  “Um… thank you.” She searched for an appropriate response. “You also look very nice. Like… a nice… St. Bernard puppy.”

  Good job, DeeDee. Stop talking now.

  “I like puppies,” Mark went on. “What’s a sane bunnerd? Your hair looks like toffee. I like toffee. Isaac doesn’t let me have toffee. It’s bad for my teeth.”

  It sounded like teef.

  Maddie interrupted the flow of words. “Isaac, DeeDee’s just returned from New York and she’s looking for work.”

  DeeDee turned to Maddie and opened her mouth, but got a discreet elbow in the ribs for it.

  “She’s not formally trained, but she’s got tons of life experience,” Maddie continued. “I think she and Mark would get along well together. It’s always better when you have a personal reference, isn’t it?”

  “I don’t know—” Isaac began.

  “Gosh, look at the time,” Maddie said, pulling out her cell phone. “How did it get away on us like that? We’ve got to go, but DeeDee can stop by tomorrow morning for a proper interview. I know your address, of course, so I’ll give her directions. Good to see you both! Bye, Isaac. Bye, Mark.”

  She yanked DeeDee’s arm and off they went.

  “Bye-bye,” Mark said from behind them.

  “Seriously,” DeeDee said as soon as they were out of earshot. “Have you always been this pushy?”

  Maddie brushed away the question. “I have an instinct for things. This is going to work out just fine.”

  DeeDee rubbed her thumb over the opposite palm, which still tingled from Isaac’s grip. “I hope you’re right,” she said.

  Chapter Four

  DeeDee checked the address, looked up and down the empty street, and sucked in a deep breath. After getting used to the big-city bustle, quiet, postcard pretty Marietta, even on a sunny spring morning, gave her the jitters.

  She yearned for the comforting, enveloping crowds, the busy streets, and the constant hum of activity that had become the backdrop of her life for the past year.

  Here, she felt like a hamster plopped onto an empty dinner table. Anxiety was a reasonable response.

  But what was the worst that could happen? She’d already met Isaac Litton, but she didn’t know if she’d end up thanking her sister or blaming her for that. It could go either way.

  “Big-girl panties,” DeeDee reminded herself, wiping her hands on the inside of her favorite cashmere wrap. There was no need to be nervous. Anyone who could prance around on five-inch heels while people stared at her for ten hours a day, without producing a drop of flop sweat, could handle one little meeting.

  Except this was no ordinary meeting. This was a job interview with a financial advisor-slash-Greek-god-slash-jungle cat-slash-protective-big-brother, and whatever Maddie said, it was a good bet he expected some skills besides party planning and putting on a bra one-handed.

  No wonder DeeDee was spiraling into antiperspirant failure.

  Nevertheless, she girded her loins and approached the wide porch steps fronting Isaac Litton’s restored Victorian two-story.

  She lifted her hand to knock, but the thunder of footsteps inside made her pause. A door slammed.

  Voices argued. One loud, one softer.

  She took a step back.

  The heavy front door flew open and she jumped back even further as Isaac Litton appeared, taller and broader than yesterday—which was impossible.

  “There’s no time, Mark,” he was saying. “Get your stuff and let’s go. Oh.”

  Isaac skidded to a stop and froze, caught between the ornate wooden door and the outer screen door, blinking. A shock of black hair slipped over his forehead. The screen door slipped out of his hands and bumped his shoulder.

  His wide, strong shoulder. That was attached to a broad chest, toned torso, and long, lean legs.

  DeeDee had convinced herself that she’d exaggerated the attributes of the man she’d met the previous day. Any reasonably fit guy could look good while out for a run, right? In real life, he probably wore bad suits and… a pocket-protector, maybe.

  But the Isaac of today looked even better, unreasonably attractive in faded jeans and a red waffle-weaved T-shirt with long sleeves. If anything, his teeth were whiter, his hair sexier, his eyes darker.

  And speaking of eyes. He pulled a pair of tortoiseshell glasses off and held them between two fingers at his side. Bad-boy professor.

  “Whoa,” she murmured. Too late, she clamped her lips shut. Wherefore art thou, impulse control? Same place it had always been.

  A glimmer of a smile told her he’d heard, so she stuck out her hand, hoping to regain her dignity. “Deirdre Cash, in case you’ve forgotten. We didn’t get much chance to talk yesterday.”

  His grip was just as warm and firm as she remembered, too. He hadn’t shaved since then, and her fingers itched to test the stubble.

  “Am I early? For the interview?” When he still didn’t say anything, she added, “For the, um, position?”

  She couldn’t even bring herself to say the words care aide. Maybe he could use her as an office assistant, instead. She could imagine herself being at least somewhat useful in that arena.

  “Right. No. It’s fine.” He glanced at his watch. “Time got away from us this morning. Listen, Ms. Cash, I don’t think this is going to work out. Sorry to waste your time.”

  His quick dismissal irked her. She was tired of being rejected. “May I ask why?”

  He glanced wordlessly over her wrap and raw silk pantsuit. “Let’s just say it doesn’t seem like a good fit.”

  DeeDee bridled. She wore the latest in professional attire from one of New York’s leading designers. Maybe she was a little overdressed, but this was her second chance to make a first impression and even if he didn’t hire her, she would make sure he didn’t forget her.

  She opened her mouth to argue when the thundering footsteps sounded again, and the moon-faced brother appeared.

  “Isaac, I don’t want tuna salad for lunch. I want pizza.” Seeing DeeDee, he pulled up sharply and gaped. “DeeDee!”

  She took a step back, then recovered. If she wanted this job, she had to do better than that. “Um. Hello. Hi. We meet again, Mark.”

  “Are you gonna be my new friend?” Mark didn’t seem to notice her babbling, apparently fascinated by the pattern on her wrap.

  DeeDee glanced at Isaac. “I’m not… that is—”

  A horn sounded as a snub-nosed yellow van pulled up across the street. The driver rolled down the window and called out, “Running late, guys. Let’s go.”

  Isaac blinked and shook his head as if to clear it of cobwebs. “Again, I apologize for the inconvenience, Ms. Cash. Get your bag, Mark. We’re already on thin ice with Mrs. Hatcher.”

  She stepped out of the way and watched Isaac attempt to get his brother’s attention. Mark, however, was transfixed. At least someone appreciated her outfit.

  “Like a rainbow,” he said. “So pretty.”

  “Mark’s on his way,” Isaac called to the driver, motioning for him to wait. “Mark, where’s your backpack? You just had it. Never mind. I’ll get it.”

  He disappeared back into the house, leaving her standing on the porch with Mark, who still fingered the delicate fabric of her wrap.

  Awkward.

  “So.” She cleared her throat and attempted to tug the cloth out of his hand. “You’re off to…”

  School? Work? A play-date? If he was going somewhere, why did Isaac need to hire someone?

  Mark sniffed the hem of her wrap, then rubbed it against his cheek. “Mrs. Hatcher said I can come back to work, but I don’t wanna come back to work. I wanna stay here, with Isaac. But he has to work, and I can’t work with him. He said so.” Mark’s face drooped, then lifted. “Your hair looks like toffee. I like toffee. Isaac doesn
’t let me have toffee. It’s bad for my teeth.”

  DeeDee bit back a smile. “So you said yesterday.”

  The lenses of his glasses were so smeared DeeDee wondered how he could see through them. She hiked her bag higher on her shoulder and considered the house. Banging and clattering suggested Isaac wasn’t having any luck finding Mark’s backpack.

  “Isaac makes me floss. See?” Mark grinned widely, showing off his molars.

  “Um, very nice,” DeeDee said.

  “So soft.” Mark touched her sleeve. “I like cookies. Do you like cookies?”

  “Sure. Why not?” DeeDee could see the driver pointing at his watch. “Shouldn’t you go catch your bus?”

  Finally, Isaac bounded down the steps and pushed the pack into Mark’s arms. “Found it. Have a good day, buddy. See you this afternoon.”

  “I don’t wanna go to work.” Mark’s pout brightened. “Can DeeDee come to work with me?”

  “What, now?” DeeDee cringed. She hadn’t meant to sound horrified.

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” Isaac’s voice was tight. “Go. Now.”

  “Uh-uh.” Mark ran back inside. He was surprisingly fast for his size.

  A hissing screech sounded as the driver gave up and put the vehicle in gear.

  “Wait!” Isaac ran toward the sidewalk, waving at the bus, which did not stop.

  “Bye-bye,” Mark called from upstairs. More thundering, then he returned, an extra-large candy bar in his hand.

  “You want chocolate?”

  “No, thanks.” DeeDee lowered her voice. “I think you’re in trouble.”

  “Uh-oh.” Mark’s smile faded.

  Isaac stood on the sidewalk, his shoulders slumped. Then he straightened up and returned to the porch.

  “Mark, would you get me a glass of water, please?”

  “I can stay home?” Hope filled Mark’s face. “DeeDee can stay with me?”

  She started to laugh, then turned it into a cough. He was kind of sweet—in an unkempt, badly dressed way.

  More importantly, he’d just handed her a lovely little bargaining chip.

  “It was good meeting you, Isaac,” she said, holding out her hand. “Sorry you missed your bus, Mark.”

  Mark’s face sagged. “You’re going?”

  “I’m afraid so,” she said. “Have a nice day.”

  “Don’t go!” Mark threw his arms around her in a crushing hug.

  “Oh!” DeeDee could hardly breathe.

  “Mark, that’s enough.”

  Mark, apparently recognizing something in his brother’s voice, released her, ducked his head, and scuttled upstairs.

  “On that unexpected note, have a nice day.” DeeDee straightened her wrap and stepped off the porch.

  Isaac ran a hand through his hair, making the dark glossy waves appear even thicker. “Ms. Cash, wait.”

  She dropped her hand and widened her eyes. “Yes? What is it?”

  He looked her up and down again, even more critically than before. “Do you have a valid Montana driver’s license?”

  “Yes.”

  “Criminal record?”

  Her jaw dropped. “No.”

  “Substance-abuse issues?”

  “No.” She crossed her arms. “Though it’s none of your business.”

  “It is if you want to work for me.”

  This time, she let the laugh out. “I thought I was a bad fit.” Smiling, she turned to leave. One-Mississippi. Two-Mississippi. Three-Missi…

  A phone rang from inside the house, followed by the buzzing sound of some other device.

  “Ms. Cash. Deirdre.” Isaac closed his eyes as if gathering his patience. “I’ll pay you a hundred dollars to keep my brother quiet upstairs while I take this call. We’ll talk once I’m off the phone.”

  The phone continued to ring.

  DeeDee put on her best poker face and said nothing.

  He took a deep breath. “Please.”

  DeeDee shifted her hair away from her neck. “Make it five hundred and you’ve got yourself a deal.”

  *

  Isaac Litton yawned wide enough to make his jaw pop, took off his glasses, and rubbed his face. His day had started at dawn, as usual, despite being up until midnight the night before. It was how he worked. It was how he’d always worked. The market fluctuated constantly; client queries came in at all times of day and night, weekends included. He didn’t mind.

  But he was in his mid-afternoon slump. The teleconference he’d nearly missed thanks to Mark not catching the bus hadn’t gone as well as he’d hoped. He was off his game, as was evidenced by the rash impulse to ask Deirdre Cash to stay with Mark. He hadn’t expected her to pounce on his offer.

  He certainly hadn’t expected her to up the ante.

  Isaac couldn’t decide if he distrusted her as an opportunistic mercenary or admired her quick, intuitive reaction.

  Her offer to drive Mark to the May Bell for the afternoon portion of his program had floored him. How had she convinced Mark to go? Mrs. Hatcher was willing to let Mark come for a half day, so what else could Isaac do but agree?

  Isaac checked the time. He’d gotten a solid chunk of work done. In another hour or so, Mark and Deirdre would be back.

  If Deirdre Cash could drive Mark to his appointments and look after him while Isaac was busy, he might get caught up. He might actually start to settle into this new life. It was exactly what he’d been hoping for, so why was he uneasy?

  Maybe it was the clothes she wore. Her extraordinary beauty and glamour were too much for a job like this. Why would someone like Deirdre offer to work with Mark? She had no experience, no training, and no particular affinity for the handicapped. Not as far as he could tell, anyway.

  But despite all that, she seemed to click with Mark.

  She clicked with Isaac, too, enough to unnerve him. It wasn’t just physical attractiveness; Deirdre Cash had an in-your-face spark, a willingness to go to battle that he found intriguing. No shrinking violet, there. Strategy maybe, but no passive-aggressive manipulation or pretense.

  Nothing like Jodi-Lyn.

  He shook thoughts of his ex-fiancée away. He’d wasted too much time already.

  Regardless of Isaac’s reaction to Deirdre, it was Mark’s immediate positive impression that had pushed the balance in her favor—for now, at any rate. He’d continue looking for someone competent, maternal. A no-nonsense grandmotherly person.

  Deirdre Cash would have to do until then.

  He refocused on his stock analytics. Before he knew it, he heard a car door slam, followed by footsteps on the porch. He glanced at the time again. They were early.

  “Isaac, Isaac!” Mark ran through the door.

  Isaac got to his feet, working out the stiffness that came from sitting for too long.

  “Hey, buddy. Did you have a good time with your friends today?” As always, the sight of his brother made his heart simultaneously swell with pride and clutch with fear. The mind of a child, in the body of a man, with a heart so open and trusting, ready to love anyone, do anything, give everything, that he was the perfect target for exploitation and abuse, never recognizing when the laughter was at his expense.

  Deirdre followed Mark, her caramel-colored hair bouncing over her shoulders and her boot heels clacking on the wooden porch. “See?” she said. “Alive and well. You’re welcome.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest and tossed him a triumphant smile.

  “Thank you.” An answering smile tugged at his lips.

  “Isaac, Isaac!” Mark tugged on his sleeve, his face wide with joy. “DeeDee took me to the park! Mrs. Hatchet was mean. DeeDee said there was no call for that, so we left.”

  “Mrs. Hatchet?” He frowned. “Don’t you mean Mrs. Hatcher?”

  Mark was looking too gleeful.

  Deirdre shrugged. “Have you seen that face? Come on. You were thinking it too.”

  “But Mark wasn’t,” he shot back. “What is he talking about, Deirdre? Mark needs
that program. You can’t just walk out. It might not be great, but it’s all he’s got.”

  She lifted her eyes to the ceiling and sighed, flipping her silky hair over her shoulder. “That place is right out of One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest. Hatchet-Face walks around like she’s got a—”

  “Stop.” Isaac pointed to Mark. “Go upstairs and pour yourself a glass of milk.”

  “Can I have cookies?”

  Isaac forced himself to breathe slowly. “Yes. One cookie.”

  “Can DeeDee have cookies with me?”

  “Mark. Please.” It took all his patience not to snap. “Let me talk to Ms. Cash.”

  Deirdre spoke up. “Listen to your brother, Mark.”

  She didn’t use the fake voice that so many people did when interacting with Mark, the voice Isaac hated but sometimes caught himself using. The too-high, too-bright tones that indicated discomfort and a desire to be anywhere else, doing anything else. No, Deirdre spoke to Mark the same way she spoke to him. Like he was just another guy.

  Mark grumbled, but left the room. The fact he’d obeyed Deirdre but not him did not help Isaac’s mood.

  He turned to Deirdre. “What the hell happened?”

  “That woman, Mrs. Hatcher, is not much of a people person, if you ask me. I didn’t like the way she was talking to Mark. When I called her on it, she suggested we leave. So, we went to the park, instead, and here we are now.”

  Deirdre wrapped long fingers around the straps of the ridiculously large purple bag over her shoulder and stared at him challengingly.

  Isaac scratched his head. He couldn’t argue. Deirdre reacted to Mrs. Hatchet the same way he himself had. Hatcher, damn it, now she had him doing it. “It wasn’t your decision to make.”

  “I was defending your brother.”

  She lifted her eyebrows and bared her teeth in a predatory grin.

  Whatever passed for hackles on humans stood up on the back of Isaac’s neck. How dare she mess up the plan he’d so carefully established for Mark?

  He got to his feet. “Ms. Cash, your opinion of the May Bell program notwithstanding, it meets Mark’s needs for socialization and occupation.”