“I’m really sorry about that. Please say goodbye to Mark for me when he comes home. He’s kind of sweet. Good luck with whoever you end up hiring. I guarantee she won’t be as fun as me.”
She sidled past him, adjusting her bag, an elegant Kate Spade cross-body this time, and attempted to look dignified. Isaac didn’t respond. Was he embarrassed? Deciding whether to press charges?
Or, wait. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?” She looked him up and down, but if anything, he looked better than before with a bit of extra rumple on him.
A strange sound filled the room. It took her a second to realize that Isaac was chuckling. He had a lovely voice, deep and musical, like a river of rich chocolate rolling over a green meadow.
She clenched her jaw. How dare he laugh at her! How dare he act all silent and sullen and let her go on and on, feeling bad and guilty and embarrassed when, to him, the whole thing was hilarious.
She sucked in a huge breath. She’d tell him a thing or two.
But before she could, he stifled his laughter and put a placating hand out toward her. He cleared his throat and shook the photographs out of the envelope.
“Mother Teresa, you say?”
Chapter Six
Deirdre Cash had tackled him. And she had plenty of qualifications—for a model. That explained the clothes, the makeup, the hair.
It did not explain why she, with her head shots and no pertinent training or experience, wanted this job. It did not indicate where she hoped it would lead or how long she intended to remain in his employ.
Not long, he guessed. Those Bambi lashes and big hoop earrings weren’t made for a rodeo town like Marietta. Then again, she had family here.
Isaac had never met anyone like her. Still, she had helped him out of a jam yesterday, despite her high-handedness with Mrs. Hatchet. Hatcher! Damn it, that nickname was going to stick.
His mother would like Deirdre, but whether she’d trust him with her Markie was another question.
“I’m willing to give you a try,” he said to her. “One day a week.”
“Full time,” she countered. “And I want dental. I’m overdue for a cleaning.”
He bit back a smile. “Two days a week and I’ll give you a Starbucks card.”
“Like there’s a Starbucks in Marietta.” She tossed her head. “I want full time. And I’ll throw in my services as a personal trainer.”
“A trainer?” This time, he allowed his smile out. “You saying I’m out of shape?”
Deirdre lifted a carefully arched eyebrow. “I wasn’t thinking about you, but for the right price, I’d consider it.”
Heat sizzled from her ice-blue eyes. She was flirting with him!
“I hate to tell you,” she added, “but your brother needs to shed a few pounds. I’ll make sure he exercises every afternoon and eats more nutritious snacks. I don’t cook much, but I can do omelets, smoothies, and stir-fries. I’m also the queen of bagged salads.”
Isaac considered this. They had eaten far too much frozen pizza recently, but Mark was so picky and Isaac hated battling with him. Deirdre obviously held to a meager diet. If she could inspire Mark to eat vegetables and become more active, then it would be one huge worry off Isaac’s mind.
He hoped he wasn’t making a mistake. “Three days a week. Ditch the fancy clothes. Wear sensible shoes. Jeans. Stuff you don’t mind getting messy.”
Another hair toss. “I can get messy and still look good.”
No doubt about that. Clothing had nothing to do with her beauty. She was a natural. She’d look beautiful in sackcloth and ashes. Or nothing at all.
Great… now he was imagining her naked.
When she first walked through his door, he’d have bet money that she’d never even talked to someone like Mark. And now she was lobbying to spend most her week with him? She had to be desperate and that raised bigger questions.
“Why do you want this job, Ms. Cash? You have no experience in working with intellectually challenged individuals. You’re clearly not the domestic type.”
She swallowed and pursed her lips. “I need a job, okay? There aren’t a lot of options out there for someone with… Mother Teresa’s recommendation.”
His bark of laughter surprised them both. “Don’t forget the Harvard business degree.”
Deirdre’s face softened. The brittle mask of battle gave way to a softer, slightly vulnerable expression.
“You’re right,” she said. “This isn’t a job I ever saw myself doing. But your sticky, stubborn brother is also unexpectedly charming. This might surprise you, but not everyone recognizes my exceptional qualities as quickly as Mark did. That’s tough to resist.”
Isaac’s throat tightened. Of all the things she might have noticed, she’d landed on Mark’s character. How could he refute that? Mark adored her, and she seemed to enjoy his company in return. Hell, she was advocating for him already.
It wasn’t smart, but it was admirable.
“A two-week probationary period, then a minimum commitment of three months.”
She lifted her eyebrows. “That’s dangerous for both sides. This works as long as it works. When it doesn’t, it’s over. No harm, no foul.”
Exhaustion overtook him. He couldn’t bear the thought of looking for someone else. He needed the decision made, the person hired, the work done. He named a wage slightly above the going rate, and she nodded.
“Fine,” he said. “And if you can break his cookie habit, I’ll give you a bonus. Deal?”
“Deal.” She smiled, her teeth bright and perfect.
He took her hand and they shook, their eyes locked on each other.
A beneficial relationship for them both? Or mutually assured destruction?
*
Deirdre didn’t waste any time.
The next afternoon, Isaac sat down next to his brother, who, to his surprise, ate most of a cucumber, a slice of cheese, and even one of the high-fiber bars she’d purchased, commenting favorably about it, which shocked Isaac completely. Perhaps she really would be able to help Mark lose weight and get healthier.
She stood up, pulled her oversized bag, a green one today, onto the table and removed a shiny copper package from inside.
“Mark, you like chocolate, don’t you?”
Mark nodded. “But my doctor said I’m not ’llowed because I’m too fat.”
Isaac bit down the white-hot burst that always pierced his heart when he learned of another hurt inflicted on his sweet brother. People with Down syndrome were often overweight, but the way Mark spoke told him he’d heard it in a purely pejorative way.
“That’s mean and stupid,” Deirdre said. “Fat-shaming doesn’t work. You need a plan, that’s all. What if I told you that you could have chocolate every day and still lose enough weight to satisfy Dr. Dumbass?”
Mark giggled “Dr. Dumbass.”
Isaac groaned. “Deirdre, please. His doctor in Chicago wasn’t very patient, but Mark’s got a new one here. I’d like to start off on the right foot. What my brother needs is more exercise, not more sweets. Unfortunately, I don’t have time to take him running with me every day.”
“He’s not a Labrador, Isaac.” She sounded disgusted.
“I’m not a Lad-ra-bor, Isaac,” Mark repeated, highly amused.
“Maybe Mark doesn’t like running, Isaac. Maybe he’d prefer walking.”
“Running makes my feet hurt,” Mark said.
“Or square dancing or pulling weeds or riding horses.”
Mark looked confused. This was going downhill fast.
“I have a file to complete, Deirdre. Was there a point to all this?”
“Yes,” she said. “Chocolate. But Mark, you have to earn it, and I don’t mean the kind of chocolate you get at the gas station. I mean the good stuff.”
“Isn’t all chocolate good?” Mark looked confused.
Isaac looked at Deirdre. “He’s got a point.”
She shrugged. “Maybe. But it’s better to have a small amount
of something exceptional than lots and lots of cheap, ordinary stuff.”
She’d obviously never been responsible for feeding a young man. Not to mention that she had the appetite of a chipmunk. He had yet to see her eat more than a few bites at a time, and it was always fresh fruit, salad, or yogurt.
Deirdre opened the package slowly, as if deliberately drawing out the suspense. “I brought some very special chocolate for a treat. This isn’t factory-made crap. This is from a shop here in town called Copper Mountain Chocolates. The owner does everything herself, using single-source cocoa beans, all by hand.”
Mark’s face split into a grin. “I wanna make chocolate by hand, too!”
Even though he probably had no idea what Deirdre was talking about, Mark loved that idea, Isaac could tell.
Deirdre held up a small morsel between two fingers. Her fingernails were painted a delicate shell pink with white tips. They weren’t talons but medium length and nicely shaped. Just long enough to scratch a man’s back without leaving permanent damage. He squirmed against the chair back, wishing he hadn’t thought of that.
“This isn’t the kind chocolate you wolf down without tasting. This is a treat to savor.”
“Save her from what?” Mark said.
“Watch me. First, we smell it.” She closed her eyes and held the candy under her nose. “Oh, man. This is good stuff. You try it, Isaac.”
She bent toward him and a lock of hair slipped over her shoulder, tickling his hand. He reached out to tuck it back behind her ear, and she froze.
“Um, here,” she said, shoving the candy at him. “What do you smell?”
He’d unnerved her with his touch. The idea pleased him, made him want to do it again. She played herself as such a together person, no weaknesses, no needs. Of course, it was a charade—no one was truly an island—but he wanted to find out more of what made her tick.
He sniffed deeply, holding her gaze. “Chocolate.”
“Oh, come on.” She huffed. “You’re not even trying.”
She lifted the candy to her nose and inhaled. Her nostrils flared gently, and he noticed a slight bump on one side of her bridge. The tiny flaw in her otherwise perfect features had the effect of making the whole picture more beautiful for the contrast.
“Try again.”
He sniffed dutifully, but he was too aware of her skin, the line of her collarbones, that waterfall of hair that kept slipping over her shoulder.
“Sugar?” he tried.
“Okay, not bad.” She held the candy up to Mark’s face. “Your turn.”
Mark sucked in through his nose, snuffling like a bloodhound. “Smells good. Like Easter.”
“Like what about Easter, Mark?”
He frowned. “Bunnies. Bunnies and eggs.”
“Good job, Mark. Easter bunnies and eggs are made of chocolate.”
“I like chocolate bunnies.” Mark gave a heavy sigh. “Isaac says I don’t need chocolate bunnies anymore.”
Deirdre threw him a disapproving glance. Isaac crossed his arms. He’d been hoping to distract Mark from the season’s indulgence, and this wasn’t helping.
“No one needs chocolate bunnies,” she said, surprising him. “But it wouldn’t be Easter without some treats. Small amounts of the very best, that’s what you want. Listen and learn, gents.” She inhaled again, soft and slow, then held the candy out to them for a second try.
“There’s cocoa, of course.” Her voice was low and melodic. “The richness of cocoa butter. Some people say you can’t smell fat or sugar, but that’s not true. You just have to try.”
Mark giggled. She opened her eyes to glare at him, and he quieted instantly.
“There’s a touch of bitterness, too, like coffee, but sweeter. Nuttiness, maybe. There’s a push-pull going on that’s complex and irresistible. Can you smell it now?”
Push-pull. Complex and irresistible. “Sure,” Isaac said, but he wasn’t talking about the chocolate.
“What?” Mark said, sounding confused.
“Never mind. It’s time to give it a taste.” DeeDee held up one finger. “I’m going to cut this one into quarters, and you’re going to taste it one small piece at a time.”
“I want a whole one.” Mark’s complaint had an edge to it. An unstoppable force was about to meet an immoveable object.
DeeDee put the piece on a plastic cutting board and pushed a paring knife through it one way, then across. “I’ve seen you eat, my friend. There will be no shoving or slurping or jamming it into your mouth to see how fast you can get it in. This is about extending the pleasure.”
The way she said it had Isaac thinking of something entirely different from chocolate.
“Eating slowly,” she continued, “helps you get the full enjoyment from something new and wonderful.”
There was a sensuality about her that was completely out of place in his kitchen, especially with his younger brother hanging on her every word. It occurred to Isaac that he might invite DeeDee to lunch one of these days when Mark was at his day program. Talk with her about something other than business or Mark.
“I don’t wanna eat slow.” Mark’s bottom lip stuck out. Thunder darkened his features.
“Then you don’t get any.”
Mark froze, then sucked in a huge breath and leaped to his feet, a raw, sobbing roar tearing from his throat. His thighs caught the edge of the table, tipping it, sending everything on it flying. His chair bounced backward against the wall.
DeeDee had unwittingly given Mark the worst possible response.
Isaac rushed to his brother, hoping to forestall disaster. “It’s okay. Here, Mark. You can have the chocolate.”
But Mark had already slid to the floor and was banging the back of his head against the wall, his face a mask of despair, unable to hear Isaac, oblivious to the proffered treat. Isaac’s heart broke anew.
Forget lunch with DeeDee. Forget anything with DeeDee. She wouldn’t want anything to do with either of them anymore. Isaac couldn’t blame her. She wasn’t prepared. She didn’t have the tools.
Hell, he didn’t have the tools.
“What did I do?” DeeDee stood as if at gunpoint, her back against the counter, her eyes wide, her color high.
Isaac sat down on the floor next to his brother and put his arm over Mark’s shoulder, getting between his head and the wall.
“This isn’t just a tantrum, is it?” she said softly.
Isaac shook his head. “It’s okay, buddy. I’m sorry. Can we start over?”
“I don’t understand.” DeeDee shook her head, a look of devastation on her face.
Speaking quickly and quietly over Mark’s sobs, Isaac told her about his brother’s dismal experience in the group home. “He learned that whatever he loved most would be withheld, used against him in order to gain his compliance. TV. Outings. Food. Often with those exact words—then you don’t get any.” Rage still bubbled at the memory. “I should have warned you.”
DeeDee crouched in front of Mark, then hunkered down onto the floor, so that they had Mark sandwiched between them. “I’m sorry, Marco. I didn’t mean to make you feel bad.”
Mark sniffled. “Sorry, sorry, sorry.”
To Isaac’s relief, Mark’s composure returned quicker than he expected. Maybe DeeDee had more tools than he’d given her credit for.
After a while, DeeDee asked, “Do you still want to try the chocolate?”
“One piece?” Mark said.
“That’s the deal.” She got to her feet and held out her hand to help him up. “This is the good stuff. We eat it a little at a time. Okay?”
“Yes.” Mark opened his mouth wide.
She dropped the candy inside, and he promptly bit down, chewed, and swallowed, his earlier upset forgotten.
“So good. Isaac?”
“Isaac, now you.” She turned to him, and his chest tightened. He opened his mouth. As she put the piece of candy onto his tongue, her finger grazed his lip. Electric heat ran from that tiny point of c
ontact throughout his body, adding to the increasingly uncomfortable tension in his groin.
Closing his mouth, he let the chocolate melt. He could take instructions.
“So?” She watched him. Just for a moment, hunger gleamed in her eyes. It was there and gone so quickly that he might have imagined it.
“Aren’t you going to have a piece?” Isaac asked.
Deirdre gave a little laugh, sweeping a lock of hair off her cheek. “I’ve had lots already. This is about you guys, not me. Tell me what you tasted.”
He wasn’t imagining the hunger behind those laughing eyes. What other pleasures did she deny herself? Suddenly, he felt challenged to break her.
“It’s everything you said it was and more.” He knew that if he was to tempt her, it would be with words. He wasn’t skilled at wordplay, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t try. “Smooth and silky on the tongue. Rich and dark. Complicated. Intriguing.”
He spoke slowly and noticed she was watching his mouth, as if she’d never seen one before. Her eyes were soft, dreamy, distant. Her hand fluttered to the bridge of her nose, then to her chin, and with a quick shiver, a swallow, and a nod, she seemed to come back to herself.
“Not bad. You’ll never write food reviews, but that’s a pretty good assessment.”
Her voice was hoarse. A frisson of triumph ran through him. He’d gotten to her.
“Come on. Have a piece. Aren’t you intrigued by rich, dark, complicated flavors? Or are you afraid that you won’t be able to stop at one taste?”
She lifted her eyebrows. “Are we still talking about chocolate?”
Mark gave an impatient huff. “DeeDee, you’re being silly. I want another piece.”
She broke eye contact and brought her attention back to Mark, choosing her words carefully. “One piece a day, after we walk together for half an hour. That’s the length of one episode of The Big Bang Theory.”
Mark’s favorite show.
“A whole episode of walking!” Mark gave DeeDee an incredulous look. “I can’t do that.”
Isaac held his breath. Was DeeDee’s stubbornness going to send Mark into another meltdown?
The Chocolate Comeback (Love at the Chocolate Shop Book 7) Page 6