Not smart. So, so not smart.
Thankfully, she had developed better negotiation skills. She’d struck a deal with Château Dumais, using the boutique hotel exclusively for all Your Wildest Dreams experiences that required a hotel stay, except when clients expressly asked for a particular location.
Too bad no one told the termites that Your Wildest Dreams had the exclusive on Château Dumais.
“This is a nightmare,” Erica muttered, running a hand down her face.
She continued poring over contacts while wading through the sea of emails cluttering her inbox, and trying not to become overwhelmed by the enormous amount of work ahead of her. Running a one-woman shop that catered to individuals who expected to be treated as if they were her only client was not easy. But Erica wouldn’t have it any other way.
She was her own boss. She was in control of her own well-being, not at the mercy of a call from some corporate office she had never visited that could dictate whether or not she had a job. She’d been there and done that, and she was determined to never, ever experience that kind of vulnerability again. The responsibilities that came with being in business for herself were mind-boggling, but so were the rewards.
Nope, she wouldn’t have it any other way.
Chapter Two
Gavin twirled the whisk around the bowl of tempered white chocolate, then drizzled it over the rows of cappuccino-flavored truffles. He grabbed the sifter filled with powder-fine ground espresso and treated the confections to a light dusting.
He surveyed his work, picking out a couple of chocolates that didn’t pass muster. Too much or too little drizzle, too generous or too stingy a sprinkling of espresso, and it would ruin the experience. His mother and Erica were always happy recipients of whatever chocolates were unfit to sell in the store. Although Erica wouldn’t get any misfit chocolates today. Gavin had something extra special for her tongue.
At the thought of her tongue, he dropped his head back and groaned at the ceiling. His stomach clenched just thinking about the way her tongue had peeked slightly out of her mouth when he’d placed the chocolate on it earlier today, how she’d moaned in pleasure as she’d feasted on his creation.
“Damn,” Gavin whispered. The woman had no idea how much she drove him crazy. Although he’d pretty much shouted it through a bullhorn with that comment he’d made about her curves. Subtlety had never been his strong suit.
Gavin rubbed the back of his neck, releasing a frustrated breath.
It hadn’t started out this way, this intense, all-consuming hunger he had for Erica. Sure, he’d found her attractive from the very start. In fact, Gavin remembered the guilt he’d experienced when he’d first met with her to create Whitney’s birthday surprise. But it was that initial attraction any healthy, heterosexual male encountered when put in contact with an attractive woman.
It was later, after he and Erica had become both friends and business acquaintances, that Gavin had started to feel more. The feeling had continued to escalate, to the point where he now found himself watching the clock, waiting for the late afternoon when she usually stopped in at Decadente.
Gavin recalled the look of pure ecstasy on her face when she’d sampled his pomegranate dark chocolate truffle. Yeah, he lived for putting that look on her face.
“Gavin?”
He pivoted, finding Tonya’s head peeking through a crack in the swinging kitchen door.
“I need to run out for about an hour,” she said. “Think you can handle things by yourself for a bit?”
“I’ve got it.”
“We need to talk about hiring extra help for the next couple of weeks,” she reminded him. “You know things will get busy.”
“I told you I’ll handle it,” he said. “I’m going to put out feelers soon. I promise.”
Tonya rolled her eyes. “I’ve heard that before. I just don’t want a repeat of what happened at Christmas, okay?”
“I promise,” Gavin reiterated, shucking his apron and following her to the front of the store. “By tomorrow there will be several job postings online.”
“I’ll believe it when I see it.”
Gavin waved off her parting remark and made a mental note to write up a job ad. He definitely didn’t want a repeat of the Christmas debacle.
Decadente normally saw a steady, manageable stream of both local and out-of-town customers, but during the holidays, when wallets were a bit looser and people didn’t mind spending fifty bucks for a pound of high-end chocolate, the store got extra busy.
During the Christmas holiday season, Gavin had found himself in the kitchen until the wee hours of the morning, trying to keep up with demand. The constant foot traffic had kept Tonya on her toes and casting vicious looks Gavin’s way whenever he was in her vicinity.
Valentine’s Day was an even bigger chocolate holiday than Christmas. They were still relatively unknown last year, having opened a month before Valentine’s Day. But now that they had established somewhat of a reputation—thanks in no small part to Erica’s advice to market Decadente chocolates as the ultimate indulgence gift—Gavin expected sales to be twice what they were at this time a year ago.
Not trusting himself to remember, he took out his iPhone and typed in a reminder to upload an ad on a couple of local online job boards soon.
Gavin manned the store front, which wasn’t his usual forte. He had enough on his plate being chief executive officer, chief financial officer, the human resources department, head chocolatier, and, on days when it was muddy outside, custodian. He was more than happy to leave the actual selling to his saleswoman, who was just as passionate about the business as he was.
Tonya, whom he’d met during a class he’d taken at a local community college to brush up on his chocolate-making techniques, agreed with his choice to stick to the kitchen. She’d told Gavin on several occasions that he was bad for the business’s bottom line because he tended to give away more chocolate than he sold.
He was just eager to have people taste his newest creations. Today’s featured item was lavender, honey, and anise-flavored caramel double dipped in 68% dark chocolate. It had taken him days of experimenting to get the balance of flavors just right.
By the time Tonya returned, Gavin had managed to actually sell a few pounds of chocolate. She held the glass door open for the customers who were leaving the store and continued to hold it. Gavin was just about to question what she was doing when he caught sight of Erica.
“Thanks,” she said to Tonya as she entered the shop ahead of her. “Okay, where’s my special chocolate?” Erica said, walking up to the counter.
“What makes you think I have special chocolates for you?” he asked, unable to keep the humor from his voice.
“Don’t play with me, Gavin Foster. What have you come up with for Your Wildest Dreams’ Valentine’s Day clients?”
He folded his arms across his chest and peered over at her, one brow spiked. He glanced at Tonya, who rolled her eyes, a knowing smirk on her lips. Tonya had hounded him on more than one occasion about dragging his feet where Erica was concerned. According to his chocolate-selling partner in crime, the attraction between Gavin and Erica was palpable.
Gavin knew what the score was on his end, but at times he was convinced that Erica didn’t have a clue as to how he really felt about her. It was frustrating as hell.
“Come on, Gavin,” Erica urged.
“Fine,” he finally conceded. “Your Wildest Dreams has its own exclusive chocolate. Follow me to the—what do you call it again?”
“The magic room,” she said, her smile huge.
Gavin greeted a set of women who’d just entered the store, then he led Erica to the back, holding the door to the kitchen open. He went over to the shelf where he’d stored the special chocolates that he’d taken way too much time slaving over, seeing as they wouldn’t be sold in the store. But he’d done so with one goal in mind: to impress Erica.
“For you,” he said. He lifted the lid to reveal heart-sh
aped chocolates with glimmering, metallic Art Deco swirls done in deep shades of red, magenta, and purple.
“Oh, my goodness, Gavin,” Erica gasped. Her reaction was exactly what he’d been aiming for when he’d set about creating the chocolates. It warmed him from the inside out, a rush of pleasure flowing through him at her enthralled expression.
“They’re too beautiful to eat,” Erica commented.
“That’s because you haven’t tasted them yet.”
“What do they taste like?”
He held the container out to her. “See for yourself.”
Erica picked up the chocolate with the kind of care one usually reserved for a Fabergé egg or the Hope Diamond. She kept her eyes trained on him as she opened her mouth and took a bite.
She paused, closed her eyes. Moments later a wicked grin crept up the edges of her lips. Gavin’s stomach clenched at the sight. His tongue nearly darted out of his mouth, reaching for those lips.
“Oh. My. Goodness,” she said. “What is this?”
“It contains kalpasi,” he said. “It’s a rare Indian spice that no one would think to put in chocolate, but I decided to give it a try. Turned out pretty good.”
“This chocolate is unbelievable, Gavin. Prize-worthy, even.”
He shrugged off the complement. “I’ve wanted to play around with kalpasi, but honestly, the spice costs too much for me to mass produce anything I make with it. And I doubt too many people would be willing to pay what I would have to charge if I sold the chocolates in the store. Making them a Your Wildest Dreams exclusive is about the only way I’d get to make them.”
“The problem with that is that Your Wildest Dreams probably can’t afford to pay for them, either.”
“You know better than to try handing me money,” he said, putting the lid back on the container.
“No.” Erica shook her head. “I mooch enough chocolates off of you. I’m not letting you give me these for free. I’ll find room in my budget.”
“I’m not taking money from you,” Gavin stated. “It’s my contribution. Accept it and shut up.”
Erica cut her eyes at him as she took another bite of chocolate, then those eyes rolled back in her head again.
The overwhelming sense of satisfaction that soared through Gavin’s brain was enough to keep him happy for the rest of the week. One of the perks of working with something that was considered an indulgence was seeing how happy it made his customers. But Erica took it to a whole new level. She appreciated the time and skill that went into crafting his chocolate creations. Her reaction was payment enough.
She took another bite of the truffle, another moan escaping her lips. It was low and sensual, and if they were not standing in the middle of his kitchen, Gavin would have bet a sound like that would only be heard coming from a bedroom.
“You’re killing me,” he said in an aching whisper.
Erica’s eyes popped open. “What’s that?”
“Nothing.” He rubbed his hands down the sides of his jeans and reached for the stack of chocolate molds on the counter. He brought them to the steam cleaner, needing to get away from Erica before he did something stupid, like go after those lips.
Stacking the molds in the steamer, he looked back over his shoulder. “So, do you approve?”
“They’re perfect. Let’s just hope my clients get to taste them. I may keep them all for myself.”
Gavin nodded toward the shelf where he’d placed the container of kalpasi chocolates. “You can have those. They were just the test run. I’m going to make a fresh batch for you to hand out to your Valentine’s Day clients.”
Erica brought her hand to her chest, and with a dramatic sigh, said, “Gavin Foster, you spoil me.” Laughing, she continued, “And I absolutely adore every minute of it.”
She thought this was spoiling her?
Snapshots of the trips to Italy, Belize, and Bali he’d taken Whitney on flashed through his mind. The jewelry he’d bought her; the Benz his ex-fiancée was still driving.
“I can show you what it means to spoil—” Gavin started, but he was interrupted by Erica’s ringing cell phone.
She held up a finger. “Oh, I need to take this. It’s Sylvia. I need to chew her out for suggesting I go on a date with that guy last night.”
“And you need to tell her no more online dating hook-ups, right?” Gavin reminded her.
“Right.” Erica nodded, then she tilted her head to the side. “Well, unless the guy is really cute.” She winked as she backed her way out of the kitchen, picking up the container of chocolates along the way.
Gavin stared at the door as it swung back and forth, his stomach feeling as if he’d just ingested about five tons of steel. Did she not realize what it did to him when she made those damn comments? He couldn’t take much more of this.
For the past six months he’d been forced to stand back and watch while Erica “experimented” with online dating, then, like a true friend, he’d suffered through the play-by-play of each date. Gavin had gritted his teeth with every story about how the guy was boring, or cheap, or full of himself. Or, even worse, how a few of them had potential. As if he wanted to hear about some other man’s potential.
Gavin had tried his hardest to keep up the platonic friendship façade, but he was done being Erica’s friend. He wanted so much more from her.
After the number Whitney Parker had done on him, he’d been gun-shy about letting another woman inside his heart. Erica had managed to find her way in there anyway. But what would happen if he found out all she wanted from him was her daily chocolate fix?
Gavin let out a frustrated curse, reached for a bag of peeled pistachios, and started pounding away at it with a kitchen mallet in a half-assed attempt to work off his frustration.
***
“This is very short notice, Ms. Cole. I’m not sure whether we will be able to accommodate you.”
The smugness in the other woman’s voice ran down Erica’s spine like fingers on a chalkboard. An overly squeaky chalkboard.
“I understand,” Erica replied. “I just wanted to meet with you face-to-face to discuss whether or not we could work something out. If not for Valentine’s Day weekend, then maybe some time in the future. Your Wildest Dreams has grown quite a bit since we last spoke.”
“Yes.” The hotel manager’s eyebrows rose. “I saw the article about your little business in The Gambit a few weeks ago. I must say that I am surprised. When you first came to Manor Royale with your little idea, I thought it would fold within a month.”
Erica bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from going off on the hotel manager. She would not be goaded into running off at the mouth. That’s how she’d found herself in this position in the first place.
“Well, it definitely did not fold. It’s doing very, very well.”
“I’m not sure you can say that,” Beverly Jones remarked with an affected laugh. “If it were doing very, very well, you would have partnerships with a few more establishments and not have to scramble at the last minute to find another hotel. However, it does seem as if your business is growing. Kudos to you, Ms. Cole.”
Erica squeezed her fists until her fingernails dug into her palms. It was either that, or scratch this woman’s eyes out.
She should have done this over the phone. Having to beg Beverly Jones to find available rooms at her hotel was too close to having to kiss ass, something Erica tried to avoid doing at all costs. But desperate times and all that.
And she was definitely desperate.
Just this morning she had received calls for two additional Your Wildest Dreams experiences. Her cutoff date for booking new clients for Valentine’s Day was tomorrow, because crafting each experience was a time-intensive endeavor. She refused to overbook herself and not be able to deliver the most outstanding, unforgettable night each and every one of her clients had ever had. Which was why she needed to secure this hotel.
Happy clients led to word of mouth promotion. And word of mouth le
d to more and more clients.
“Your Wildest Dreams has far surpassed even my expectations,” Erica said, trying her hardest to keep her voice light. “I’m continually amazed at how many people are willing to spend such an obscene amount of money on one night, but they are. That’s why I need a place like Manor Royale in my repertoire of lodging choices. This really is a win-win situation. By partnering with Your Wildest Dreams, this hotel will get the benefit of word-of-mouth advertising.”
“This is a world-class establishment, Ms. Cole. We do just fine,” Beverly Jones stated.
Erica mentally counted to ten while picturing small children joyfully playing in a meadow. It did nothing to curb her anger. She still wanted to wrap her hands around the woman’s neck.
“I’ll get back to you about Valentine’s Day weekend,” the hotel manager said.
“Well, I will need to know rather quickly,” Erica reminded her.
“I’ll get back to you.”
Stifling a sigh, Erica pushed up from the chair, utterly despising the fact that she was at this woman’s mercy. It was a tough place for her to be.
She’d spent the first fourteen years of her life surviving on the scraps that remained after her mother took care of the needs of her flavor of the month, until Erica had been old enough to do odd jobs around the neighborhood and provide for herself. She’d heeded all of those unwritten rules that, if followed, were supposed to lead to the American Dream: graduated top in her high school class, earned a full-ride scholarship to college, landed a well-paying job. When the rug was pulled from under her by way of a pink slip in her office’s mail slot, Erica had decided to become her own boss, so that she would never be at anyone else’s mercy.
But she’d soon learned that no business could survive without the help of others. She counted on her fellow local small business owners to make Your Wildest Dreams’ one-of-a-kind experiences come to life for her clients. If she had known just how important those relationships would be for her business, Erica never would have burned bridges with this hotel when she’d first approached Beverly Jones a couple of years ago.
In Her Wildest Dreams Page 2