Placing the bag on the top of the glass display case, she’d simply said, “I didn’t pay for this.” And then shot him a wicked smile. With a swirl of red hair and a jingle of the door’s bell, she was back out of the store. The shop was far too busy with a Seattle Chocolate Tour for him to respond. Vic had one thing right, the woman apparently never slowed down.
After that last failure to entice her, he didn’t even try to put a third candy in the bag.
The Madonna Lady didn’t even open it to check. Instead she raised it a few times as if weighing the bag, smiled at him, then paid and departed. He’d been left to watch the effect of designer slacks on mile-long legs and a well-toned behind. A fine view, but not what he was really hankering for.
Clearly she had a plan: to make him totally insane.
Just as clearly, he needed a plan. The problem with a plan was that it required thinking ahead. Even without his cousin’s constant ribbing, he knew that wasn’t his strongest suit. Vic had always been the thinker and Tony had always gone with the flow. He was only ever serious about one thing: chocolate.
Like it was yesterday, he still remembered the first time that he’d watched, really watched, his grandfather forming a chilled ganache into a perfect ball, swirling it in melted chocolate to coat it, then giving it a quick roll in cocoa powder and coconut. Granddad had popped it into Tony’s mouth, still cold in the center, the chocolate coating still warm beneath the cocoa and coconut. In that moment he knew what he wanted to do. He wanted to awe someone the way Granddad had just awed him.
And there was the problem.
The beautiful redhead wasn’t even giving him a chance to impress her. So why was this one woman so important that she was making him doubt his skills as a chocolatier?
Answer that one, boy, and you could conquer the world. Granddad’s standard reply to so many of Tony’s questions wasn’t comforting, but at least it was familiar.
“Vic, I gotta go for a swim.”
“Yeah, you look like you need to soak your head.”
Tony punched Vic’s upper arm hard, with a knuckle extended to ping the nerve cluster, and then headed to the apartment they shared above the shop to change.
Chapter 6
“Oh my!”
Raquel looked up from her second caramel to see the assistant halted in mid-stride mere steps from her bench. She had to blink. Not wearing a chef’s coat and slacks, he was almost unrecognizable. He wore an old pair of cut-off shorts that revealed powerful legs, a t-shirt that clung to his frame, and a towel around his neck. He was a very handsome man in his chef’s suit. But out of it? Wow!
She primarily sold women’s clothes, but Perrin occasionally did menswear and Raquel knew enough about the male physique to see that he had a swimmer’s build. Not as a mere occasional workout; he obviously swam a lot to earn such conditioning.
“Madonna Lady,” he breathed it out on a gasp of disbelief.
“That’s not my name.”
“So, what is your name?” he growled in frustration.
“Raquel Wells. And if you make one single joke about Raquel Welch and fur bikinis, you’re a dead man.” She’d heard that way too many times. That was one of the reasons she liked Steven Tu, he hadn’t gone there once in their month of dating, without prompting. The man presently standing by “her” bench she knew she had to warn off, a fact confirmed by his smile though he asked a different question.
“Why didn’t you tell my your name before?”
“You didn’t ask.”
He stared down at his flip-flops and then up at the leaves of the overhanging maple tree before shaking his head sadly and laughing.
“You’re right, I didn’t.”
And as simple as that Steven Tu was crossed off her list. This hadn’t been much of a joke, but the man had laughed at it nonetheless. Steven had not even a shadow of a sense of humor. She’d thought they’d been compatible enough on other fronts—both business people, both very forthright—for it to be a possibility. But the chocolatier’s simple laugh had disproven that.
“May I join you?” he waved to the empty end of the bench.
Manners were appreciated, even from a man she could never be interested in, so she nodded her assent. “And what is your name?”
“Oh, I’m not nearly so easy.”
“I could ask Vic.” She wasn’t easy either, but she wasn’t above being sneaky.
“You could. My cousin is a complete and total pushover around beautiful women.”
“Whereas you are…”
“…much further into the complete idiot category. You can call me Tony.”
“But that’s not your name?”
His shrug was eloquent.
Now it was her turn to laugh. There was a scream of five-year old giggles that rippled over from the nearby beach. She took the last bite of the caramel that had been melting in her fingers. “That’s so good. How do you do that?” She licked her fingers clean.
“Family secret. I could tell you, but then…” he shrugged negligently.
“You’d have to kill me.”
He nodded, “Sadly true. That or marry you. Then you’d be family. What do you say, is that secret worth being married to me forever and ever?”
Not a chance. “Maybe I’ll marry Victor instead. That way I’d be family and you’d have to tell me.” Tony didn’t look even a little like a forever and ever sort of guy.
“It’s Vicenzo. And if you marry Vic, then I’d definitely have to kill him,” again the deep snarl sounded though it was belied by an easy smile. “I know fratricide is frowned upon, but you can’t really get in trouble for killing a first cousin, can you? I mean if he goes off and marries the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, he deserves what he gets.”
“He does.” She felt another laugh bubbling up inside her. He was quick, this chocolatier perhaps named Tony. And charming. Raquel generally enjoyed her power over men. But she was looking for someone who: 1) saw past her beauty and, 2) had more to offer than charm. She’d estimate a poor rate of return on a bet that Tony could manage either one.
She rose lightly to her feet, “I really must go. I have a date.”
“A date?” Tony slapped a hand to his chest, slouched in the bench and groaned. “Is it serious? Can you be cured?”
“Yes. No. And yes.” She was actually going to go and break her date with Steven, no point in wasting more time there when she knew it wasn’t going to work out in the long term.
Tony started to look hopeful, but kept his hand on his heart as if in precaution.
“But not for you, my bucko.”
He collapsed onto the bench as if dead and she laughed.
Then she turned for home. With Steven crossed off her list, it was time to call Gary Thomas. Perrin’s husband worked at Emerald City Opera and had introduced her to the new head of accounting there. A single father with a cute five-year-old girl. She’d met them both at Opera events and they were so charming together. In addition to their shared business backgrounds, Gary was clearly a sweet man with a big heart. Instant family could be both efficient and lovingly secure.
Chapter 7
It was while he was getting in an hour’s swim on Lake Washington, the bracing water knocking some sense into him, that Tony figured out that he’d literally stumbled onto his plan. The next Friday he was ready.
Raquel breezed into the shop with her six dollars and ever-present smile. He took her money, handed over her pre-filled bag, then lifted one of his own and sent her a questioning glance.
Her smile quirked up on one side and lit her eyes. Wow! And he’d thought she was a knock-out before. That’s when he understood that a regular smile was her default state. But it was only when it went sideways that he’d really tickled her funny bone.
She tipped her head to the side, causing her hair to cascade down over one shoulder in thick waves that just begged to be gently brushed back from her face. Then with a nod, she turned for the door.
Tony held up
a hand palm out toward his cousin.
Vic automatically raised his hand, not really sure why. Tony slapped it with a hard high-five. This time it was Vic’s jaw that was down.
Tony shed his jacket, grabbed his bag of chocolates, and bolted for the door so as not to lose Raquel. She didn’t slow down a moment and he had to jog to catch up with those long legs.
Her bench was taken so they strolled along the pathways of Madison Park, past playgrounds loud with pre-dinnertime mobs of kids, along the winding walkway above the equally popular beach, and under the small section of quieter trees. It wasn’t a big park, so the view was constantly changing: the cluster of shops at the end of Madison Street, a beach full of kids, a pretty little garden of rose bushes, shade trees, and from everywhere the sun sparkling off the surface of the lake.
As they walked, they talked of what she did for a living. At first he thought she just sold clothes, but as CFO of a rising clothier she was way more. A bit daunting, in fact, because even he’d heard of Perrin’s Glorious Garb. The only thing about clothes that he usually paid attention to was how to take them off a willing woman. But Raquel was part of a powerhouse company that had commanded the cover and a major spread in the latest SI swimsuit issue. The fabulous Melanie claiming her fifth cover.
One the other hand, he was an assistant in his cousin’s chocolate shop. His only stake in the business was a shared heritage and a conching machine. It rapidly became clear that she was a very focused gal. She clearly ate, slept, and breathed the fashion business. He just didn’t rate.
But as they strolled by the water and talked, he began to feel less overwhelmed. She wasn’t some accounting nerd; she was as passionate for the business of clothing as he was for chocolate. It appeared to rise from that same deep core, reaching back into childhood and superseding all else.
That was a passion he could appreciate.
As summer drifted toward fall, they continued to walk or sit together on the bench each Friday. He’d never spent so much time with a woman he wasn’t sleeping with, but it was hard to complain as he was so enjoying their weekly afternoons together.
She still refused to taste his chocolates, though he brought a different one each week. It had become a thing between them: he would plumb the depths of another of Granddad’s recipes, and she would politely insist that she was happy with ones she knew.
Chapter 8
Raquel finally gave in and tasted the chocolate from Tony’s bag after an entire summer of Fridays. Their maple tree was starting to change colors, and maybe that too was part of the reason she gave in. She hadn’t refused because she was stuck in her ways, as he’d jokingly accused her. Nor that she was a one-track gal, which she was, but not about chocolate. It was that she’d found what she wanted and that’s what she ordered each week.
But mostly, he’d finally looked so pitiful that she’d broken down. How was she supposed to deny those sad, puppy dog eyes on six-one of pouting chocolatier male.
But this she hadn’t expected. Liquid coconut trapped in a dark, dark chocolate.
“Oh... Oh!”
“Madonna Lady likes?” he’d insisted on continuing to call her that.
She could only close her eyes and nod. It didn’t have the comfort of her ginger caramel, but it was so very good. It revealed exactly how skilled he was.
This chocolate didn’t indicate a level of mere competence, it revealed mastery. The coconut didn’t overwhelm, it whorled with and enhanced the perfectly smooth chocolate coating. All of his years studying in Europe had definitely not been as idle as he’d made them sound; this small confection could only be the result of years of remarkably focused training.
She sighed again as she finished the treat. This time it was a sad sigh, so she kept it to herself. She was jolted out of her small ennui by Tony.
“So, how’s this next guy on your list working out?”
Gary Thomas was sweet, thoughtful, and a good businessman. After three months together, they’d even begun talking about when it might be time for her to meet his daughter as girlfriend rather than friend. They both agreed that it was too soon, but they were talking about it.
The problem with Gary was that he was merely a good businessman, not a great one, and definitely not a driven one. There was competence, but no passion. No mastery like Tony’s chocolate nor the desire to achieve it.
Raquel had worked her fair share of nights and weekends, both while attending night school for her MBA and since for the growth of Perrin’s Glorious Garb.
Gary had taken the job at Emerald City Opera as a downshift from a Microsoft job. His wife, a software engineer, hadn’t wanted the downshift which had ultimately caused the breakdown of the marriage. The only time she took off work was to spend time with her daughter; something Raquel easily understood, but Gary didn’t.
Raquel was a long way from ready to slow down. She was just picking up speed.
So. That left only one more man on her first-tier list. Marco Mancini was a division manager at Ferragamo Milan and he was all about speed.
“Milan?” Tony looked at her cross-eyed. “Why would you go to Milan for a date?”
She hadn’t really meant to talk about her love life with the likes of Tony Bosco, but somehow it had become a natural part of their conversation.
For three months he’d listened and offered no comment, other than the one time clutching his heart. After she’d walked away from that first meeting at the bench, a final glance back had revealed him lying on the bench, hands crossed on his chest holding up his swimming towel as if it was a lily. She’d left him with her laughter.
Sometimes their Friday walks had become Friday meals; the edges of Madison Park boasted several nice restaurants. He never pushed any intimacy, said he never poached on another man’s ground, he never even asked to come in when he walked her the few blocks to home on the warm evenings.
He kept it light. Sometimes he made her wonder if she was losing her powers, then she’d catch him watching her at unexpected moments. No, the interest continued, but the decency stopped him, as she was seeing another man. But now Marco Mancini was next on her Stage Three list.
She and Marco had met at New York Fashion Week last February. The heat between them had been instantaneous. Their affair had been wild, crammed in between runway shows and designer meetings. Their conversations had been purely business and marketing—which had been fun; sometimes even during the most intimate moments—which had been perhaps a bit much. His focus was incredible and his skill as a lover was amazing. He had made it very clear in several very suggestive e-mails quite how happy he would be to see her again. She would suggest a week’s visit to start, and see where that led them.
Chapter 9
“Milan?” Tony asked the darkness above his bed.
“Milan?” he asked the bathroom mirror a couple of hours later, still unable to sleep.
He went back to bed...for seventeen minutes. It was the middle of the neverending night, but his brain didn’t seem to care.
“Milan?” he muttered to the chocolate conching machine grinding its way to a finish of the latest batch of dark chocolate.
He flipped through the battered wooden box of Granddad’s recipes. He stopped at the one with a small heart drawn in the upper-right corner. It was the chocolate he’d made sixty years ago for the woman he’d been courting. So simple it was laughable, so pure that the least mistake would ruin it. Chocolate-covered blueberries. This one card was covered with a dozen tiny corrections. He’d clearly worked and reworked this recipe until he had it perfect.
But that was his grandfather and grandmother’s story. He didn’t want to give Raquel anything more of Granddad’s, he wanted…
He didn’t know what. He wasn’t used to wanting more. Not when it came to women.
But he’d start by closing the old box.
The kitchen had filled with the fall morning’s light by the time Vic wandered into the kitchen, “It’s time to open up. What are you working on
?”
Tony ignored him and threw his latest attempt into the trash.
At some point Vic set a sandwich and a soda beside his marble work table. Tony could hear the noise of customers out front, of the Saturday crowd as it swelled, then later faded away. The windows were dark by the time he finished his creation.
Vic sat quietly in a dark corner of the kitchen with a glass of red wine, waiting.
Tony set the finished chocolate on a cut-glass plate and delivered it to his cousin.
In silence, Vic took it, bit off a small corner and closed his eyes the way Granddad used to when analyzing a taste.
Vic took his time, finishing the piece in three small bites, taking a long time after each.
When he finished and reopened his eyes, Tony could feel the nerves coursing under his skin. He was never twitchy about making chocolate, but this one was different. This one was…
Vic rose to his feet without a word. He crossed to the office nook and returned. He set a blank index card and a pen on the table in front of Tony before returning to his seat.
“You have to write that one down. And, as Granddad always said, ‘Don’t give me any garbage about it being in your head, boy.’ It’s better than anything Granddad ever did. He’s going to freak out the next time he and Grandma come through town. Really, Antonio, it’s amazing.”
Tony wrote it down, his hand shaking with lack of sleep.
Chapter 10
“Gone? What do you mean gone?” Tony wanted to reach through the phone and strangle the pleasant woman on the far end of the line. He didn’t have Raquel’s number, so he’d called Perrin’s Glorious Garb as soon as he’d woken up. The front desk clerk hadn’t been at all helpful about her boss’ private schedule, so he’d bucked his way up the food chain, never expecting to be handed right to the owner herself.
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