by Francis Ray
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
A Chocolate Affair
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
A Good Man Is Hard to Count
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Part Four
Chocolate Kisses
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chocolate Kisses
“In Chocolate Kisses, three hot treats are served up that are sure to satisfy the appetite.”
—Eric Pete, author of Gets No Love and Don’t Get It Twisted
Acclaim for the Title Story
“The best love story I’ve read.”
—Mary B. Morrison, national bestselling author of Nothing Has Ever Felt Like This
SIGNET ECLIPSE
Published by New American Library, a division of
Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA
Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario,
Canada M4P 2Y3 (a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.)
Penguin Books Ltd., 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England
Penguin Ireland, 25 St. Stephen’s Green, Dublin 2,
Ireland (a division of Penguin Books Ltd.)
Penguin Group (Australia), 250 Camberwell Road, Camberwell, Victoria 3124,
Australia (a division of Pearson Australia Group Pty. Ltd.)
Penguin Books India Pvt. Ltd., 11 Community Centre, Panchsheel Park,
New Delhi - 110 017, India
Penguin Group (NZ), cnr Airborne and Rosedale Roads, Albany,
Auckland 1310, New Zealand (a division of Pearson New Zealand Ltd.)
Penguin Books (South Africa) (Pty.) Ltd., 24 Sturdee Avenue,
Rosebank, Johannesburg 2196, South Africa
Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England
First published by Signet Eclipse, an imprint of New American Library,
a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
First Printing, January 2006
Copyright © Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 2006 A Chocolate Affair copyright © Francis Ray, 2006 A Good Man Is Hard to Count copyright © Maryann Reid, 2006 Chocolate Kisses copyright © Renee Luke, 2006 All rights reserved
SIGNET ECLIPSE and logo are trademarks of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOGING-IN-PUBLICATION DATA:
Chocolate kisses / by Francis Ray, Maryann Reid, Renee Luke.
p. cm.
eISBN : 978-1-101-09851-6
1. Love stories, American. I. Luke, Renee. Chocolate kisses. II. Ray, Francis. Chocolate affair. III. Reid, Maryann. Good man is hard to count.
PS648.L6C’.54—dc22 2005018106
Set in Century Old Style
Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
PUBLISHER’S NOTE
These are works of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party Web sites or their content.
The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.
http://us.penguingroup.com
A Chocolate Affair
by FRANCIS RAY
This anthology, my thirty-first title, is dedicated to my loyal readers.
I couldn’t have done this without your prayers and support.
Wishing each and every one of you love and happiness.
Prologue
LOVING MIRANDA COLLINS was Lucian Faulkner’s greatest pleasure. There was nothing about her that didn’t please and entice him. From the exotic beauty of her face to the lush softness of her body, she was exquisite and all his.
He’d been fighting his arousal since he’d picked her up for dinner at her dormitory at Columbia University, where she was a sophomore fashion design major and he was a senior marketing major. Finally they were back at his apartment. He drew her into his arms the moment he closed the door, his mouth closing hungrily over hers. She was with him all the way. Her slim arms slid around his neck; her fingers held his head close as she kissed him back with just as much hunger and need.
His impatient hand slipped beneath the heavy sweater she’d worn in deference to New York’s sharp November wind and closed around the fullness of her breast. She shivered, then whimpered as his thumb and forefinger closed around the turgid peak of her nipple.
In one deft motion he pulled her sweater and T-shirt over her head. Her bra quickly followed. Before the clothes had hit the floor he’d picked her up and carried her to his bedroom. Her feet had barely touched the carpet before his mouth and teeth closed around her nipple.
His name was a ragged whisper of sound. Her knees buckled.
Gathering her in his arms again, he laid her on the bed. He released her only long enough to undress them both; then he covered her body with his. This time he was the one who shivered, as he always did with the initial impact of bare flesh against bare flesh, hard against soft, fitting so perfectly together. No woman had ever pleased him more, nor had he ever wanted to please one more.
His hands couldn’t seem to get enough of touching her, his lips of kissing her. There was no place that was forbidden to either of them as they teased and pleased each other. Trailing kisses down her body, he found her hot, silken core and drew cries of ecstasy from her.
When both were pushed almost to their limits, he quickly sheathed himself and brought them together. Her legs and arms wrapped around him as if she’d never let go.
Feeling her response beneath him as he drove them both toward completion always made him feel as if he were on top of the world. They shattered together. Their breathing labored, he rolled to his side, pulling her with him, unwilling to release her. She was his sweetest addiction.
When Lucian woke up Saturday morning he knew Miranda was gone. The couple of times he’d enticed her into spending the night with him, she’d awakened him to tell him she was leaving and they always ended up making love, causing her to be late for class or work at a restaurant near their university. She was working today. He wished she were still with him, but they had a date for tonight. He’d see her then. Or so he thought.
That night Lucian was heading out the door to get Miranda when she called to cancel, saying something had come up. Before he could question her, the line went dead.
A moment of unease swept though him. She’d never canceled before. On top of that, she’d sounded strange. He starte
d to go to her dormitory to check on her, then decided he was worried about nothing. He’d see her tomorrow.
Lucian saw Miranda the next day, but it wasn’t the same. She didn’t smile and barely looked him in the eye. She refused to make a definite date to see him again, claiming she had class projects to work on, tests to study for. She didn’t know when she’d be free, she told him. He didn’t take her rejection well and became angry. A couple of days later he cooled down and called her, but it was the same story—she was busy with school.
He offered to help her study or work on her projects, but she always played it off, saying she did better by herself. After weeks of being turned down it finally sank in to Lucian’s head that she didn’t want to see him.
It was difficult for him to accept that she could turn her back on what he’d thought was a perfect relationship. He’d wake up at night wanting her, needing her, missing her. Once the bewilderment ebbed, anger set in. Miranda might not want him, but there were plenty of other women who did.
When he graduated in May, Lucian promised himself that when he left New York he was leaving Miranda and her memory behind. But if their paths ever crossed, he’d treat her the same heartless way she’d treated him.
Chapter One
SINCE GRADUATION FROM COLLEGE, Lucian Faulkner III had become a very wealthy man by satisfying women. He enjoyed every gratifying moment, and took pride in his accomplishments. In his opinion, few things could compare to the exquisite expression on a woman’s face at that exact moment she reached the peak of satisfaction. Eyes closed, head tilted slightly back, she’d emit a long, low moan of pleasure, then slowly glide her tongue over her lower lip, searching for that last, lingering taste of chocolate.
To Lucian’s delight, there was a great deal of moaning going on in the rose-covered terrace of the two-story mansion that beautiful summer afternoon in Dallas. Like a proud father, Lucian looked on as the happy group of women munched their way through an assortment of rich, decadent chocolates. Branching into catering had been his idea and a natural progression in the family-owned business, A Chocolate Affair, that his paternal grandmother had started thirty-five years ago.
With one hand in the pocket of his tailored beige slacks, Lucian watched the thirty-odd women stuff themselves with an assortment of irresistible chocolate goodies ranging from fudge-covered popcorn to a chocolate mousse cake—all of which his superior staff had freshly prepared for the bridal shower.
More than one survey stated that 50 percent of women enjoyed chocolate more than sex. Lucian wasn’t going to argue the point. Few people probably realized that orgasms and chocolates both released endorphins into the body for the ultimate high.
Lucian caught the eye of the hostess, who had an orange-filled chocolate cream in one hand and a flute of champagne in the other. She raised the glass in acknowledgment of a job well done. He bowed from the waist, a courtly gesture women seemed to love. Lucian always aimed to please. Women, either as buyer or as recipient, made up 90 percent of his customer base. Whatever pleased them invariably pleased him.
What began as Grandmother Faulkner’s way of helping put her son through college at Morehouse had grown to a thriving business with over two hundred employees. A Chocolate Affair had grossed well into seven figures the year before and shipped all over the world.
The busy Dallas plant sat on three picturesque acres with a small lake inhabited by several black swans. The logo of a black swan surrounded by gold was immediately recognizable, and guaranteed customers the ultimate chocolate experience when they sank their teeth into one of A Chocolate Affair’s delectable chocolate products—or their money back.
Lucian’s paternal grandmother had retired two years ago; his parents had followed the next year, leaving him and his younger brother, Devin, in charge of the operations. He was president and chief operating officer, and Devin was vice president and chief financial officer.
Neither of them had any intention of letting down their family, their loyal customers, or the new ones they intended to acquire. It had been Lucian’s idea to add a variety of unique chocolate bakery goods and other chocolate products, but their staple was, and always would be, candy.
In honor of the bride-to-be, a chocolate lover, Lucian had created individually wrapped chocolate cakes tied with the guest of honor’s colors of pink and burgundy. There was also a brownie hot-fudge sundae, a rich fudge brownie layered with brownie chunks and chocolate ganache. The chocolate-covered strawberries coated with crunchy gourmet toffee and elegant chocolate twirls were admired, then quickly devoured.
The bubbling laughter and risqué conversation were soon sprinkled with a few giggles. Lucian had suspected the combination of the endorphins in the chocolate with the liqueur in the dessert cakes and the champagne might prove too much for a few of the ladies.
He had just turned toward a waiter to tell him to make sure the coffee was ready to serve when a strikingly beautiful woman, arms open, rushed onto the terrace from inside the house. Lucian froze and then tumbled back in time. The hostess, bride-to-be, and several other women squealed and surged toward the woman. At five-foot-seven in her stocking feet, wearing stilettos, the elegant newcomer towered over the others, allowing Lucian an unimpeded view of the woman who had devastated him when she walked out on him almost ten years ago.
He looked for flaws and clenched his fists when he found none. She hadn’t grown fat, as he had hoped. If anything, the years had defined her exquisite features. She was the most tempting woman he had ever seen, then or now. She possessed high cheekbones, naturally arched black satin brows over deep chocolate eyes, and a mouth that he was well aware could drive a man crazy. Her body had remained lush, with long, shapely legs that could wrap around a man’s waist and draw him deeper into her satin heat.
Desire hit before he drew his next breath. His hand in his pocket clenched. He’d promised himself long ago that if he ever saw Miranda Collins again, he’d treat her the same way she had treated him, blithely dismissing her as if they had never shared intense emotions and an even more intense passion.
“Please forgive me for being late,” Miranda said, her sultry voice as sexy as ever. Her jet-set life hadn’t changed the cadence that made a man think of long, moon-draped nights, silken sheets, and naked flesh against flesh. “Bad weather at LaGuardia kept the plane on the runway for almost an hour.”
“You’re forgiven,” Emma, the bride-to-be, said, a smile on her pretty face. “I could never be angry with my favorite designer and good friend. I’m just glad you’re here. We’re about to open the gifts.”
“If we can get everyone away from the chocolates.” The hostess chuckled, and everyone laughed with her. “Ladies, let’s go inside. I promise there are more chocolates to come.” She turned to Miranda as the women filed inside, some taking one last serving of chocolate. “Help yourself. We’ll be inside.”
Miranda watched them leave, then turned to the array of chocolate on the twelve-foot table before her. Picking up a twenty-four-carat-gold-rimmed dessert plate and sterling flatware, she studied the offerings. Her gaze stopped at the hot-fudge-sundae silk pie. The drizzle of dark chocolate over the white-chocolate mousse caused an old, forbidden memory to surface: a stream of warm chocolate poured over her breasts and licked leisurely away by a man she’d sworn to forget, but never had.
“Having trouble deciding?”
Miranda started, her eyes going wide with recognition, her heart pounding as she stared in stunned surprise at the man she had just been thinking about. “Lucian.”
Hearing her say his name in that breathless tone caused his body to harden even more. With an effort he kept the pleasant smile on his face and withdrew his hand from his pocket. “Hello, Miranda.” He waved his hand toward the laden table. “Not to your liking?”
She moistened her lips and swallowed, finally dragging her gaze away from him and back to the table. She’d always wondered what she’d feel if they met again, wondered if she’d experience the same wild
exhilaration, feel her pulse race, her body tighten with need. She didn’t have to wonder any longer. Lucian still affected her as no man ever had.
She’d always hoped his perfect white teeth had decayed, or he’d gained weight from eating his products—or perhaps at the very least lost that thick head of hair so she could stop thinking about how soft it had felt beneath her fingertips or how arousing against her bare skin. None of it had happened. He remained devastatingly handsome, with a well-conditioned body that a god would envy.
“I’m trying to talk myself out of eating anything. I have a weakness for chocolate, and I’m afraid one wouldn’t be enough,” she finally said.
His nostrils flared. She realized she had said the wrong thing. Once, she’d dared let herself dream of a future with him. Back then he had often told her that after making love to her, once could never be enough. She was his sweetest addiction, and he had been hers.
Lucian picked up a bourbon bonbon and held it close to her slightly parted mauve-painted lips. “Everyone should have one guilty pleasure.”
And you were mine, Miranda almost said. Instead she stepped back, trying to find her equilibrium, to smile and act as if pushing the man standing before her out of her life at nineteen hadn’t been the most difficult decision she’d ever had to make. “My seamstress would throw a tantrum if I’m not able to fit into the designs I’m wearing for the trunk show in two weeks.”
Lucian’s dark eyes slowly swept her incredible body, from her four-inch heels, along the fishnet stockings, past the black-and-white couture suit with feather details on the sleeves and hem, to the open vee of the black silk blouse that showed the rounded curve of her full breasts, to the caramel-colored face that would stop any man in his tracks, to the breezy layers of straight black hair. “One won’t hurt. I’ll help you work it off.”