Bride by Chocolate (Death by Chocolate)

by Alexis Lusonne Montgomery

  “Oh, Sam.” Bebe lunged up from the couch and threw her arms around Sam’s neck. He caught her, and his balance, before they landed in a heap on the floor. He eased down onto the couch with her in his arms.

  Relief swamped him, and if he hadn’t been sitting his knees wouldn’t have held him.

  “You believe me, baby?” he whispered into her hair.

  She leaned back and looked deep into his eyes. “Of course I do. You would never lie to me.”

  “There now,” Sam’s mother smiled and hugged Glenna tighter. “That’s all settled. Now would someone mind telling me what in hell happened to that hideous Freddy Finnerman?”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Valentine’s Day was almost over.

  All the orders had been filled.

  The Waterston Chocolatiers shop and factory had been in a productive frenzy for the past week, and tonight at closing they had toasted a job well done with the finest French champagne.

  Bouquets of long-stemmed scarlet roses sat on every surface.

  Roses from Maman and Papa, who’d been apprised of the events, and assured by Sam that all was well.

  Roses from Mr. and Mrs. Sugarman, who’d planned a post-Valentine’s evening in hopes of even more forthcoming announcements.

  Roses from Glenna, thankful for her near miss, and for the box of her very own truffles, which she shared with no one.

  And more roses from Felix, who now shadowed Waterston’s accounts like the computer bulldog he’d become.

  A huge arrangement of yellow roses from Gracie sat on the front window display case. Her note said yellow roses meant love everlasting.

  But not one flower from Sam.

  He’d kissed her good-bye that morning when he’d dropped her at Waterston’s and said he’d pick her up at the usual time. She hadn’t heard a word from him since.

  They’d fallen into a comfortable routine in the past days while Bebe scrambled to get Waterston Chocolatiers back on track and played catch-up with the standing orders and the new business brought on by the chocolate ball recognition and awards. They’d spent their evenings and nights together. Sam dropped her off in the morning and picked her up after work.

  This could be heaven, but…

  But—there was always a but—there had been no mention of a date on Valentine’s Day.

  No mention of a date. Or dinner out. Or drinks by candlelight.

  No mention of the opera.

  And no orders for chocolates from Sam Sugarman.

  Bebe was determined to be adult about the situation.

  She’d known from the outset that Sam was a temporary phenomenon in her life. He was bigger than life. He moved in rarified circles. He embodied the city’s own Prince Charming— temporarily sidetracked from his search for the perfect corporate wife.

  One short redhead with chocolate ganache up to her elbows didn’t qualify in the competition.

  But dammit, she deserved one Valentine’s Day.

  After all they’d been through, that was not too much to ask. And she was going to tell Sam that very thing when he finally showed up.

  “Bebe, your ride is here,” Angie called through the intercom. “Better come quick, boss, you don’t want to keep this baby waiting.”

  She grabbed her bag, slipped her heels back on her feet, and headed for the front of the factory. The kitchen crew blocked the factory entrance to the shop.

  “Excuse me, ladies. What’s going on?” she asked, squeezing through.

  “Nice ride, dear,” Greta remarked. “Sam certainly knows how to show a girl a good time, doesn’t he?”

  “I always said that young man had class,” Birgit said.

  “Yeah, that’s definitely my idea of class,” Angie joined in, continuing to stare out the window at the yacht-long limo blocking traffic in front of Waterston Chocolatiers. The uniformed driver stood at attention near the open rear door.

  “It’s for me?”

  “That’s what the man told me,” Angie said, opening the shop door.

  “Better not keep the pumpkin waiting, Cinderella, you don’t want to miss the ball.” Greta laughed, shooing her out the door.

  “Miss Waterston?” The chauffeur asked, stepping forward to help Bebe step down from the curb.

  “Yes.”

  “Mr. Sugarman sent the car for your convenience. He sent a message as well. It’s in the floral arrangement.”

  “Thank you,” she said, climbing into the spacious backseat. Sinking into the plush leather, she sighed seeing the lovely arrangement Sam had chosen.

  Lush baby’s breath surrounded delicate blush-pink baby roses arranged in a heavy cut-crystal bowl that looked very much like the Baccarat bowl Maman only allowed out on very special occasions. The regal glassware sat on the opposite side of the coach seat as though it belonged, which was more than Bebe was feeling at the moment.

  In for a penny…in for a pound.

  “Miss Waterston?” The driver had gotten behind the wheel and pulled into traffic. His voice came through an intercom.

  “Yes?”

  “Did you find the note?”

  “Oh. No. Just a minute.” Bebe scooted across the seat and reached for the discreet white envelope smothered in the tiny white flowers. She opened it to read Sam’s bold scrawl:

  Bebe, Will you be my Valentine? Sam.

  “Miss Waterston?”

  “The answer is yes.”

  “That’s great. That’s the answer I was supposed to get. Thank you. Please, enjoy the chilled champagne and make yourself comfortable—I’ll have you home as quick as this traffic will allow.”

  Bebe had to smile at the obvious relief in the driver’s voice. What would he have done if she’d said no? Dumped her at the curb and headed for Canada?

  She sat back. Might as well enjoy this decadence while it lasted. Popping the cork on the miniature bottle, she poured the bubbly contents into the flute provided and toasted her good fortune.

  Sam hadn’t forgotten Valentine’s Day.

  …

  There were rose petals on the walkway.

  Rose petals from the curb to the front door of the Very Berry.

  Deep shades of pink scattered thickly across the sidewalk, up the steps, across the porch, and all the way to the stained glass inlaid front door.

  “We’re here, Miss Waterston.”

  No, Bebe, thought, this is a dream. She stared at the petals lifting delicately in the breeze only to settle again like butterflies lighting.

  The limo door opened. The driver extended a gloved hand.

  “My flowers,” Bebe said, not willing to leave the precious gift behind.

  “I’ll be happy to carry them for you, miss.”

  Bebe considered the size of the vase and the feat of getting it and herself out of the plush limo confines without mishap.

  “Thank you so much,” she said, taking hold of his outstretched hand.

  Like a princess in a fairy tale, Bebe crossed the walk and made her way to the front steps.

  The stained glass door opened. Gracie, dressed in elegant evening wear, looking every bit the smug fairy godmother, smiled and waved her into the foyer.

  “Have a wonderful evening, sweetheart,” she said, and swooped down the steps and into the open door of the waiting limousine.

  The driver deposited the crystal bowl of flowers on the foyer reception table, tipped his hat, and followed Gracie.

  Bebe stood in the doorway and watched the big black car drive away.

  But what about the opera?

  “Bebe.”

  Sam’s voice. Low, with a certain harshness she recognized, had her turning with a sensual shiver. She looked to the top of the stairs. Sam, like a GQ centerfold in a black tux, extended a strong hand in her direction.

  A willing victim to her own personal mesmerist, she crossed the carpet to the stairs and ascended. Never taking her gaze from his, she drowned in the desire she saw in his eyes, desire she knew he felt for her alone.

&
nbsp; At the top of the stairs, she placed her small hand in Sam’s much larger one. He pulled her into his embrace and kissed her until she melted into him.

  Every moment a memory, she vowed. Every moment for as long as it lasts, and kissed him with all the love she possessed.

  Breathless, she gazed up at the man she knew she loved.

  “Happy Valentine’s, baby.”

  “Happy Valentine’s, Sam.”

  He swung her up into his arms. Bebe wrapped her arms around his neck and laughed. She could get used to this—with Sam. Only Sam.

  “I have a gold box for you.”

  “Edible?”

  “No. And there’s a contract involved. I’m afraid that you can’t have one without the other.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Pretty sure.”

  “Perhaps we should negotiate. I already have a lot of gold boxes, you know.”

  Sam carried her into the bedroom and settled down on the bed with her cradled on his lap, back braced against the pillows.

  “Okay, where’s the box?” She didn’t see a Waterston box sitting on any surface in the room. Had he put it under the bed? If she ate another truffle she’d likely turn into one, but for Sam she’d manage.

  “No negotiations, Bebe. It’s all or nothing. And it’s forever.”

  His serious voice sent shivers shimmering in spirals down her spine.

  Sam slid his hand into his pocket. The small gold leather box Sam pulled out and balanced on his palm hadn’t come from Waterston’s. It was smaller than a truffle.

  “Will you marry me, Bebe Waterston?” The hoarseness in his voice sent a thrill coursing through her whole body.

  Bebe gazed from the box to the love she saw in Sam’s eyes.

  “Yes, I will marry you, Sam Sugarman, but if that box has chocolate in it, I swear I will smother you with your own pillow.”

  Sam laughed, flipping the small gold lid up to the glitter of diamonds. “No chocolates. Will this do?”

  Bebe gasped. “Oh, it’s beautiful.”

  “I have it on the best authority that diamonds are forever. I know I’ll love you forever.”

  “I love you, Sam.”

  “Put the ring on. I need to see you wearing it.”

  The sudden intensity in his voice and the desire in his eyes made everything inside her quiver with need. She sat up, took the ring from the box, and held it out to him.

  “You do it.”

  “My pleasure,” he said, and slid it on her finger. His sigh and slow smile overwhelmed her. She launched herself at Sam.

  Some time later, Sam rolled onto his back, arranging Bebe against his chest so he could keep an arm around her.

  Life couldn’t get any better than this, he thought, pressing her naked body closer.

  “Sam?”

  “Hmm?”

  “What about the date we’re supposed to go on?”

  “What date?”

  “You know. The one where you send me chocolates, and we go to the opera. For good luck. Glenna told me all about it.”

  “Glenna is adopted.”

  “Sam!” Bebe sputtered.

  “You own the chocolate factory.”

  “There is that.” She swirled fingers through his chest hair.

  “You are all the good luck I’ll ever need.”

  “Oh, Sam.”

  “And I hate opera.”

  He rolled her back onto the pillows and kissed her laughter to the silence of desire.

  Life absolutely didn’t get any better than this.

  THE END? Not.

  Epilogue

  Valentine’s Day, one year later

  The church was packed. Red and white roses festooned every available surface. Rose petals were strewn from one end of the aisle to the other.

  Sam’s mother and Bebe’s maman wore chiffon rose MOB gowns and glided down the aisle on Sam’s father’s arm. The senior Mr. Sugarman wore an Armani tux fitted to the nines.

  The bridesmaids, Glenna and Angie, wore stunning scarlet satin sheaths and strolled to the front of the church escorted by the best man, Max Nolan, who obviously knew Sam’s father’s tailor, to stand with the bride.

  Bebe wore the palest shade of blush pink. The dress’s satin empire bodice was covered in seed pearls and crystals, and the satin skirting layered with chiffon, courtesy of Vera Wang, floated around her. With baby’s breath wreathed in her cinnamon curls, the bride waddled down the aisle braced on her teary-eyed papa’s arm.

  Sam’s heart swelled with pride and desire. His pixie princess walked toward him and she really was having his baby.

  When the bride and her papa reached the raised dais to the altar, Sam stepped down to help his very pregnant fiancée up the two steps. His glance across the packed pews revealed wide smiles and stifled laughter among the guests.

  The delicate veil drifting down from the bridal wreath she wore hid a pained expression as she came to a stop.

  “Do not say a word except ‘I do,’” Bebe whispered on an exhaled hiss. “We are getting married on Valentine’s Day. We may have this baby on the same day—but that could work for me, too.”

  “Just as long as we do one before the other, I’m good,” Sam whispered back. “Do you need a chair? Shall I have Max find a stool?”

  “I’m fine,” she hissed. “Let’s do this. I have to pee!”

  Sam laughed, and she glared up at him. Then she started to giggle.

  The minister cleared his throat and commenced the ceremony with a speed that would have made an auctioneer envious.

  …

  Just before midnight on February fourteenth, with only minutes to spare, the newest scion of the Sugarman empire made his debut in the elegant private birthing suite at the prestigious UCSF hospital.

  Bebe gazed at the sleeping infant she held and then up at his hovering father. Her heart could burst from this much love.

  “You do good work, Mr. Sugarman,” she said through tear-filled eyes. “He’s so beautiful.”

  Sam sank to the chair next to the bed, reaching a finger out to stroke his son’s soft cheek.

  “Teamwork, Mrs. Sugarman,” Sam whispered, leaning in to kiss his wife.

  “And now that we have an heir—”

  “What? Who said that—”

  “We need to start working on the spare—” Bebe kissed him, placing a hand on his cheek.

  Sam laughed. “Only if she has red hair and is as beautiful as her mother.”

  “We’ll schedule that in—”

  “I love you, baby.”

  “I know. I love you—”

  A soft knock on the private suite’s door, and a crack had Sam’s mother sticking her head in the opening.

  “Don’t want to intrude—” she began.

  “Of course we do—” Bebe’s maman nudged Sam’s mother into the room and scooted in behind her. “I want to see my grandson.”

  There was a crowd in the hall.

  Bebe stared at her tiny son. Whether scion to an empire, heir to a gourmet chocolate legacy, or prince of a city, he would never lack for love, she thought. Or siblings, if she had anything to say about it.

  Glancing up into Sam’s eyes, she could tell he had the same thought. The slow smile he gave her let her know how those goals might be accomplished.

  They were the perfect team.

  Thank you, Saint Valentine.

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  Acknowledgments

  Bride By Chocolate was a long suffering project. A lot of research and a lot of chocolate were required. I want to say a heartfelt thanks to Janis Thereault for making the whole journey and never doubting I could actually do this. Having Gloria Str
atford as a constant support made it easier, if not painless. Louella Nelson, my mentor and teacher, and Debra Holland, a true inspiration, were with me through the entire process and contributed to whatever quality the book possesses. Vicki Peters gets kudos for being the best Beta reader any writer could hope to have.

  And if it takes a village…this one’s mine.

  Thanks guys.

  About the Author

  Alexis Lusonne Montgomery is passionate about romance writing and animals. Whenever possible she combines the two. A member of Romance Writers of America, her first manuscript, SWEET DREAMS, placed in the OCC Orange Rose Contest and BRIDE BY CHOCOLATE placed in the 2011 Valley Forge Chapter’s Sheila Contest. Her short story, THE WAY TO A MAN’S HEART, was published in Woman’s World Magazine. She is compiling an anthology of romantic short stories—“like potato chips, you can’t write just one.”

  When not at the keyboard, she raises and shows Irish Wolfhounds, two of whom are AKC Grand Champions. To support her addictions to writing and dog showing, she is an instructor at a fashion design college in Southern California.

  Visit her website www.alexislusonnemontgomery.com or www.lexislusonne.com for more and to leave a message or comment.

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