SEDUCTION BY CHOCOLATE
By
Nina Bangs
Lisa Cach
Thea Devine
Penelope Neri
Leisure Books
Copyrights
Copyright 2000 by Dorchester Publishing Co., Inc.
"Sweet Sin" Copyright 2000 by Nina Bangs
"Eliza's Gateau" Copyright 2000 Lisa Cach
"Meltdown" Copyright 2000 by Thea Devine
"Seducing Sydnee" Copyright 2000 by Penelope Neri
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the publisher, except where permitted by law.
Seduction by Chocolate
A Peanut Press Book
Published by
peanutpress.com, Inc.
www.peanutpress.com
ISBN: 0-7408-1069-3
First Peanut Press Edition
Electronic format made available by arrangement with
Dorchester Publishing Co., Inc.
276 Fifth Avenue
New York , NY 10001
The name "Leisure Books" is a trademark of Dorchester Publishing Co., Inc.
Table Of Contents
Copyrights
Sweet Sin By Nina Bangs
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Eliza's Gateau By Lisa Cach
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Meltdown By Thea Devine
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Seducing Sydnee By Penelope Neri
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Ithaca, New York Valentine's Day
Sweet Sin
By
Nina Bangs
To the real Ann Hawkins
For all the laughs.
Chapter One
"Wake a naked man? Hmm. Interesting. Anyone special in mind?" Ann Hawkins strained to hear above the happy whirring of four blenders.
Across the room, Matt Davis repeated his message. With gestures.
"Oh. Got it. Bake a naked man. Ouch. Sounds painful." She cut carrots into fanciful figures while she waited for the blenders to finish.
She didn't need to hear to understand Matt's four-letter response. Before she could react, he brushed past her and shut off her blenders. Talk about nerve.
"Damn it, Ann, I said make a naked man."
She blinked. "Sorry, Davis. I don't do the Adam and Eve thing." Her mind was really on the tingle he'd left behind when he passed her. Must be leaping electrons from all the appliances in her kitchen.
He breathed deeply, and she could almost see him gathering his remaining patience into a neat little pile. "I'm asking you to make one naked chocolate man. Life-size, of course."
"Of course." He wasn't kidding. She dropped her knife with a clatter, scattering little carrot figures across the counter.
"Okay, let's clarify a few important words here. Naked. As in without clothing or visible covering. Bare."
"Right." He nodded encouragement.
"Man. As in the opposite of woman. With body parts not normally viewed during the course of the average day. How am I doing?"
"Great."
"No." She picked up the knife and hacked away at the nearest carrot. She'd call this food sculpture Matt Davis Meets Lizzie Borden.
"No?" He looked surprised. Matt did "surprised" well.
"No. Chocolate, vanilla, or strawberry men are not on my menu. Ever."
"I bet you'll make an exception this time." Relaxing, he leaned against the nearest oven and slanted her the killer smile that usually reduced her to a compliant puddle.
"Bet I won't." Uh-oh. A Matt attack. First the smile, then the fingers through the hair, finally the eyes. She'd never lasted through the eyes, so she didn't know what came next.
"We needed a big deal, sweetheart, and this is the biggest we'll ever get." He raked his fingers through overlong hair that always had a tousled, I-just-climbed-out-of-bed-after-a-great-night-of-sex look. "Carlson agreed to give Movable Feasts all his catering business if we'll do this one man."
"Nope." She brightened. "How about a swan? I do a great ice swan."
He straightened away from the oven and moved over to stand in front of her. Six feet of intimidation. No, not exactly intimidation. More like…
"A swan wouldn't work, Ann." He placed a finger under her chin and raised her gaze to his. Oh, no. The dreaded tingle. And all the appliances were off. "Carlson's daughter is giving a bachelorette party for a friend. The swan's cold. They want hot. Real hot."
"I guess you're right. That swan I used for a model wouldn't stop flapping its wings anyway. And the feathers kept sticking to the ice." Ice. She could use some now. Because even though the air conditioner was going full blast in the hot Galveston afternoon, standing near Matt created its own sizzle zone. It was easy to explain. He just gave off a lot of body heat.
His mouth remained firm, but those hazel eyes of his framed by thick lashes laughed at her, made promises he'd never keep. "I don't see a problem. You've done loads of sculptures. What about that—"
"Pig. It started out as a very big piggy bank for the bankers' conference. Ended up very small because I kept making mistakes and shaving more off it." She smiled. "Cute little piggy." Her smile faded. "If I'd used a real model, it would've still been a big pig."
Matt exhaled sharply, then sat down on the floor, his back propped against the counter. That was Matt. An instant-gratification kind of guy. When he felt like sitting, he sat. He couldn't be bothered with pulling over a stool. Instant gratification. He'd been the same when she was seventeen.
"Come down and talk to me, Ann." Reaching up, he pulled her down beside him.
She edged away from his field of influence. "No naked men. Not a chance. I mean, ice swans are cool, elegant. Little pigs are cute and cuddly. Naked men are hot and… hard. I don't do hot and hard."
"Listen to me." He rubbed his hand down the side of his thigh.
She wished he'd get rid of those worn jeans and try to look more professional. Get rid of those jeans. She didn't think she'd go there today.
"Uh-uh. Not listening. See?" She clapped her hands over her ears. Now that was a mature reaction, she told herself.
Firmly, he pried her hands away from her ears, then held her hands in his. Aha. Now she knew what came after eyes: physical coercion.
"Look, Ann, when we formed this partnership three years ago, we agreed you'd be the creative genius of the company, and I'd handle the business end."
He rubbed a rhythmic pattern across the back of her hand with his thumb. It didn't help her concentration.
"Well, your resident business adviser is telling you that if we don't get Carlson's contract, we're toast. We need money to buy new equipment, hire more help. If we don't upgrade, the competition will bury us."
"Yes, but—"
"That's why I already told Carlson you'd do it."
"You told him what?" She'd carve his heart out with her carrot knife.
"He wanted an answer right away. If I hadn't agreed, he would've called someone else."
"Ah, the magic word. Called. Why didn't you call me?" He'd released her hands. A tactical error on his part.
He threw his entire arsenal at her at once. His crooked boyish grin, the one guaranteed to melt steel or a woman's hard heart. His take-me-to-bed eyes. The fall of his dark, run-your-fingers-through-it-and-lose-your-soul hair. "I knew you'd say no." Leaning over, he kissed the end of her nose. "Think about it."
Rising in one fluid motion, Matt strode to the door. "Give Carlson his damn chocolate man, Ann." His voice was a husky murmur. "If you don't, we may as well close up shop and go our separate ways."
She shut her eyes and rubbed her tingling nose. Her eyes were still closed when she heard the door click and knew he was gone. But then, he'd really been gone for fourteen years.
Ann opened her eyes and faced the truth. She'd make the chocolate man. Only to save the business. No other reason. And if Matt Davis walked away from Movable Feasts, it wouldn't bother you at all. Sure.
She trusted Matt's decisions. Except for the one he'd made when she was seventeen.
Okay, so what was she so ticked about now? He hadn't consulted her. He'd gotten used to making the business decisions and didn't think she'd want to bother with money details. Most of the time he was right, but not this time. He'd manipulated her.
She allowed herself a slow, wicked smile to go with her wicked thoughts. Payback would be sweet. Chocolaty sweet.
He'd manipulated Ann. It'd been for the good of the business, but it was still wrong. Matt parked his red Mustang along the seawall, then got out. It had been for her own good, too.
Who was he kidding? He'd done it for himself. Turning from the car, he gazed out at the waves curling in from the Gulf. The sea breeze lifted the hair from his neck and cooled more than his skin.
If Movable Feasts went under, they might drift apart again. And he had some unfinished business with Ann Hawkins. Fourteen-year-old business. She had to make the naked man. He opened the car door and slid back into the driver's seat.
All the way back, he lined up more reasons for their doing the chocolate man, and when he walked through the kitchen door, he was loaded for bear. "Look, Ann, you have to think about—"
"I'll do it." She calmly continued arranging a veggie rain forest on a large tray.
"The…" He blinked. "You'll do it?"
She fingered the hem of her shorts, and his gaze followed the motion, moved down her long legs to her feet. She'd slipped off one sandal and was running her bare foot back and forth against her other ankle. Pink polish. Each toenail was painted with soft pink polish. Very female, very sexy. He pictured those sexy toes sliding up the inside of his thigh and his groin tightened.
"Yep." Her toes worked harder at her ankle. "Darn mosquitoes."
His imagination moved to fast-forward. Them. Naked. He'd kiss every inch of that luscious leg, starting at that mouthwatering pink-tipped toe.
"Get me a newspaper, will you? I can hear one buzzing now."
"Uh-huh." He pulled the Daily News from the table and handed it to her.
Okay, so he had a pink fetish. Ever since his fifth birthday. His mom had taken him to the bakery and bought him a cupcake with pink icing. He'd complained pink was a girl's color, until he'd tasted it. Great birthday. Great pink icing.
Whack. Whack. Whack. "Gotcha, needle-nose. Minivampires don't last long in Ann Hawkins's kitchen." She swept her long brown hair away from her face.
Last. He'd always liked to make great things last. He remembered sliding his tongue over that icing. Slowly, letting the sweetness melt on his tongue. Then why the hell didn't you make it last with Ann?
This time he would. He'd make it go on forever, slow and sweet.
"Wow, hunting mosquitoes is hot work. Are you hot?" She fiddled with the thermostat.
"Always." He glanced again at Ann's toes. They would be a great starting point for a hot night of sex. "What made you change your mind?"
She shrugged and slipped her sandal back on. "You're right. We can't pass up a chance like this. The business comes first."
"Yeah, the business." He'd suggested the whole thing, so why the letdown? What had he expected from her? Damned if he knew.
"I've already arranged for the chocolate. A block that size costs plenty. I hope Carlson's paying us a lot." She brushed a bread crumb off her blouse.
"He is." He watched sourly. She could brush him out of her life just as easily. "I'll show you his offer." He reached into the back pocket of his jeans.
She waved him away. "Never mind. You always make the best deals." She took a deep breath as she glanced around the kitchen. "I think everything's ready for Jo and Francois."
"Right." He wished she'd take a few more deep breaths, get his mind off her toenails. "I figure you can do the carving here at night after everyone's left. If we put the chocolate on something with rollers, we can throw a piece of plastic over it and roll it into the cooler when you're not working on it."
She nodded. "Makes sense. I sure don't want to do it during the day. Jo would tell me what to make bigger, and Francois would tell me to make it…" She pinkened. "Anyway, the kitchen it is. Living upstairs is a plus. If I can't sleep or I get inspired, I can run down to work on it."
He exhaled on a relieved breath. So far so good.
"Of course, I'll need a model." She carefully rearranged a celery stick on her veggie tray.
"Model? Why do you need a model? Can't you just pick up a copy of Playgirl and find a picture?"
"Uh-uh. I'm not that good. I need a live model. Remember what happened to the pig?" She covered the tray with clear plastic. "Do you want a naked man ten inches tall?"
"Live model?" He was starting to sound like a mike with feedback problems.
"I couldn't possibly work without one. A man has so many… appendages. They're very detailed."
Appendages? Made him sound like an octopus. "I won't go out and hire some stranger off the street." Jealous, Davis ? Damn straight.
He raked his fingers through his hair. Good thing he kept it long, because he needed lots of raking room. "Okay, what're our options here?"
She finally met his gaze. He didn't like the strange glitter in her eyes.
"You can model for me. I can relax with you." She shrugged. "I mean, we've been friends forever. Nothing embarrassing about a working relationship."
He was speechless. He could always think of something to say about almost anything. But this? Standing naked in front of Ann Hawkins while she studied each part of his body with those big brown eyes? Standing naked while she slipped off her sandals and rubbed one pink-toenailed foot against the other? Naked under her gaze for hours, and hours, and—
"Come on, Matt. It's not as if I never saw you naked before."
She'd never seen him naked. Twenty minutes in his backseat with his jeans around his ankles didn't constitute naked. He frowned. Okay, fifteen minutes.
"It'll be a cinch." She snapped her fingers in the face of his glower. "After a few minutes it'll be just like carving a pig. No big deal."
No big deal! Carving a pig? He couldn't remember the last time he'd been this mad. Maybe it was the time in sixth grade when Tommy-the-turd said that Ann's braces would lock onto a guy's teeth if he tried to kiss her, and they'd be joined for life. Matt had gotten suspended for fighting, but it'd been worth it when he'd come back and seen the yellowing bruises all over Tommy's face. No one had ever said anything about Ann again with him around.
Ann stared at him. "Think about it. It's the only way I'll carve the statue. Take it or leave it."
He started for the door.
"Oh, I'll have them deliver the chocolate tomorrow night when everyone's cleared out." Her voice sounded a little uncertain.
"I'll be there." He knew his voic
e was a gruff snarl, but he didn't care.
"Is it a deal?"
"It's a deal." He slammed the door closed behind him with enough force to make the walls vibrate. A pig.
He built up a head of steam all the way to his Mustang. His first impulse was to hit some bar in Texas City , have a drink, then pick a fight with some kick-butt biker named Destroyer. That would work out his aggression.
But as he calmed down, the impulse faded. Hmm. Seen him naked, had she? Naked at eighteen wasn't the same as naked at thirty-two. And he did want her to see him in a different light. Hey, naked was about as different as you were gonna get.
If he couldn't awaken any interest in her when he was buck naked, then maybe the whole thing was hopeless. He didn't want to believe that. Ever. He'd started the ball rolling, so he couldn't complain because it'd curved in an unexpected direction.
He'd always been up for a challenge, though. And the stakes were high: a second chance with Ann Hawkins.
He smiled. She'd find out she'd bitten off more than she could chew, chocolate or otherwise. It was the otherwise that made him lick his lips.
Ann Hawkins had made a mistake. She felt it leering at her from behind the massive block of chocolate plunked in the center of the gleaming kitchen.
The aroma of rich chocolate overpowered her, made her think of dark nights, tangled sheets, and the hard body of a man with midnight hair and gleaming hazel eyes.
God, she was hallucinating. She'd have to wear a protective mask to filter out the chocolate scent.
What the heck had she been thinking about? She couldn't sculpt a naked man. Especially Matt Davis. She sighed. Okay, so she hadn't been thinking at all. All she'd seen was the chance to get back at Matt for agreeing to this without consulting her.
Maybe she could delegate this job, get someone else to do the dirty work. Francois? She hadn't found anything yet that her head chef couldn't do with food.
Don't wimp out now, Hawkins. Ann pulled up a stool in front of the chocolate, trying to imagine it in its new incarnation.
The problem was, she had this reaction to Matt, like the hives she got when she ate strawberries. She was crazy about strawberries, but they weren't for her.
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