by LeCoeur, Ami
"So when does the game end?" I looked from Thomas to the table. They certainly seemed intent.
"Oh, technically, a poker game never really ends. If someone loses all their money, or there aren't enough players, then I suppose that could be considered an ending. Usually, though, the game breaks up when everyone seems to agree it's time to end."
No wonder he's out until all hours. At least that part made more sense to me now.
"See that guy on the end? I've been watching him. He's losing money, but he keeps playing." Thomas looked over at me. "Notice how he's fingering his mustache?"
I nodded. The guy looked nervous to me.
"Every time he starts playing with his mustache he increases his bets. A few times he's won, but most of the times he's ended up losing the hand. That mannerism is called a 'tell'. It's like a nervous twitch that gives away something a player's trying to keep hidden. Poker players watch for that kind of thing. After they watch long enough, it gives them clues about the cards in the person's hand."
"So there's a kind of strategy to playing poker? It isn't just about having the best cards?"
"Yes. And realistically, in a poker game, when you can save your money, that's just as valuable as winning money. In other words, knowing when to release a hand—to drop out or "fold" as they call it—can be just as important as knowing when to bet."
"Because having money is what keeps you in the game…"
"Exactly."
I shook my head. I still didn't understand the allure of poker.
Chapter Eight
Another round of drinks later, Thomas and I had abandoned the topic of poker, leaving the guys at the table to figure out the finer points. Instead, we were laughing about the last season of our favorite television show.
"I thought I was the only person in the world who watched that!" I exclaimed with a laugh. A reality show about practical jokers—well, "Impractical Jokers" actually. I’d stumbled onto it one night when I couldn’t sleep and had watched it fairly religiously any time I found myself tossing and turning. The guys were silly, stupid, and downright funny as they dared each other to do outrageous things.
"Our guilty secret," Thomas laughed, clinking his glass lightly against mine.
"What secrets are those?" Antonio's unnaturally quiet voice interjected as he stepped up behind me. His hands fell possessively onto my shoulders.
"Antonio," I said, glancing over my shoulder at him. "This is Thomas Markus. He’s the author of a fascinating book on creativity. I attended his seminar a few days ago."
Thomas rose and extended a hand that Antonio ignored. I couldn’t see Antonio’s face since he remained behind me, but I felt the tension cascading off of him in icy waves.
Obviously, Thomas felt it too. "Well it’s getting late," he said a bit more awkwardly than I would have expected given our very innocent conversation. "I’m going to head out. Nice seeing you again, Angela." He smiled at me and nodded to Antonio. Then he left us alone.
I stood, turning to face Antonio, my anger rising again. "What was that about?"
"I guess sitting with me is less entertaining than talking to authors in bars," he said, ignoring my question and obvious displeasure.
That ticked me off. What right did he have to get upset with me when he'd so patently ignored me? I had more to say on the subject and was gearing up to pursue it when his phone buzzed. I consciously tried not to roll my eyes as I turned away.
"Let me walk you back to the room," he said a moment later, after reading the text message.
"Business again?" I asked, turning back to him and tapping the phone in his hand.
He looked down at the phone. "Yes, I’m sorry."
"You keep saying that, Antonio," I said, trying my best to keep my voice even and unemotional through gritted teeth. Why couldn't he see how upset I was about the way he kept treating me? The worst part was I knew all of this would be water under the bridge to him in the morning. "I can find my way back to the room by myself, thanks."
He reached for me, grabbing my arm. His eyes flickered from the doorway back to me. I wondered if he might be worried that I’d run off after Thomas Markus.
Unbidden, a thrill ran through me and my anger transformed into something more devious and self-serving than I had even known was in me. Before my rational mind got the better of me, I tipped up on my toes, placing one hand along the side of his face, and kissing Antonio full on the lips.
Maybe it was because Thomas and I had been talking about the dares on the TV show, or maybe it was my own sense of determination. Whatever. It was a surprise to Antonio, but a brief moment later his lips softened, parting to welcome my tongue as he pulled me into him.
I held against him for a moment, pressing my breasts into the warm circle of his arms, enjoying the strong beat of his heart. But I had something else in mind. Remembering my resolve from the previous day, I was on a mission of sorts. I wasn't exactly sure what I was going to do next, but this was my game, and I was taking control of it.
I nipped lightly at his bottom lip and pulled away. "Go take care of your business, Antonio," I said. "I’ll see you tomorrow."
Then I turned away, letting my new found sultriness sway into my hips as I sauntered to the door, certain his eyes were watching my every move.
This time, I would make sure he paid attention to me in the morning.
Chapter Nine
My resolve had not broken when the sun kissed me awake the next morning. I was even more determined that Antonio Mancini would be mine, even if I had to be the one to take the next step. I would do whatever I needed to in order to make it impossible for him to deny me.
I sat up, straining to hear sounds from the other side of the door. I'd discovered he was an early riser and was often out the door not long after he woke, so I had to move fast.
I took a quick shower and then slipped into the naughty purple lingerie I’d bought the day before. I took Maria’s advice, piling my damp hair on top of my head with a few clips and pins. Then, with a deep, confidence-boosting breath, I opened the door and stepped into the main room.
"Not today," Antonio said. He was standing by the patio door with his back to me.
For a second, I thought he was talking to me, but then realized he was already on the phone.
Business as usual.
Not today indeed.
I made a point of closing the door loudly behind me.
"I’ll be out of touch for most of the day, but the funds will—" Antonio turned to me as he spoke, and then stopped abruptly. His dark eyes swept over me, taking in every last inch of me as I stood there, all innocence and violet ribbons.
I gave him a small smile, then made my way slowly across the room to the little fridge, knowing his eyes were following me. The butterflies in my stomach threatened to jump into my throat. What had I been thinking? Could I go through with this self-imposed dare?
"Mancini? Are you there?" said a tinny-sounding voice on the other end of the phone. I glanced over to see his hand hovering in the air beside his ear as he watched me.
Taking a deep breath, I bent over to pull the door open, giving him a wonderful view of my long, shapely legs.
"Yes. Everything will be taken care of. I-I’ll call you back." I heard him put the phone down on the table by the sofa.
I stifled a small smile. That phone was always with him, and even though it was still within his reach, I counted it as a victory that he hadn’t put it back in his pocket just yet.
I pulled a bottle of orange juice from the fridge, then stood up. "Anything important?" I asked sweetly.
"Just… business," he said, his voice soft and low.
I saw a muscle in his jaw tense as I walked over to him. In fact, his whole body stiffened. I let my eyes move up and down his body, admiring the way his jeans hung loose in some places, and fit snugly in all the right ones. Enjoying the shape of his broad chest beneath the simple white polo he wore. I wanted nothing more than to just reach out and run my
hand down his arm, or let it rest over his heart. But I managed to restrain myself, reaching instead for the sliding glass door.
"Always business with you, Antonio," I said over my shoulder, toying with a stray curl that had slipped out of its pins. "When are you going to have some fun with me?" I stepped outside. The warmth of the sun settled over me like a soft blanket. I felt strong and sultry—like a tigress enticing her prey.
I put my hand on the railing, watching the waves shimmer before me. I heard Antonio step outside and a thrill rolled through me. I shifted my hips. leaning one elbow on the rail, imagining his hands slipping around my waist, sliding down my thighs… I gulped back an involuntary moan. Was my plan backfiring? I seemed to be turning myself on even more than I was turning him on.
"I promised you a surprise today," he said.
I spun around to face him, leaning back against the rail. "A surprise?" I put on my most innocent and delighted smile as I arched my back.
He watched me for a moment. "Do you like chocolate?"
I raised an eyebrow. I definitely liked where this was going. On impulse, I put a finger to my lips, sucking on it lightly and giving him a sideways glance from under my half-lowered eyelids. "Mmmm, chocolate?"
Antonio narrowed his eyes, his lips stretching into a tight line. He unconsciously ran his hand over his wrist, twisting at his gold Rolex.
"Yes," I purred. "What girl doesn't love chocolate?"
"Good," he said, taking a deep breath and making an effort not to stare at my breasts. "Then get dressed. We’re going ashore."
Well, that wasn't quite what I had expected! I tilted my head, arching my back even more to show off my assets. "Ashore? For chocolate?"
"Yes." he said, finally tearing his eyes away from me. "We're going to a famous chocolate factory on the island."
A day together. On the island. Not quite what I'd been planning, but who could turn down Antonio AND chocolate? Just for effect, I took a long moment to run my tongue over my lips before pushing myself away from the railing. "That does sound like fun," I said, brushing past him to sashay inside. "I’ll go find something… nice to wear…"
Chapter Ten
"From bean to bar," said the brochure Antonio handed me. I read through it as we made the short walk to the factory, absorbing some of the facts and myths about chocolate. Among other things, now I knew that it wasn’t such a bad thing to indulge at least once a month.
"Too bad they don't allow cameras," Antonio said. He hadn’t even mentioned my little show this morning, very pointedly keeping me focused on this excursion.
"That’s all right," I said, closing the brochure and tucking it into my purse. "I suppose they want to hold on tight to their trade secrets."
I hadn’t given up on my Operation: Seduce Prince Charming, but for the moment, I could certainly play along with his game of pretending we were simply business associates and there was nothing going on between us. So, in the meantime, I refused to let myself get caught up in the confusion that Antonio so often stirred in me with his hot and cold reactions. I knew he wanted me, plain and simple. And I was determined to make it very difficult for him to keep holding back.
But that was for later. Right now, I was simply enjoying his company.
Inside, the building was cool and dim compared to the sunny day we'd walked in from. We were greeted by a lovely young lady who introduced herself as Yvonne, the owner’s daughter and our tour guide for what I learned would be a private tour.
"Welcome," she said warmly. "We're so glad you have selected us for your visit. As you can see, this is a small working factory. On the tour itself, we will show you how we produce fine, world-class chocolate. We are not a working plantation, but many people enjoy learning about the entire process, and we will be happy to give you a sample of all the steps. But this is your visit, so please let me know where you would like to start."
I looked over at Antonio, hoping to take my cue from him. He'd set up the day, so I was willing to let him be in charge of it.
"We're here," he said. "Give us the full treatment."
Yvonne smiled and led us to the far wall. "This is the cocoa plant." She touched a small plant growing in the corner, and then pointed to the photograph hanging just above it. "And this is what it looks like growing in the fields."
"The Mayans in Central America were the first people known to use cacao," she explained, picking up a pod sitting on a shelf below the photograph. "They harvested, fermented and roasted the beans before grinding them into a chocolate paste that they mixed with water. It was mixed with spices and chili peppers to create a frothy, bitter drink called xocoatl."
I poked at the thick, fibrous pod that housed the cocoa beans, then handed it to Antonio to inspect. "I’ve definitely taken chocolate bars for granted," I laughed.
Yvonne shared how the Spaniards had learned of the cacao beans from the Aztecs, with whom the Mayans traded. "Chocolate became the favored drink of royalty and was even offered to the gods in their rituals. Theobroma cocoa—the scientific name—comes from the Greek word Theo or god, and broma or food."
"Food of the gods," Antonio nodded approvingly.
"Eventually it was taken back to Spain and the drink itself was modified to be more similar to what we currently drink," she continued.
Yvonne stepped over to the next large photograph showing the fermentation area, explaining how the beans moved through a series of "sweat boxes" over the course of approximately a week to refine the flavor, and then were spread on huge drying racks.
"Once they are dried, the beans are packaged to let them air out, without letting moisture in," Yvonne said, holding out a heavy canvas sack that looked like a rather uncomfortable pillow. I had no idea how heavy it would be, and almost dropped it when she handed it to me, but Antonio came to my rescue, his hands brushing mine.
I glanced up at him, returning his playful grin. "My hero," I said. "The gods will be pleased."
Yvonne laughed, taking the bag from him to replace it on the shelf under the photo. "There are more photographs about the process, but that's enough history. Now we will visit the factory where you can see the process in action."
"And taste some samples?" I asked hopefully. Chocolate is, after all, my drug of choice.
"Is that not why you are here?" She laughed again.
"Now, for health reasons, we need you to wear these," Yvonne handed us each a hair net. I struggled a little as I tried to tuck my locks into the net—something I had never used before.
"I can help you with that," she said stepping behind me, having deftly slipped her long braids into her own net. I glanced up at Antonio, who somehow managed to look distinguished, even with the net covering his head.
Yvonne led us out to the factory, starting at the roasting area, where large vats turned like silent treasure chests. It was much warmer here, and I was glad I had chosen a light top and shorts.
"We use an antique mélanger to grind the nibs, sugar and cocoa butter into a fine paste. Here we will reduce the particle size of the mixture and thoroughly mix the ingredients for preparation into our roller refiner, which will make the particles even smaller."
"I hope there isn’t a test after this." I shook my head as Yvonne explained each process to us. Winnowing, grinding, refining, conching, tempering—all words that were new to me, but the meaning behind them was fascinating as I watched the machines and tasted the results after each process. It was amazing how much the flavor changed and blossomed with each step.
"And now the moment you’ve been waiting for," Yvonne said, winking at me as she guided us toward the area where the tempered chocolate was actually poured into the molds.
Antonio squeezed my hand. I suddenly realized how relaxed he'd been during the tour, and part of me relished this quiet closeness and the fun we were having. If I didn’t know better, I’d almost believe we were a real couple.
I watched in hypnotized fascination as a rich, dark stream of velvety chocolate poured into the mo
lds. My nose was filled with the delicious scent of warm chocolate. My mouth still tasted the dark, bitter cacao nibs. As I watched the beautiful, dark chocolate, my imagination began to get a little sugar high of its own.
"Are you ready for a taste, Angela?" Antonio's voice broke into my thoughts.
I couldn't help myself. I licked my lips and turned to him, tugging his hand to draw him close enough to whisper in his ear.
"I wonder what you would taste like with that delicious chocolate smeared all over your chest."
I heard his sharp intake of breath and that brought me back to my senses. I quickly dropped his hand and stepped back, looking up at his face. Oh my God, had I actually said that out loud? I gave him a quick smile and walked after Yvonne. I couldn’t believe what I'd just done—even though I'd dared myself to be more vampish. Yet, even though I felt the flush in my cheeks, I loved that I had gotten such a strong response.
***
"This is sooo good," I literally cooed as Yvonne graced us with samples of each flavor. The decadent, smooth, creaminess simply melted on my tongue and my eyelids fluttered closed as something near ecstasy washed over me.
There were so many wonderful flavors to select from, and I wanted to try every single one. It would be hard to choose which one was my favorite.
"Cara, this is chocolate, for goodness sake. You don't have to be stingy with yourself. Choose as many as you’d like to take back with us," Antonio laughed.
I looked up at him, a crooked grin on my face. "Are you sure about that?"
He laughed again. "I’ve led the kid into the candy store. It would be unfair of me to let you walk away empty handed."
I turned back to the displays of elegantly boxed chocolate bars, trying to decide. Cacao Equador? Chocolate covered almonds? Espresso? "Mmm… rum caramel…," I purred, picking up the black and gold box. We’d walked past the Mount Gay rum distillery on our way to the chocolatier and Antonio had mentioned stopping by to pick up a bottle on our way back.