Wyne and Chocolate (Citizen Soldier Series Book 2)

by Michaels, Donna

  “Yep.” She nodded. “Thank you.”

  “None necessary,” he said as he locked up and slipped the keys in his pocket.

  Her mind got a little naughty, wondering what they settled against. Then her body got a lot hot.

  “Earth to Jill,” he said, tugging lightly on her scarf, as she leaned against the wall for support. “Where were you just then?”

  She snorted. Couldn’t help it. That was a snort-worthy question. “Somewhere I shouldn’t be.”

  Heat entered his gaze. He palmed the wall near her head and leaned in, still tugging her scarf. “Care to share?”

  Her pulse kicked into gear. “No.” She grinned, turning her head into her scarf, but still holding his gaze.

  He was big, and handsome, and so sexy she could barely breathe. And when she did suck in a breath, damn, he smelled great. Imminent quiver great. Even through the scarf. There…she quivered. See?

  Staring down at her, he stilled. “You shouldn’t look at me like that,” he said softly.

  “Like what?”

  “Like you can’t get enough of me.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Jill…” With a fierce hunger darkening his eyes and a low sound of acquiescence rumbling up his chest, he leaned down and captured her mouth with his, making her sigh in pure, unadulterated pleasure.

  Dropping her purse, she wrapped her arms around his neck and closed her eyes, enjoying the delicious state of bliss only Mason created. And the way he said her name. Goosebumps spearheaded a round of tremors to her curled toes.

  He stepped into the kiss, pressing her against the wall, ripping a moan from her throat as he lined up their bodies. The man had a way of taking her out of herself. Making her yearn for more.

  Slipping one hand down to her waist while the other gripped the back of her neck, he pulled her in tighter, sliding his tongue deeper, stealing her strength. If only they didn’t need air. She would’ve happily stayed wrapped in his embrace forever.

  He broke off the kiss, but still held her to him, leaving his mouth on hers for a few breaths before drawing all the way back.

  “Wow.” She blinked up, trying to catch her breath…feel her legs…remember her name.

  Breathing unsteady, he brushed a strand of hair off her temple. “I wanted to do that all damn day.”

  “I wanted you to…too,” she murmured.

  Her pulse hiccupped as the fierce heat returned to his gaze. Criollo. The brown of his eyes resembled the exact shade of the Criollo cocoa bean after roasting. Rare and of finer quality…

  “Yeah?” He smiled and brushed his lips across her jaw. “Far be it for me to disappoint,” he said near her ear.

  Goosebumps and heat raced to her core. Running her hands up his sides then back down to grip his hips, she tilted her neck for better access, because, oh, yeah…that’s the spot.

  “Mr. Wyne? Mason?” A female voice echoed to them from down the hall.

  He stilled, then released her to pull away and turn toward the voice. “Yes, Vera?”

  Jill quickly retrieved her purse from the floor and straightened just before a neat and proper older woman rounded the corner wearing the standard Wyne Resort clerk uniform of black pants and burgundy, button-down blouse with a gold name tag pinned above the left breast, the word SUPERVISOR printed above her name.

  “I’m sorry to bother you, sir. Joan said she’d seen you head this way,” the supervisor replied, apologetic smile on her face. “We’re having trouble with the computers in Reservations. We tried several things, and even rebooted, but we’re still locked out.”

  He blew out a breath and nodded. “Okay, I’ll be there in a minute.”

  Vera nodded and apologized again before pivoting around to quickly disappear back down the hall.

  Mason turned to her with disappointment dulling his expression. “Sorry,” he said, grabbing her hand and bringing her knuckles to his lips. “I’ve got to go take care of this.”

  Watching his mouth move slowly over her fingers, Jill inhaled as heat settled low in her belly. “No worries,” she said, voice a little raw with need. She cleared her throat and met his gaze. “I’ve got to go play with some cocoa beans.”

  A rueful smile tugged his lips. “I’d hoped you’d be playing with mine, but…”

  She laughed and fell into step with him as he led them down the hall to the lobby, still holding her hand. It was crazy, but she would’ve gone up to his apartment, or rented a room with him without a second thought. What did that say about her? She decided not to care. It was time she had a bit of fun without dissecting why.

  When they got to the door, she stopped dead. “Oh no you don’t. You are not dressed for ten degree weather,” she cautioned, motioning to his hoodie. “You go take care of the computers. I’m fine. I’m parked close to the building.” Technically, it was close to the end of the building, but he didn’t need to know.

  “You sure?” He frowned, chivalry obviously too ingrained in him to let her walk to her car alone.

  But he was in a hoodie. It was barely ten degrees. So, no. She lifted her head. “I’m sure.” And to show it, she lifted up on tip-toe and kissed him softly on the lips. “Good night, Mason.”

  She tried to tug loose, but he pulled her close, and using his free hand, cupped her face and kissed her good and solid. When he drew back, she decided then and there, he could easily become her new addiction.

  “Good night, Jill,” he said, releasing her, satisfied smile on his lips.

  It was a good thing it was frigid out, because she needed to cool off.

  Chapter Eleven

  The next day, Mason took clients snowmobiling again. He purposely put the day before out of his mind and threw himself into his work, taking the guests farther, tackling more hills, refueling, staying out until they were ready to call it a day.

  None of it worked. Jill still managed to break into his thoughts. He heard her laugh and felt her hug when he took sharp corners. Saw her smile when he drank hot chocolate. Yeah, no matter how fast and hard he rode today, he hadn’t been able to escape Jill.

  The memory of her kisses, and hot taste as she melted into him last night, haunted his sleep and hovered the whole damn day. He’d been so close to taking her up to his apartment last night. If Vera hadn’t interrupted… Jury was still out on whether it was a good or bad thing. She’d been abandoned by men all her life. He really had no business sniffing around the pretty woman. Hell, he was far from a sure bet.

  “Well, you look like you rode under the Cat instead of on top,” Keiffer said as Mason walked into the common area that evening after a quick shower and change.

  Tyler was watching cartoons. Ethan was passed out on the couch, and his youngest brother was taking his role as pain-in-the-ass to heart.

  “That’s what the seats are for on a snowmobile.”

  “No one told me,” he said, heading to the fridge for leftovers. His mother always cooked a big meal on Sundays and sent it over. Her contribution to parenting over the years. At least she was actually a hell of a cook.

  Porketta. Score. Bypassing the potatoes and veggies, he grabbed the dish of meat and set it in the microwave. His stomach growled. Apparently indecision made him hungry. Not in the mood to use utensils, he cut two buns, and ignored Keiffer who settled onto a stool and smiled at him.

  “How’s Jill?”

  He shrugged. “Wouldn’t know.”

  “That’s not what I heard.”

  Mason stuffed both buns with the hot porketta, grabbed a bottle of water, sat down at the table and tore into his meal. The rolls were soft. His mom must’ve gotten them fresh.

  Keiffer dropped down in a chair across from him. “I heard you and Jill were on the floor here.”

  He stopped chewing long enough to glare at his brother.

  “No, just her snow suit was on the floor and her purse, Uncle Keiffer,” Tyler said, apparently bored with his cartoon. The little guy stood to his right.

  “I wonder how
they could’ve gotten there?” his idiot brother asked, feigning innocence behind raised brows.

  “She dropped them when Uncle Mason scared her,” Tyler happily replied.

  More raised brows. “Did she now? Shame on you, Mason.”

  “But she wasn’t mad at him because she sat next to him on the couch for the whole movie. And didn’t even fall asleep once.” Amazement coated his nephew’s tone.

  “Wow, she’s a keeper.”

  Tyler nodded. “That’s what I said.”

  “And what did Uncle Mason say to that?”

  Uncle Mason was about ready to shove his second sandwich down his youngest brother’s throat. Followed by the bottle of water.

  “Not much, but I think Daddy’s going to marry her if Uncle Mason doesn’t.”

  Damn. His heart lurched. Tyler had seemed to be doing fine without a mom, but lately, he was starting to make comments like this that cut Mason to the quick. He could only imagine how Ethan felt. Keiffer, on the other hand, just shrugged it off.

  “I think it’ll probably be Uncle Mason. I heard someone saw them kissing in the lobby last night.”

  Ah hell.

  “Eww.” Tyler shuddered.

  “Yeah, but Uncle Mason seemed to enjoy it.”

  His nephew’s eyes rounded. “Did you, Uncle Mason?”

  Too damn much. He glared at Keiffer before turning to the young boy, eager to change the damn subject. “How long has your dad been sleeping?”

  “I’m not sleeping,” Ethan called, voice hoarse with fatigue. “I was just resting my eyes while Uncle Keiffer was riding your…butt.”

  Bullshit. Mason sucked down more water as he watched his older brother stand up and stretch. Ethan was pushing too hard. Damn, stubborn ass needed to cut back on work. Wyne Resorts had enough guides to handle a few of his runs.

  Keiffer sat back in his chair and grinned. “Sometimes he makes it so easy.”

  The yawning man approached the table and rustled his son’s hair. “Ain’t that the truth.” He grabbed the second sandwich from Mason’s plate and took a bite.

  “Hey…ba—ghead.”

  “You always make the best sandwiches, Mase,” Ethan said before taking another bite. “The best.”

  He shook his head. “So glad you approve.”

  “Oh, I do. Wholeheartedly,” his brother said, finishing it off with the rest of Mason’s water. “Come on.” He grabbed his son and tossed him over his shoulder, holding onto the giggling boy’s legs. “Let’s get back to the cartoons and give your Uncle Mason a break.”

  “Why does he need a break?” Tyler asked, still draped over his dad’s shoulder.

  “Because he needs to decide whether it’ll be him or Keiffer who takes this back to Jill,” Ethan replied, pulling his hand out of his pocket and setting a familiar gold pin on the table. “It was found near the womens’ locker room door where you and she were…getting friendly last night. I don’t know if she’s just klutzy or trying to get you to visit.”

  Before Mason could reply, the whistling idiot strode toward the TV, giggling son swatting his ass.

  “Ya know?” Keiffer rubbed his jaw and stared at the pin, gaze a little too interested for Mason’s liking. “I’d be quite happy to deliver this to Jill. I bet she tastes as good as her chocolates.”

  The goof moved to grab the pin, but Mason swiped it off the table and shoved it deep in his pocket first. Then he stared Don Juan down. “I don’t want you anywhere near her chocolates. You got it?”

  Keiffer sat back and held up his hands, grinning from ear to ear. “No issues, bro. All you had to do was say you were into her. That would make her off limits, and you know I respect those boundaries.”

  He glared at his brother a little longer, then nodded. “Don’t you have a car to work on?”

  “Nope. Greg’s not feeling well, so I might head to The Groove and see what kind of trouble I can get into.”

  The Groove was one of two nightclubs in the resort. Dancing, drinking, karaoke. Yep. Right up Keiffer’s alley.

  “Try not to get kicked out,” he said, putting the dishes in the dishwasher and empty bottle in the recycling bin in the corner. “Wouldn’t look good for business.”

  “Try not to get shot down,” the smartass countered. “Wouldn’t look good for the Wynes. We have a reputation to uphold.”

  “Uphold this.” Shoving his hand behind his back so Tyler wouldn’t see, he flipped his brother the finger on his way out of the kitchen.

  The pain-in-the-ass chuckle followed him to the stairs. Let him laugh. Mason closed his fingers around the pin in his pocket as he headed to his apartment for his coat and keys. Keiffer wasn’t the one about to deliver the pin to a woman whose hugs warmed him from the inside out. She’d nearly plowed him over with one the last time he’d returned the heirloom, and he couldn’t help but wonder if he’d receive another tonight.

  After only four attempts, Jill was hopeful that she was close to finding the right combination of sweet and bitter that suited the chocolate she wanted to create just for Lea. It was true the woman loved all of her flavors, but this gift was special from Ben, so she wanted the flavor to be special, too. The last batch was too bitter. The two before that not bitter enough. Hopefully, this time, she’d find that happy medium.

  If she could just keep her mind off Mason and his incredible kisses, then she might enjoy success sooner than later. But the memory of last night’s kiss…damn. She touched her lips for the tenth time that day, still experiencing the phantom feeling of his lips. Magical…and hot. God, they were hot.

  Like her.

  She dropped her hand and exhaled, glancing at the clock on her kitchen wall. Shaped like a Hershey’s Kiss, the clock was a memento from a high school field trip to the chocolate factory and amusement park she’d enjoyed over ten years ago. The tour, explaining the process from cocoa bean to chocolate, had both fascinated and inspired, something the floundering teen had needed, and it had stuck with her ever since.

  Bringing her mind back to the time, she nodded. Six o’clock. Time for one more batch, and possibly another if this didn’t cut it. For her true test, she continued to stir a small amount of vegetable oil into the chocolate mixture that smelled like heaven. The one that required her old fondue fountain. The antique, circa 1983 contraption sat center stage on her kitchen table, just waiting for her latest test. Every flavor good enough to market had been perfected with the help of ‘Mocha’, her pet name for the machine.

  But like most outdated and overused appliances, Mocha was temperamental, and often ornery. Jill just hoped that wasn’t the case today. She’d waited until she’d had a good blend before even pulling her prized possession out of the pantry. This test would be her fourth that weekend.

  The moment of truth.

  Timing was everything. The trick was to taste the chocolate a minute into the flow. If she waited longer, then the thinned out mixture was exposed to elements too long and they contaminated the true taste. At least, to her they did. The method had always worked well in the past, so she wasn’t about to vary from the process.

  Just about to flip the switch to turn Mocha on, she jumped when the doorbell rang. Dang. Whoever was there was going to either have to watch or go away. She couldn’t let the mixture sit in the bowl too long, either.

  Tamping down her frustration, she marched to the door and yanked it open, completely forgetting she had her hair piled up under a blue hairnet and wore a matching apron…until she found Mason on the other side.

  Shoot.

  Heat immediately rushed to her face. But there wasn’t time to be embarrassed. “Hi,” she said. “Come in.” And before he could answer, she pulled him inside. “Sorry, but I’m testing chocolate and am on a time schedule. Feel free to take off your coat and come in and watch. Unless you can’t stay, then you’ll have to come in and tell me why you’re here. But either way, I need to get back in there now.”

  Without waiting for a reply, again, she turned and marched b
ack to the kitchen. She knew she’d sounded pushy and bossy, but she had high hopes for this batch and didn’t want to ruin it because her raging hormones wanted her to taste test Mason in the hall.

  Which was more than likely what would’ve happened if she hadn’t opened her mouth because, damn, he’d looked mouthwatering in his fleece coat and black scarf.

  She shook her head and sucked in a breath as she entered the kitchen straight off the hall. Chocolate. She was making chocolate. Not Mason. A hysterical giggle bubbled up her throat.

  “Smells great in here,” he said from behind.

  She turned to find him coatless in the doorway, a sexy grin on his face.

  “I know. I love my job.” She smiled as she flipped on Mocha’s heat switch. “Sometimes the smell lingers for days.”

  “What exactly are you doing?” he asked, stepping closer, interest lighting his eyes.

  After quickly explaining the process, she lifted her bowl of chocolate and slowly poured it all into Mocha’s base. “Okay, honey. Play nice,” she said, stroking the machine before turning on the motor. “No need to show off for Mason.” She glanced up at him, noting his raised brow. “Sometimes she can be a little bit temperamental. But not this time. Nope.” Her attention returned to the fountain, excitement shooting down her spine as the chocolate began to flow over the rim and down the three tiers. “This time, she’s behaving.”

  Jill grabbed two spoons, handed one to her guest then slipped hers under the chocolate flow, before pulling it out for a taste. Sweet. Bitter. A good combination but…

  “Aren’t we supposed to do this with food?” he asked, mimicking her movements, then stilled. “Damn, Jill. This is good. Real good.”

  She smiled, warmed by his compliment. “Thanks. It is good, but not quite right. It could be better. It’s missing something. I just can’t put my finger on it,” she said, dipping her spoon for a second taste, watching Mason do the same. “Good, but not quite, and the mixture is already thinning out and beginning to take on an exposed taste.”