Better Than Chocolate

by Sheila Roberts

  He shrugged good-naturedly. “So where’s your sis?”

  “She’s over at Bavarian Brews.”

  He nodded. “Okay. Guess I’ll go find her there.”

  “What do you need?” Cecily asked. And what was this mysterious treat? She’d never stopped to consider that anyone would try to bribe the judges.

  “Oh, nothing. Just thought I’d show her why I’m the best Mr. Dreamy in town. See you girls around.” Then he was out the door.

  The two women exchanged looks. Bill Will was a bit of an exhibitionist.

  “Should we warn Samantha?” Heidi asked.

  Bill Will putting on a show would be good publicity. Whatever he planned to do was bound to spice up that article Nia was writing for the Sun. “Let’s keep it a surprise.”

  * * *

  Samantha and Nia had settled at a corner table with their lattes when in walked Billy Williams, a beefcake poster come to life in tight-fitting jeans and a shirt that was about to burst from straining to hold in well-developed pecs. His cowboy hat was pushed back on his head and he was carrying a rope.

  “Samantha Sterling. I got something to show you, girl,” he called across the coffee shop, pulling all eyes to himself.

  And there were plenty of eyes to pull. Shop owners and retail clerks in search of a morning caffeine hit stood in the order and pickup lines. Three middle-aged women occupied one table, while at another four young moms with babies in their laps or parked next to them in strollers were looking at Billy like he was a tray of truffles marked down fifty percent. And at another table sat—oh, no—Hildy Johnson and Lila Ward, both wearing disapproving frowns. Oh, boy, this couldn’t be good.

  Sure enough. Now Bill Will had his rope out and was swinging a lasso over his head. And—oh, please, God, no—breaking into song, belting out “Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy.” He began to do a hippity-hop bump and grind in her direction, and the table of young moms clapped and let out whoops of encouragement. Even the baristas stopped production and the hiss of the espresso machines paused, leaving the floor to Bill Will.

  He was making the most of it, too. Now he was at Samantha’s table. She slid down her seat, wishing she could make herself invisible. That turned out to be a mistake because it only got her up close and personal in a truly embarrassing way as Bill Will bumped and pumped. And—oh, no—Nia Walters, girl reporter, now had her trusty camera out and was snapping blackmail pictures while Bill Will went at it as if he expected Samantha to put a five-dollar bill down his jeans. Nia wasn’t the only one. Everyone with a cell phone was recording this moment for posterity.

  She tried to look anywhere but at Billy and that proved to be another mistake, because her embarrassed gaze drifted to the door.

  Why, of all the coffee joints in all the world, do you keep walking into mine?

  Chapter Thirteen

  It’s not so hard to find where you belong in this world. You belong where you’re needed.

  —Muriel Sterling, Knowing Who You Are: One Woman’s Journey

  Bill Will ended his routine by throwing his hat in the air and letting out a big “Yeehaw!” Hildy sat watching in shock while Lila scowled like an angry schoolmarm, but the rest of the crowd gave him a round of applause.

  There was also plenty of laughter and Samantha felt as if her whole face was on fire. She managed a cool, “That was quite a show, Bill.”

  He grinned. “Just wanted you to see your future Mr. Dreamy in action.” He turned his full-watt smile on Nia. “Am I gonna be in the paper?”

  “Definitely,” Nia said, and it was all Samantha could do not to swear.

  One of the moms called him over to their table and Bill Will swaggered off. Samantha couldn’t help sneaking a look in Blake’s direction. He’d moved to the order counter and was keeping his distance.

  He should. Coming over to comment on his competition would make him even more hypocritical than he already was.

  She turned to Nia. “You’re not really going to run that picture, are you?”

  “Of course. People will love it.”

  “But the festival is about so much more than the Mr. Dreamy contest,” Samantha protested.

  “Don’t worry. I know that,” Nia assured her. “Now, tell me how you got the idea and what we can expect.”

  Samantha launched into her spiel and Nia typed away on her laptop. By the time they were done, Samantha had infected herself with a dose of excitement even greater than what she’d pumped into Nia.

  Then she saw Bill Will making his way toward them, probably for a repeat performance. “I’ve got so much to do,” she said. “I’d better get back to the office.”

  Nia had seen him coming, too. “Yeah, you’d better,” she agreed. “And lock the door.”

  Samantha beat it out of there. In her hurry to escape Bill Will, she failed to see that she’d run right into Blake. Or nearly. He moved his cup away just in time to prevent their near-collision from spilling coffee on his suit.

  “Sorry,” she said, reaching for the door.

  He pushed it open and followed her out. “I didn’t know you produced musicals on the side. I guess auditions are over for the day?”

  She could feel her cheeks sizzling. “You’re very amusing. Maybe you should give up banking and be a stand-up comic.”

  “Would you come watch me?”

  “Could I throw rotten tomatoes?”

  He smiled. “I prefer money.”

  Didn’t she know it?

  Aware that he’d stuck his foot in his mouth, he cleared his throat. “So, is that one of your Mr. Dreamy contestants?”

  She snorted. “Why are you asking? Worried about the competition?”

  He just shook his head.

  She looked at him in disgust, then said a brisk, “Well, I’d like to stand here all day while you try to butter me up, but I have a company to save.” Then, before he could say anything, she dashed across the street. Cecily was right. Men!

  * * *

  Blake watched Samantha run across the street to her business. When God handed out perfect bodies, she must have been at the head of the line. And those full lips. Did women have any idea what it did to a man when they wore that lip gloss stuff?

  He frowned and tossed his coffee in a nearby garbage can. He admired Samantha’s determination to save her company and the clever ways she was coming up with to do it. He’d love to tell her that, but if he did she’d tell him where to stick his admiration. He was the villain in her story and nothing he could say or do was going to change that. What a sick twist of fate. He wasn’t sure what he’d done to deserve it, but obviously Somebody Up There had it in for him.

  * * *

  Cecily had just finished putting up her Mr. Dreamy photo gallery when her sister returned. “Did Bill Will find you?” Dumb question considering the expression on Samantha’s face.

  Samantha scowled. “Was that fiasco your idea?”

  “What did he do?” Heidi asked, replacing stock on the shelves.

  “He practically gave me a lap dance in the middle of Bavarian Brews,” Samantha muttered. “And, naturally, Nia got a picture.”

  Cecily snickered. It was rude but she couldn’t help it. The image of her perfect older sister getting the Bill Will treatment in public was just too funny.

  “I’m glad you find it amusing. Are you sure you and Bailey didn’t set that up?”

  “No, honestly,” she said.

  “It’s true,”
Heidi seconded. “He came here looking for you and we told him you were over there. We had no idea what he was going to do.”

  Except knowing Billy Williams, Cecily had suspected it would be something over-the-top. And he hadn’t disappointed. His little stunt had been worth a thousand ads.

  “If anyone else comes looking for me, I’m not here. I moved to Tahiti,” Samantha said, and stomped upstairs to her office.

  “Your poor sister.” Heidi tried unsuccessfully to hide a smile.

  “It’s not easy being the queen of chocolate,” Cecily said. “Royalty has its price.”

  Being a queen with no king had its price, too, Cecily thought. Poor Sam carried a heavy burden of responsibility on her shoulders. Her life would be easier if she had a king.

  And Cecily had been getting these funny impressions about who that king should be. She couldn’t seem to figure out a thing for herself, but when it came to other people she had a gift for seeing who should be with whom. It was crazy, but she kept seeing her sister with Blake Preston.

  That was, of course, preposterous. She was obviously losing her edge. Another reason to get out of the matchmaking business.

  What she was going to wind up doing, though, she had no idea. Short-term, she’d help her sister with the festival and work for Charley. She’d gone by Zelda’s and offered her services, and Charley had been more than happy to hire her as a hostess on weekends. With the stipulation that she could have the festival weekend off, of course. That money, plus the little she had in savings, would carry her through until spring. Then…who knew? Samantha would have everything up and running at Sweet Dreams again and wouldn’t need her. Mom was slowly pulling out of her tailspin and would be fine and no one would really care if she moved on.

  She’d often felt invisible as a child. Mom had not only filled out Samantha’s baby book, she’d added extra notes and pictures. Cecily’s got half-completed. Not that Mom didn’t love her. Her mother hadn’t been stingy with kind words or kisses. But time was a commodity she’d had difficulty distributing evenly, especially once Bailey arrived on the scene.

  It was hard to feel special when you were the middle child, sandwiched between Miss Perfect and Miss Adorable. Samantha was the stellar firstborn and Bailey was the baby of the family who kept everyone entertained with her antics. Cecily was…the quiet one, the little supporting actress for the two stars.

  So what did she do when she grew up? She became a matchmaker and took on another supporting role, working to give other people the love story they wanted while managing her own love life on the side and doing a poor job of it. Pathetic.

  Well, after the festival she’d make a new beginning, maybe move over the mountains to Seattle and… Do what? Her future was a thick fog.

  Hopefully, she’d be able to turn on her fog lights and find her way. Meanwhile, she’d go back to the house and have some lunch. “I guess that’s it for today,” she told Heidi. “I’ll get out from underfoot before your lunch-hour rush starts.”

  Oh, that there would be a lunch-hour rush. Their midweek traffic so far had been spotty, yet another thing to worry Samantha.

  “Too late,” Heidi said as the door burst open.

  In rushed a little girl with blond curls and cornflower-blue eyes, followed by a short, slender, middle-aged woman Cecily immediately recognized as Bernadette Goodman, the mother of Luke, their production manager.

  Luke had about ten years on Samantha and had been at Sweet Dreams ever since he was a teenager, when he first started working on the production line. When their production manager was lured away a few years ago by a bigger company, Luke’s strong work ethic and good people skills had made him the perfect man to step in and take over. His wife had died two years earlier. Bernadette was helping him raise his daughter.

  Cecily hadn’t seen the child since she was a toddler. Serena had lost that baby look. She was a gorgeous little girl. How sad that her mother wasn’t alive to see her daughter grow up.

  “We’re here to visit my daddy,” the child announced gleefully. “My daddy is going to take us for hangabuggers.”

  “Hangabuggers,” Heidi repeated seriously. “That sounds yummy.”

  “Grammy said we can come back and have a chocolate after,” Serena continued.

  “An excellent idea,” Cecily said, and greeted the older woman.

  “Cecily, I heard you were back in town. Are you working on the festival?” Bernadette asked.

  “I am.” She’d never been around the company as much as Samantha and she certainly wasn’t as high-profile as Bailey, so it pleased her that Bernadette remembered her.

  “I’m sure Samantha appreciates the help,” Bernadette said.

  Cecily remembered her sister’s aggravation only a short while ago and smiled. “I’m sure she does.” She bent over and said to Serena, “You’re a big girl now, aren’t you?”

  Serena nodded, making her blond curls bounce. “I’m four.” She held up four fingers to prove it.

  “That’s definitely old enough for a chocolate.” Cecily smiled. “What’s your favorite?”

  “Milk chocolate!”

  Cute. The girl already knew her chocolate. “You know, we just happen to have some here with your name on it,” Cecily told her. “Would a piece spoil her appetite?” she asked Bernadette.

  “Not at all,” Bernadette said, and opened her purse.

  “No charge for any of the Sweet Dreams family.” She donned a plastic glove and fished a good-size piece from the jar of seconds they sold by the pound, while Serena jumped up and down with anticipation. She handed it to the child, who took it eagerly.

  “What do you say?” Bernadette prompted.

  “Thank you,” Serena sang. She studied the candy and her brow furrowed.

  “What’s wrong?” Cecily asked.

  “I don’t see my name on it.” Serena held it out for inspection.

  The three women smiled. “That’s an expression, honey,” Bernadette said. “It means Miss Cecily was saving that piece just for you.”

  Serena beamed and popped the whole thing in her mouth, fearlessly going where no grown-up would dare to go. “Good,” she said, and a little trail of chocolate dribbled down her chin.

  “Oh, Serena Hope,” Bernadette said, taking a tissue to her granddaughter’s chin. “What will your daddy say if he sees you all covered in chocolate?”

  “He’ll say, ‘Another satisfied customer,’” a male voice said.

  Cecily turned to see Luke entering the shop from the hallway that led to the factory. He was a large man with fair skin and hair, blue eyes and a round face—not good-looking enough to win a Mr. Dreamy contest, but nice. In fact, nice seemed to sum up Luke Goodman. He was the boy next door, the perfect big brother, the friend who sat beside you in homeroom.

  And that was about all the chemistry Cecily felt looking at him. A hard-working, loyal family man was every woman’s ideal. Why, oh, why didn’t her stupid hormones wake up at the sight of him the way they did every time she saw Todd Black?

  “Daddy!” Serena squealed, and ran to him.

  He scooped her up in his arms and kissed her cheek. “You smell like chocolate,” he informed her. “I’m going to eat you all up.” He gobbled on her neck, making her giggle and squirm.

  “Don’t, Daddy,” she protested halfheartedly.

  He gave her one more kiss, then set her down and turned his attention to Cecily. The look in his eyes told her that his hormones weren’t
snoozing. “Hi, Cecily. It’s been a while since we’ve seen you.”

  Who wouldn’t want a man like this? Wake up in there!

  Her hormones dozed on.

  He’s big. You like big men.

  Zzzz.

  Give up, she told herself, you were obviously meant to be single.

  Todd Black’s swarthy face came to mind. Or stupid.

  No. No more stupidity. She was done with men like Todd Black. She was done with men, period. After two years of running a dating service she’d had too much opportunity to study them up close. She has to be a D cup.... What? I never said I was interested in marriage, just a relationship. (Translation: sex.) Oh, yes, she’d had enough of the male of the species to last her a lifetime.

  Not every man who came to her service was like that, she reminded herself. This one surely wasn’t. She smiled back at him. “How’s it going?”

  “Can’t complain,” he said. “I heard you were back.”

  Apparently everyone in town had. “And busy,” she said, pointing to the Mr. Dreamy pictures.

  He shook his head. “Whatever brings in business, I guess.”

  Okay, so it was a little cheesy. And maybe just a little hypocritical, considering how judgmental she’d been of some of her clients. She quickly shied away from that last thought.

  “Daddy, I’m hungry,” Serena said.

  “Right. We’re off to Herman’s,” he told Cecily. “Would you like to join us?”

  Herman’s Hamburgers was one of the most popular spots in town, famous for its Herman the German hamburgers, which were almost more than any human mouth could get around.

  It would be interesting to see little Serena try, but Cecily didn’t want to give Luke the wrong idea. “Actually, I’ve got to get back to the house,” she said.

  His smile looked a little less jovial now.

  “But thanks for the offer,” she added, trying to soften the blow to his ego.