“What?” she asked, the question coming out more of a whisper.
His husky laughter played across every nerve ending in her body, and she stiffened at the unwelcome sensation. “Because chocolate plays on more than your palate.” His gaze fell to her lips, and she fought the instinct to swallow. Then he met her eyes again, and the spark of telling light in the depths sent her heart thudding.
“This is a PG show,” she reminded him and herself. She was engaged to Richard.
Yet you’ve ignored his every phone call.
“Chocolate isn’t a four-letter word. Now close your eyes, and smell the flavor.”
Alice lowered her lids and caught the musky, yet alluring nuttiness of the cocoa. Inhaling the sharp aroma, she could almost taste the flavor on her tongue, and her mouth watered in response. How long had it been since she’d eaten chocolate, or indulged in the decadence of candy or anything else in excess? As a child, she’d devoured sugar with a vengeance when she could get it, which was rare. She was no longer a child, nor a foolish eighteen-year-old. She snapped her eyes open and gathered the reins of her composure. “It’s nice.”
“Just nice? This is premium Swiss chocolate. Maybe you’d prefer a more bitter kind.” He nudged her with his elbow while lifting one of the forks. “Semisweet with a hint of vanilla, something to match the perfume you’re wearing?”
“It’s Richard’s favorite. The perfume,” she lied. Richard never commented on her scent or her appearance. They had an intellectual relationship. Boring. “Like I said, I don’t eat chocolate.”
“Pity. Would you get the white container in the fridge labeled truffle? I have to take this off the stove before it gets too hot.”
The cool temperature of the walk-in felt heavenly on her overly heated skin, and she lingered in the dimly lit area for a moment longer than necessary. Not even an hour into this situation, and she was exhausted from matching wits with Niko.
“Did you find it?” Niko called out.
“Right here.” She rushed out of the cooler and handed him the container.
He took it from her, slipped off the lid, and inhaled the rich scent. Euphoria molded his features, and he grinned. His love for chocolate showed in every inch of his being.
“How did you get your start in the kitchen?”
“I started out as a dishwasher at Vicenzo’s when I was sixteen, and I made my way up to line cook. I quit once I went to college and started competing in the ring and traveling around the world.”
From what she researched, Niko had been an up-and-coming fighter with glowing reviews. It was a violent sport, but the man standing so comfortably before her possessed a gentleness in his passion for chocolate. Would he give the same intensity to a woman that he gave to the sugary confection? You’ll never find out, thus it’s a moot point. “How did you develop your enthusiasm for chocolate?”
“I had a match in Costa Rica and briefly dated a woman whose abuela owned a cocoa bean farm.” He shifted his gaze, a noticeable tick in his jaw before he caught himself. He’d said dated and from the emotional response in his comment, it was a painful breakup. She wanted to ask more but it wasn’t relevant to the segment. Not to mention intrusive. His past or present relationships were none of her affair.
“Abuela owned the farm for decades, and had been a chocolate maker since she was a girl. It wasn’t until she became a grandmother that she honed her skills as a chocolatier,” Niko said.
Some of Alice’s favorite memories were of her own grandmother in the kitchen. She died when Alice was six, and had left her the handkerchief as well as a blanket with matching silver bells embroidered around the hem. The same blanket she’d wrapped her baby in before she gave her up for adoption. She shifted on her feet, forcing her mind to the present. “Isn’t a chocolate maker and a chocolatier the same thing?”
“No. A chocolatier does what we’re doing right now, making confections. A chocolate maker roasts their own cocoa beans and grinds them, making the actual chocolate.” He leaned in close so they could both see into the bowl. She kept her eyes down, not daring to look at him but the clean smell of his soap teased her nose. Lusting after a contestant wasn’t the smartest thing to do especially since she was engaged.
“Then you’re a chocolatier?” Alice forced her mind to stay on task. She had a show to produce and her own drama to deal with, most of it revolving around this man’s family. While she still enjoyed her job, the loving care she’d put into it had dissipated. She’d come up with the idea for 3Square in high school while working as a hostess in a restaurant. After the show was greenlighted, it had driven her will to succeed and that had never diminished.
“For now, yes. I’ve developed my own blend from some of the finest imported chocolates in the world. It’s unique to CG and keeps the customers coming back for my specialty truffles. To make them, the first thing you’re going to do is drop the filling into the melted chocolate and push it under the surface. Lift it out with the fork, and tap it several times against the side of the bowl.” Niko slid the edge of his fork under a ball of truffle filling and demonstrated his instructions.
“Next we slide the fork over the lip of the bowl to remove excess chocolate from the bottom of the candy. Here you try it.”
She picked up the fork and dipped her own truffle filling into the mix.
“Now slowly and smoothly slide the fork out from under the truffle. You’ll want to be careful you don’t move too fast, or be too rough. It hardens quickly on the outside but it’ll break if not handled properly.”
“So you learned how to make chocolate in Costa Rica?” Alice placed the fork over the prepared baking sheet. A tilt of her wrist and the edge of the truffle touched the sheet, not an easy task given his close proximity.
“Yes, Abuela made the best cayenne hot chocolate, and she taught me her secret recipe.”
“It’s delish…” she said, echoing Chloe’s observation from the day before.
“You tried some of my hot chocolate?” he asked, elbowing her arm.
Alice wrinkled her nose at his teasing, dipped another truffle into the mix, coated it, and dropped it on the sheet pan. She’d never admit it to him, but the single sip she’d taken of the brew had been ambrosia. “I’m repeating what Chloe told me. She—”
