She melted three degrees, and he kissed her again and again, slowly working his way to her lips as she went from stiff to melted chocolate in his arms. When he reached his destination, he pulled back slightly, the heat of her breath on his mouth. She trailed her fingers across his neck and then tugged him down.
Just before their lips touched, someone cleared their throat.
“Go away, Ben,” he said without breaking eye contact with Kenzi in their flirty version of double dare.
“I’m not Ben,” said a low, gravelly voice.
“Charlie!” Kenzi squeaked as she jumped out of his arms. “I—we—ummmm.”
Charlie, a portly man, lifted both eyebrows, waiting for Kenzi to come up with an explanation.
Kenzi patted her hips like she was checking her pockets for her keys. Only she didn’t have keys, or pockets.
Nash gave her a wicked grin as he bent to retrieve her pad of paper. “Here. You seemed to have dropped this.”
“Thanks.” Kenzi took it from him and then smacked him across the arm with it. “Behave yourself.”
“Do I need to have a talk with this yay-hoo?” Charlie pushed out his rather large belly.
Nash folded his arms and waited for Kenzi’s response while she squirmed.
“That won’t be necessary, Charlie. This is Nash Westport, my husband.”
Charlie’s demeanor changed in an instant, and he grabbed Nash’s hand, pumping as fast as a puppy’s tail wags. “I hadn’t heard. Congratulations, you two. That’s exciting.”
“Nash will be taking over for me as manager of product development.”
He pumped even harder. “Then I’m doubly glad to meet ya.”
When he didn’t stop pumping—or smiling—Nash glanced to Kenzi for help.
The glint in her eye told him she was enjoying his discomfort and wasn’t about to step in. Perhaps this was her way of getting back at him for those kisses. There were a hundred other ways she could have gotten revenge, much more enjoyable ways, but he’d rather be alone with her to explore those options.
“Why don’t you show me what you’ve got?” Nash asked. Extracting his hand from Charlie’s grip was like pulling off plastic gloves.
Charlie rocked forward. “I’ve got the best job in this joint.” He winked before leading them through the big black door.
The inside of the room was much different from the outside. The black-and-white theme from the hallway was carried on in the alternating tiles on the floor. The stainless steel barstools were padded and covered in red leather. There was an old-fashioned soda counter with a red countertop and chrome accents. The walls were covered in black-and-white photos of guys in white aprons and rectangular paper hats holding up an ice cream cone.
In the middle of the grouping was a picture of Kenzi’s dad with a full head of hair and only a few lines around his eyes. He was surrounded by Kenzi and her sisters. Kenzi had bangs and an infectious smile. “Fifteen?” He pointed to the picture and guessed her age.
“Seventeen.” She lifted her nose in the air.
“And already a master taster,” bragged Charlie. He stepped behind the counter and got to work. In no time, twenty tiny white bowls with equally small spoons were lined up like soldiers awaiting order. “Should we start with the vanilla base?”
Kenzi made a face. “If we must, we must.”
“Is that a bad thing?” Nash whispered. He eyed the cups warily.
“Only if you’re partial to chocolates.” Charlie tapped the side of his nose and winked again.
Nash filed the information away. It didn’t surprise him that Kenzi was a chocolate lover. Perhaps he could tempt her out of her room tonight with a bowl of chocolate ice cream.
“Get comfy, you two—it’s been a while since we’ve done a tasting, and now that I have you, I’m not letting you go until you sign off on at least one new mixture.”
Nash settled himself on a stool. “Tell me about the greatest job in the whole company.”
The back wall was lined with freezers, each with a clear label. Nash had a hard time reading them from where he sat. Charlie didn’t bother to read them; he knew where everything was without having to check. “I’m a taste master. Which basically means I get paid to eat ice cream all day.”
