When Chocolate Is Not Enough... Page 6

  She pivoted around to face him, one hand flat on the worktop, the other pointing very rudely towards his chest, and stared hard into his rather startled eyes.

  ‘Not once did you mention the fact that you still have to actually make the chocolate I need in three days.’ Daisy paused and blinked several times. ‘Which actually makes my head hurt just thinking about it. Have you any idea of how much work there is going to be involved? The mixing time is crucial. I have no clue whether you are going to need nine hours or nineteen, and it all depends on the level of cocoa butter, and … oh, about ten other factors which all need to come together to make something worth eating.’

  She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, because her heart was thumping too loudly for her to hear her own thoughts.

  In a second she felt strong fingers pressed around her bare elbow and the sound of a plastic garden chair being pulled out from under the worktop.

  Before she could complain, or fully register what was happening, Daisy felt the chair against the back of her knees and that was it. She was sitting down. Weight off her feet. Cool and comfortable.

  It was such a relief that she sighed out loud and sat back in a slump.

  ‘Hot day. Do I need to find you a glass?’ Max asked as he ripped the tab from the can.

  The icy-cold can of drink was passed into her hand, and Daisy greedily drank down several mouthfuls of fizz and artificial colours and sweeteners.

  ‘That’s fine, thanks,’ she replied, then took a moment for her heart to slow down.

  ‘I know what you’re thinking,’ Max said, as he drained the entire can and stretched out on another chair. ‘Rest assured. Freya doesn’t know that I keep my secret stash of contraband junk food in here. Adults only.’

  Daisy exhaled very slowly, her eyes firmly fixed on the mixer, before taking another long drink. ‘That wasn’t exactly what I was thinking,’ she admitted, and lifted her chin towards Dolores.

  Max shuffled forward in silence and she could see his legs stretched out in front of him—so that both of them were talking to Dolores instead of one another.

  ‘Ah. I see. You know, I have been working with the same team on the estate all my life. They know me and I know them. As a result it would seem that my communication skills and my assumption that you can mind-read leave something to be desired. Sorry. I shall try to do better going forward.’

  ‘Are we going forward?’ Daisy asked in as calm a voice as she could muster as she turned her head to look at him.

  Max lifted his can and toasted her.

  ‘I hope so. Yes, I do still have to make the chocolate. But I was under the impression that a master chocolatier like yourself would bring her own recipe for the perfect blend of cocoa and other fine ingredients. I would be wasting my time and my cocoa in producing something which was not up to your exemplary standards. Hence the long mixing time. But—’ he crunched his drink can flat with one squeeze ‘—I can understand it if you would prefer to spend the evening with your boyfriend in London, instead of blending chocolate with a crazy and deluded amateur.’

  His eyes seemed to scan her face so intently that she could not stand it a moment longer and slipped out of her chair to walk the few steps to the steel sink unit. She swallowed down the remains of her drink to soothe her throat, before running cold water over the insides of her wrists.

  He was offering her the chance to create her very own blend of chocolate.

  It had never even occurred to her that it was an option.

  It was the golden prize she had always wanted but had held back from until she had a shop like Barone where she had trained in Paris, which was large enough to justify the expense of special equipment.

  She was an idiot. Max was treating her like a pro and all she could do was complain.

  It was rare that she met someone who worked with chocolate at this level, and she had become accustomed to being treated as just another dessert chef instead of a highly trained chocolatier.

  Even Marco did not expect her to mix her own chocolate blend.

  How pathetic was that? She should be ashamed.

  Only then was she finally ready to twist back to face Max and answer him.

  She was standing, pressed against the sink. He was sitting, half turned in his chair, so that his head was about the same height as her chest.

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘Okay?’ he said, with a lilting question in his voice.

  She nodded. ‘Okay. I may not have a boyfriend waiting for me back in London, tonight or any other night, but I do have a family recipe for the chocolate I have always wanted to make. I have been waiting three years to have the chance to see if it tastes as delicious as I hope it will.’

  Daisy reached into her bag, found her wallet, and slowly pulled out a crushed single piece of paper. Her fingers held onto the precious note as though they were reluctant to hand it over to someone she barely knew. There was so much history associated with this single page. So many faded dreams and lost opportunities.

  Max was giving her the opportunity to do something she had been looking forward to for a very long time.

  But could she trust him with her hopes and dreams?

  She looked into his face and swallowed down her apprehension before passing the paper to him. ‘I have been carrying this around with me for years. Waiting for the day when I could finally find out if it would work. Or not. For that I am willing to give you a chance. Do not let me down, Max. I mean it.

  Okay?’

  Max stood up, stretched out his arms, and for a terrible, wonderful moment she thought that he was going to hug her. But he simply laid his hands on her arms for a fleeting second, leant forward, and pressed his lips to her cheek in a kiss which was so warm and sweet and genuine that the joy simply beamed out of him—as though he was reflecting the sun streaming in through the window that was warming Daisy’s back.

  ‘You are a star, Daisy Flynn. And you won’t regret your decision for a moment. Because we are going to make a chocolate so stunning that the world will be beating a path to our door! You wait and see. Let me get changed and I’ll be right back. Do not move an inch.’

  He released her arms so quickly that she slipped back against the cool sink, simply watching him bound the few steps to the door, and then he was gone, leaving a trail of dust in his wake.

  Her cheek and her arms were tingling. Her throat was dry and her mind was buzzing.

  One kiss on the cheek and she was mush. Her no touching rule was going to be a lot harder to adhere to than she had expected.

  What had she let herself in for?

  For once Daisy was grateful that she did not have long fingernails, because the process of loading up the mixer had taken so long that they would have been bitten down to nothing by now.

  In the end all she could do now was watch the still untidy cocoa farmer fiddle with the controls and hope and pray that he knew what he was doing. At least he looked the part. Max had swept his long blond hair back under a bandana and taken the time to scrub his hands and fingernails before working with the ingredients.

  All she had been able to do was clean the equipment and assemble everything they needed.

  At long last Max wiggled his fingers in the air and passed them from side to side over the large steel mixing vessel. ‘Let me check that we haven’t missed anything. My cocoa paste. Vanilla. Lecithin. A little sugar and spice. And, last but not least, the precise quantity of cocoa butter to meet madame’s exacting standards for her very special dessert chocolate. I think it is time to actually melt this chocolate. What do you say? That way we can make a start on the tempering and actual cooking in the morning.’

  Daisy bit her lower lip, and then nodded. Twice. Quickly. It had taken almost an hour to weigh everything out, but the mixture already smelled totally amazing.

  She quickly double-scanned the list, then popped it back into her pocket. ‘Let’s do it. I only hope that it tastes as good as it smells. Fantastic. Fruity. Smooth, but with a defi
nite spiciness to it. I love it already.’

  She shrugged her shoulders high, and then wiggled them a little in sheer joy, making Max splutter.

  ‘I didn’t say a word,’ he said in a deliberately calm voice, his eyebrows lifted and chin high. Then his whole face relaxed in approval. ‘It’s lovely to see someone who is just as excited as I am. And this is a first for me too, remember?’

  Daisy sucked in a breath. ‘Dolores does look rather … well, complicated. Do you have an instruction booklet? I find them ever so helpful.’

  Max replied with a dismissive snort. ‘My Dolores is a high-class girl, but I know how to flick her switches—if you know what I mean.’ He pointed to the simple control panel above the water bath. ‘Two buttons. On and off. And the speed dial. Looks easy enough.’ His eyes sparkled with exhilaration and excitement and he gestured with his head towards the mixer. ‘Ready to find out just how fantastic this chocolate is going to taste?’

  This was an important moment. She did not want to spoil a life-changing event by petty squabbling about the mixer settings.

  So, instead of following her instincts and starting off cautiously, Daisy shrugged off her concerns and stepped closer, buoyed up by his energy and enthusiasm.

  With one single nod in her direction Max turned to the machine, pressed the ‘on’ button and set the speed to its lowest setting.

  To Daisy’s delight green lights appeared on the control panel and the blades inside the warm chocolate started moving, mixing and smoothing away any grittiness from the cocoa butter inside the blend. Yes! This was it.

  Her first batch of her very own recipe.

  ‘Oh, this is so fantastic. Thank you, Max. I have waited a long time for this moment.’

  ‘Me too,’ he replied in a low, warm voice, and opened up his arms to receive her.

  It seemed natural and right for Daisy to step inside the circle of his embrace and press her chest against his. His arms wrapped around her in a bear hug, holding her tight against him. She sighed as she realised he was probably unaware that she had closed her eyes and was simply revelling in the physical contact.

  She could feel his heart beating just below the thin fabric of his loose T-shirt, and when he suddenly chuckled the echoes of his laugher reverberated through his chest into hers, making her feel young and foolish and naïve and happy again. As though she were just starting out on her great adventure all over again.

  It was a wondrous, joyous feeling that she wanted to hang on to as long as possible. Here inside Max’s arms she felt that she could do anything in life she wanted.

  He was holding her so tightly against him that her arms automatically lifted around his neck, and as her fingers meshed behind his neck Max lowered his head, so that their brows were almost touching.

  Daisy breathed in a totally entrancing aroma of spicy sweet chocolate, man-sweat and exhilaration. It was a perfume as sensual and rich as any fragrance, which combined with the warm softness of his breath on her cheek and the rough rasp of his chin stubble on her forehead to create a total sensory overload for her poor exhausted brain.

  This was one of those moments which came so rarely in her life that she knew it would stay with her long after Max had headed back to his island. The kind of moment when life could spin forward and, just for once, she would be helpless against the power of the sensation.

  Little wonder that she gently shifted even closer against Max, so that their bodies were in contact from thigh to chest.

  His lips pressed softly against her hair as he hugged her closer, his fingers wide and strong and powerful through the thin fabric of her dress as they hugged her so close that he almost lifted her off her feet.

  It felt so good. Max felt so good.

  She had almost forgotten what it was like to be held in the arms of a desirable man who seemed to be enjoying the moment just as much as she was.

  Heat and physical pleasure surged up from deep in her stomach, prickling her skin and making her blood pound.

  She could fight this attraction.

  She should fight this attraction. Tell him to stop.

  But as she lifted her chin to ask Max to put her down she made the mistake of looking into those blue eyes, and what she saw there made her gasp.

  More than simply attraction. Desire. A slow-burning sensual desire to match the slow circles his hands were making on her back. His hug was turning into a caress.

  And she liked it.

  Taking a deep breath, throat dry and palms sweaty, Daisy steadied herself as Max started to lower his head towards hers. She licked her lips and was just about to angle her head to receive his kiss when the slow, regular paddle action of the mixing blades started to speed up and she heard a strange grinding, whining sound.

  Max froze, then stared over at Dolores in alarm.

  Her hands slid down from his neck onto his chest as he released her, and they both watched in horror as the mixing blades turned faster and faster, churning up the thin warm chocolate which started splashing up the sides of the mixer and onto the table.

  ‘Max, isn’t that a little … well, fast?’

  ‘It is,’ he answered, the crease in his forehead becoming even more pronounced. ‘Problem is, according to the dial this is the lowest setting.’ He reached forward before Daisy could stop him and spun the speed control dial to maximum. ‘Perhaps the wiring on the dial is reversed? Only one way to find out.’

  Except that his hand had barely left the dial before the mixer blades started rotating so fast that the chocolate was being thrown about into the air.

  ‘No—turn it off. Turn it off!’ Daisy gasped.

  ‘I’m trying, but I think the switch is broken,’ Max replied, diving to one side to avoid the deluge while desperately trying to fiddle with the speed controller.

  Great splatters of warm molten dark brown chocolate blend hit Daisy on the neck, and then slid down the front of her dress. She instinctively raised her hands to protect her eyes from the spray, just as Max conceded defeat and switched off the power at the socket on the wall.

  Too late. Her neck, shoulders and arms were covered.

  There was a deathly hush in the room, broken only by the gentle plopping sound of chocolate dripping down from every surface it had collided with.

  Daisy wiped away a blob of brown congealing mess and casually, slowly opened her eyes. She stood frozen in total awe at the devastation one large mixer full of molten chocolate could create. If Max had intended to decorate the old garage in a fetching shade of chocolate-brown he could not have done a better job.

  Max was standing next to the power switch on the wall, his mouth open.

  He looked at her.

  She looked at him.

  Then he licked his lips and used a fingertip to scoop some of the now cooling and congealed chocolate from his arm and taste it.

  ‘Wow. Absolutely delicious. This is it. I think we have a winner. What do you think?’

  ‘I think Dolores hates me. That is what I think. The minute you hugged me she went completely out of control.’

  Daisy flicked her fingers out and droplets of molten chocolate flew off the ends, splattering the stainless steel table which was already half an inch thick in places.

  A quick glance at her clothing confirmed that she was a mess, and her hands and skin were a mess, and as she took one step backwards it became apparent that the chocolate had dripped into her favourite sandals which she had bought in Paris.

  She vaguely remembered hearing about some exclusive spa resort that used cocoa products as part of its beauty treatments and face masks. She had never seen the point of that. It was far better to eat chocolate and enjoy the benefits in a far more traditional fashion.

  A feeling of total exasperation and madness bubbled up within her.

  She had two choices. She could either see the positive side of being doused in chocolate and laugh at how ridiculous they both looked, which was what Max seemed to be doing. Or she could take stock of what she was doin
g in this crazy place, with this crazy man, with this crazy idea of entering a prestigious contest in a few days’ time with some of the world’s finest cocoa growers and chocolatiers.

  Max might have a superb luxury ingredient.

  But what was she doing here?

  How could she have been so stupid as to place her trust and her professional reputation in the hands of this … big kid?

  This gorgeous, sexy, attractive big kid, whom she’d almost made the horrible mistake of kissing only a few minutes ago.

  She groaned, and shook her head slowly from side to side.

  She was tired, hungry, and her feet were squelching in chocolate. But she was grateful that Dolores had just saved her from doing something very, very stupid.

  Daisy looked up at Max, who was standing with his hands on his hips, a huge grin on his face, as though this was the best fun in the world and he was right there at the centre of it.

  In that moment she saw Max the teenager. The kind of boy who was a natural leader in sports events. The kind of boy who was always chosen to be captain of whatever club he decided to join. A boy who climbed trees for fun, scaled mountain peaks for the rush, and who would go anywhere and do anything if he was interested enough to apply himself to the task.

  The kind of boy who would never, ever read an instruction manual.

  Her brain screamed out that she was making a huge mistake and she should jump into her car and head back to London as fast as she could. While her heart totally warmed to the boyish charm and the adorable laughter lines that peeked out from below the sheen of chocolate on his nose and face. His laughter rang out and filled the room, melding with the intense aroma of chocolate in the warm afternoon sunlight streaming in through the side windows.

  ‘Perhaps I should have supplied safety equipment,’ he said, and shrugged, shaking his head as he looked around.

  She could not believe it. She was doing it again. She was allowing another handsome man to blind her and divert from what she had set out to do.

  Max was dazzling! But he was also responsible for all this mess.