Page 34 of You Had Me at Chocolate

With his croissants and his inn and his apparent power to reach inside her chest and stop her breath. Clem didn’t know what that said about the universe but she did know it wasn’t something she wanted to ponder too closely.

Not after last night.

Chapter Six

Jude was waiting to cross Main Street on his way to the Graff half an hour later, the morning air still crisp, his breath fogging into the air. If he looked to his left he’d see Copper Mountain but he wasn’t taking in any of the scenery—his mind was running the play on last night—again.

It had been… well, it had rocked his world.

After her initial wobble, Clementine had been bold and assertive and wonderful. And not afraid to ask for what she needed. Sure, he’d been with bold women before but they’d known he was a sure thing. Clementine hadn’t. She’d been keeping him firmly in the friend zone and it had been a real risk to reach out the way she had, to open up like that.

And not just physically. She’d opened herself up emotionally last night. She’d been vulnerable to him and that was entirely different. In seeking intimacy with him, she’d bared a little of her soul.

Jude had slept with a bunch of different women and had found a bunch of different things in their arms. Sexual release, fun, laughter, good times. Also things like avoidance and escape. But what he’d found with Clementine had been something else entirely.

He’d found sanctuary. Like he was where he belonged.

After a tumultuous time in his life, he’d come to Marietta searching for what he thought was the missing piece. That missing piece had kicked his ass to the curb. But last night, he’d found something else. Something better. After years of feeling he didn’t fit in anywhere—not at his mom’s or his dad’s or Paris or New York—he’d found home.

Holding Clementine, being with Clementine, had felt like home.

Which was a bit of a problem because he knew their surprise liaison hadn’t meant the same thing to her. He’d known Clementine had only been looking for distraction. For something to quiet the worries and anxieties in her mind. To take her away for a few hours. To give her a night of sleep that was deep and restorative and not haunted by the what-ifs of her mother’s stroke.

She’d been after a tranquilizer, and he’d had zero problems being what she’d needed.

But the truth was, any guy could have given her that. Hell, she probably could have found it via her own hand or with the help of a vibrator if she’d truly set her mind to orgasm therapy. But she hadn’t.

She’d asked him.

And he was glad to have been a port in her storm. Glad they’d slept together. Because now he had a clarity that he’d not had before. Now he had a sense of home. Coming to Marietta might had been a whim, but he knew now he was meant to be here.

With or without Clementine in the picture, this road he was on felt right.

“Young man? Young man.”

It took a second or two for the imperious voice to pierce Jude’s concentration and realize he was being addressed. He turned to find a woman bringing up the rear, with a determination as steely as the gray threaded through her dark hair and a look that could pierce a flak jacket.

“Yes, ma’am?” he said, drawing to a halt.

She was a little out of breath by the time she pulled in next to him. “You’re the guy who did Tamsin’s wedding cake, aren’t you?”

“That’s right.” He stuck out his hand. “Jude Barlow, ma’am. Pleased to meet you.”

“Carol Bingley.” She shook firmly and released. “I just wanted to let you know you did a good job at such short notice. It was very nice indeed.”

Nice.

That word brought back another memory from last night. It had been the one Clementine had used in the aftermath of their climaxes. Ordinarily, it would have made him wince. Nice wasn’t exactly complimentary for a guy. It was right up there with pleasant. But the way she’d come apart in his arms had left him in no doubt she’d been utterly fulfilled and he’d given her what she’d wanted most—oblivion.

So, if that was nice, he’d take it.

“Thank you.” He smiled absently as he scrubbed his mind of inappropriate thoughts.

“I didn’t watch your TV show but Taylor Sheenan, she’s Clem’s boss, or was her boss, I suppose. She said you trained in Paris.”

“That’s right.”

“How interesting.” Somehow, Carol Bingley made interesting sound like a bad thing. She gave a little sniff and continued. “I’ve never been myself, too many French people for my liking but, the Eiffel Tower looks magnificent.”

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