Page 47 of You Had Me at Chocolate

He laughed as his fingers also folded. “Yeah, I get that. I feel the same way about cooking. How absorbing it is to create the perfect dish or blending different tastes and textures to get that perfect bite. It’s… exciting.”

“Yes.” Clem nodded enthusiastically, glancing at him then wishing she hadn’t as the sight of his teeth pressing into his bottom lip in concentration gave her an alternative image for the perfect bite.

Returning her attention to her crane, she said, “There’s nothing quite like that new book smell. Opening it for the first time and sniffing it, inhaling that amazing aroma of ink on the paper.” She sighed. “It’s like every birthday and Christmas morning memory for me all rolled into one. It’s the smell of home and family and… love.”

He lifted his head. “Yeah. Same. Food is love.”

Their eyes met and held, their fingers stilling, and neither of them moved for what felt like an age. It was probably only a few seconds but in those heartbeats of time echoing loudly through her ears, Clem was sure she saw a streak of hunger in that startling peridot gaze. The same streak she knew must be lurking in her own amber one.

He wanted her, too, she was sure of it. Holy mama.

Then he blinked, dragging his attention from her face and reaching for the remote control. “Movie?” he asked, his voice decidedly strained.

“Yup,” she agreed readily.

Anything. Anything to distract her from the hunger.

Chapter Eight

A couple of weeks later, Clem met up with Rhonda at the Graff. They’d had a cocktail at the bar then gone to the restaurant for something to eat. It was nice to catch up with her bestie again, considering Clem had turned into a bit of a recluse since her mother’s stroke. She was at the hospital every afternoon and usually too exhausted—mentally exhausted—to do anything other than sit in front of the television at night folding paper cranes with Jude as they worked their way through an array of movies and she ignored the low-level sizzle buzzing between them.

Clem had taken the afternoon shift with her mom to make it easier on her dad who found the worsening roller coaster of Trina’s emotions as each day progressed distressing. Especially as it was looking increasingly unlikely that her mom would be home in time for Thanksgiving. Her recovery was slow despite her mother’s determination and her optimism was flagging by the day.

Keeping Trina positive and motivated was a challenge and emotionally draining and Clem was grateful every day to have the side research project she was working on for Jude. Getting herself lost in a world of research—food research at that—was no hardship and the process proved to be absorbing as always. She already had a stack of articles and recipes printed and color-coded in her usual manner. Not to mention lists of references requiring further investigation.

And it was just so fascinating, immersing herself in the Great Plains and how the people who had inhabited the land both before and after the arrival of Europeans had fed themselves. She was unearthing some truly interesting information about both First Nations and colonial dining habits and she was absolutely loving it.

A large part of why the job in New York had appealed so much was the opportunity to research areas with which she was unfamiliar. Also, it felt significant to be doing something targeted. Being a librarian in a small town required her to be a jack-of-all-trades, which was fine but not earth-moving. To be able to pursue one thing in depth felt important as well as appealing to the academic side of Clem that had, she realized, languished over the years.

Jude’s research was giving her a little taste of her future and had only reinforced how right the decision had been to shake up her life.

Clem spent a lot of the meal debriefing about her mom and the road ahead, which allowed her to avoid the topic she was pretty sure Rhonda wanted most to talk about—Jude. And then their chocolate brownies arrived decorated with jagged shards of maraschino cherry and rose white chocolate bark.

“Oh my,” Clem said as she crunched into a corner which broke off with a satisfying snap. Her eyes closed as the sweet and tart melted on her tongue. “So good.”

“Yeah, that Jude’s sure a magician with chocolate.”

When she opened her eyes, Rhonda was waiting, her shrewd gaze laser sharp. “How are things going with Jude?”

The question seemed innocent enough but she knew Rhonda. Her friend was capable of ninja levels of interrogation and Clem wished they could go back to discussing pureed meals and toileting issues.

Clem took a steadying breath. “Fine.” But Rhonda just sat and waited for her to elaborate. “He’s been so handy during this whole thing,” she added, her nerves getting the better of her. “I don’t think I’ve ever been fed better.”

“So… he hasn’t tried to propose again?”

She laughed. “Of course not. That was just… jet lag.”

“Last time I had jet lag I obsessively cleaned the house at four in the morning for three nights in a row before I finally slept for two solid days. Didn’t propose to a single person.”

“It was a little… left of center,” Clem admitted.

“I’ll say. What if you’d said yes?”

“But I didn’t.” Picking up her spoon, Clem feigned interest in her brownie.

Rhonda did not pick up her spoon. In fact, she folded her arms. “There’s no… weirdness, about it?”

Clem wasn’t going to tell Rhonda that the proposal weirdness had been trumped by their one-night stand. She’d be like a dog with a bone in possession of that information. “Nope. Its fine,” she dismissed. “We’re just friends. He knows that. So do I.”

---