Page 11 of Single Mom's Secret Diary
The shine is good, and the snap of the chocolate under my teeth is nice.
Closing my eyes, I let the shell melt first. Again, the colored cocoa butter comes through first. Then, sixty percent dark chocolate. It blends into the small bit of semi-sweet ganache filling. A small bit of sweetness mixes vanilla, cinnamon, honey, and ancho chili.
I take a second small bite to confirm the notes before I open my eyes to meet Wyatt’s intense stare. He doesn’t flinch at being caught. I doubt he knows how unsettling it is.
“Why do you close your eyes? Why such small bites?” And his gaze drifts to my mouth when I pull my bottom lip between my teeth to get the last traces of chocolate.
“Smaller pieces allow me to move from the front of my palate to the back in a more controlled manner. And closing my eyes merely helps me concentrate on taste and smell. The texture. I have put in earplugs for more complicated endeavors to home-in even more.”
“What did you taste?” He leans forward, those large hands balled into the fists on his knees.
I smile. “The chocolate is commercially made—by a machine instead of stone ground and hand mixed. It’s almost identical to the chocolate from Cadbury. They use a different oil for the shine—soy.”
I make a small face at that. It’s not my favorite carrier oil.
“Inside is a bit more basic—a semi-sweet ganache, fifty percent, with a clotted cream instead of whipping cream, Tahitian vanilla extract made with rum, which complements the cinnamon and ancho chili’s sweet, mild heat. The honey used isn’t the usual clover.” I lick my lips again. “Oaxaca Mexican honey. The colored cocoa butter on top detracts from the other flavors a bit.”
I let the second half of the chocolate rest in the paper cup he’d brought it in.
“And you never finish the piece?” Wyatt glances at the cup. Would he taste the other half after me? He doesn’t seem like the type to carelessly share germs.
“Since my job is to eat, Mr. Reid, it’s best that I not overindulge.”
His gaze darkens as he stares into me. “Wyatt.”
I smile at him softly. “Wyatt.”
A small shudder seems to run through him. Is the chocolate the real reason he came to my office?
His plump mouth opens as if to say something, but another voice cuts over him.
“But indulgence is part of our game, Miss Caruso.” In comes another handsome man—slim and styled with slick hair and a bright white shirt that’s left unbuttoned too low on his bronzed chest—without so much as a knock.
7
Ryder
The moment I hear of the beauty that comes through our doors, I have to investigate. Already, there are whispers about this classic sophistication and mysterious gaze, and every little detail I hear about her only makes me more curious.
I miss the opportunity to see her taste test one of our signature truffles, but the effects trickle through the staff until they reach me in my office. Phone calls bog me down most of the morning.
The look on Ezra’s face when he pauses in my office tells me an entirely new story. “You know her, don’t you?”
He frowns at me, crossing his arms over his chest. “Whatever you’re thinking, don’t.”
“I’m not thinking anything other than getting to see what everyone’s in a titter over.” I give him my best innocent face, but he knows a lie when he sees it.
“In a titter over…” He repeats my words with the obvious skepticism they deserve.
I shrug at him and stand. “Know where our new employee is?”
Ezra’s frown deepens. “In her office.”
I grin, and my best friend rubs his forehead. “What? I promise to behave myself. You know, for me.”
“It’s thefor youpart of that disclaimer that worries me.” His arms drop as I near, and he grabs my arm. “Seriously. Don’t scare her off.”
“Oh ye of little faith.” But I see it in his eyes. He does know her. Biblically. There’s only one woman who leaves that haunted look on his face. “Wait a damn minute.”
