In Her Wildest Dreams (3 page)

“This chocolate is unbelievable, Gavin. Prize-worthy, even.”

He shrugged off the complement. “I’ve wanted to play around with kalpasi, but honestly, the spice costs too much for me to mass produce anything I make with it. And I doubt too many people would be willing to pay what I would have to charge if I sold the chocolates in the store. Making them a Your Wildest Dreams exclusive is about the only way I’d get to make them.”

“The problem with that is that Your Wildest Dreams probably can’t afford to pay for them, either.”

“You know better than to try handing me money,” he said, putting the lid back on the container.

“No.” Erica shook her head. “I mooch enough chocolates off of you. I’m not letting you give me these for free. I’ll find room in my budget.”

“I’m not taking money from you,” Gavin stated. “It’s my contribution. Accept it and shut up.”

Erica cut her eyes at him as she took another bite of chocolate, then those eyes rolled back in her head again.

The overwhelming sense of satisfaction that soared through Gavin’s brain was enough to keep him happy for the rest of the week. One of the perks of working with something that was considered an indulgence was seeing how happy it made his customers. But Erica took it to a whole new level. She appreciated the time and skill that went into crafting his chocolate creations. Her reaction was payment enough.

She took another bite of the truffle, another moan escaping her lips. It was low and sensual, and if they were not standing in the middle of his kitchen, Gavin would have bet a sound like that would only be heard coming from a bedroom.

“You’re killing me,” he said in an aching whisper.

Erica’s eyes popped open. “What’s that?”

“Nothing.” He rubbed his hands down the sides of his jeans and reached for the stack of chocolate molds on the counter. He brought them to the steam cleaner, needing to get away from Erica before he did something stupid, like go after those lips.

Stacking the molds in the steamer, he looked back over his shoulder. “So, do you approve?”

“They’re perfect. Let’s just hope my clients get to taste them. I may keep them all for myself.”

Gavin nodded toward the shelf where he’d placed the container of kalpasi chocolates. “You can have those. They were just the test run. I’m going to make a fresh batch for you to hand out to your Valentine’s Day clients.”

Erica brought her hand to her chest, and with a dramatic sigh, said, “Gavin Foster, you spoil me.” Laughing, she continued, “And I absolutely adore every minute of it.”

She thought
this
was spoiling her?

Snapshots of the trips to Italy, Belize, and Bali he’d taken Whitney on flashed through his mind. The jewelry he’d bought her; the Benz his ex-fiancée was still driving.

“I can show you what it means to spoil—” Gavin started, but he was interrupted by Erica’s ringing cell phone.

She held up a finger. “Oh, I need to take this. It’s Sylvia. I need to chew her out for suggesting I go on a date with that guy last night.”

“And you need to tell her no more online dating hook-ups, right?” Gavin reminded her.

“Right.” Erica nodded, then she tilted her head to the side. “Well, unless the guy is really cute.” She winked as she backed her way out of the kitchen, picking up the container of chocolates along the way.

Gavin stared at the door as it swung back and forth, his stomach feeling as if he’d just ingested about five tons of steel. Did she not realize what it did to him when she made those damn comments? He couldn’t take much more of this.

For the past six months he’d been forced to stand back and watch while Erica “experimented” with online dating, then, like a true friend, he’d suffered through the play-by-play of each date. Gavin had gritted his teeth with every story about how the guy was boring, or cheap, or full of himself.  Or, even worse, how a few of them had potential. As if he wanted to hear about some other man’s potential.

Gavin had tried his hardest to keep up the platonic friendship façade, but he was done being Erica’s friend. He wanted
so
much more from her.

After the number Whitney Parker had done on him, he’d been gun-shy about letting another woman inside his heart. Erica had managed to find her way in there anyway. But what would happen if he found out all she wanted from him was her daily chocolate fix? 

Gavin let out a frustrated curse, reached for a bag of peeled pistachios, and started pounding away at it with a kitchen mallet in a half-assed attempt to work off his frustration.

***

“This is very short notice, Ms. Cole. I’m not sure whether we will be able to accommodate you.”

The smugness in the other woman’s voice ran down Erica’s spine like fingers on a chalkboard. An overly squeaky chalkboard.

“I understand,” Erica replied. “I just wanted to meet with you face-to-face to discuss whether or not we could work something out. If not for Valentine’s Day weekend, then maybe some time in the future. Your Wildest Dreams has grown quite a bit since we last spoke.”

“Yes.” The hotel manager’s eyebrows rose. “I saw the article about your little business in
The Gambit
a few weeks ago. I must say that I am surprised. When you first came to Manor Royale with your little idea, I thought it would fold within a month.”

Erica bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from going off on the hotel manager. She would
not
be goaded into running off at the mouth. That’s how she’d found herself in this position in the first place.

“Well, it definitely did not fold. It’s doing very, very well.”

“I’m not sure you can say that,” Beverly Jones remarked with an affected laugh. “If it were doing very,
very
well, you would have partnerships with a few more establishments and not have to scramble at the last minute to find another hotel. However, it does seem as if your business is growing. Kudos to you, Ms. Cole.”  

Erica squeezed her fists until her fingernails dug into her palms. It was either that, or scratch this woman’s eyes out.

She should have done this over the phone. Having to beg Beverly Jones to find available rooms at her hotel was too close to having to kiss ass, something Erica tried to avoid doing at all costs. But desperate times and all that.

And she was
definitely
desperate.

Just this morning she had received calls for two additional Your Wildest Dreams experiences. Her cutoff date for booking new clients for Valentine’s Day was tomorrow, because crafting each experience was a time-intensive endeavor. She refused to overbook herself and not be able to deliver the most outstanding, unforgettable night each and every one of her clients had ever had. Which was why she needed to secure this hotel.

Happy clients led to word of mouth promotion. And word of mouth led to more and more clients.

“Your Wildest Dreams has far surpassed even
my
expectations,” Erica said, trying her hardest to keep her voice light. “I’m continually amazed at how many people are willing to spend such an obscene amount of money on one night, but they are. That’s why I need a place like Manor Royale in my repertoire of lodging choices. This really is a win-win situation. By partnering with Your Wildest Dreams, this hotel will get the benefit of word-of-mouth advertising.”

“This is a world-class establishment, Ms. Cole. We do just fine,” Beverly Jones stated.

Erica mentally counted to ten while picturing small children joyfully playing in a meadow. It did nothing to curb her anger. She still wanted to wrap her hands around the woman’s neck.  

“I’ll get back to you about Valentine’s Day weekend,” the hotel manager said.

“Well, I will need to know rather quickly,” Erica reminded her.

“I’ll get back to you.”

Stifling a sigh, Erica pushed up from the chair, utterly despising the fact that she was at this woman’s mercy. It was a tough place for her to be.

She’d spent the first fourteen years of her life surviving on the scraps that remained after her mother took care of the needs of her flavor of the month, until Erica had been old enough to do odd jobs around the neighborhood and provide for herself. She’d heeded all of those unwritten rules that, if followed, were supposed to lead to the American Dream: graduated top in her high school class, earned a full-ride scholarship to college, landed a well-paying job. When the rug was pulled from under her by way of a pink slip in her office’s mail slot, Erica had decided to become her own boss, so that she would never be at anyone else’s mercy.

But she’d soon learned that no business could survive without the help of others. She counted on her fellow local small business owners to make Your Wildest Dreams’ one-of-a-kind experiences come to life for her clients. If she had known just how important those relationships would be for her business, Erica never would have burned bridges with this hotel when she’d first approached Beverly Jones a couple of years ago.

She left Manor Royale, demanding that she not feel defeated, yet feeling so all the same. Because she was on the far end of the French Quarter, Erica decided to pass through the community flea market portion of the French Market to see whether she could find anything she could include in the gift baskets she created for her clients.

She found one vendor with handmade picture frames that would look perfect in some of the baskets and make for a great keepsake. In fact, they were so unusual that Erica discussed with the vendor the possibility of him creating a special exclusive frame for Your Wildest Dreams.

After picking up a couple of other trinkets, she strolled over to the Farmer’s Market. She spotted a set of solid shoulders hunched over a basket of fresh green beans, instantly recognizing their owner.

Gavin.

The lightweight cream sweater molded to his broad shoulders and delicately hugged his trim waist. He had an athlete’s build, which should be applauded because he’d worked with computers in his previous job and with chocolate, of all things, now. The fact that he remained in such great shape was awe-inspiring.

“See anything good there?” she asked as she sidled up next to him.

Gavin turned and unleashed his smile on her. Yeah, that smile was pretty awe-inspiring, too.

Why was this man still single?

The question popped in Erica’s head, demanding an answer. He was wealthy and gorgeous and did mystifying things with chocolate. Why had he never seriously dated anyone after his break up with Whitney Parker?

Of course, Erica knew exactly why Gavin’s dating status suddenly occupied the number one spot on her list of twenty questions. She still couldn’t erase the effects of that intense look he’d trained on her just before she’d left his shop yesterday. For several moments he’d allowed raw, naked desire to show in his eyes. It had created a multitude of questions that Erica had spent much of the past twenty-four hours trying to decipher.

“What brings you to the Farmer’s Market?” she asked him.

“Birthday dinner for my mom,” Gavin answered.

Her heart melted then and there. Add
sweet-as-all-get-out son who cooked for his mother
to his list of attributes.

“She hates celebrating her birthday, but I convinced her to at least let me make her favorite meal,” he said.

“What’s on the menu?”

“Leg of lamb with a saffron sauce.”

Erica’s eyes widened with shock.

“Don’t look so surprised.” Gavin laughed. “My culinary skills go beyond making chocolates.”

“You are just full of surprises, aren’t you, Gavin Foster?”

He leaned over and whispered in her ear. “You’ve only scratched the surface, Erica Cole.”

There it was again. That…
something
she’d experienced yesterday in the kitchen at Decadente. The husky tone of voice, the heavy-lidded gaze; it went beyond their normal, lighthearted flirting.

Gavin gave her a playful nudge with his shoulder. “What’s up with you? That usually brings out a laugh.”

She tamped down the confusing mix of apprehension and curiosity fluttering in her stomach and allowed a wry grin to curve up the corners of her mouth. “I can always count on you to put a smile on my face, and not just with your chocolates,” she added. “Thanks. I needed a pick-me-up. It’s been a rough day.”

Gavin captured her arm and gave it a light squeeze. “Why? What’s up?”

Erica heaved an anguished sigh and relayed the high and low—heavy on the low—points of her meeting with the manager at Manor Royale.

“There has to be somewhere else you can go,” Gavin said, motioning for her to follow him to the checkout.

“There is, but as I mentioned yesterday, I have high standards when it comes to lodging, and only four of the now sixteen clients I have booked for Valentine’s Day are repeat customers. If I want the remaining twelve to become repeat customers, I’m going to have to create unforgettable experiences.”

“I have no doubt that whatever you put together will be unforgettable. You’re phenomenal at what you do, Erica.”

His praise did more for her battered ego than Erica could have imagined. “Thank you,” she said. “It means so much to hear you say that, Gavin.”

“I’m only speaking the truth,” he said. “Go and reread that story in
The Gambit
if you’re still having any doubts.”

This time a genuine smile broke across her face. “I’ve read it so many times that I can probably recite it verbatim.”

Amusement glittered in his eyes. “What do you say we grab some beignets and a café au lait? Maybe we can put our heads together and come up with an alternative, just in case things don’t work out with Manor Royale.”

It was a tempting invitation, but Erica needed to get back to her office. Securing a hotel was just one item on a very long list of things she needed to accomplish for her upcoming Valentine’s Day experiences.

“Can I take a rain check?” she asked.

She thought she caught of glimpse of disappointment flash across Gavin’s features before he shrugged and said, “Sure. Don’t let the stuff with the hotel get you down too much, okay? It’ll all work out. I’m not the only magician. You always manage to make magic happen in the end.”