She was as helpless to resist Damon as she was to stop eating chocolate. Both gave her far too much pleasure to quit. In excess, of course, each of those things could be dangerous. She knew that. But now that a few days had passed, Natasha figured she’d gotten the whole thing pretty much under control.
She’d also hit upon a plan to make up for the unforgivable way she’d deserted Damon in Las Vegas, leaving him alone to cope with the aftereffects of his chocolate-workshop meltdown. To that end, Natasha had been working and planning and organizing. She hadn’t accomplished much in the way of artwork, of course, but she figured her creative work could wait a little longer.
Damon’s problems were happening right now—and they were partly her fault. She
had
to do something about them.
But before she took up that task again, there was still time to savor another morning with Damon—still time to relish the sight of him tossing back the covers and standing to stretch, wearing only his tight black boxer briefs. There was still time to watch him stroll across her bedroom, look out the window, stand there in all his glory with the sunlight washing over his corded muscles and his dark, pillow-tossed hair... .
An instant later, a beeping cell phone cut off Natasha’s reverie. It was Damon’s. As he answered it, she padded to the bathroom. When she came back, Damon was staring at his iPhone.
He heard her. He held up his phone, showing her the screen.
“That was my bank,” Damon said in an undecipherable tone. “They straightened out my identity theft. All my accounts have been fully restored. Credit cards, lines of credit ... the works.”
It was still happening
, Natasha realized.
Damon’s usual life was still coming back to him, piece by piece
. Soon he wouldn’t need her at all. She’d miss her chance to make amends.
“Great!” With a smile, Natasha went to him. Casually, she kissed him. “Try not to spend it all in one place.”
For once, Damon did not smile back. He merely frowned at his phone. “This means I could leave, if you wanted me to.”
She blinked, surprised. “Do
you
want to?”
“I’m not here for the free lodging,” Damon told her. This time, he
did
smile. “I’m after something a lot better.”
“Oh?” Natasha tried not to sound too hopeful. “What’s that?”
Damon opened his mouth. But before he could speak, Milo gave another impatient yell from the kitchen. “Damon! Come
on
!”
“Later.” Natasha smiled. “Your public awaits.”
“I guess so.” Damon kissed her. Then, distractedly, he yanked on a pair of jeans and a shirt and went to tend to Milo.
Whatever he’d been about to say remained a mystery. But Natasha thought she knew what it would be.
You. I want to stay because I want you
.
If she played her cards right, that’s what Damon
would
say to her—and
not
only while they were in bed together.
With that thought in mind, Natasha got dressed and got started with her day’s activities. There was still a lot to be done—and (apparently) not much time left to do it in.
When Natasha came home from another day of errand running and then disappeared into her garden-shed workspace, Damon was ready for her eventual return. He met Natasha at the back door, gave her a kiss hello, then brandished a makeshift blindfold.
“Hi! You can’t come in unless you wear this.”
She frowned in confusion. “Is that my scarf?”
“No, it’s mine,” he deadpanned. “See? It matches my eyes.”
Natasha laughed. “Whatever you say, guy from Aerosmith.”
“You mean Steven Tyler,” Damon told her. “We met once. Nice guy. Good dad. And the scarf is yours. You left it on the bed.” Grinning, he gestured for her to spin around. “Close your eyes. I’ll put it on you. Then I’ll show you the surprise.”
“Aha. I get it. This is a game.” Natasha’s eyes lit up. Her gaze traveled over him. “Do you want me to get naked first?”
I wish
. “Not right now, sexbot. Milo is home.”
“Oh.” Looking intrigued all the same, Natasha turned her back to him. Deftly, he tied on the scarf. “Did you have any trouble picking up Milo from school? Usually Carol fills in for me, but she’s been strangely ‘too busy’ for that lately.”
“Yeah, there’s a lot of ‘busyness’ going around,” Damon said with deliberate blitheness. He knew damn well that her former mother-in-law had been “too busy” on Damon’s request—all the better to allow him to demonstrate his newfound sense of maturity. “Also, yes, I picked up Milo without a hitch.”
Natasha patted her blindfold. Below it, her mouth curved in a smile. “Thanks for doing that, by the way. It’s really nice of you to take care of Milo while I’m ... working.”
“I like doing it.” Wondering at the hesitation in her voice just before she said “working,” Damon took Natasha’s hand. He hoped she knew that (unlike Paul)
he
considered her artwork valuable. He touched her shoulder, too, then began steering her toward the kitchen, where his surprise awaited. “There was a party at school today, and poor Milo didn’t get to have any of the goodies. The little guy was pretty bummed about it, but I—”
“What?” Natasha stopped cold. She grabbed for her blindfold, trying to untie it. “I didn’t hear about any parties today. Usually I prep Milo for them ahead of time. Is he okay?”
“He’s fine.” Damon squeezed her hand. He gave her his most comforting smile, even though she couldn’t see it. “In fact, he’s the impetus for my surprise tonight. So don’t wreck it.”
“Wreck it?” She gave up on untying her blindfold and pulled it down instead.
Yank
. “I’m not thinking about your surprise right now. I’m thinking about my son! My son who has multiple food sensitivities to deal with. You just told me—”
“That Milo wasn’t thrilled about missing out on all the goodies. That’s it.” Patiently, Damon reversed the downward pull Natasha had given her blindfold. “It’s not an emergency or anything. It’s just that until today, I hadn’t realized how much Milo’s food issues affect him. It’s not all silly songs and apps and websites and food lists. It’s
feelings
, too.”
Skeptically, Natasha frowned. “It’s also anaphylactic reactions and epinephrine and responsibility,” she pointed out. “But none of that is your problem, Damon. You aren’t exactly stellar at dealing with real-life issues, you know, so—”
“So I
might
be, if you gave me a chance.” Hurt, Damon frowned right back at her. “I called a friend of mine who works at the Allergy, Asthma and Immunology Division of Scripps Clinic today, and I got more information about this. I told Milo that
I’m
giving up peanuts and dairy and eggs and gluten, too! They’re not worth it.”
“Right. I can guess how long
that
will last.”
Her skepticism stung. “You don’t think I have what it takes to make a sacrifice? Even for Milo’s sake? You don’t think I can do it?”
“I think you can do anything you set your mind to.” Again Natasha lowered her blindfold. From above its folds, she gazed patiently at him. “For a while, at least. And I know you mean well, too, but—”
“But you don’t think you can count on me.”
“Come on, Damon. Don’t be like that.” A sigh. “I
know
you, remember? You’re not exactly Mr. Dependable. You never have been.” Natasha touched his arm to reassure him. “And that’s okay! You have plenty of other fine qualities.” She winked, then tugged on her blindfold once more. “Like planning surprises. So let’s go.”
Decisively and sightlessly, Natasha turned. She assumed an arms-up position, ostensibly ready for Damon to guide her again.
He couldn’t help feeling the moment had passed.
“I mean it, Damon,” Natasha coaxed. “If I wanted you to be a different person than you already are, you wouldn’t be here. I like you the way you are. So show me your surprise.”
Mulishly, Damon hesitated. He still felt hurt that she didn’t trust him—even after all the efforts he’d made.
“If I like it, I’ll let you blindfold me again later tonight,” Natasha promised in a sultry tone. “Or maybe I’ll put this on you, instead. Maybe I’ll tease you and touch you and—”
“Fine.” Giving in to the moment the way he always did—or at least the way he always had—Damon offered up a grin. “But keep the sexy talk down. Milo is waiting for us in the kitchen.”
Then he took her hand and led her in.
The first thing Natasha noticed was the aroma of toasted bread. Then the tang of citrus fruit and apples. Then, underlying it all, the sweet, complex fragrance of ... chocolate?
Behind her, Damon made a show of untying her blindfold. His hands worked dexterously. His knuckles brushed her hair. So did his breath. Then, with a flourish she could sense (if not see) Damon pulled off her scarf so she could see his surprise.
“Ta-da!” he announced. “I made dinner!”
Blinking at the array of dishes arranged on the table, Natasha frowned in confusion. She zeroed in on one item. “You made
chocolate
for dinner?” She glanced at Damon’s grinning face, thinking that she’d probably been correct in doubting his judgment earlier. “Damon, we can’t have chocolate for dinner.”
“Yes, we can!” Milo disagreed. At the other side of the table, he surveyed the spread with big-eyed enthusiasm. “I’m going to! Damon already said I could. And it’s
all
safe for me.”
“It is. The chocolate is dairy free,” Damon said. “Do you know how unusual that is? It turns out that most chocolate is made into milk chocolate—or dark chocolate with milk solids added, which aren’t technically necessary. But this chocolate is bittersweet Venezuelan Carenero Superior with just a little sugar and no milk added. It’s
delicious
. You’ll see.”
Dubiously, Natasha examined the table again. Beside her with one hand on the small of her back, Damon nodded with pride.
“Also, officially we’re having dairy-free chocolate
fondue
for dinner.” Damon gave her an abashed look. “Chocolate is the only thing I can make besides sandwiches. And we can
too
have chocolate for dinner. Europeans eat chocolate for breakfast.”
“
With
bread,” Natasha pointed out, still unconvinced by all this. “In croissants or spread on toast or with fruit.”
“We’ve got toast.” With great fanfare—and a sweep of his arm—Damon offered up the food he’d prepared. “
Gluten-free
toast. Also, oranges, apples, grapes, bananas ... you name it.” He crossed his arms. “We’ve got all the components of a nutritious meal.”
“
And
chocolate.” Stumped by Damon’s reasons for doing this, Natasha stared at it. “You really made chocolate for dinner.”
“Only a
little
chocolate. It helps the fruit go down.”
He seemed so proud and so gleeful that she just couldn’t refuse him. Clearly Damon still loved working with chocolate. He just couldn’t give it up. How could she deny him that?
After being away from work, Damon was undoubtedly jonesing for a challenge. Stuck at her apartment this way, with no bikini models to woo or business deals to broker, her globe-trotting former boss was probably going out of his skull with boredom.
But Damon gave no sign of crushing ennui as he hugged her to his side, then grinned at Milo. “After school, I told Milo I’d find a way for him to have treats today,” Damon explained. “And I did!” Again, he gestured at the table. “Voilà!”
That really
was
sweet. “You did all this for Milo?” Damon didn’t answer; he only pulled out a chair for her. He ushered her to it with another chivalrous sweep of his arm.
His happy face told Natasha all she needed to know.
“I think you need to get out more. You’re going stir-crazy,” she joked as she took a seat before the elaborate array of food. “The apple wedges are cut with geometric precision. The bread is arranged in a pyramid of perfect cubes. I think you missed your calling as a sous-chef.” Natasha peered more closely. “Is this fruit arranged in
alphabetical order
?”
Damon shrugged off her question. He handed plates to her and Milo, then watched them dig in. Then, “Wait! I told everyone at Torrance Chocolates that I’d take a picture to show them.”
Cheerfully, Damon whipped out his iPhone. He snapped photos from several different angles, being sure to highlight the chocolate. Always ready for a turn in the spotlight—especially with his new pal, Damon—Milo hammed it up for the camera.
The two of them were adorable together. But ...
“You went to
Torrance Chocolates
to get this chocolate?”
“Sure. Milo and I took a field trip together after school.” Damon put away his iPhone, then helped himself to a plate. Eagerly, he sat beside Natasha, then started tucking in to fruit and bread. He dunked a banana slice into the chocolate, then savored it. He swallowed. “That was the only way I could make sure there wouldn’t be any chance of nut or dairy exposure. The production lines are shared over various runs of flavors, so unless you have a dedicated allergen-free area of the facility—or an inside man to help you—you’re kind of screwed. There’ll always be a chance of dairy or nut cross-contact.”
Natasha knew that all too well. Over the years, she’d had a difficult time finding treats for Milo. “But wasn’t that awkward for you? I mean, you didn’t take your leave of absence from Torrance Chocolates under the best of circumstances, right?”
So far, Damon had been a little cryptic about what those circumstances had been. Although Natasha wished he would confide fully in her, she was willing to wait for him.
Especially since she knew part of the truth from Jimmy.
“Oh yeah. I forgot all about my leave of absence. I guess I had other priorities in mind.” Looking perplexed, Damon considered that. As usual, he seemed oblivious to the fact that his luck was changing for the better, all over again. Evidently, fate loved Damon almost as much as Natasha did. “I guess all I needed was a good enough reason to go back.” He glanced at Milo, making that reason plain. “Everybody seemed glad to see me, though. We had a tour. I saw Jason. He said Amy’s doing really well. Even my dad came downstairs.”