When Chocolate Is Not Enough...

‘I look forward to reading this author’s next release …
and her next … and her next. It truly is a stunning debut,
with characters that will remain in your thoughts
long after you have closed the book.’
—pinkheartsocietyreviews.blogspot.com on
Always the Bridesmaid

‘Rich with emotion,
and pairing two truly special characters,
this beautiful story is simply unforgettable. A keeper.’
—RT Book Reviews on
Hired: Sassy Assistant

‘A well-constructed plot and a scrumptious,
larger-than-life hero combined with generous amounts
of humour and pathos make for an excellent read.’
—RT Book Reviews on
Tipping the Waitress with Diamonds

NINA HARRINGTON
grew up in rural Northumberland, England, and decided at the age of eleven that she was going to be a librarian—because then she could read
all
of the books in the public library whenever she wanted! Since then she has been a shop assistant, community pharmacist, technical writer, university lecturer, volcano walker and industrial scientist, before taking a career break to realise her dream of being a fiction writer. When she is not creating stories which make her readers smile, her hobbies are cooking, eating, enjoying good wine—and talking, for which she has had specialist training.

Also by Nina Harrington

The Boy is Back in Town
Her Moment in the Spotlight
The Last Summer of Being Single
Tipping the Waitress with Diamonds
Hired: Sassy Assistant
Always the Bridesmaid

Did you know these are also available as eBooks?
Visit www.millsandboon.co.uk

M
AKE
your hen party extra special with our Luxury Chocolate Man Parts!

Max Treveleyn stopped in his tracks and stared in astonishment at the espresso and cream-coloured banner splashed across the top of the food stall promoting ‘Tara’s Tantalising Party Treats’.

This was central London, and party catering was big business. But ‘man parts’? It was the last thing he had expected to see at a classy organic food festival.

Max peered over the heads of the ladies who were clustered around the stall, jostling for a position in line to try the samples before making their selections. He didn’t want to think about what they would do with them when they got home—but this stall was certainly doing brisk business for a Monday lunchtime.

He glanced swiftly at the digital clock on the wall above the entrance to the underground
station. He had twenty minutes at most to find the art gallery where he had arranged to meet his ex-wife Kate for lunch—but he could spare a few of those minutes to find out just how far organic chocolate had come since his last visit to London.

It was only as he got closer that Max realised that a short, bubbly blonde girl was running the stall, completely concealed behind the crush of customers who were waving cash and pointing furiously at the trays of remarkably life-size and anatomically correct shapes.

The blonde was wearing a T-shirt with the words ‘Tara’s Treats’ across the front. In another place, with a different audience, those words might be misconstrued—especially since the T-shirt was rather on the small side for a girl with a substantial bosom.

Perhaps this was the famous Tara herself?

The party treats seemed to be going down extremely well, and it took Max a few minutes to shuffle forward and find a gap in the queue. If only the organic chocolate
he
made was as popular as this he would never have to worry again about the future of his cocoa plantation back in St Lucia. But, then again, perhaps moulded chocolate man parts were not exactly the premium outlet he needed to bring in extra income.

The blonde looked up at him, blinked twice,
then grinned. ‘Hello, handsome. Looking for something for your stag party? I have just the thing.’ She reached over the counter and pulled out a tray of milk chocolate shapes which literally took Max’s breath away. ‘It’s your lucky day—we have a special offer on all body parts. How many would you like?’

He coughed politely before shaking his head. ‘Um … Thank you, but I don’t need any milk chocolate toes today—although I am sure they are quite delicious,’ he said, when he finally managed to get some air into his lungs. ‘But would you mind if I took some photographs of your stall? It certainly is … er … different.’

She glared at him open-mouthed for a second, before throwing her head back and laughing out loud with a laugh that echoed around the London street where the festival was being held. It was the kind of laugh that meant that she had to snort in a breath halfway through.

‘Daisy! One of our gentleman browsers wants to photograph your chocs. Are you okay with that?’

Max looked over the blonde’s shoulder towards a tall brunette wearing chef’s trousers and a white jacket, who was rummaging around inside large plastic food boxes. As the brunette flicked a glance towards Max her
eyes smiled at the same time as her mouth, crinkling the sides of her cheeks into a rosy glow, so that when she spoke her face was animated and full of laughter and fun.

‘Only if he buys something. Here.’ She whisked around and presented him with a box of flesh-coloured chocolate half domes made into bosoms, with a circle of caramel icing in the centre. A dark chocolate cocoa bean added the final realistic touch. ‘I also have them in a mocha choc blend, if you would prefer that,’ she added. ‘Or perhaps the lovely Tara can tempt you with some of each? All organic chocolate, of course, and hand-made by the person you are looking at.’

The brunette waved the box under Max’s nose, and without intending to he half closed his eyes and inhaled the wonderful aroma of fine chocolate and soft fruit. His nose came a lot closer than he had planned to one of the chocolate cocoa beans, and he physically recoiled the instant he opened his eyes and focused on what was in front of him.

‘Wow. That chocolate smells amazing. And is that a touch of raspberry?’ he asked.

‘Fresh organic raspberry coulis and vanilla extract.’ She nodded. ‘But tell me now if you want some, because all my boobs are selling out fast ahead of the stag and hen party
season. June is such a wonderful month to get married, don’t you think?’

A visual flash of memory hit Max hard. Sparkling champagne, kilts and plaid, and Scottish dancing in the tiny frigid village hall chosen by Kate’s parents for their wedding. Their June wedding had turned out to be cold, wet and windy, but he had not felt it for a moment. They had both been so young and idealistic, with crazy dreams of their new life in St Lucia.

Shame that the hard reality of that life had burst their bubble only too quickly.

A bustle of ladies looking for unique party treats jostled him gently, and as he turned to acknowledge their apologies he realised that the brunette was still waiting for him to give her an answer.

‘Hello? Are you still with me?’ she asked with a smile. ‘You seemed to be in a world of your own for a moment there.’

‘You reminded me about my own wedding. And you were quite right. June can be a great month to get married.’ He swallowed down a moment of angst, then looked up at her with a twisted grin and a wink. ‘Thank you for that.’

‘All part of the service. And … er …’ she gestured with her head towards the tray of chocolate shapes ‘… how many would you like? A
pair is usual, three is a bit kinky, and four would be greedy. But, hey, go for it.’

He looked up at her—and then really looked. She had stepped into the sunshine, and now he could see that her hair was not brown but a deep russet-red colour, and just long enough to flick out at the neck of her heart-shaped face. A pair of wide green eyes smiled back at him, and under his gaze her mouth lifted to create a triangle of creases from her small chin to her rosy cheeks. Somehow he felt able to put aside that lingering sense of failure and regret at the breakdown of his marriage and enjoy the moment.

‘I’m sure your—your boobs are very nice,’ Max stuttered, creating a titter from the other customers. ‘I mean the chocolate boobs, of course. But I only enjoy organic dark chocolate. The darker the better.’

Her face dropped, and he instantly felt guilty about wasting her time when he truly did not want to buy anything. ‘Although there is something you might be able to help me with.’

‘Really?’ she asked, her eyebrows high. ‘I find that hard to believe, considering that not even my special boobs can tempt you.’

When she smiled one side of her mouth lifted higher than the other, and he noticed
that the end of her fair-skinned nose was peeling a little, with a scattering of freckles.

Red hair, green eyes and freckles.

Oh, no.
Killer
.

His heart started beating just a little faster—but enough for him to look away and pretend to glance over the banners on the stall. He was obviously a lot more tired than he’d thought he was if a young woman’s smile could turn on the switches he had firmly locked into the closed position.

No more girlfriends. He had already sacrificed one marriage to his obsession with growing cocoa and had no intention of going there again.

He quickly coughed, to cover up his embarrassment, before answering her question. ‘Do you have something for a children’s birthday party? My daughter will be eight next week.’

‘Ah, a family man,’ she replied in a softer voice, and her shoulders relaxed. ‘Why didn’t you say so? We sold out of most of our children’s treats earlier this morning, but let me just check to see if we have any animal shapes left.’ She dived back into the plastic boxes, probably not aware that her chef’s trousers stretched a little too tightly over a very pert rear end as she bent over.

‘Teddy bears or bunny rabbits?’ she replied in a singsong voice as she rummaged. ‘White
or milk chocolate? Oh—and a few very special dark chocolate-dipped raisins. Except we call them rabbit droppings. Kids love that.’ She grinned. ‘I would recommend the rabbits.’

Pulling out a flat tray, she stepped towards Max and he peered inside. Beautifully formed milk chocolate bite-size rabbits with pink-tinted white chocolate ears stared back at him.

‘Those look terrific,’ he said. ‘I’ll take them all—and a bag of the raisins. Do you mind if I try one? Denise …?’

‘Be my guest—and it’s Daisy, not Denise,’ she answered, and presented him with a small tray of the chocolate raisins. ‘Tara and I love catering for children’s parties. They are so much fun.’ Daisy winked. ‘It would make a wonderful birthday present. That little girl will be the envy of all of her friends.’

Max was just about to open his mouth to tell her that he owned a cocoa plantation in St Lucia, so Freya’s friends already thought that she had a mountain of chocolate bars stashed in her bedroom cupboard, when Daisy picked up a dark chocolate-covered raisin and without hesitating or asking for permission popped it into his mouth.

Her fingers slid against his lips, and for a fraction of a second Max felt a real connection which was so elemental and raw that
he covered up his discomfort by focusing on the food.

Organic chocolate. It had a lot to answer for. But it had been so long …

‘What do you think?’ she asked, completely unaware that she was responsible for the hot discomfort inside his chest. ‘For adult parties I soak the fruit in alcohol, to offset the sweetness, but this rabbit poo is apple juice flavour. It seems to work.’

Max chewed the raisin for a few seconds, then swallowed. ‘Wow!’ He blinked and tried to hide a grimace. ‘I have to admit I’m more used to bitter chocolate, so that amount of sugar comes as a shock. And I’m trying to persuade my daughter not to eat so many sweet foods, so you will excuse me if I only take a few of the raisins.’