Wyne and Chocolate (Citizen Soldier Series Book 2) (10 page)

“Thanks
for helping my nephew,” he said quietly.

She
nodded. “No problem. I remember what it was like to only have one parent at
that age.”

“I
promise, once the movie is over, we’ll swap out your clothes.” A small grin
tugged his lips. “Can’t have you tripping into…things all night.”

She
lifted her foot, wiggled her toes and stated, “Not an issue anymore,” then
promptly slid into the counter. She laughed. “Correction. New issue.”

He
smiled, a natural, warm smile that supercharged his expression, and upped her
pulse. And it continued the whole night. All through the movie, she felt that
supercharge. In the innocent brush of his hand when they’d accidentally reached
for the same slice of pizza, or into the bowl of popcorn at the same time. The
rumble of laughter that shook through him at a funny part in the movie. When he
shifted in his spot on the couch and the cushion dipped, propelling her closer.

By the
time the DVD finished and she headed to the locker room with Mason, Jill was
done, too. Tuned in and turned on. And hot. Overheated hot. Walking from the
resort to Lea’s car would be good. She doubted she’d need the heater on the way
home. But first, she had to swap coats and boots.

Stopping
outside the women’s locker room in the deserted wing, Mason pulled out his
keys, then slid one into the lock and opened the door. He flipped the switch
inside the room and the lights came on. “Give me the snow gear and I’ll return
it to the rental department while you grab your stuff in here.”

“Okay.
Thanks,” she replied, eager to have a quiet minute to herself to regroup. Her
mind and body were on Mason overload.

After a
few deep breaths, she opened the locker where she’d stuffed her belongings
earlier that morning. Seemed more like days than hours ago. Ah, but what a day.
Her mind replayed the snowmobile ride while her body remembered how incredible
it felt wrapped around Mason. She shoved her feet in her boots, and her arms in
her coat, doing up all the buttons before hooking the belt. He’d been warm and
hard and smelled so dang good. With a sigh, she wrapped her scarf around her
neck, then grabbed her purse and headed for the door, flicking off the lights
on her way out.

“All
good?” Mason asked, pushing off the wall across the hall. He looked good enough
to eat in worn jeans and hoodie sweatshirt with Wyne Resort across the chest.

“Yep.”
She nodded. “Thank you.”

“None
necessary,” he said as he locked up and slipped the keys in his pocket.

Her mind
got a little naughty, wondering what they settled against. Then her body got a
lot hot.

“Earth
to Jill,” he said, tugging lightly on her scarf, as she leaned against the wall
for support. “Where were you just then?”

She
snorted. Couldn’t help it. That was a snort-worthy question. “Somewhere I
shouldn’t be.”

Heat
entered his gaze. He palmed the wall near her head and leaned in, still tugging
her scarf. “Care to share?”

Her
pulse kicked into gear. “No.” She grinned, turning her head into her scarf, but
still holding his gaze.

He was
big, and handsome, and so sexy she could barely breathe. And when she did suck
in a breath, damn, he smelled great. Imminent quiver great. Even through the
scarf. There…she quivered. See?

Staring
down at her, he stilled. “You shouldn’t look at me like that,” he said softly.

“Like
what?”

“Like
you can’t get enough of me.”

“I
can’t.”

“Jill…”
With a fierce hunger darkening his eyes and a low sound of acquiescence
rumbling up his chest, he leaned down and captured her mouth with his, making
her sigh in pure, unadulterated pleasure.

Dropping
her purse, she wrapped her arms around his neck and closed her eyes, enjoying
the delicious state of bliss only Mason created. And the way he said her name.
Goosebumps spearheaded a round of tremors to her curled toes.

He
stepped into the kiss, pressing her against the wall, ripping a moan from her
throat as he lined up their bodies. The man had a way of taking her out of
herself. Making her yearn for more.

Slipping
one hand down to her waist while the other gripped the back of her neck, he
pulled her in tighter, sliding his tongue deeper, stealing her strength. If
only they didn’t need air. She would’ve happily stayed wrapped in his embrace
forever.

He broke
off the kiss, but still held her to him, leaving his mouth on hers for a few
breaths before drawing all the way back.

“Wow.”
She blinked up, trying to catch her breath…feel her legs…remember her name.

Breathing
unsteady, he brushed a strand of hair off her temple. “I wanted to do that all
damn day.”

“I
wanted you to…too,” she murmured.

Her
pulse hiccupped as the fierce heat returned to his gaze.
Criollo.
The
brown of his eyes resembled the exact shade of the Criollo cocoa bean after
roasting. Rare and of finer quality…

“Yeah?”
He smiled and brushed his lips across her jaw. “Far be it for me to
disappoint,” he said near her ear.

Goosebumps
and heat raced to her core. Running her hands up his sides then back down to
grip his hips, she tilted her neck for better access, because,
oh,
yeah…that’s the spot.

“Mr.
Wyne? Mason?” A female voice echoed to them from down the hall.

He
stilled, then released her to pull away and turn toward the voice. “Yes, Vera?”

Jill
quickly retrieved her purse from the floor and straightened just before a neat
and proper older woman rounded the corner wearing the standard Wyne Resort
clerk uniform of black pants and burgundy, button-down blouse with a gold name
tag pinned above the left breast, the word SUPERVISOR printed above her name.

“I’m
sorry to bother you, sir. Joan said she’d seen you head this way,” the
supervisor replied, apologetic smile on her face. “We’re having trouble with
the computers in Reservations. We tried several things, and even rebooted, but
we’re still locked out.”

He blew
out a breath and nodded. “Okay, I’ll be there in a minute.”

Vera
nodded and apologized again before pivoting around to quickly disappear back
down the hall.

Mason
turned to her with disappointment dulling his expression. “Sorry,” he said,
grabbing her hand and bringing her knuckles to his lips. “I’ve got to go take
care of this.”

Watching
his mouth move slowly over her fingers, Jill inhaled as heat settled low in her
belly. “No worries,” she said, voice a little raw with need. She cleared her
throat and met his gaze. “I’ve got to go play with some cocoa beans.”

A rueful
smile tugged his lips. “I’d hoped you’d be playing with mine, but…”

She
laughed and fell into step with him as he led them down the hall to the lobby,
still holding her hand. It was crazy, but she would’ve gone up to his
apartment, or rented a room with him without a second thought. What did that
say about her? She decided not to care. It was time she had a bit of fun
without dissecting why.

When
they got to the door, she stopped dead. “Oh no you don’t. You are not dressed
for ten degree weather,” she cautioned, motioning to his hoodie. “You go take
care of the computers. I’m fine. I’m parked close to the building.” Technically,
it was close to the end of the building, but he didn’t need to know.

“You
sure?” He frowned, chivalry obviously too ingrained in him to let her walk to
her car alone.

But he
was in a hoodie. It was barely ten degrees. So, no. She lifted her head. “I’m sure.”
And to show it, she lifted up on tip-toe and kissed him softly on the lips.
“Good night, Mason.”

She
tried to tug loose, but he pulled her close, and using his free hand, cupped
her face and kissed her good and solid. When he drew back, she decided then and
there, he could easily become her new addiction.

“Good
night, Jill,” he said, releasing her, satisfied smile on his lips.

It was a
good thing it was frigid out, because she needed to cool off.

T
he next day, Mason took clients snowmobiling again. He
purposely put the day before out of his mind and threw himself into his work,
taking the guests farther, tackling more hills, refueling, staying out until
they were ready to call it a day.

None of
it worked. Jill still managed to break into his thoughts. He heard her laugh
and felt her hug when he took sharp corners. Saw her smile when he drank hot
chocolate. Yeah, no matter how fast and hard he rode today, he hadn’t been able
to escape Jill.

The
memory of her kisses, and hot taste as she melted into him last night, haunted
his sleep and hovered the whole damn day. He’d been so close to taking her up
to his apartment last night. If Vera hadn’t interrupted… Jury was still out on
whether it was a good or bad thing. She’d been abandoned by men all her life.
He really had no business sniffing around the pretty woman. Hell, he was far
from a sure bet.

“Well,
you look like you rode under the Cat instead of on top,” Keiffer said as Mason
walked into the common area that evening after a quick shower and change.

Tyler
was watching cartoons. Ethan was passed out on the couch, and his youngest
brother was taking his role as pain-in-the-ass to heart.

“That’s
what the seats are for on a snowmobile.”

“No one
told me,” he said, heading to the fridge for leftovers. His mother always
cooked a big meal on Sundays and sent it over. Her contribution to parenting
over the years. At least she was actually a hell of a cook.

Porketta.
Score.
Bypassing the potatoes and veggies, he grabbed the dish of meat
and set it in the microwave. His stomach growled. Apparently indecision made
him hungry. Not in the mood to use utensils, he cut two buns, and ignored
Keiffer who settled onto a stool and smiled at him.

“How’s
Jill?”

He
shrugged. “Wouldn’t know.”

“That’s
not what I heard.”

Mason
stuffed both buns with the hot porketta, grabbed a bottle of water, sat down at
the table and tore into his meal. The rolls were soft. His mom must’ve gotten
them fresh.

Keiffer
dropped down in a chair across from him. “I heard you and Jill were on the
floor here.”

He
stopped chewing long enough to glare at his brother.

“No,
just her snow suit was on the floor and her purse, Uncle Keiffer,” Tyler said,
apparently bored with his cartoon. The little guy stood to his right.

“I
wonder how they could’ve gotten there?” his idiot brother asked, feigning
innocence behind raised brows.

“She
dropped them when Uncle Mason scared her,” Tyler happily replied.

More
raised brows. “Did she now? Shame on you, Mason.”

“But she
wasn’t mad at him because she sat next to him on the couch for the whole movie.
And didn’t even fall asleep once.” Amazement coated his nephew’s tone.

“Wow,
she’s a keeper.”

Tyler
nodded. “That’s what I said.”

“And
what did Uncle Mason say to that?”

Uncle
Mason was about ready to shove his second sandwich down his youngest brother’s
throat. Followed by the bottle of water.

“Not
much, but I think Daddy’s going to marry her if Uncle Mason doesn’t.”

Damn.
His heart lurched. Tyler had seemed to be doing fine without a mom, but lately,
he was starting to make comments like this that cut Mason to the quick. He
could only imagine how Ethan felt. Keiffer, on the other hand, just shrugged it
off.

“I think
it’ll probably be Uncle Mason. I heard someone saw them kissing in the lobby
last night.”

Ah hell.

“Eww.”
Tyler shuddered.

“Yeah,
but Uncle Mason seemed to enjoy it.”

His
nephew’s eyes rounded. “Did you, Uncle Mason?”

Too
damn much
. He glared at Keiffer before turning to the young boy, eager to
change the damn subject. “How long has your dad been sleeping?”

“I’m not
sleeping,” Ethan called, voice hoarse with fatigue. “I was just resting my eyes
while Uncle Keiffer was riding your…butt.”

Bullshit
.
Mason sucked down more water as he watched his older brother stand up and
stretch. Ethan was pushing too hard. Damn, stubborn ass needed to cut back on
work. Wyne Resorts had enough guides to handle a few of his runs.

Keiffer
sat back in his chair and grinned. “Sometimes he makes it so easy.”

The
yawning man approached the table and rustled his son’s hair. “Ain’t that the
truth.” He grabbed the second sandwich from Mason’s plate and took a bite.

“Hey…ba—ghead.”

“You
always make the best sandwiches, Mase,” Ethan said before taking another bite.
“The best.”

He shook
his head. “So glad you approve.”

“Oh, I do.
Wholeheartedly,” his brother said, finishing it off with the rest of Mason’s
water. “Come on.” He grabbed his son and tossed him over his shoulder, holding
onto the giggling boy’s legs. “Let’s get back to the cartoons and give your
Uncle Mason a break.”

“Why
does he need a break?” Tyler asked, still draped over his dad’s shoulder.

“Because
he needs to decide whether it’ll be him or Keiffer who takes this back to
Jill,” Ethan replied, pulling his hand out of his pocket and setting a familiar
gold pin on the table. “It was found near the womens’ locker room door where
you and she were…
getting friendly
last night. I don’t know if she’s just
klutzy or trying to get you to visit.”

Before
Mason could reply, the whistling idiot strode toward the TV, giggling son
swatting his ass.

“Ya
know?” Keiffer rubbed his jaw and stared at the pin, gaze a little too
interested for Mason’s liking. “I’d be quite happy to deliver this to Jill. I
bet she tastes as good as her chocolates.”

The goof
moved to grab the pin, but Mason swiped it off the table and shoved it deep in
his pocket first. Then he stared
Don Juan
down. “I don’t want you
anywhere near her chocolates. You got it?”

Keiffer
sat back and held up his hands, grinning from ear to ear. “No issues, bro. All
you had to do was say you were into her. That would make her off limits, and
you know I respect those boundaries.”

He
glared at his brother a little longer, then nodded. “Don’t you have a car to
work on?”

“Nope.
Greg’s not feeling well, so I might head to The Groove and see what kind of
trouble I can get into.”

The
Groove was one of two nightclubs in the resort. Dancing, drinking, karaoke.
Yep. Right up Keiffer’s alley.

“Try not
to get kicked out,” he said, putting the dishes in the dishwasher and empty
bottle in the recycling bin in the corner. “Wouldn’t look good for business.”

“Try not
to get shot down,” the smartass countered. “Wouldn’t look good for the Wynes.
We have a reputation to uphold.”

“Uphold
this.” Shoving his hand behind his back so Tyler wouldn’t see, he flipped his
brother the finger on his way out of the kitchen.

The
pain-in-the-ass chuckle followed him to the stairs. Let him laugh. Mason closed
his fingers around the pin in his pocket as he headed to his apartment for his
coat and keys. Keiffer wasn’t the one about to deliver the pin to a woman whose
hugs warmed him from the inside out. She’d nearly plowed him over with one the
last time he’d returned the heirloom, and he couldn’t help but wonder if he’d
receive another tonight.

A
fter only four attempts, Jill was hopeful that she was close to
finding the right combination of sweet and bitter that suited the chocolate she
wanted to create just for Lea. It was true the woman loved all of her flavors,
but this gift was special from Ben, so she wanted the flavor to be special,
too. The last batch was too bitter. The two before that not bitter enough.
Hopefully, this time, she’d find that happy medium.

If she
could just keep her mind off Mason and his incredible kisses, then she might
enjoy success sooner than later. But the memory of last night’s kiss…damn. She
touched her lips for the tenth time that day, still experiencing the phantom
feeling of his lips. Magical…and hot. God, they were hot.

Like
her.

She
dropped her hand and exhaled, glancing at the clock on her kitchen wall. Shaped
like a Hershey’s Kiss, the clock was a memento from a high school field trip to
the chocolate factory and amusement park she’d enjoyed over ten years ago. The
tour, explaining the process from cocoa bean to chocolate, had both fascinated
and inspired, something the floundering teen had needed, and it had stuck with
her ever since.

Bringing
her mind back to the time, she nodded. Six o’clock. Time for one more batch,
and possibly another if this didn’t cut it. For her true test, she continued to
stir a small amount of vegetable oil into the chocolate mixture that smelled
like heaven. The one that required her old fondue fountain. The antique, circa
1983 contraption sat center stage on her kitchen table, just waiting for her
latest test. Every flavor good enough to market had been perfected with the
help of ‘Mocha’, her pet name for the machine.

But like
most outdated and overused appliances, Mocha was temperamental, and often
ornery. Jill just hoped that wasn’t the case today. She’d waited until she’d
had a good blend before even pulling her prized possession out of the pantry.
This test would be her fourth that weekend.

The
moment of truth.

Timing
was everything. The trick was to taste the chocolate a minute into the flow. If
she waited longer, then the thinned out mixture was exposed to elements too
long and they contaminated the true taste. At least, to her they did. The
method had always worked well in the past, so she wasn’t about to vary from the
process.

Just
about to flip the switch to turn Mocha on, she jumped when the doorbell rang.
Dang. Whoever was there was going to either have to watch or go away. She
couldn’t let the mixture sit in the bowl too long, either.

Tamping
down her frustration, she marched to the door and yanked it open, completely
forgetting she had her hair piled up under a blue hairnet and wore a matching
apron…until she found Mason on the other side.

Shoot.

Heat
immediately rushed to her face. But there wasn’t time to be embarrassed. “Hi,”
she said. “Come in.” And before he could answer, she pulled him inside. “Sorry,
but I’m testing chocolate and am on a time schedule. Feel free to take off your
coat and come in and watch.  Unless you can’t stay, then you’ll have to come in
and tell me why you’re here. But either way, I need to get back in there now.”

Without
waiting for a reply, again, she turned and marched back to the kitchen. She
knew she’d sounded pushy and bossy, but she had high hopes for this batch and
didn’t want to ruin it because her raging hormones wanted her to taste test
Mason in the hall.

Which
was more than likely what would’ve happened if she hadn’t opened her mouth
because, damn, he’d looked mouthwatering in his fleece coat and black scarf.

She
shook her head and sucked in a breath as she entered the kitchen straight off
the hall. Chocolate. She was making chocolate. Not Mason. A hysterical giggle
bubbled up her throat.

“Smells
great in here,” he said from behind.

She
turned to find him coatless in the doorway, a sexy grin on his face.

“I know.
I love my job.” She smiled as she flipped on Mocha’s heat switch. “Sometimes
the smell lingers for days.”

“What
exactly are you doing?” he asked, stepping closer, interest lighting his eyes.

After
quickly explaining the process, she lifted her bowl of chocolate and slowly
poured it all into Mocha’s base. “Okay, honey. Play nice,” she said, stroking
the machine before turning on the motor. “No need to show off for Mason.” She
glanced up at him, noting his raised brow. “Sometimes she can be a little bit
temperamental. But not this time. Nope.” Her attention returned to the
fountain, excitement shooting down her spine as the chocolate began to flow
over the rim and down the three tiers. “This time, she’s behaving.”

Jill
grabbed two spoons, handed one to her guest then slipped hers under the
chocolate flow, before pulling it out for a taste. Sweet. Bitter. A good
combination but…

“Aren’t
we supposed to do this with food?” he asked, mimicking her movements, then
stilled. “Damn, Jill. This is good. Real good.”

She
smiled, warmed by his compliment. “Thanks. It is good, but not quite right. It
could be better. It’s missing something. I just can’t put my finger on it,” she
said, dipping her spoon for a second taste, watching Mason do the same. “Good,
but not quite, and the mixture is already thinning out and beginning to take on
an exposed taste.”

He
quirked a brow. “I think I know what’s missing.”

“You
do?” she asked, setting her spoon in the sink, then turning to find him right
behind her. “What’s missing?”

A devilish
grin tugged his lips as he reached past her to drop his spoon next to hers.
“You,” he replied, face deliciously close, so close she could see every brown
hue in his eyes, twinkling, drawing her in, making her smile.

She
tipped her head. “Is that right?”

“Yep.
I’m positive this chocolate would taste even better on you.”

As if in
concurrence, Mocha made a familiar, horrible, screeching sound, started to
shake then shot chocolate out in all directions.

“Dammit,
Mocha.” Jill rushed around the table and lunged for the switch. But it was too
late. By the time she turned off the machine, warm chocolate coated the walls,
cabinets, table, floor, her…Mason.