The Oddest Little Chocolate Shop in London (10 page)

  
‘You
weren’t there or you would understand why I’m feeling fragile. Trust me, it was
awful. I dropped my handbag. It was like I was going for the Doofus of the Year
Award. And then there was the whole tampon thing.’

  
‘Tampon?’

  
‘Yes.
His father gave it to me.’

  
Florrie’s
eyes bulged in an unattractive way. ‘His father gave you a tampon? Oh my god,
this really is disgusting. You should have asked me this morning if you were
short. I didn’t even know you were on your period.’

  
‘I’m
not!’

  
‘So
his father gave you a tampon as what, a … a present?’ Suddenly Florrie gasped,
sitting bolt upright, her eyes suddenly wide. ‘Like in The Godfather, you mean?
A Sicilian message? Keep having periods, don’t get pregnant by my son. That’s
sick!’

  
Clementine
looked coldly at her sister. ‘They are French, not Sicilian. And you are beyond
insane.’

  
Her
sister’s mouth tightened. ‘Well, I don’t understand what happened. You’re
right, I wasn’t there, but you’re not explaining it very clearly.’

  
‘Fine,
I’ll be sure to use short words in future. Like shut and up.’

  
'You're
just upset because it didn't go as planned with Mr Right.'

  
'Maybe
it went exactly as planned, and I'm just not interested.' Though that was not
true, she admitted secretly. But she did not want her sister to know that she
was quite upset by how the evening had lurched from wonderful to awful in the
space of a few minutes. That would involve also admitting that she was falling
in love with a certain Frenchman. And she was not quite ready to make that
revelation public. 'You know, I don't have to fall flat on my back every time I
start getting feelings for a man.'

  
'Good,
because there's only so much punishment your back can take.'

  
'He's
not Mr Right, anyway,' Clementine muttered, beginning to feel a little
murderous. It had been years since her sister had teased her like this over a
boyfriend.

  
'Monsieur
Right, then.'

  
'Ho
bloody ho.'

  
They
were still glaring at each other, like the loving sisters they were, when the intercom
buzzed for the downstairs front door.

  
It
was almost midnight.

  
‘Holy
crap!’ Clem exclaimed for the third time that night, frowning at the clock.
‘Who the hell can that be?’

CHAPTER SEVEN

In Which Clementine Breaks All Known Records For
Doofusness

Her sister had sat up at the first sound of
the buzzer, looking equally startled. ‘Well, whoever it is, you know the
intercom buzzer doesn’t work anymore, and I’m not going downstairs to answer
the door in my PJs.’ She drew her fluffy slippered feet up onto the sofa again.
Her chin stuck out defiantly. ‘Not at this time of night.’

  
‘I’m
not exactly presentable either,’ Clem pointed out, glancing down at her
tee-shirt, sporting a giant red heart, and her pink baby-doll shorts.

  
Florrie
raised her eyebrows. ‘That depends who it is.’

  
Miaow!

  
The
door buzzed again. Insistently.

  
Florrie
pursed her lips and folded her arms. ‘I wonder who that can be?’ she demanded
of the ceiling. ‘So sad we’ll never find out … ’

  
As
always when dealing with her sister, Clem found herself capitulating. ‘Oh, very
well,’ she said, sighing. ‘I’ll go and find out who it is. But if I’m attacked
by a raving axe murderer, I’m blaming you.’

  
Only
it was not an axe murderer she found on the doorstop in the pouring rain.

  
It
was a French chocolatier.

  
Six
foot of dripping wet and gorgeously muscular French chocolatier, to be precise.
Standing there in jeans and drenched white shirt, without even the protection
of an umbrella, looking delicious but very soggy.

  
She
stared. ‘Dominic?’

  
Dominic
shook back his wet hair like a dog. ‘Forgive me, Clementine,’ he replied, his
voice hoarse. ‘I had to see you. May I come in?’

  
‘Oh
my god,’ Clementine exclaimed, dragging him inside to drip on the hall mat. ‘It’s
raining cats and dogs! Don’t you have an umbrella, or even a coat? What on
earth are you doing out in this appalling weather?’ She shut the front door,
and motioned him towards the stairs. ‘Go on, we’re the top flat. Do you know
what time it is?’

  
‘Late,’
he rumbled, and took the stairs two at a time. His shoes left wet prints behind
on every stair. ‘Cats and dogs?’

  
‘Heavy
rain.’

  
‘Ah
oui, bien.’ Dominic paused before the half-open door to their flat, then
shouldered his way inside at her nod. ‘An English idiom.’

  
Clementine
followed him, still feeling stunned. Dominic looked so gorgeous, even soaking
wet, that her tummy was doing somersaults. Yet she was unsure if she was glad
to see him or not. What had happened?

  
Florrie
stood up, staring at their visitor in impressed disbelief. ‘Hello,’ she said to
Dominic, suddenly shy. ‘You must be … ’

  
He
stuck his damp hand out to shake hers. ‘Dominic Ravel,’ he introduced himself smoothly
before Clementine could get a word in. ‘You must be Florence.’ The way he said,
‘Florence,’ with that incredible French accent –
 
pronouncing it ‘Floor-ronce’ – left
Florrie gaping with her mouth slightly open and a little saliva dribbling down
her chin. ‘Clementine has told me all about you.’

  
Okay,
there was no saliva.

  
But
Clementine liked to imagine there was. To make herself feel better. But her
sister’s mouth was pleasingly agape at the Gorgeousness of Him. After all,
Florrie – sorry, ‘Floor-ronce’ – had been mocking her taste in men
for years. Now Florrie could have her comeuppance. As long as no one actually
do any comeuppancing, that would be fine.

  
‘She
… she has?’

  
Clementine
bit her lip too, racking her brains to remember this apparent conversation. ‘I
have?’

  
Oh
god, what had she said? And was it down to the wine she had consumed on their dinner
date or had she become indiscreet that afternoon when he plied her with heady,
sticky mouthfuls of Grand Marnier and Cointreau chocolates?

  
‘All
good,’ Dominic said reassuringly, then gave Florrie a slow lazy smile that made
even Clementine’s stomach turn over. ‘Forgive me for barging in like this, but
it is a matter of some urgency. And a little private too, you understand?’

  
‘Oh,
yes, you want me to … ’

  
Only
Florrie was not leaving the room, just smiling back at Dominic in
 
a dazed way, so Clementine finished
helpfully, ‘Go away?' Her gaze warned her sister to do just that. 'Yes, I think
that would be best, Florrie.’

  
‘I
know it’s very late, I am sorry to have disturbed you.’ Dominic raked back his
wet hair again, looking very large and imposing in the small room. His gaze
examined Clementine, lingering on the giant heart on her tee-shirt, then the
pink shorts. A note of amusement crept into his voice, a smile that was only
for her. ‘Charmante.’

  
‘Of
course, it’s not a problem, though I’d better get you a towel first,’ Florrie
was babbling, eyeing the growing wet patch on the rug where he was standing.
‘Or two, perhaps.’

  
 
‘Merci.’

  
‘I’ve
got a better idea,’ Clementine said, exasperated by this exchange, and dragged
him towards her bedroom. ‘Come on, I’ve got a towel you can use in here.’

  
Florrie’s
eyes widened, but before her sister could say anything to embarrass her,
Clementine pushed Dominic into her bedroom and shut the door.

  
At
last they were alone together.

  
In her bedroom.

  
Next
to a bed that was desperately rumpled because she had been in so much of a
hurry that morning she had not even bothered to straighten out her duvet.

  
And
there was a large furry whale lying on the floor just behind him. A blue whale
with a squeaker.

  
His
smile was wolfish. ‘Clementine … ’

  
‘Don’t
move!’

  
Dominic
crooked an eyebrow at her. ‘I beg your pardon?’ He took a step backwards as she
tried to stoop past him, and his foot descended on the furry blue whale, which
gave a high-pitched squeak.

  
He
twisted, frowning down at the squishy whale under his foot, and over-balanced.

  
‘Oh
no!’

  
Clementine
lunged to save him, and ended up on top of him instead. On her bedroom floor.
With their limbs in a seductive tangle. A seductive wet tangle.

  
Their
gazes locked. ‘Clementine,’ he repeated hoarsely, and wound his fingers in her
hair, pulling her head inexorably forward.

  
Their
mouths met, and she sighed with excited pleasure. His chest was soaking wet,
heaving. His jeans were wet too, which was an odd sensation. As they kissed,
she managed to wriggle a daring hand between their bodies and began to unbutton
his shirt. His arm came round her waist, holding her tight while his mouth
explored hers. Then she forgot everything, even the fact that her sister was
probably listening with one ear pressed against the door, and let his kiss lull
her into a world where a romance between herself and a devastatingly handsome French
chocolatier could exist instead of being a hopeless fairy tale.

  
For
a long while there was a deep, satisfying silence in her bedroom.

  
Then
Dominic shifted, rolling over with Clementine beneath him. The furry whale gave
a long squeaking cry as it was released.

  
‘My
father still wants me to return to France with him,’ he told her flatly. ‘He
gave me an ultimatum. He’s going to cut me out of his will if I do not go back
and run his chain of chocolate shops so he can retire.’

  
‘Oh
Dominic, I’m so sorry,’ she whispered.

  
She
felt more than a little sorry for herself too. And horribly panicked. And
surprised by her own churning emotions at his announcement. Not long ago she
had known nothing about Dominic Ravel but his name - and how staggeringly
gorgeous he was. Now he had become a necessary part of her life.

  
She
bit her lip, staring into his eyes. ‘When are you leaving? Not immediately, I
hope.’

  
His
smile did odd things to her insides. ‘You don’t understand,’ he murmured, and
stroked a finger across her parted lips. ‘I’m not going.’

  
‘What?’

  
‘I
told my father he could … how do you say it? … go whistle. I’m staying here in
London to run my own shop.’ His eyes watched her intently, a shade of anxiety
in their velvety depths. ‘With your help, if you’re still willing.’

  
‘If
I’m willing?’

  
Play
it cool, Clementine …

  
She
pretended that she needed to consider the possibility. ‘Yes … I mean, oui. Why not?
After all, I do appear to be free at the moment.’

  
‘And
for the rest of your life?’

  
Her
gaze returned to his, shocked. Had he meant what that sounded like? ‘S …
Sorry?’

  
But
Dominic merely smiled mysteriously, kissing her on the mouth and sending all
her nerves jangling. ‘Nothing,’ he muttered. ‘Rien.’

  
There
was no time after that to ask what he had meant. He started to kiss her throat,
then pulled up her tee-shirt to kiss the shadowy place between her breasts, his
arm tightening about her waist, and coherent thought was no longer possible. They
kissed for ages, learning each other’s bodies over and under their clothes,
items being thrown aside as they slowly undressed each other. She grew
hot-faced and boneless, lying on the carpet with him until he suddenly grunted
with frustration and scooped her up, carrying her to the unmade bed.

  
More
squeaking of soft toys as he laid her down among the rumpled sheets. She laughed,
but grew serious again at the sight of his expression, strangely intent, laced
with desire.

  
‘Cherie,’
he muttered, bending to kiss her bare stomach. ‘You taste so délicieuse. Like
the finest chocolate … ’

  
‘Dominic!’
she exclaimed, squirming with pleasure.

  
He
grinned and leant up to kiss her mouth, his kiss deep and generous. His weight
pushed against her for a moment, clad in nothing but his boxer shorts, and she
felt the full length of him pressing significantly against her belly.

  
Oh
god!

  
‘I’m
not … I’m not … ’

  
His
smile reassured her. ‘I brought something.’

  
Clementine
stared as he grabbed up his jeans and hooked a condom packet out of his back
pocket, not sure whether to accuse him of being over-confident on his first
visit to her flat or congratulate him on having more forethought than her.

  
‘Oh,’
was all she managed, then promptly forgot her train of thought when he discarded
his crisp white boxer shorts, kicking them across the room.

  
Dominic
turned back to face her, graceful and confident in his nakedness. Her jaw fell
open and she stared.

  
‘Holy
crap … !’

It was a surreal experience the next
morning, waking up at first light to find a large naked man squeezed up beside
her in the narrow single bed, already awake and … um …
interested
. Even more surreal to stumble out of her stuffy bedroom
in her PJs about an hour later and find her sister had already left for the day,
a note propped up in front of the kettle.

  
Nice
work if you can get it, Clem! Make sure he leaves the toilet seat down. See you
later for a good long chat, sis.

  
Scarlet-cheeked,
Clementine snatched up the note before Dominic could read it, and filled the
kettle noisily to cover her spluttering of rage. It was obvious her sister had
heard everything last night.

  
How
embarrassing!

  
Five
minutes later, Dominic emerged from the shower with wet, slicked-back hair and
a towel wrapped round his waist, looking utterly edible.

  
She
stared, still not quite able to believe her luck.

  
He
kissed her on the cheek. ‘You look hot and bothered,’ he commented blithely.
‘Anything I can do?’

  
Clementine
bit her lip, meeting his suggestive gaze. She remembered the five times he had
‘done something’ during the night when she was hot and bothered, and could not
imagine a sixth time, especially over breakfast.