Page 2 of Her Chocolate His Bar

Of course, I helped her. Flashed her my best smile, too.

You know the one. Guaranteed to melt a pair of panties at 100 yards or more.

But Delani wasn’t like other women. She just smiled back at me sweetly, said thanks, then turned around to introduce me to her boyfriend.

That fucking asshat was on the phone, sitting in the corner while she did all the work.

Apparently, the woman was taken by some loser who didn’t deserve her. But that wasn’t my business.

Nope.

My business was getting The Whiskey Bar off the ground. As it was, I was bleeding money into advertising that simply wasn’t working.

What was I doing wrong? Why was it so easy for me to figure out what to do when it was someone else’s bar on the line? And what the fuck was she making today?

Holy hell.

My eyes crossed as the tempting fragrance of fine dark chocolate, sweet sugar cane, Tahitian vanilla, and something dark and subtle filled my office.

Yeah. I was a fucking chocolate connoisseur these days.

I closed my eyes and let it sink in, grimacing when I started to imagine Delani Whitman wearing that cute little red apron of hers—and nothing else—while she fed me one of her tasty little morsels.

Fuck. I was sick.

Delani was not for me. She had a man, and I had a bar.

Best remember that.

The phone rang, and I answered it on autopilot. Straightening in my very comfortable leather office chair when the caller provided her name.

“Hello, Mr. Delgado? This is Cynthia Blair of Blair Investment Group,” she said.

“Hello, Mrs. Blair. How are you?” I asked, sitting up straighter.

“Very good, Sonny. Can I call you Sonny?”

“Sure. Of course.”

“And it’s Miss Blair. I’m single, silly. And you can call me Stephanie,” she replied.

Her voice held that familiar note of invitation I’d received with increasing regularity ever since my balls had dropped.

But this was not a pleasure call. And I just didn’t feel that way about Miss Blair, er, Stephanie.

I’d been waiting for Blair Investment Group to get back to me with their answer to my proposal.

See, I didn’t just serve whiskey. I made it. Getting off the ground was slow going, but I just needed the right backers to support my brand. After that, the sky was the limit.

“Apologies, Miss Blair. I’m sorry, make that, Stephanie,” I said with just the right amount of friendliness. Nothing she could possibly misconstrue. “So, what is your news?”

“It’s good, Sonny. Blair Group would like to come to a tasting at your bar on Valentine’s Day,” she said, and my heart stopped.

“A tasting?”

“Yes, all the brands do it these days. Expect us at around seven. Oh, and I can’t wait to see what pairings you offer, Sonny. Until then.”

“Yes. See you.”

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