When Chocolate Is Not Enough.... Nina Harrington

customers who love their food. Let me help you to make up your mind. We only have a few lunch guests left, but some have ordered your chocolate and almond cake. How would you like to go out into the restaurant and hear what they have to say about your work? You might find that interesting.’

      Daisy blinked, and swallowed down a lump of panic before squeaking out, ‘Do you mean right now? I’m not sure I’m ready for that.’

      Except Marco had already made the decision, and was on his feet rooting though a pile of chef’s jackets hanging up behind the office door. ‘This is your chance to hear what the customers think about your work face to face. Here you go. This one should fit nicely. Ready?’

      Before Daisy could change her mind she’d exchanged jackets and followed one of London’s most highly respected chefs out into the kitchen. Peering out over the serving hatch, she could see a few tables were still occupied.

      Marco wiggled his fingers towards a table on the left. ‘Go and have a chat. You never know—the restaurant trade might be perfect for you after all.’

      ‘That table?’ Daisy stepped forward nervously and peered across the room towards a charming young couple who were obviously having a long, romantic lunch together.

      The man’s back was to her, but the woman was dressed so elegantly that Daisy automatically ran her hands down the front of her clothing and checked that her uniform was clean and tidy. She knew the sort. This girl looked as though she had been born with perfect poise and style and did not have to try very hard to be stunning in any situation. In other words exactly the sort of girl who, quite innocently, always made her feel totally clumsy, tongue-tied and inadequate—like a country bumpkin out for a spree in the city, who did not truly belong there.

      Then the man turned slightly and she took a closer look. There was no mistaking the shaggy, long dark blond hair, and the heavy stubble that spread above those bow lips, across a square chin and almost to the end of his prominent cheekbones.

      It was the man from the food stall who had bought the chocolate rabbits. His black jacket was hanging over the back of his chair, and he was wearing a fitted black cotton long-sleeved shirt which had seen better and cleaner days. On any other man it would have looked scruffy and washed out, and hardly suitable for a lovely restaurant lunch. But drat if it did not suit his broad shoulders as he stretched forward. How irritating was that?

      His hair looked as though he had just woken up and raked it through with his fingers, but for some reason the tousled look fitted him perfectly.

      She gulped down something close to apprehension. Um. She had a fair idea of exactly what his response would be if she marched up and asked him what he thought about the chocolate dessert.

      ‘Forget that couple,’ the chef whispered in her ear, and Daisy breathed out a sigh of relief. ‘They are still waiting for dessert service. But those two ladies over there are just paying the bill. Perfect. Try them first, before looping back. Have fun! ’

      Max had gone through a huge portion of lasagne, two servings of delicious warm bread, and had just inhaled a platter of cheese and biscuits when the waiter placed a dark circle of aromatic dense chocolate loveliness in front of Kate, then stepped around with his portion.

      Max could already smell the chocolate, and instantly pushed his cheese plate to one side, ready for his dessert.

      Kate responded with a small laugh. ‘I know that you are dying to tell me everything about this chocolate, so I’m going to simply sit here and drink my coffee while you enjoy yourself. Feel free to dig in any time you like. You do know that I shall insist that the chefs use Treveleyn Estate chocolate for my wedding reception, don’t you?’

      Max chuckled. ‘Of course. You can consider it my wedding present to you both. So, what do we have here?’

      He lifted the plate so that he could inhale the fragrance of the chocolate base, trying to ignore the sideways glances from the waiting staff and other diners, then cut straight across the middle of the circular cake, separated the two halves and tried smelling it again.

      Oh, wow, that was good. Seriously good. A chocolate and almond liqueur was laced through the mixture, but it was not too powerful to conceal the wonderful spicy and deep aroma of the chocolate.

      Only then did he scoop up a generous bite-sized portion and wrap his mouth around the cake, before sliding the spoon away to leave … a small miracle. The smooth, smooth chocolate melted on his tongue, releasing more and more layers of flavour. Not too sweet, and certainly not sickly, the cocoa butter had been blended with cream, finely ground nuts and butter to create the closest thing to a praline chocolate centre he had ever eaten. It was superb.

      The chef who had made this knew how to blend cocoa beans from different varieties to create a perfectly aromatic but smooth flavour—intense but enjoyable. Stunning.

      Max immediately took a larger spoonful, then another, and savoured every morsel before looking up at his bemused former wife, who had barely taken a single spoonful.

      ‘Now, that was seriously good.’

      ‘Thought you’d like it. But I have to watch my weight—so, please, finish off mine as well. You know you want to.’

      ‘Pass it over! This is superb. In fact,’ he mumbled through tiny scrapings of cake, trying to make it last and prolong the pleasure, ‘this is so good it has given me an idea for the conference at the weekend. Kate, would you mind if I left you to your coffee for ten minutes? I need to track down the dessert chef who made this.’

      ‘Well, now’s your chance.’ Kate nodded over his shoulder. ‘She’s on her way over to speak to us.’

      Max whipped around in his chair, and was halfway to a standing position when he lifted his chin and found himself staring at the white-coated chest of a girl he recognised only too well from the organic chocolate stall. She was wearing the gallery’s restaurant jacket now, but there was no mistaking that hair and those stunning eyes.

      ‘Daisy? What are you doing here?’

      The startled look on her face as she took a step backwards was not perhaps the best reaction he could have hoped for, but it did give him a few seconds to connect his mouth and his brain.

      ‘Sorry, you startled me. I had no idea that you worked here as well.’ He tried to recover with a grin.

      ‘Just visiting,’ Daisy replied, and scooted around to the other side of the table to shake Kate’s hand. ‘Good afternoon. My name is Daisy Flynn, and I am the chocolatier for this restaurant. I notice that you ordered the chocolate and almond cake? I do hope that you enjoyed it.’

      ‘Oh, it was absolutely delicious. Catherine Ormandy. Lovely to meet you. In fact I was just telling Max here that the restaurant has quite a reputation for its wonderful chocolate desserts. Do you make them all yourself? Because they really are very special.’

      ‘You are very kind, Mrs Ormandy. My colleague Tara Hamilton and I run a company specialising in organic party food. But I do create all the chocolates and desserts by hand in our own kitchens. As well as party treats. In fact, I think your husband has already sampled some of my work—at our stall this morning.’

      With that she stepped to one side and looked at him with a fixed, closed-mouth smile. ‘He seemed to think that I was intent on poisoning the tastebuds of the younger generation with sugar and additives. Isn’t that true, Mr Ormandy? I do hope that you’re not feeling ill after scoffing my chocolate dessert. Shame that my creamy boobs were not to your taste.’

      Without giving him a chance to reply, Daisy swivelled back to Kate. She smiled warmly at her slightly stunned expression, just as Marco came over and stood by their table.

      ‘Ah. I see you have met our chocolate chef. Ms Flynn took top marks in the master chocolatier awards ceremony only last year, after training at Barone Fine Chocolate in Paris. We are hoping to persuade her to work with us a lot more.’

      ‘Thank you, Chef,’ Daisy said, and looked at the female diner