Confessions of a Chocoholic Page 2

  “Be sure to tell Nana thank you when she calls.”

  “K. I gotta go, Mommy. Daddy’s gonna brush my hair before he takes me to school.”

  “All right. Remember to take your backpack with you.”

  “I’ll ‘member.”

  “I’ll pick you up after school.”

  She whispered, “Daddy can’t do my hair like you, Mommy.”

  “I know, Bee. I’ll fix it right when you get home this afternoon.”

  “‘K.”

  “I love you to the moon and back.”

  “I love you, Mommy.”

  A click ended the call.

  With my fuzzy blue novelty slippers flap-tap-slapping across the hardwood floor, I made my way into the kitchen to wash my plate before I took on the rest of my day.

  Chapter Three

  “Graham, move your hand to the right,” I said.

  He quickly repositioned his palm to the top of the leather holster, freeing the embossed design on the side.

  “Like this?”

  “That’s good.” But before I could get my Nikon back into position, he started fidgeting with the collar of his dress shirt. “Scoot to your right a step,” I instructed.

  He did a slide-step.

  “A little more, Graham.”

  He inched over a bit.

  “Don’t move. Keep that pose.”

  Tara twirled, waving a giant neon-green wand. I snapped a few impromptu pics of her as the bottom of her designer gown belled out and bubbles danced around her.

  “Okay, now, Tara, tilt your chin to the left and look up at Graham from beneath those fabulous lashes of yours.”

  She did as I instructed.

  “How’s this?” Tara asked in a singsong voice.

  “Think sexy.”

  She puckered her rosy-red lips and waved the wand in her hand.

  “Great! That’s it,” I encouraged, and brought the camera back to my eye. Big, brilliant bubbles drifted on the breeze and surrounded Graham. In a move reminiscent of a Wild West gunslinger, he pulled a bright blue water gun out of the holster he wore on his Armani-covered hips and started shooting bubbles. “That’s perfect.”

  I snapped the last picture of the dueling couple just as sunset brushed the color of molasses across the sky.

  “Did you get it, Lexi?” Tara asked.

  “Sure did. It wasn’t the easiest photo shoot, but it was probably one of the coolest I’ve done for a print ad in quite some time. You guys did a great job making it sexy, playful, and fun. Just what the ad department for LoveMatch was looking for.”

  “Thanks. We’re all finished here, right?” Graham asked.

  “All done.”

  “All right. We’ll head on out then. Have a good evening,” said Graham.

  “You guys too.”

  Tara waved her fingers at me right before the duo headed off, leaving the park with their bubble paraphernalia in tow, dressed to the nines.

  I hunkered down, and placed the lens and camera into my oversized black camera bag, then riffled through a side compartment until I found what I’d been waiting hours for—a more than half-eaten chocolate bar. It didn’t take but a second to peel back the silver wrapper and take a bite. Sweet milk chocolate melted on my tongue. Too hungry from skipping lunch, I downed the scrumptious remnant, licked my lips, and then stared at the empty wrapper longingly before balling in into a tiny foil sphere and dropping it back into the side pocket.

  “You okay? You need some help?”

  “I’m fine,” I said, then noticed the man’s expensive, Italian crafted loafers. I glanced up the length of his body. Charcoal-grey slacks. Black leather belt. White dress shirt. Grey tie. Masculine chin… I sucked in my breath when I focused on the chiseled features of his face.

  “Hi,” he said in a voice that would drip from the tip of a spoon like melting caramel.

  “Um…hi,” I said.

  He held out a proffered hand. “May I help you up?”

  I took his offer, feeling the warmth of his palm, and stood. “Thank you.”

  “My pleasure,” he said with a crooked little smile that set off dimples to die for as he let loose of my appendage.

  “I’m Lexi Collins.”

  He bobbed his chin. “I know.”

  That comment shocked me. We’d never spoken before. “How do you know my name?”

  “You work for me.” He paused. I may have frowned. He pointed to a wrought-iron bench. “Shall we?”

  Beyond curious, I nodded and started in that direction. “Oh. Hang on.” He stopped. I twirled around, bent down, closed my camera bag, grabbed the strap, and then hopped up, back on my way. “I can’t believe I almost forgot this.”

  He chuckled and walked along side me to the park bench. “Ladies first.”

  Smiling, I took a seat. He followed, sitting beside me so close our knees almost touched.

  “Would you mind explaining how it is I work for you?” I asked, hooking the canvas strap over my shoulder before placing the case on the free space to my left.

  “I’m Colton Westmore.”

  Recognition struck me. I knew the name. “The owner of LoveMatch dot com,” I said. “Where love is in the air.”

  He hit me with a bone-melting grin. “You know our slogan, I see.”

  I shrugged. “Who doesn’t?”

  “I’m glad to know my marketing department is doing a good job.” There was a pregnant pause. “I should probably confess.”

  I was confused by that statement. “I’m sorry. Confess?”

  “Yes. When the head of my marketing department came to me with your portfolio of work, I was impressed.”

  “Thanks,” I said.

  “And when I realized Lexi Collins the photographer was the woman I’d been seeing at the bistro, I knew I had to have you.” He grinned wickedly. “For my new ad campaign,” he clarified. “I hope you don’t mind that I stopped by the shoot tonight.”

  “Oh.” I felt my cheeks flush. He’d been watching the photo shoot, and I’d been so focused on taking the pictures I hadn’t noticed. “No. I don’t mind. Um, thank you for hiring me and…” I straightened my shoulders. “I never got the chance to say thank you for the chocolates, Mr. Westmore.”

  The breeze ruffled his dark hair. “Please, call me Colton. And you’re welcome. You were the right woman for the job and for the chocolates.”

  “The job and the sweets were both an unexpected treat,” I said.

  His knee brushed up against mine. “I’m pleased you think so, Lexi.”

  The way he said my name sent a chill over my skin. “Chocolate truffles are my favorite.”

  The park lamps that lined the walkway turned on just as he combed his long fingers through the muss the wind made of his hair. “Mine too,” he said.

  I smiled.

  He looked at me and the umber of his eyes grew darker. “I’ve wanted to ask you something for quite some time now.”

  He has?

  “What?” I asked.

  “Would you have dinner with me?”

  “Well—”

  “Maybe I presume too much. You’re probably in a relationship.”

  “Just with my daughter,” I said, throwing the fact I had a child out there. He never batted an eye, or flinched. I took that as a good sign.

  “I bet she’s just as beautiful as you are.”

  “She is. I’m not,” I said, studying my lap. “Beautiful.”

  He reached out and tucked two fingertips under my chin, lifting. “Look at me, Lexi.”

  I glanced up. He brushed the same two fingertips along the line of my jaw. Fire ignited under my skin.

  “The first time I saw you sitting in the bistro with those soft red-brown curls of yours caressing the blush of your cheeks, I stopped dead in my tracks.”

  My stomach fluttered. “You did?”

  He nodded. “And when you looked up at me with your jewel green eyes, in that moment, I knew.”

  “Knew what?” I w
hispered.

  “That odd sensation I was feeling in my chest was because of you.”

  My pulse ratcheted up a notch.

  “The sight of you took my breath away, Lexi.”

  Oh my God. Part of me wanted to pinch myself to make sure I wasn’t dreaming.

  ****

  “Jessie. Bailey. I’m home,” I called out as I entered the door to my apartment.

  Bailey came running into the living room, her sunny-blonde curls bouncing as she giggled. “Hi, Mommy.” She ran toward me, hugged my knees, and then ducked. “Don’t tell Jess,” she whispered loudly, and crawled across the floor. She tucked herself behind my kid-friendly microfiber sofa.

  “Where’s Bailey?” Jessie asked as she entered the living room.

  The space filled with little girl giggles. “I’m not in here.”

  “Hey, Lex.” Jessie scooted past me and slumped on the sofa. “I made soy burgers for dinner. Busy Bee and I already ate, but we left you a plate in the microwave.”

  “Soy?” I scrunched up my nose.

  “It’s good for you.”

  “If you say so, but I’ll have to save it for a midnight snack, or lunch tomorrow. I sort of ate already. I’m sorry you went through the trouble to make me a burger.”

  “No probs,” she said.

  Bailey’s voice echoed out. “I’m still not here.”

  Jessie spoke far too loud for the small area. “Since Bailey’s not here, I guess I’m going to take a nap on the couch.”

  “No!” Bailey squealed, and popped up from her hiding place. “You can’t nappy now. Mommy hasn’t played seek with us yet.”

  My little girl came around the corner of the couch with her hands on her hips, sky-blue eyes sparkling. She stared at Jessie, who was pretending to sleep, with a deepening frown before she shook Jessie’s knee.

  There was an exaggerated snore in response.

  “Wake up, Jess,” Bailey said.

  Jessie popped her eyelids open, leaned forward, snagged Bailey up, plopped her down on the couch cushion, and started tickling her. Raucous laughter echoed through the room as Bailey squirmed, trying to outmaneuver Jessie’s fast fingers.

  “How was the shoot for LoveMatch dot com?” Jessie asked me, abruptly letting her wiggling prisoner escape. Bailey hopped down and took off in a swirl of curls.

  “It was interesting,” I said rather cryptically as I placed my camera bag on the chair.

  Jessie stared at me, suspicion written all over her features. “What does that mean?”

  “I met the man behind the scenes, so to speak.”

  “What aren’t you telling me?”

  I took a seat next to Jess on the sofa. “The reason I already ate was because the owner of LoveMatch took me out for dinner after the shoot.”

  “The owner showed up for a photo shoot?”

  “He wanted to stop by and get a glimpse into the process of the new print ad campaign his marketing department put together.”

  “Sounds reasonable, I suppose, and I guess it was nice that he took you to dinner.” She eyed me. “Was it nice that he took you to dinner?”

  I nodded. “It was.”

  She did an air-circle with her hand inches in front of me. “Why do you have this odd energy about you?”

  “I don’t know what ‘odd energy’ is.” I rubbed my ear lobe.

  “Sure you do. There’s a weirdness happening here.”

  “Yeah,” I said with a snort. “You and your energy thing are weird.”

  “Was this guy who took you to dinner some kind of wack-a-do who asked you to suck his toes for dessert, so you hit him in the head with your camera and now you need my help to bury the body?”

  I snorted. “Where in the name of Confucius do you come up with this stuff?”

  One of Jessie’s thin shoulders rose then fell. “I blame it on years of watching trash TV,” she said.

  “There’s something else,” I confessed.

  “Well. Dish.”

  “The owner’s name is Colton Westmore.”

  Jessie’s brow crinkled up, clearly confused as to where I was going with the conversation. “Um. Okay.”

  “Colton Westmore is also the guy from the bistro.”

  A grin started forming on Jessie’s face. “Well, well. That is an interesting piece of news.”

  Bailey came down the hall, lip pushed out, pouting like a pro. “Isn’t anybody going to come find me?”

  Chapter Four

  Even in October the California sun can be brutal, and today was no exception. High in a cloudless blue sky, it beat down and bounced off the sun catcher displays, sending refracted light over the shimmer of Bailey’s blonde hair. She twirled the petals of a pinwheel flower with little fingers overtaken with plastic bejeweled dime-store rings.

  I lifted my camera from around my neck and snapped a picture of her before I started complaining.

  “We should find some shade,” I said, feeling the sweat trickle the length of my neck, but neither the hot sun nor the lack of a cooling breeze stopped the crowds, Jessie, or Bailey and I from continuing our stroll down Santa Fe Street.

  Bailey tugged at my hand, whining. “Come on already.” She should have been wilting. Instead, she was totally eager to see everything the five block street fair had to offer as fast as possible.

  While it was fun to see the clown on stilts, the jugglers, and pig out on kettle corn and cotton candy, I was actually there in an official capacity, shooting photos of the various activities and booths for the Valencia tourism board.

  “Look, Mommy,” Bailey said with peaked excitement, pointing. Just past the tie-dye shirt stand, a gaggle of girls were walking out of a white tent with their faces painted like cats, fairies, and even rainbows, donning balloon animals as crowns. “I wanna do that.”

  “All right,” I said.

  “Ooo, I do too,” said Jess.

  I sniggered. “Seriously, Jessie?”

  She hip bumped me. “It’ll be fun.”

  I couldn’t tell who was more excited about the prospect of having bright colors slathered across their face and latex on their head—my six-year-old or my BFF.

  “At least we’ll get out of the sun,” I commented.

  We zigzagged through the crowds, making our way toward the opening of the tent, when I thought I heard my name. “Hang on,” I said to Bailey and Jess. “I think I hear—”

  “Lexi!”

  My entourage of two stopped, as did I. I looked around, trying to see who was calling out to me, but there were too many people I didn’t recognize.

  “Over there,” Jess said.

  I glanced to the right of us and saw Colton. He held up his hand and waved. I waved back. When he broke through the throng that was gathered to watch a dance troupe on one of the cross streets, we met each other’s gazes and smiled simultaneously.

  “Hey there,” he said.

  “Hi,” I said.

  “It’s good to see you, Lexi.”

  “You too.”

  Jess did this throat thing.

  “Oh. Um. Colton Westmore, this is Jessie Callison, my best friend.”

  He gave her his full attention. “Nice to meet you, Jessie.”

  She twirled a piece of her hair around her finger. “You too.”

  “This is my daughter, Bailey.” I maneuvered Bailey to the front of me.

  She crooked her neck to look up at him. “I have a fish named SpongeBob.”

  Colton chuckled, bent down to her level, and held out his hand. Bailey took it. As they shook hands, he told her, “I have a dog named Patrick.”

  “You do, really?”

  “Cross my heart,” he said as he ended the formal hand shake to make the gesture.

  “We can’t have a dog ‘cause Mr. Tanny says they poo on the carpets.”

  Colton glanced up at me.

  “Mr. Tanny is the landlord of our building,” I explained.

  “Ah,” he said. “Well, I’m sorry to hear that, but I’m ha
ppy I got to meet you, Bailey.” He straightened, looking down at her. “Your mom has told me a lot about you.” He looked at me. “She is just as beautiful as I suspected.”

  I tucked a curl behind my ear. “Thank you.”

  “Come on, Busy Bee,” Jess said. “Let’s go get our faces done and let Lex and Colton talk.”

  “Yeah!” Bailey started jumping in place. “I wanna do the kitty cat whiskers.”

  Jessie waggled her eyebrows at me. “Bee and I are outta here.”

  “I’ll see you guys in a little bit.”

  “No hurry. There’s a line from…” She covered Bailey’s ears with her hands. “Hell,” she said then released Bailey’s head. “We may sweat our tookuses off, but we’ll be fine.”

  They walked away hand-in-hand with Bailey saying, “You said a bad word, huh, Jess?”

  “I didn’t mean to interfere with your day,” Colton said.

  “You didn’t interfere. I’m really glad to see you.”

  “I enjoyed our dinner last night.”

  “Me too.”

  A sea of people churned around us, but it felt like we were the only two on the earth.

  “I have to say, watching you eat that Brownie Tiramisu was a huge turn on,” he said.

  I swatted his arm playfully. “You’re not serious. You’re teasing me.”

  “I am serious. When you wrapped your plump, petal-pink lips around that fork, I couldn’t take my eyes off you. I’ve never been jealous of an inanimate object before.”

  I giggled.

  “After you took a bite, you made this little noise and closed your eyes, savoring the moment. Trust me. I was turned on.”

  “I couldn’t help myself,” I admitted. “That dessert tasted so sinful that I had to close my eyes.”

  “Any time you want to sin with chocolate again, I’d love to be there,” he said.

  “I’ve never told this to anyone, but I confess.” I cupped my hand around the side of my mouth, leaned in, and whispered, “I might be a closet chocoholic.”

  “It’s not a true confession until you know for sure that you are what you confess to be.”

  Stepping back, I laughed. “I see. So I should only confess when I come out of the closet.”

  “Yep,” he said.

  I fanned my face with my fingers. “I’m melting. How about you?”