CHAPTER ONE

AMELIA

The salty sea breeze ruffled my hair as I opened the artfully distressed wooden door of the Seaside Chocolaterie. The sweet scent of warm chocolate and fresh pastries greeted me like an old friend, making my stomach churn with nerves. Bienvenue was written in gold script across the rustic blue sign above the door, a rather cheesy welcome to this faux-Parisienne waterfront establishment. But I wasn’t here to critique the decor. I was here for the other sign in the window: Help Wanted.

I patted my purse, where the job application I’d printed out online lay like my ace in the hole.

Welcome? If they only knew.

“Amelia, this place is amazing!” Callie’s golden blond hair and cornflower blue eyes were the opposite of my chocolate brown hair and chocolate brown eyes—which my mother always said was the perfect combination for the only child of world-class chocolatiers. But it was boring to normal people. I always felt like a drab brown rat next to beautiful, blonde-haired, blue-eyed Callie, but if I’d been born blonde, my chocolate-obsessed parents probably would have disowned me. They still might if I don’t do something with that Le Cordon Bleu diploma. If I don’t become perfect and famous like them. But hey—at least I’ve got my exotic good looks.

“Amelia?”

“Yeah. It’s amazing.” I followed her inside and gazed around at the quaint interior and cozy ambiance that, as much as I hated to admit it, enveloped us like a warm embrace. The owner, Pascal Dubois, was a famous chocolatier who, according to my parents, was nothing more than a very lucky and well-connected hack. “This is exactly the kind of place I want to outdo.”

We’d had the misfortune to arrive five minutes behind a tour bus, and the line—or rather, the mob—in front of the counter was three deep. Around the small dining area, patrons savored savoring éclairs, chocolate-filled pastries, and other decadent delights at white-laced tables by big windows overlooking the wharf, where sailboats bobbed at anchor, and big wooden schooner right out of a pirate movie hosted a line waiting for a harbor tour.

“Always the competitor,” she teased, rolling her eyes playfully. “But remember, Amelia, it’s not just about being the best—it’s about being true to yourself and your craft.”

“Mm. My craft. Right.”

She was right, though. Part of me couldn’t help but feel driven by the need to prove myself, not only to my demanding parents but also to myself. And to the bastions of reviewers out there who seemed to think my shop was a 3.8 star joint. Hence, our road trip to the Seaside Chocolaterie. Or, more accurately, to the world-famous Xander Bettencourt, the world’s new darling chocolatier, whom my mother couldn’t stop raving about.

I’ve never met him, of course, which was good. I’d hardly be able to ferret out—and steal—every cocoa-loving secret he knew if he knew I was a competitor. Although, with a 3.8 star average on Yelp, I used the word competitor loosely. Still, we were perfect strangers, and that was the way I liked it. For now.

Soon, though, I’d be the one on all the gourmet magazine covers and giving commencement speeches to dewy-eyed graduates at culinary school commencements, like my parents. And Xander Bettencourt would be coming into my shop to learn what’s what.

When we finally reached the counter, my heart nearly broke with a weird mix of inspiration and hopelessness. The display cases were filled with exquisite-looking truffles, delicate pastries, and beautifully decorated chocolates adorned with flower petals carved from dark and white chocolate. Despite Pascal Dubois’s hackery, Xander Bettencourt was the real deal. I could practically taste the smooth, creamy texture of the ganache and the rich, complex flavors of the cacao. It was everything I wished for—and everything I was afraid I’d never achieve.

We ordered a pair of chocolate almond truffles drizzled with caramel—divine indulgence at its finest. As we waited for the high-school girl at the counter to wrap them to go, I tapped my card to the terminal, and Callie elbowed me in the ribs. “Look—is that him?”

I craned my neck past the people in front of me and caught a glimpse of a tall guy in white working in the kitchen through the window in the door. Tall, dark, and handsome, with dark hair and amazing bone structure, and a graceful, athletic way of moving that made me unable to look away. No wonder my parents loved him. His strong, deft hands expertly crafted delicate chocolate flowers on top of a row of chocolate truffles. It was like my eyes couldn’t see anything but his hands, his fingers moving airily over the tiny confections with fierce precision. What must it be like to be those chocolate flowers, having a man’s hands caressing so intently, his fingers brushing their petals into firm peaks with such skill?

A shiver raced down my spine as I imagined what those hands would feel like…

“That’s him,” I said, captivated by his commanding presence and undeniable…allure? Charm?

An electric charge seemed to pass between us as he turned and saw me staring at him. Our eyes locked for a moment, the air crackling with awareness. My heart raced, and I found myself irresistibly drawn to this man whose secrets I longed to uncover—maybe even the ones that didn’t involve chocolate.

And then he smiled.

“Amelia,” warned Callie softly, sensing my turmoil. “Remember why we’re here. Give focus on your application and not on some world-famous chocolatier with beautiful hands.”

“You noticed that too?”

“Hell, yeah. I’m starting to wish I’d gone to culinary school with you instead of becoming an accountant. Maybe the two of us could work him over together for those secrets.”

“Cute. But I have no interest in his hands, or anything else. It’s what’s in his head that I need. And I intend to learn every single recipe he knows.”

“Good.” Callie flashed me an understanding smile. We had both grown up in the shadows of our parents’ achievements, feeling the pressure to excel in their fields—accounting for Callie, chocolate for me. But while Callie had become the respected vice president of her parents’ CPA firm, I didn’t have the same luck. I loved chocolate just as much as my parents did, but apparently, I didn’t have their natural talent or intuition in the kitchen. I had to work twice as hard to get half as far, and even then, my creations were never quite right.

Better than a kick in the pants, my father used to say by way of critique. I think he actually thought he was being funny.

“Here are your truffles,” the cashier said, handing me a small box tied with a blue ribbon. “Enjoy!”

“Thank you.” I flashed her a smile before turning to Callie. “Let’s take these outside until it’s a little quieter in here. I want to give my application to Xander Bettencourt personally.”

“Good idea,” she replied, matching my determination.

With our truffles secured and the memory of Xander’s intense gaze still lingering in my mind, we left the Seaside Chocolaterie. The salty sea breeze greeted us like an old friend as we stepped back into the cobblestone alley.

“Let’s find a spot by the water,” I suggested, my heart still racing from my encounter with Xander.

As we strolled down the picturesque wharf, I couldn’t help but steal another glance back at Seaside Chocolaterie. The door had closed, and I could no longer see Xander, but I could still feel his presence somehow, like a ghost that haunted me.

“Amelia, are you OK?” Callie asked, concern etched on her face.

“Uh, yeah, I’m fine,” I replied, shaking off my thoughts. “Just…distracted.”

“Can’t imagine by whom.”

I made a little sound of annoyance. “No, it’s nothing like that.”

“Liar.” She pulled the box from my hand and pulled out her truffle. “Oh, my God…this is soooo gooood…”

I turned to glare at her. “Could you not?”

She gave me a little look with chocolate in the corners of her mouth. “Sorry.”

I let out a little breath and took a bite of the other truffle. The truffle was like a burst of intense flavor on the tongue—rich and creamy, coating the tongue with a delicate buttery taste that quickly gave way to the complex flavors of dark chocolate and nuts. The combination was heavenly, and the texture was smooth and velvety as it melted in my mouth.

“Crap,” I said.

“What?”

I sighed with resignation and tossed the half-eaten truffle back into the box. “I’ll never be able to make something like this.”

“Oh, stop. You already do. If you ask me, this whole steal-his-secrets thing is ridiculous.”

“Not according to Yelp.”

“Who cares what a bunch of trolls say?

“All the people who are reading their reviews and aren’t coming into my shop? Come on, Callie, you’ve seen my bookkeeping. I’ll be out of business before the end of the year.”

“Maybe not. There’s gotta be something we can do. Marketing, or something.”

We found an empty table near the edge of the marina, where the melancholy cry of seagulls cawing overhead filled me with sadness. I fought it off.

“I’ll just have to make sure he hires me so I can get in there and pinch every recipe he has.”

“Or maybe, you could just ask him to help you.”

I scoffed loudly. “Right. Hey, Xander, I’m the competition. Can you give me all your secret recipes?”

“Whatever.” She popped my half-eaten truffle into her mouth, then got up and tossed the box into one of the big trash cans where a seagull was perched, hoping for a snack. “Just remember, Amelia—the best laid plans of mice and men…”

“Whatever,” I said back.

After the tour bus crowd had gone, we headed back toward Seaside Chocolaterie. I glanced through the wide picture window to see Xander Bettencourt himself, standing behind the counter, talking animatedly with a customer. For a moment, our eyes met, and I thought I saw a flicker of recognition in his face. Recognition, and…something else.

I looked away, my heart pounding. No matter how hard I tried to stay focused on my initial mission, the undeniable pull I felt toward Xander threatened to derail everything.

“He’s looking at you,” Callie whispered, as if she were afraid he could hear her through the plate glass window. “This is your chance. Go give him the job application before he goes back into the kitchen.”

“Yeah,” I said, but I couldn’t make my feet move.

Callie’s gentle nudge toward the door set this immovable object into motion. With my heart pounding and my mind racing, I went back inside.

When I got to the counter, the high-school girl who’d waited on us was gone, and the man himself was there taking orders. His gaze met mine, and a smile spread over his lips. “Hello again. Back for more?”

“Uh, no thanks. It was amazing, though.” I dragged my gaze from his and pulled the application out of my purse. “I just wanted to drop this off.”

He took the application from my hands, his fingers brushing against mine ever so slightly. A jolt of electricity shot through me as his fingers brushed mine, sending my pulse racing.

“Thanks. I’ll take a look at this later today.”

I swallowed hard, trying to steady my nerves. “Great. Thank you.”

“We’re looking to hire as soon as possible.” Xander said, his voice husky and low as he gazed at me.

“I uh…am looking to start as soon as possible.”

He nodded. You could melt in those eyes of his…

I smiled back.

The moment went on a beat too long.

“So, OK,” I said. “Thank you.”

God, I was making a fool of myself. As I turned to leave, Xander spoke up. “Wait.”

I turned back, my heart racing in anticipation. “Yes?”

He glanced down at my application. “Callie?”

I nodded, feeling the guilt of my deception wash over me like a bucket of cold slime. I was no longer Amelia Karns. I was Callie Marsh. She’d come up with the idea for me to use her name. One Internet search for Amelia Karns and everything about me and my struggling shop in Boston—and my identity as a competitor—would pop right up, and this whole charade would be over.

“I was wondering if you’d be interested in trying something I’m working on. It’s not on the menu yet, but since I have you, I’d love to get your opinion.”

“Of course,” I said, my pulse quickening. “I’d be honored.”

Xander disappeared into the back room for a moment before returning with two small cups of steaming hot chocolate. “This is my newest creation,” he said, offering me a cup.

I took a sip and was transported to another world. The chocolate was like nothing I’d ever tasted before—it was rich and velvety, with just a hint of spice that added a tingle of warmth to my belly. I closed my eyes and savored the taste, the heat of the chocolate filling me from head to toe.

“It’s amazing,” I said, my eyes still closed. “What’s in it?”

Xander chuckled. “A magician never reveals his secrets.”

My heart skipped a beat, and I took a deep breath to steady my racing thoughts. “You know what they say. There’s a first time for everything.”

A small voice in the back of my head nagged at me, telling me what a horrible person I was. I set the little cup on the counter. “Well, I guess I should get going. I’m sure you’re busy. I really would like to work here, though, so I hope you’ll hire me.”

“I’d like that, too,” he said, his gaze locking onto mine.

I finally stumbled out of the Chocolaterie, my heart racing and my mind a jumble of thoughts and emotions.

“What did he say?” Callie asked the moment I got outside.

“He said he’ll take a look at the application,” I replied, my voice barely a whisper.

“What was that he gave you?”

“Hot chocolate.”

“In July?”

I shrugged. “He was like nothing you’ve ever had.”

Her raised brows made me realize what I’d said.

“I mean, it was like nothing you’ve ever had. The hot chocolate.”

“Mm-hmm,” she said, not buying it. “I think he’s into you. And I think it’s mutual.”

I forced a laugh, trying to convince myself that the flutter in my stomach was just from the hot chocolate and not the man behind the counter. “Yeah, right. Like a gorgeous, world-famous chocolatier would be interested in me.”

“You never know,” Callie said with a shrug. “Stranger things have happened.”

“I’m sure they have, somewhere.” I shook my head, knowing that a relationship with Xander was impossible. Even if he did feel something for me, I couldn’t risk exposing my true intentions. I had to keep my focus on my mission—saving my own shop and proving I wasn’t a complete and utter failure.

“Well, Amelia, all I’m saying is that if you want to use the man for his secrets, you can’t also date him. And it looks to me like you want to date him.”

“What I want doesn’t matter. It’s what I need that’s important.”

“Yeah, well…maybe what you need is Mr. Tall, Dark, and Chocolatey. Just sayin.’”

I gave her that little sound of disgust. “Whatever.”

But I could still taste Xander’s delicious chocolate—and my awful deception—on my lips.