When Chocolate Is Not Enough...

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Otherwise she might never be able to open her own chocolate shop.

Perhaps this scruffy man who loved her chocolate cake was the very person who could make her dream come true?

Suddenly her brain caught up with her heart.

This all sounded too good to be true. Perfect strangers did not come up to you in restaurants and offer you luxury cocoa. She was doing it again—she was allowing her enthusiasm and desperation to take over.

Business head on. Business head on.

‘Forgive me for asking, but before I answer that question I would like to know more about your cocoa plantation. There are some horror stories out there about chefs who have been let down by wonderful suppliers after they have spent months working on recipes. I need to know that you would be able to continue supplying the same quality product month after month, year after year. I hope that doesn’t sound too insulting, but chefs have to rely on their suppliers, and I wouldn’t want to put my name on the line and make a commitment only to be let down,’ she said firmly.

His reply was an intense stare, followed by a thin-lipped smile in which both sides of his mouth lifted at the same time, creating deep folds either side of his cheekbones. It was an all-embracing smile that a girl might fall into and be lost. Strange how she could not look away.

‘Okay,’ he drawled in that odd, lilting half-American accent of his. ‘I suppose that could happen. But this is not some passing fad. Far from it. I bought the estate a few years ago, but it has been in my family for as long as I can remember. In fact I spent the first half of my life on that estate on St Lucia. My parents fell in love with the place, and the people, and so have I.’

Max paused and looked out of the window for a few seconds before chuckling to himself.

‘The estate is a jealous mistress—but what can I tell you? I know every inch of her. I know where each variety of cocoa grows best, the microclimates around each river valley and native forest, and the names of every one of my estate worker’s families.’

He turned back to Daisy, his brow furrowed and intense, and when he spoke again each word seemed to echo inside Daisy’s skull.

‘I have invested everything I have in the future of the estate. And that’s why the Treveleyn Estate will always deliver. You have my word on that, Miss Flynn.’

Daisy inhaled two deep breaths, and then pushed her coffee cup to one side with both hands, breaking the tension which had built up in that space between them.

The power in those simple words was so energising that his intensity and sincerity seemed to leap across the small table, grab her physically by the shoulders and give her a shake. He meant it. He was not simply managing this estate—it was his life.

It wasn’t often that she met people with such a burning commitment and joy and drive for what they did—but she saw it in the man sitting across the table from her. Max Treveleyn was the real deal. He wanted to make a difference and do it on his own terms. And she admired him for that.

Her mind jumped from option to option, trying to weigh up the risks.

Should she take a chance? Take a chance on his passion? Or go through life settling for second best, just like her dad had done all of his life? Always waiting for his ship to come in. His bus to arrive. Waiting, waiting. Until it was finally too late to realise his dreams.

No. Never again. She was done with compromising. This could be precisely what she had been looking for. Even if Max Treveleyn was more like a Formula One racing car than a double decker London bus.

So she licked her lips, just once, and dared to look up at him with a faint smile, only too aware that his gaze had never once left her face.

‘As it happens, I am always looking for new suppliers of fine organic chocolate which could give my restaurant dessert ranges that special edge.’

She immediately raised both hands, palms facing Max, as he half rose out of his chair with a great roar of triumph which sent the waiters scurrying away.

‘No promises,’ she said quickly, leaning back, startled. ‘I have worked hard to make a name for myself. I shall need a price list and samples, but—yes.’ She nodded. ‘I will give your chocolate a try.’ She lowered her hands. ‘I should be able to get back to you in two or three weeks.’