The Chocolate Lovers’ Wedding by Carole Matthews Read Free Book Online Page A

here and the till never stopped ringing all day. I was run off my feet and was happy to be so.
    Even the cakes in the glass counter don’t look as appealing. Our usual cake maker was a lovely lady called Alexandra who lived just around the corner. These don’t look up to the standard of her work. I’d have another attractive display of products I’d bought in too, but now the shelves stand empty. It’s coming up to Easter – the chocolate feast to end all chocolate feasts! Chocolate Heaven should be groaning with beautiful chocolates and Easter eggs, cute gingerbread bunnies, iced biscuits. Marcus will be missing out on a great opportunity if he and his manager don’t get their act together pretty soon. No wonder he wants to replace her.
    Listen to me. Like I should care. None of this is my problem anymore. If Marcus can’t motivate or deal with his manager then he shouldn’t be in business.
    I’m standing staring at the counter, still dismayed by what I’m seeing, when someone comes out of the back into the shop. Ah. Now I can see the attraction of this particular manager. Her skills may not lie in window display or stock ordering, but she has other assets in spades.
    The woman is tall, as slender as a reed and supermodel beautiful. Sigh. Marcus is nothing if not predictable. Her long black tresses fall in heavy waves over her shoulders and she flicks them back as I watch, grudgingly admiring. Her skin is the colour of creamy latte, her nose tiny, her mouth full and luscious. Sigh, sigh, sigh. She’s wearing one of those timeless wrap dresses in a light navy blue that suit everyone on the planet but me. Of course, I don’t need to tell you that it clings to her body in all the right places, flattering every curve. Her legs are like those of a gazelle.
    She comes to stand in front of me and looks me up and down. Uncomfortable, I adjust my aviator shades.
‘Hello,’ I manage.
Her chin juts in response and I assume this is my cue to place my order.
‘I’d like a flat Americano and one of those brownies, please.’ The shelves are covered in crumbs and, clearly, no one has rubbed around with a J-cloth this morning. I stuff my hands in my trench coat pockets to stop me from leaping over the counter and grabbing one to whisk around.
She turns away from me to the coffee machine. Interesting customer relations. When I was here, I knew all our regulars by name and, needless to say, none of them are in here now. The supermodel crashes and bangs away with the coffee machine while I stand and wait. A minute or so later, she plonks it down on the counter in front of me, followed by the brownie. It seems that table service has been dispensed with.
‘Thank you.’
‘No problem.’ An accent. French, I think Marcus said. And, actually, it did look like it was quite a bit of a problem for her. She looks as if she’d rather be on a yacht in the South of France or shopping in the Champs-Élysées. Before I move away from the counter, she’s already heading into the back of the shop.
Taking my coffee and cake, I sit at a table. There’s no music playing as there used to be, which makes the atmosphere a little stilted. You can hear every coffee cup rattle and the few people who are here are speaking in hushed tones. What is Marcus thinking? Does he not come in here and see how dire it is compared to how it used to be? It would take so little to get it on track again. And, of course, I’m exactly the right person to do it. No wonder he wants me back here. Thank goodness he’s not around. I should drink my coffee and leave as quickly as I can.
No sooner has that thought passed through my brain than I hear the roar of a super car and a familiar red Ferrari pulls up outside Chocolate Heaven. My heart sinks. Right on cue, Marcus appears. I just hope that he doesn’t recognise me in my cunning disguise. Pulling up my collar, I sink down into my seat.
‘Hey, Lucy,’ he says, marching straight over to me. ‘Good to see