In Her Wildest Dreams Read online

  IN HER WILDEST DREAMS

  by

  Farrah Rochon

  Kindle Edition

  Copyright © 2012 by Farrah Rochon

  Kindle Edition License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Amazon.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Chapter One

  The heady aroma of rich, dark chocolate enrobed Erica Cole the second she walked through the doors of Decadente Artisan Chocolates. She inhaled a lungful of the slightly sweet, slightly smoky-scented air, letting the intense fragrance permeate her senses.

  “Oh, yeah,” Erica breathed. “This is what I need.”

  Her daily sojourn to the specialty shop, located in New Orleans’s Riverwalk Marketplace, which hugged the Mississippi River, was as much a part of her routine as getting the mail and brushing her hair. But there was nothing routine about today’s visit. She was here with one purpose in mind: chocolate therapy. Serious chocolate therapy.

  Erica walked up to the display case, the overhead lights reflecting off of the gold filigree that trimmed the spotless glass. It was stocked with ceramic trays of crafted chocolates that were, in themselves, works of art. Erica eyed a tiramisu truffle and had to swallow back a moan. She could taste it already.

  “Hi there, Lady,” Tonya Davenport, the public face of Decadente, greeted her.

  “Hi Tonya.” Erica smiled at the woman who had been at the high-end chocolate boutique since it first opened its doors just over a year ago. “Where’s your fearless leader?”

  “He’s in the kitchen.” Tonya tilted her head toward the swinging door behind her. “Tell him I’m running low on chocolate-dipped Bing cherries.”

  “Will do,” Erica called over her shoulder as she walked around the counter and entered the kitchen. She stepped into the brightly lit space, flung her arms out dramatically, and cried, “Gavin, I need you to work your magic on me!”

  The neatly trimmed head bent over the marble worktable rose slowly. Gavin Foster, Decadente’s proprietor and head chocolatier, arched his brows over his auburn eyes.

  “What type of magic are we talking about?”

  Erica’s mouth tipped up in a wicked grin. “You know what I’m talking about,” she said, her voice purposely seductive, though the amusement she couldn’t mask killed the effect.

  “Regular milk won’t do today,” she continued. She sidled up to him, peering at the battered copper bowl cradled in Gavin’s arms. “I need at least sixty percent pure dark. Maybe even seventy.”

  “Ouch.” Gavin’s forehead dipped in a concerned frown. “What brought this about? You usually don’t go for the strong stuff unless you mistakenly missed a sale at Macy’s.”

  “Ha ha,” Erica deadpanned. “My problems are so much worse than a missed sale. Let’s start with the date from hell.”

  Gavin cocked his head to the side, his eyes narrowing with annoyance. “Tell me you didn’t go out with the guy from that dating Website.”

  Erica didn’t try to conceal her guilt.

  He groaned. “The guy suggested going out on a Tuesday because it’s the two-for-one seafood special night. Didn’t that tell you something right there?”

  “That wasn’t the only reason he wanted to go out on a Tuesday,” she pointed out. “It was also half-off dessert night.”

  “Oh, yeah? Did you last until dessert?”

  Erica shot him a look. “Shut up.”

  Gavin shook his head. With a grunt, he said, “You never learn.”

  “I’ve learned my lesson this time. Really,” she stressed when Gavin’s mouth slanted in a frown, his expression saying he was unconvinced. “I’m done with online dating. I should have left the restaurant the minute he stopped me from ordering a soda and ordered two cups of tap water instead. He pulled out a couple of those little individual drink mixers from his pocket and tossed one over to me.”

  Gavin’s lips twitched in amusement. “Which friend signed you up for this Website, again?”

  “It’s Sylvia, my old college roommate.”

  “Did you ruin her favorite sweater or something back in college? I think this online dating experiment is some kind of payback.”

  “No, I did not.” She laughed. “Ever since she got married she’s been trying to find someone for me. Sylvia’s heart is in the right place, but I should have told her not to bother.”

  “Or you could have just told the guy no, as I suggested.”

  “I know.” Erica pouted, feeling like a chastised eight-year-old, which made her want to pout even more. “It’s just that it’s that time of year again.”

  “What time of year is that?”

  “You know, Valentine’s Day. The season of love. That stupid, naked baby shooting arrows at people’s asses.”

  “Valentine’s Day should be your favorite holiday with all the business coming your way,” Gavin said.

  “Oh, don’t get me wrong. Valentine’s Day is to Your Wildest Dreams what the Super Bowl is to a sports bar, but it doesn’t mean that I have to like it personally. It’s as if people forget that it’s inappropriate to get all lovey-dovey in public. Makes me feel as if I have a big neon sign flashing over my head: ‘Single loser, here’.”

  A grin slowly spread across Gavin’s face. “You’re whining,” he said with a hint of disbelief. “You never whine.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m due,” Erica grumbled. She leaned back against the high counter that spanned the kitchen’s left wall, resting her elbows on it and crossing her legs at the ankles. “I’ve accepted that I’ll be single forever. It’s better than ending up with some lowlife who treats me like crap and eats all the food out of my fridge. It’s probably hereditary.”

  “Not only are you whining, but now you’re bringing up the ‘like mother, like daughter’ stuff? Not good, Erica.”

  “Tell me about it,” she said. She picked up the pitchfork-like tool she’d seen Gavin use when dipping chocolates. “Sometimes, I feel like a fraud, creating these elaborate romantic escapades for people, when I have zero romance in my own life.”

  “That’s by choice,” Gavin charged. With a penetrating look, he added, “You could have someone in your life if you really wanted to.”

  “Yeah, right.” She snorted. “My latest attempt at romance cost me fifty bucks—because, yes, we split the check and I covered the entire tip—and a Tuesday night that could have been better spent watching television.”

  “You’re not serious when it comes to these guys, Erica. When you’re really ready to find someone, the perfect guy will be there. Right in front of you.”

  “Yeah, if only that perfect man existed.”

  Gavin huffed out a frustrated breath. “You can’t be this blind, Erica.”

  “What?”

  “Forget it.” He went back to vigorously stirring the contents of the bowl.

  Erica gestured toward the chocolates. “So, you feel bad enough for me yet?”

  “I don’t know,” Gavin said. “You brought this on yourself. I warned you about going out with that guy.”

  “But the date’s not even the half of it.”

  “There’s more?”

  She nodded. “Termites.

  Gavin’s brow rose in blatant inquiry.

  “Château Dumais has a termite infestation,” Erica explained. “They’ve had to completely shut down, and they don’t plan to reopen for another four weeks. Your Wildest Dreams has fourteen V
alentine’s Day experiences booked there.”

  “Now that sounds like a problem,” Gavin said.

  “Breaking the heel on my favorite shoe is a problem. This is a disaster.”

  Erica looked longingly at the rows of truffles lined up like little round soldiers on the slab of glossy marble. Some had yet to be dipped in the bowl of velvety chocolate. Others sat drying, the swirls on top an indication of what flavors resided inside. “I could sure use a pick-me-up,” she said.

  Gavin’s eyes crinkled at the corners, along with his mouth, as he smirked at her. He walked over to the other end of his work area where the darker chocolates were. He picked out two of them, then walked over to her.

  “Open your mouth,” he said in a voice that was as deep, and dark, and velvety as the confection he held between his fingers.

  Erica obliged, closing her eyes and parting her lips. The moment Gavin placed the still slightly warm chocolate on her tongue, it started to melt, its smooth, creamy texture running down her throat.

  “Oh, yeah. This is what I needed,” Erica purred. She opened her eyes and found Gavin’s sparkling with mischief.

  “Just keep it up,” he said, his warning tone colored with humor.

  If it were any other man standing before her, Erica would never play such a dangerous game of teasing, but the back-and-forth sexual innuendo had become a trademark of their friendship, a friendship she treasured above just about anything else in her life. He was one of the people she was closest to; he was supportive, loyal, and above all, safe.

  She’d first met Gavin Foster three years ago, when he’d hired her to create a once-in-a-lifetime fantasy experience for his fiancée’s thirtieth birthday. Erica had just opened the doors to her event-planning business, Your Wildest Dreams. At the time, Gavin’s “experience” had been, by far, the most elaborate she’d ever produced.

  A lot had changed in those three years.

  For one thing, Gavin’s fiancée was now his ex-fiancée. And the romantic fantasy night Erica had put together for him paled in comparison with the elaborate experiences she now fashioned for Your Wildest Dreams’ high-end clientele.

  Back then, Gavin was co-owner of a fast-growing tech business, but a couple of years ago he abruptly left, selling his interest in the company for something in the low to mid-eight figures range—he’d never given Erica an exact amount, and she’d never been bold enough to ask. A year later, he’d opened Decadente.

  Erica used some of the software Gavin had created to keep Your Wildest Dreams organized and running efficiently, but she much preferred what he could do with a block of chocolate than with a computer. The man was an absolute master.

  “How is it?” he asked her.

  “Heavenly,” Erica responded, snatching the other chocolate from his hand. “This will help me get through the rest of my day while I try to find another hotel.”

  “That shouldn’t be too hard.” Gavin shrugged. “New Orleans is a tourist city. The only thing that outnumbers the hotels here are the restaurants.”

  “True, but you know I’m very particular. Château Dumais is one of only a handful of high-end boutique hotels, and most of them are likely already booked for Valentine’s Day. I’m not fooling myself into thinking it will be easy to find a suitable replacement on such short notice.”

  “I’ll tell you what,” Gavin said, reaching over her head and retrieving a bottle labeled Madagascar Vanilla from the shelf. “You come back here after you’re done for the day and I’ll have a special treat waiting for you.”

  “What’s that?” Erica asked.

  “You have to come back to find out,” Gavin teased as he strolled over to the stove. He measured out a portion of vanilla and added it, along with heavy whipping cream, to a small pot. Erica knew from previous visits that he was preparing a ganache.

  “I already know what it is,” she mused. “You’ve got my special chocolates.”

  Last year, for Valentine’s Day, Gavin created a special truffle that was given exclusively to Your Wildest Dreams’ clients. Erica figured he had something in the works this year.

  “Just be back here by six o’clock,” Gavin said.

  Erica chuckled as she headed for the door. She stopped at the edge of the marble table, glanced over her shoulder, and raised a brow.

  “You can have another one,” Gavin said.

  She grinned. “Just put it on my tab.”

  “That tab is about a mile long.”

  “I know,” she sighed. “That’s why I really need to make time for the gym.”

  The humor left Gavin’s expression, his eyes flaring with a rare burst of naked need. “You know damn well how good those curves look on you,” he said.

  Erica paused with her palm flat against the swinging door, caught off-guard by the emotion Gavin had allowed to surface. Theirs was a relationship that thrived on playful teasing and lighthearted flirting. In the beginning there had been an undeniable mutual attraction, but, early on, by some unspoken edict, they’d chosen to ignore it.

  Until now.

  There was no ignoring the intense look in Gavin’s eyes.

  Unsure of how to address it, Erica laughed it off, her usual response to his teasing.

  “Yeah, right,” she said, discounting the tingle of satisfaction his compliment had elicited. After last night’s disastrous date, she was likely reading more into Gavin’s sensually-charged banter than usual.

  But as she walked out of the kitchen, Erica couldn’t disregard the shift she’d sensed in Gavin. His stare had been oddly potent. Penetrating.

  Different.

  Erica gave herself a mental shake, trying to clear away the confounding emotions his statement had sparked. But despite her best efforts, she couldn’t dismiss her body’s reaction to Gavin’s compelling stare or his words, spoken with such blatant meaning.

  The question, of course, was what she should do about it.

  ***

  Forcing herself to concentrate on the mountain of tasks on her to-do list, Erica headed back on foot to her office, housed just a few minutes away in the One Canal Place building at the base of world-famous Canal Street. This office was all about location, location, location. Lord knows, if she could get away with it, she would lease something in one of the less expensive downtown buildings, or maybe even in nearby Metairie. But Erica had made the decision early in Your Wildest Dreams’ conception to cater to an exclusive clientele. Her company was too high end to be housed in a run-of-the-mill suburban strip mall.

  Besides, if she moved, she wouldn’t have easy access to the best chocolate in the city.

  Sipping the chai latte she’d picked up at the coffeehouse downstairs, Erica settled into the chair behind her desk and logged into the software program Gavin had created for her to keep track of Your Wildest Dreams’ event bookings. She re-counted the number of experiences she had booked at Château Dumais, even though she already knew it was fourteen. She kept meticulous notes of every booking in her mind, a side effect of her years of working as an accounts manager in a marketing firm.

  A message bubble popped up on the screen, reminding her that it was time to make her monthly deposit in the checking account she’d established for her mother. Erica logged into her bank account and electronically transferred three-hundred and fifty dollars into her mother’s account. She couldn’t afford the added fifty dollars, but her mother’s birthday was coming up; she couldn’t not throw in a bit extra.

  “Not as if she’s going to use it on herself,” she mumbled.

  Erica had no doubt that James or John or whoever her mother’s newest live-in boyfriend was, would suddenly need a new part for his pick-up truck or some other such nonsense. And her mother, as usual, would trip all over herself to come to his rescue. Anything to keep her man happy, even at her own—or her daughter’s—expense. And, even though it was inevitable that he would soon be gone, leaving Erica to soothe the frayed edges of her mother’s tattered heart so that the next guy could come in and rip
it to shreds all over again.

  Every month Erica ignored the voice in her head that told her she was throwing good money after bad. Even though Maxine Cole had done a piss-poor job of providing for her, she was still Erica’s mother. The few hundred bucks every month allowed Erica to keep a clear conscience.

  Although, after last week’s payment on the eighty-thousand dollar hospital bill for the emergency surgery her mother had six months ago, Erica was seriously considering dropping the monthly stipend to two hundred dollars. And make that every other month.

  In less than a year, the small nest egg she’d built up had dwindled to only a couple of thousand dollars. First came her uninsured mother’s emergency surgery back in June, then a busted water pipe in her condo during a freak cold snap in November, and then a busted radiator on her car two weeks after that. If one more thing went wrong, she would be completely tapped out.

  “Stop it,” Erica ordered herself.

  Things looked a bit sketchy right now, but she had to believe that her impending financial crisis would be averted and everything would work out in the end. The hospital’s finance department had been very accommodating, so far. It may take a while, but she would find a way to pay off her mother’s hospital bills and replenish her savings.

  The revenue from the record number of experiences she had booked for Valentine’s Day would be a strong start. That is, if she could find hotel rooms for fourteen loving couples.

  Erica searched the electronic file she kept of suitable hotels and started making calls. A half-hour later, she was still at square one. There was a huge convention starting on February 9th, and eighty percent of the hotels in the city were booked solid throughout the Valentine’s Day weekend. The other twenty percent fell into her bottom tier.

  Except for one.

  “God, please don’t make me call them.” Erica sighed.

  If there was one thing she’d learned in these past three years, it was that burning bridges could really come back to scorch your behind. When she’d first contacted the Manor Royale Hotel in hopes of establishing a partnership, the manager had been less than enthusiastic, citing the newness of Erica’s company and its complete lack of a track record. And, as was her modus operandi back then, Erica had taken exception to such talk and had stormed out of the manager’s office.