The problem was that he didn’t know enough about her. He knew how she made him feel—like the luckiest chef on the planet. No other woman could ever offer that incredible blend of strength and surety and clarity.
But he couldn’t think of how to make a chocolate out of those words.
And what words would she use?
He didn’t know. Her thoughts were like the hidden center of a treat—unknown except to the baker until they were bitten into. There was no secret code worked into the finishing decoration to tell him what she had contained within.
Clive might not know her, but he couldn’t deny being fascinated.
Fascinated?
Completely gone. He simply knew she was the right woman for him.
Again the thought seemed crazy, but it was as right as that first moment he’d bitten into couverture chocolate
