The Man Most Likely. Cindi Myers

Angela asked.

      “I dropped it.”

      “That happens sometimes,” she said. “Just fish it out.”

      He probed the bowl of chocolate, sloshing some over the side, but the truffle eluded capture. “It’s a slippery little devil,” he said.

      “Let me help.” Angela plunged her hand in alongside his, her fingers brushing against his in the slightly warm, silken chocolate. A disconcerting image of naked bodies smeared with chocolate flashed through Bryan’s mind. He couldn’t resist purposely stroking the back of her hand. “I see what you mean about this being a sensuous experience,” he said.

      She jerked her hand from the bowl. “We’ll find it later,” she said, avoiding looking at him. “For now, let’s use the dark chocolate.”

      While she washed her hands, he managed to dip and retrieve the rest of the truffles and set them to dry on a wire rack on the counter.

      “Now can we eat them?” Zephyr asked.

      “They need to set up first,” Angela said. “While we wait, let’s talk about the Mountain Theatre fund-raiser.”

      The fund-raiser. Right. The reason they were here.

      The two men washed their hands and joined Angela at one of the little tables. Zephyr once more assumed the role of television host. “Tell us all about this fund-raiser,” he said.

      Bryan and Angela had talked on the phone the previous evening and discussed what they should say. “The event is being held at the Elevation Hotel this coming Saturday, beginning at 7:00 p.m.,” Angela began.

      “It’s a chocolate extravaganza,” Bryan added. “Angela will be making some special chocolate desserts.”

      “Yes, I’m working on some recipes especially for it.”

      “Tickets can be purchased at the hotel or from any Mountain Theatre member,” Bryan said.

      “And here at the Chocolate Moose,” Angela added. “All the proceeds go to support the Crested Butte Mountain Theatre, which has been active in the community for over thirty-five years.”

      “Now can we eat the chocolate?” Zephyr asked.

      “Yes. It’s all yours.”

      She selected a truffle and bit into it. Mesmerized, Bryan watched her tongue flick out to capture a stray bit of chocolate on her lip. He looked away, for fear of embarrassing himself. You’d think he’d never seen a woman eat before!

      “Primo chocolate!” Zephyr declared. He grabbed his guitar and began strumming a tune. “Don’t trifle with the truffles that Angela makes. Treat yourself to all the goodies that Angela bakes. Support our local actors, for heaven’s sake! Get your tickets to the party—you know it will be great!”

      The last chords of this chorus still rang in Bryan’s ears when Zephyr pronounced they were done, and Angela began clearing away the bowls and remaining truffles. “Do you want to take these back to the hotel for your coworkers?” she asked. “I can box them up for you.”

      “Thanks. That would be great.” He picked up the bowls of glaze and followed her into a back room that contained two refrigerators, a freezer and four sets of steel shelving filled with bags of sugar, flour and cocoa, boxes of chocolate chips, egg white powder and other ingredients he couldn’t identify.

      “You can put those bowls in the first refrigerator.” She nodded toward a white side-by-side model, then pulled a flattened box off the top of one of the shelving units. With a practiced move, she popped it open and began arranging the truffles inside.

      Bryan leaned against the refrigerator, arms crossed. “This was fun today,” he said. “I enjoyed seeing what you do.”

      “I love my work,” she said. “And I guess it shows.” She laughed. “In more ways than one. But I always say, never trust a skinny cook.”

      “You look great,” he said. He couldn’t believe he’d never noticed her before; now that he knew her, he couldn’t keep his eyes off her.

      Her cheeks turned pink. “Thanks.” She moved past him, into the front room once more.

      “We should go out sometime,” he said.

      She juggled the box of truffles, then carefully set it on the counter and turned to face him. “Go out?”

      “Yeah, you know. On a date.”

      For the first time that day, she looked flustered, but she quickly recovered. “Sure. That would be fun. What do you want to do? Catch a band at LoBar or go for pizza at the Last Steep?”

      Those were the kind of dates he had in his slacker days. Now he wanted to do something classier, more grown-up. “I was thinking I’d take you to dinner at Garlic Mike’s.” The intimate Italian eatery on the outskirts of Gunnison had been voted Most Romantic Restaurant in a local newspaper poll.

      Angela’s eyes widened. “Oh. Well. I don’t know—”

      “How about Friday night?”

      She shook her head. “I have too much to do to get ready for the fund-raiser on Saturday.”

      “Then you choose a night.”

      She turned and began rearranging a display of Chocolate Moose coffee mugs on a nearby shelf. “Maybe now isn’t a good time. I have the play and rehearsals and a lot of work getting ready for the fund-raiser.”

      Was she rejecting him? Deep breath. Time to regroup. He couldn’t remember when a woman had turned him down. In fact, he was pretty sure this was a first.

      He looked around the shop, searching for inspiration. He found it in a poster advertising the upcoming performances of I Hate Hamlet. “What about Sunday night?” he said. “The fund-raiser will be over and the play doesn’t start until the next week.”

      She shook her head. “No. I’d better not.”

      He stood very still, working hard to keep his feelings from showing in his face. She really was turning him down. And why? The two of them got along great. “Is there something in particular about me you don’t like?” he asked stiffly.

      “No!” She whirled to face him, her eyes wide with surprise, her cheeks flushed. “I like you. I really do.”

      He believed her. She was a good actress, but he didn’t think she was faking it now. And he hadn’t imagined the heat between them when their hands had brushed in the bowl of chocolate. “Are you dating someone else?” he asked. That had to be the answer. She probably had some big bruiser of a boyfriend who’d like nothing better than to pound any potential rival.

      “No.” She turned away and began wiping down the hot chocolate machine. “I just…I have too much else going on right now to start dating anyone,” she said. “It’s so hard juggling everything. I have to be at the theater practically every night, and the shop takes up all my time during the days. I guess that’s life in a tourist town during the busy season.”

      There was more to her reluctance to go out with him than a lack of time, he was sure. “Maybe later, then,” he said, doing his best to sound unaffected by her rejection, though inside he was crushed. And confused—both by her reluctance and by his own attraction to a woman who was nothing like any other woman he’d wanted to spend time with. He was a guy who always dated the hottest girl in any crowd. Angela wasn’t that kind of girl—though for some reason she certainly raised his temperature. He couldn’t figure it out, but he wanted her to at least give him a chance to try.