Blame It on Chocolate by Jennifer Greene

Author:Jennifer Greene
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HQN Books
Published: 2013-10-15T00:00:00+00:00

Relax? Yeah, right, she thought. But she was too curious not to poke around, at least a little. She started with the kitchen—because it seemed to have every techno-cool appliance known to man—but almost immediately she was diverted by a second note magneted to the refrigerator. The note promised her dinner on the top shelf. When she opened the fridge door, she found a fresh lobster salad, a chicken Florentine cooked and ready to reheat, and an extensive tray of fancy pastries—all chocolate.

She closed the door, shocked, thinking good grief!

Everywhere she turned, there were more goodgriefs. The navy and white living room looked stark and masculine…except for the box of magazines on the coffee table…everything from Cosmo to Horticultural Digest. For her? He’d done all this for her?

Beyond the living room, he’d set up a spare room as a home theater, with couches and shuttered windows and a giant screen TV. Again she found an arrow scrawled on a piece of paper, this time pointing to a heap of movies. Charade. Truly Madly Deeply. Sleepless in Seattle. All chick flicks. Nothing a guy would watch—at least not a guy she’d ever met.

She hugged her arms under her chest. She was starting to get seriously scared. This was beyond good-grief.

This was starting to all look planned.

Clearly she was justified in snooping further—how else could she know how far Nick had gone? Or try to figure out what he’d been thinking? It took her maybe a second and a half to find his bedroom. It was one of the rooms with a round stone turret, making for a cushioned window-seat area that overlooked the woods and grounds. Otherwise the room was all done up in the same rich navy—thick carpet, comforter and sheets. The mattress was as big as a small country, and ultra hard—she discovered by sitting on it.

She glanced inside his closet, a room-sized storage space with everything hung or tidily put away. Who’d have guessed Nick had a fussy side like hers? But she quickly closed that door; that was a little too much prying, even for her. Just past that door was the master bathroom, though, and one look took her breath away.

The bathroom wasn’t just a good-grief. It was a straight oh-my-God. A gas fireplace divided the dressing area from the tub area. A short note had been taped on the white marble hearth. Just turn this lever to the right if you want it on, Lucy.

She did. A burst of warm yellow flames immediately danced in the grate. In front of the fireplace was a stand-alone tub, huge, with jets and copper fixtures. A copper cart had a tray of blueberry candles on one shelf, thirsty white towels on the next.

She stared at that hedonistic tub for a good long minute, thinking repressive thoughts, but they just didn’t work. She flicked on the taps and started stripping—purse, shoes, cell, jeans, sweater, socks. She retrieved her purse to forage for matches. She’d never smoked, but she’d always carried enough in her purse to survive in Europe for at least six months.

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