that is not far from those countries.’
She paused, her head tilted to one side. ‘You’re talking about Montovian chocolate?’
‘You know it?’ he asked, surprised. His country was known more for its financial services and as a tax haven than for its chocolate and cheese—undoubtedly excellent as they were.
She smiled, revealing delightful dimples in each cheek. He caught his breath. This Party Queen really was a beauty.
‘Of course I do,’ she said. ‘Montovian chocolate is sublime. Not easy to get here, but I discovered it when I visited Europe. Nibbled on it, that is. I was a backpacker, and it’s too expensive to have much more than a nibble. It’s... Well, it’s the gold standard of chocolate.’
‘I would say the platinum standard,’ he said, pleased at her reaction.
‘Gold. Platinum. It’s just marvellous stuff,’ she said. ‘Are you a chocolatier?’
‘No,’ he said. ‘I am more on the...executive side of the business.’ That wasn’t stretching the truth too far.
‘Is that why you’re here in Sydney? The reason for your party? Promoting Montovian chocolate?’
‘Among other things,’ he said. He didn’t want to dig himself in too deep with deception.
She nodded. ‘Confidential stuff you can’t really talk about?’
‘That’s right,’ he said. He didn’t actually like to lie. Evade—yes. Lie—no.
‘Don’t worry—you’d be surprised at what secrets we have to keep in the party business,’ she said. ‘We have to be discreet.’
She put her index finger to her lips. He noticed she didn’t wear any rings on either hand.
‘But the main reason I am in Sydney is for a vacation,’ he said, with 100 per cent truthfulness.
‘Really? Who would want a vacation from Montovian chocolate? I don’t think I’d ever leave home if I lived in Montovia,’ she said with another big smile. ‘I’m joking, of course,’ she hastened to add. ‘No matter how much you love your job, a break is always good.’
‘Sydney is a marvellous place for a vacation. I am enjoying it here very much,’ he said.
And enjoying it even more since he’d met her. Sydney was a city full of beautiful women, but there was something about Gemma Harper that had instantly appealed to him. Her open, friendly manner, the laughter in her eyes, those dimples, the way she’d tried so unsuccessfully to look ferocious as she’d waved that wooden spoon. She was too pretty to ever look scary. Yet according to his friend Jake, all three of the partners were formidably smart businesswomen. Gemma interested him.
‘March is the best time here,’ she said. ‘It’s the start of autumn down-under. Still hot, but not too hot. The sea is warm and perfect for swimming. The school holidays are over. The restaurants are not crowded. I hope you’re enjoying our lovely city.’ She laughed. ‘I sound like I’m spouting a travel brochure, don’t I? But, seriously, you’re lucky to be here at this time of year.’
The harbourside city was everything Tristan had hoped it would be. But he realised now there was one thing missing from his full enjoyment of Sydney—female company. The life he’d chosen—correction, the life he had had chosen for him—meant he often felt lonely.
‘You are the lucky one—to live in such a beautiful city on such a magnificent harbour,’ he said.
‘True. Sydney is great, and I love living here,’ she said. ‘But I’m sure Montovia must be, too. When I think of your chocolate, I picture snow-capped mountains and lakes. Am I right?’
‘Yes,’ he said. He wanted to tell her more about his home but feared he might trip himself up with an untruth. His experience of life in Montovia was very different from what a tourist might find.
‘That was a lucky guess, then,’ she said. ‘I must confess I don’t know anything about your country except for the chocolate.’
‘Not many people outside of Europe do, I’ve discovered,’ he said with a shrug.
And that suited him fine in terms of a laid-back vacation. Here in Sydney, half a world away from home, he hadn’t been recognised. He liked it that way.
‘But perhaps our chocolate will put us on the map down-under.’
‘Perhaps after your trip here it will. I think...’
She paused midsentence, frowned. He could almost see the cogs turning.
‘The menu for your reception... We’ll need to change the desserts to showcase Montovian chocolate. There’s still time. I’ll get on to it straight away.’ She slapped her hand to her mouth. ‘Sorry. I jumped the gun there. I meant if you approve, of course.’
‘Of course I approve. It’s a very good idea. I should have thought of it myself.’ Only devising menus was quite out of the range of his experience.
‘Excellent. Let me come up with some fabulous chocolate desserts, and I’ll pass them by you for approval.’
He was about to tell her not to bother with the approval process when he stopped himself. He wanted to see her again. ‘Please do that,’ he said.
‘Eliza shouldn’t be too much longer—the traffic can’t be that bad. Can I take you into our waiting area? It’s not big, but it’s more comfortable than standing around here,’ she said.
‘I am comfortable here,’ he said, not liking the idea of her being in a different room from him. ‘I like your kitchen.’ All stainless steel and large industrial appliances, it still somehow seemed imbued with her warmth and welcome.
Her eyes widened. They were an unusual shade of brown—the colour of cinnamon—and lit up when she smiled.
‘Me, too,’ she said. ‘I have a cake in the oven, and I want to keep an eye on it.’
He inhaled the citrus-scented air. ‘It smells very good.’
She glanced at her watch. ‘It’s a new recipe I’m trying, but I think it will be delicious. I don’t know how long you’re planning to meet with Eliza for, but the cake won’t be ready for another hour or so. Then it has to cool, and then I—’
‘I think our meeting will be brief. I have some more sightseeing to do—I’ve booked a jet boat on the harbour. Perhaps another time I could sample your cake?’ He would make certain there would be another time.
‘I can see that a cake wouldn’t have the same appeal as a jet boat,’ she said, with a smile that showed him she did not take offence. ‘What else have you seen of Sydney so far?’ she asked.
‘The usual tourist spots,’ he said. ‘I’ve been to the Opera House, Bondi Beach, climbed the Sydney Harbour Bridge.’
‘They’re all essential. Though I’ve never found the courage to do the bridge climb. But there’s also a Sydney tourists don’t get to see. I recommend—’
‘Would
