as they had a moment ago, she couldn’t help herself. It was a challenge she couldn’t resist, and she wouldn’t rest until she’d done everything in her power to bring “the intendeds” together.
“Bonjour!” Maya offered the handsome man her warmest greeting, which he generously returned. His was a wide toothy smile. He looked American. Or possibly Scandinavian, though Maya’s bet was on the former.
“May I help you?” she asked.
“Just looking, thanks.”
Oui. Américain.
Handsome as he was, he hadn’t come for her. But he had turned up for a reason, Maya’s instincts insisted.
The signs were subtle. Visceral. A feeling that raised the hair on the nape of her neck and tingled its way up her nerve endings, before it settled down in the pit of her stomach. A figurative “you’ve got mail.” A metaphorical message she couldn’t completely qualify, other than to know that, in the past, when the signs presented themselves in this particular fashion, they were never wrong.
She regarded him for a moment as he perused the shop. He looked like a soldier, though he wasn’t in uniform. There was something about his close-cropped sandy hair, his bronzed skin and those broad, broad shoulders and muscular arms. Something in the way he carried himself suggested combat.
Hmm...Maya thought. Perhaps the combat wasn’t necessarily physical. More internal...
A man at war with himself.
All the more reason she must get busy and do her job.
“I just set out some fresh truffles,” Maya said. “Would you care for a sample?”
Chapter One
Sergeant Shane Harrison regarded the photograph of the pretty blonde as he sat in his car, which was parallel parked across from the storefront. His gaze zipped from the photo to the black metal numbers marking the address, and then to the lettering on the window that spelled out Celebrations, Inc., Catering Company.
Yep, this was the place.
His gaze zagged back to the photograph for one last look at the woman’s enticing smile. At least the first person he’d met in Celebration, Texas, had a pretty face. He’d always been a sucker for a pretty face. The photograph had been the tipping point that had convinced him to make this personal delivery of chocolate and snapshots to a civilian.
He wasn’t in the habit of playing delivery boy for strangers. However, when he’d visited Maya’s Chocolate Shop as he’d passed through St. Michel on his way back to the United States from the Middle East, he’d struck up a conversation with Maya, the shop’s proprietor. When she’d learned the next stop on his tour was Celebration, Texas, she’d nearly leaped over the counter in excitement.
Maya had a good friend who’d just opened a catering business in Celebration. Her name was AJ Sherwood-Antonelli—a mouthful of a name if he’d ever heard one. Maya thought it would be fun to surprise AJ with a special delivery of “celebratory chocolates,” as she put it. She’d said something about a “chocolate-gram from a nice-looking soldier”—or something like that. Her words might’ve embarrassed him, if he’d been prone to such a weakness. But he wasn’t. In the end—after several samples of Maya’s sweets—it was her bribe of a box of hand-dipped truffles as payment that convinced him to bring a box to her friend.
Actually, if the truth be told, it was the photograph of the beautiful woman that persuaded him. He studied the picture again. Something about AJ’s smile captured him; or maybe it was something in the way her eyes shone as she looked through the camera.
Whatever it was, that indefinable “something” made him want to know her better. Or at least meet her. He wasn’t looking for anything long-term. Actually, he wasn’t looking for anything. Period.
For the next six weeks, he was stationed at Fort Hood. He’d be spending most of his days in Celebration on an undesirable assignment scouting sites for an off-base MOUT school (Military Operations Urban Terrain). The assignment, known in the army as “Realtor duty,” was the hell most soldiers dreaded. Once he’d secured the venue, he’d help set up the school training facility.
Six weeks of drudgery. He couldn’t think of many other things he’d rather not do.
Centering the stack of photographs on the box of chocolates, Shane gave himself a mental shake, preempting a downward mood spiral. The assignment was only six weeks. Then he’d head off on a plum European assignment he’d coveted for eighteen years. In the meantime, he needed to just suck it up.
So what was another six-week tour?
It was a trade off. That’s what it was. And even though getting stuck in suburban hell made him feel like doing anything but “celebrating,” maybe the diversion of female company would help pass the time.
* * *
The door chime beckoned AJ from the backroom kitchen where she’d been perfecting a selection of sliders to serve at A Taste of Celebration, a food festival sponsored by the Celebration, Texas, Chamber of Commerce. The event was next weekend, and it would be the first big community-wide showcase for her new catering company. She’d done a steady stream of business over the past year and a half out of her home kitchen, but A Taste of Celebration was the first time Celebrations, Inc. would make its debut to the public as an official business with its own commercial kitchen and office space.
It was September, and even though the holidays were a couple of months away, it wasn’t too early to start getting the word out about the catering company’s new digs. People would start thinking about the holidays soon, and in the meantime, there would be tailgating parties and fall festivals—all sorts of catering opportunities. A Taste of Celebration had the potential to earn her some bookings.
She wiped off her hands and made her way into the reception area. Since she was the only one in the office, she kept the door locked. Not that she felt unsafe in this town where everyone knew everyone... Okay, so maybe she did have a few issues about safety. Even so, she kept the door locked because she didn’t want to be surprised by someone happening in unannounced.
But surprised she was—and a little wary—when she saw the tall, good-looking stranger peering in through the glass and clutching a sack of photographs and a small box.
She was five-three, and he had a good foot on her in height. He also had close-cropped blond hair, broad shoulders and muscular arms. Quite a nice sight to behold, but the frivolity of his Adonis-like assets faded when he rapped on the glass door again and held up one of the photos.
She squinted at it, and her curiosity blossomed when she realized it was a picture of her and her friend Maya LeBlanc.
It had been taken last fall when she and her friends had gone over to St. Michel with their boarding-school buddy Margeaux Broussard to support her as she mended relations with her terminally ill father.
Hoping she didn’t have flour on her face, she wiped her hands on her apron and gave a quick swipe across her cheeks before she turned the lock and opened the door. After all, a stranger in possession of a photo of her with her friend Maya surely wasn’t there to cause trouble.
She opened the door a crack. “May I help you?”
“AJ Sherwood-Antonelli?”
