Once Upon A Chocolate Kiss

“Yikes. Wai-ai-ai-ait! O-o-o-oh!” The woman’s voice squeaked with each word. Richard sucked in a sharp breath. “Whoa! Just hold still!”

It was to no avail. He lost his footing. So did the woman. Tangling together was inevitable. They went down.

The only thing Richard could do was wrap his arms around the woman and pray God would protect them both. Holding her closely, he bounced, slid and rolled until, with a loud thud, they hit the snow piled up along the sidewalk. Pain ricocheted through his feet, back and elbows. No one had heard or seen them land in an ignominious heap. Most of the residents were in church already. He had been running late.

She had simply been running.

He ignored the elbow in his ribs and cracked open an eye to see what other surprises the bundle of energy had in store for him. He couldn’t believe what he saw, so he popped open the other eye to make sure. His vision hadn’t disappointed him.

Laying atop of him and looking rather shocked was a beautiful petite blonde who was quite flustered and out of breath. But she wasn’t just beautiful—for Richard had seen some of the most stunning women in the world—she was more. Her blue eyes sparkled with the emotions she felt—and they were certainly running the gamut as she stared down at him in surprise, recognition of their predicament and then dawning embarrassment.

“I don’t suppose this is the time to crack a blonde joke,” he asked dryly, unable to resist responding to the rising color in her cheeks.

Blue eyes twinkled with sheepish humor.

“Only if I can crack a British joke. Or Scottish or—”

“Close enough,” he replied, surprised she’d heard the slight Irish brogue in his speech that sometimes came out more British than Irish. He’d attended an English boarding school. His thoughts quickly changed from curiosity to pain when the woman scrambled to get off him. How could someone so alive and vibrant yet so tiny manage to elbow or knee every sore spot on his body?

“Here, let me help you.” She grabbed his arm, insistent on aiding him.

“Really, I think I’m fine. Just snow-covered,” he replied. The last thing he wanted was to risk allowing this woman to pull him up and accidentally knock him right back over. He managed to get to his feet before he found out he was quite wrong about being fine. His eyes widened with pain as he tried to put weight on his left foot.

“You’re hurt!”

A dull flush entered his cheeks. The pride in him wanted to deny he had hurt his ankle in that fall. But the inability to walk kept him from telling a falsehood. Trying to be gallant about the entire thing he replied, “At least you made it out in one piece. Care to tell me what had you rushing from church?”

“I wasn’t rushing from church,” she argued, moving forward to brush the snow from him.

He couldn’t help but notice how small her hands were as they brushed over his shoulders, down his arms and chest. Catching at her hands, he murmured, “I’m fine—if I can find somewhere to sit down.”

“Oh!”

She avoided his grasp like an eel slipping from a fisherman’s hands and anchored an arm around him. The tiny arm was really quite ridiculous around his six-foot tall frame. But the woman was insistent on helping him.

“Lean on me,” she commanded.

For one so small, she was quite authoritative. He grinned in amusement and gave her a bit of his weight. His grin quickly turned to a grimace when he tried to put weight on his foot.

Why had this happened now? He didn’t have the time. He had so many other things to do. The woman urging him forward drew his mind from thoughts of work. Glancing down, he realized she really was putting her all into helping him over to a safe place to sit.

“I wasn’t—” huff, huff, he heard as she danced around in her need to assist “—leaving. I had forgotten my purse and was going back to get—” huff “—it.”

As she moved back and forth, weaving around the piles of snow, he again noted how her head barely came to his eye level. She certainly was cute—especially in this nurturing mode. She didn’t even know who he was and yet she was trying to help him. How odd. People only helped someone like him to get what they could, but this woman—his ankle was really beginning to hurt—this woman didn’t have any idea who he was. Distracted by the pain, he let her assist him to sit on the edge of the circular fountain that was turned off for winter. He reached down to slip his shoe and sock off to examine the swelling.

“Oh dear. That’s very purple.”

Glancing up, he noted the worry on the young woman’s face. She looked genuinely contrite. “I’ll be fine,” he said, trying to reassure her.

“I wonder if it’s broken.”

Moving it carefully around, he finally shook his head. “I don’t think so. But I do believe it is quite bummed up.”

The woman bounced back and forth in front of him, wringing her hands. Richard watched her, wanting to reach out and grab her to calm her down. She really was concerned.

When was the last time anyone had worried about him? He shook his head. Reaching out, he gave in to impulse and caught her hand. The chill in her fingers filtered through his leather gloves. Frowning, he pulled her down next to him. “You shouldn’t be out like this,” he murmured, and took her hands between his own to warm them.

“I’ll be fine. It’s you I’m worried about.”

She had a valid point. His ankle was really hurting now. “I’ll be fine…I think.” Glancing around, he noted there wasn’t a cab in sight.

“You can make it up to me by calling a cab for me so I can get back to my hotel,” he suggested, hoping to pacify her. His friend Dillon was certainly going to get a laugh out of this. Richard had arrived only last night and wasn’t due in for another few days at the store, though he’d stopped in really late to check things out. Dillon had wanted to talk to him, spend some time with him, and Richard had agreed. At loose ends, he’d decided to attend the midnight church service to welcome in the New Year. He’d promised himself to get back into church—at least while no one knew who he was, he thought wryly. Here, he didn’t have to hide out. Especially since most people wouldn’t associate him with the world-famous confectionery shop Dunnington’s, since the business had been in his mother’s family until just ten years ago, when Richard’s father was named CEO. In the business world everyone knew who he was. But here, people didn’t. It was so very refreshing.

“A cab? Hotel? Oh dear. You’re new here!” She stilled for the first time since she’d run him over, and studied him.

The odd look she gave him as her gaze ran over his face, his nose and his eyes made him wonder if she suddenly had recognized him. He wasn’t sure if her gaze was a good thing or not.

“Tell me tonight wasn’t your first time at church here,” she continued.

Slowly, with a grin, he nodded. “I’m afraid so. I just got into town last night.”

She groaned and dropped her chin against her chest. “I am really sorry. Oh dear, I can’t believe this!” She sounded very distressed. She nibbled her lip before glancing first to her left and then to her right, as if looking for help from some passerby or maybe even a cab to shove him into so she could relieve her embarrassment.

“Tell you what, let me take you to the local hospital and see that your foot is fixed up—”

“No hospital.” He immediately vetoed that. If he ended up in a hospital, Dillon would never let him live it down. “I’ve had worse injuries before, Miss…?

“Sam. Sam Hampton.”

“Sam…?”

The surprise in his voice earned him a chuckle. “Actually, it’s Samantha but everyone calls me Sam.”

“And I’m Richard Moore. Nice to meet you.” When he saw no reaction to his name, his smile widened. Having this woman care for him and be concerned for him without knowing he was one of the Dunningtons really threw him for a loop. It felt good—and so different from all the phoniness in the world he lived in.

“Now, there’s a lie!” she said chuckling.

At first he thought she’d discerned his identity, but then he realized her mind was on something totally different. She was still embarrassed over having leveled him flat like a linebacker for the Dallas Cowboys. Lifting a brow, he said gently, “What? You think I lie when I say I’m pleased to meet you?” His gaze traveled over her and he realized just how nice it had been to meet this woman. “I wouldn’t be so sure of that.”

This woman had certainly caught his attention from the start. Richard had always been too busy, too caught up in work to have time for life. Until a moment ago.

“Well,” Samantha said, her cheeks turning pink, “if you won’t let me take you to the hospital then at least let me take you to my home and put some ice on that ankle.”

“Are you sure it won’t be any trouble?” he asked, surprised at her openness. Most women wouldn’t offer such a thing. He’d never met a woman that innocent and willing to help—unless she had ulterior motives.

Richard knew well that people usually weren’t what they seemed. Maybe that was why this woman was so refreshing. She wasn’t like the go-getters and manipulators he’d dealt with in the past. She was open and honest. The barely contained energy this woman had, as she rushed about and spoke what was really on her mind, not some veiled agenda, intrigued him.

“None at all. It’s the least I can do. Let me go get my car.”