The Oddest Little Chocolate Shop in London Read Online Free PDF Page B

'You've
been gone hours, Clem. Come on, spill. How was it? Did he kiss you?'
       'I
have no idea what you are talking about,' she insisted.
       'Liar,'
her sister said drily.
       Clementine
unwound her green pashmina, wriggled out of her coat, and sashayed across the
untidy flat. Unfortunately, her dignity was spoiled somewhat by tripping over
an abandoned shoe. But she paid no attention to her sister's laughter and threw
herself down onto the shabby sofa with a devil-may-care expression.
       'Monsieur
Ravel cooks like a dream,' she confided, and linked her hands behind her
head. 
       'A
wet dream?'
       'Ha
ha.'
       'Seriously,
Clem. You had a date with a hot Frenchman tonight. You can't leave me in
suspense like this. Did Monsieur Ravel kiss you? I demand to know.'
       Clementine
closed her eyes, remembering how they had eaten an intimate and delicious meal
together at the kitchen table after looking at his accounts. His truffles had
been to die for. Then he had helped her on with her coat and shown her back
down to the shop, past the white Persian cat asleep on the stairs.
       At
the bottom of the stairs, before pushing open the door that led into the shop, he
had smiled at her. 'Thank you for helping me with the accounts tonight,'
he had said, then leant forward in an wholly unexpected gesture to kiss her on
the cheek.
       Kissing
her on the cheek in a neighbourly way had been his original intention, she was
sure of it. But at the last second she had turned slightly, meaning to speak.
Typically clumsy Clementine, as her sister loved to say!
       So
his kiss had fallen on her lips by mistake.
       An
exciting and shocking mistake, and one that had left her breathless at the
time. Now though, looking back, she felt again the explosion that had taken
place inside when their lips collided, and was stunned by it all over again.
       Wow, that had been some kiss.
       Their
lips had ricocheted off each other in a mere second, and yet, her whole
body had tingled and shook inside, her nerves practically leaping to attention,
and she had been seized by an insane desire to wrap her arms about him.
       ‘Yes
and no,’ she said slowly, and explained to her sister how it had happened. ‘But
the important thing is,’ she lied, trying to distract her sister, who was
looking far too amused by her goofiness, ‘I looked at his accounts tonight, and
you know something? I understood them!’
       Her
sister’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Now that, I don’t believe.’
       ‘Well,
maybe understood is a stretch,’ Clementine agreed. Numbers were not something
she had ever grasped naturally, it had to be admitted. ‘But they weren’t a
complete mystery to me, which was what I expected when he first showed them to
me. In fact, I was able to give him some advice.’
       ‘Oh
god, I need to sleep,’ Florrie muttered, and jumped up to go to bed. ‘Sorry, Clem,
but the day you give someone accountancy advice is the day they go broke. Why
doesn’t he consult a real accountant like Uncle Geoffrey?’
       ‘Because
he’s stubborn,’ Clementine admitted. ‘He’s also in a spot of financial bother,
so he can’t afford the fees.’
       ‘Oh
great. Wasn’t that painter guy you dated bankrupt?’
       ‘You
mean Tom?’ Clementine flushed. ‘Dominic isn’t anything like Tom. Besides, that
was years ago and declaring himself bankrupt wasn’t Tom’s fault. His ex-wife had
just cleaned him out.’
       Florrie’s
eyes had narrowed on her face. ‘Dominic?’
       ‘Monsieur
Ravel’s first name.’
       ‘Dominic
Ravel. That’s a great name. Very French film-star. Perhaps I ought to meet this
paragon of the kitchen.’
       Clementine
stretched, yawning delicately. She was tired too, but in a pleasant way. All
that good food …
       ‘He
does make divine truffles.’
       ‘Hmm,
and I bet you enjoyed popping them in your mouth.’ Florrie’s tone was dry as
she scooped up her book and