Page 6 of Sweet Spot

Chapter Five

Macy

I'd done a prettygood job of ignoring my unexpected early morning visitor, but now that he was shirtless and covered with a sheen of sweat, it was going to be a bit harder. Chuck had just arrived to set up and I could hear him mutter something to himself as Chase came around the corner.

How was it possible to be that spectacular after a run through the city at the crack of dawn? But still, he was so far from my type, I could easily talk myself into looking past the pretty packaging. Most likely there was nothing but vapor, arrogance and indifference filling that dreamy outer shell.

It was still quite early, but my usual customers would be arriving in fifteen to twenty minutes. I'd only been in business a week, but I'd quickly developed a following, which had me more than just a little pleased with myself. As I waited for some of the first customers of the day, my first visitor of the day headed my direction.

Chase scrubbed his wet face with his shirt and bunched it in his fist. He stopped in front of the kiosk.

"Morning again," I said cheerily, trying hard not to get distracted by his breathtaking physique. "Can I get you something?"

He opened his mouth to speak and then seemed to change his mind. "Actually, I'll take a black coffee."

I spun toward the cups and picked up the coffee pot.

"I'm sorry if I irritated you this morning," he said.

I turned and handed him the steaming coffee with a polite, shop owner's grin. "You didn't irritate me. Anything else?"

"Just coffee." He reached for a pocket and looked slightly embarrassed. "Oh, I forgot I'm wearing my running shorts. I'll bring it to you on my way to work . . . if that's all right. I promise I'm good for it."

I couldn't hold back a laugh, even though I gave it a good try.

He pointed it out. "I knew your laugh was something worth waiting for. I know you're about to be swarmed with coffee drinkers and pastry lovers, but on my run, I came up with a plan for something, and I'm hoping you'll be part of it."

I couldn't for the life of me understand how I could be involved in any plan of his and thus, responded with a dumbfounded, wide-eyed look.

"I want to use the name Sweet Spot on one of our boxes—unless you would rather we didn't."

"As I mentioned this morning, it's not trademarked."

"I know, but if you don't want us to use it, I'll give up the plan. But I think this idea could benefit your business." His green eyes sparkled with enthusiasm. I was still dumbstruck about how I would be involved.

I leaned my head slightly to look past his broad shoulders and overall hunkiness. Two of my morning regulars were hiking toward my cart with that desperate for coffee look I knew too well. Chase sensed that customers were heading my direction

"I'll talk fast. You said you were a trained pastry chef. Do you also work with chocolate?"

"I do."

"Great. When I come back down, I'll leave you my number. I want to talk to you about making something chocolate for one of our monthly boxes. It would be a big order, but we are generous with our suppliers. We like to keep them happy."

My customers reached the kiosk. By the time I took their order, Mr. Beautiful and his running shorts and magnificently naked upper torso had disappeared into the apartment building.

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