The Man Most Likely

They dutifully washed and dried their hands, then arranged themselves on either side of her at the counter. “This bowl contains chocolate ganache,” she explained, scooping out several clumps of glossy, dark goo. “It’s made with cream and chocolate shavings. I’ve refrigerated it so it’s thick enough to be shaped. So start by pinching up a little ganache and rolling it into a ball in your palms.”

She demonstrated, and Zephyr and Bryan attempted to copy her. Angela made it look easy, but the ganache immediately stuck to Bryan’s hands and refused to form any kind of sphere.

Angela had six little balls lined up on the counter in front of her by the time she noticed the two men had made no progress at all. “Having problems?” she asked.

“It’s tougher than it looks,” Bryan said. He frowned at the gloppy mass of chocolate in his hand.

“It’s sticky,” Zephyr said. He licked chocolate off his fingers. “But it tastes good.”

“You’re being too rough,” she scolded. She scooped up a fresh bit of ganache and demonstrated the technique again. “You want to roll it lightly and work quickly. Think of the chocolate as being like a woman.”

The men exchanged glances. “How is chocolate like a woman?” Zephyr asked. “Is this a new joke?”

“No, it’s not a joke.” She shaped another sphere. “This chocolate is like a woman because with the right gentle touch it becomes pliable and smooth. But apply too much pressure or allow too much heat to build up and it won’t cooperate at all.”

“So the secret is knowing how to touch it,” Bryan asked. No woman had ever complained about his skills as a lover before, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t learn something new. He copied Angela’s movements once more, getting it right this time.

“That’s good.” She leaned closer to examine his efforts. “Coax it into the right shape.”

Zephyr had abandoned trying to shape the chocolate into spheres and was busy making a pile of irregular pellets. “What are you doing?” Bryan asked.

“Moose droppings,” Zephyr said, and popped one into his mouth.

Angela slapped his hand away. “Maybe you’d better just watch.” She set the bowl of ganache aside and reached for a second bowl in which sat a flour sifter. “Next, we’ll cover the balls with powdered cocoa. This helps to set the shape.” She cranked the handle of the sifter and a cloud of cocoa drifted over the ganache.

“You finish them,” she said, and handed the sifter to Bryan. While he cranked, she turned the balls over until they were coated on all sides.

“Now what?” Zephyr asked. “Is it time to eat them?”

“No.” She slapped his hand away once more. “Now we coat them in a chocolate glaze.” She retrieved two more bowls from the counter behind her. “I have a white chocolate glaze and a dark chocolate glaze. Simply dip a truffle in the glaze, set it aside to dry, and you’re done.”

“That looks really messy,” Bryan said as he watched her dip the chocolates by hand.

“It is. That’s half the fun. It’s about experiencing the chocolate fully—sensually, from its creation to the last luscious, melting bite.”

After this show aired, she’d probably have a line out the door of men who would happily pay for the privilege of hearing her describe the sensual nature of chocolate in her throaty, alluring voice.

Bryan picked up a truffle and plunged it into the bowl of white chocolate. It immediately slipped out of his hand. He stifled a curse.

“What’s wrong?” Angela asked.

“I dropped it.”

“That happens sometimes,” she said. “Just fish it out.”

He probed the bowl of chocolate, sloshing some over the side, but the truffle eluded capture. “It’s a slippery little devil,” he said.

“Let me help.” Angela plunged her hand in alongside his, her fingers brushing against his in the slightly warm, silken chocolate. A disconcerting image of naked bodies smeared with chocolate flashed through Bryan’s mind. He couldn’t resist purposely stroking the back of her hand. “I see what you mean about this being a sensuous experience,” he said.

She jerked her hand from the bowl. “We’ll find it later,” she said, avoiding looking at him. “For now, let’s use the dark chocolate.”

While she washed her hands, he managed to dip and retrieve the rest of the truffles and set them to dry on a wire rack on the counter.

“Now can we eat them?” Zephyr asked.

“They need to set up first,” Angela said. “While we wait, let’s talk about the Mountain Theatre fund-raiser.”

The fund-raiser. Right. The reason they were here.

The two men washed their hands and joined Angela at one of the little tables. Zephyr once more assumed the role of television host. “Tell us all about this fund-raiser,” he said.

Bryan and Angela had talked on the phone the previous evening and discussed what they should say. “The event is being held at the Elevation Hotel this coming Saturday, beginning at 7:00 p.m.,” Angela began.

“It’s a chocolate extravaganza,” Bryan added. “Angela will be making some special chocolate desserts.”

“Yes, I’m working on some recipes especially for it.”

“Tickets can be purchased at the hotel or from any Mountain Theatre member,” Bryan said.

“And here at the Chocolate Moose,” Angela added. “All the proceeds go to support the Crested Butte Mountain Theatre, which has been active in the community for over thirty-five years.”

“Now can we eat the chocolate?” Zephyr asked.

“Yes. It’s all yours.”

She selected a truffle and bit into it. Mesmerized, Bryan watched her tongue flick out to capture a stray bit of chocolate on her lip. He looked away, for fear of embarrassing himself. You’d think he’d never seen a woman eat before!

“Primo chocolate!” Zephyr declared. He grabbed his guitar and began strumming a tune. “Don’t trifle with the truffles that Angela makes. Treat yourself to all the goodies that Angela bakes. Support our local actors, for heaven’s sake! Get your tickets to the party—you know it will be great!”

The last chords of this chorus still rang in Bryan’s ears when Zephyr pronounced they were done, and Angela began clearing away the bowls and remaining truffles. “Do you want to take these back to the hotel for your coworkers?” she asked. “I can box them up for you.”

“Thanks. That would be great.” He picked up the bowls of glaze and followed her into a back room that contained two refrigerators, a freezer and four sets of steel shelving filled with bags of sugar, flour and cocoa, boxes of chocolate chips, egg white powder and other ingredients he couldn’t identify.

“You can put those bowls in the first refrigerator.” She nodded toward a white side-by-side model, then pulled a flattened box off the top of one of the shelving units. With a practiced move, she popped it open and began arranging the truffles inside.

Bryan leaned against the refrigerator, arms crossed. “This was fun today,” he said. “I enjoyed seeing what you do.”

“I love my work,” she said. “And I guess it shows.” She laughed. “In more ways than one. But I always say, never trust a skinny cook.”

“You look great,” he said. He couldn’t believe he’d never noticed her before; now that he knew her, he couldn’t keep his eyes off her.

Her cheeks turned pink. “Thanks.” She moved past him, into the front room once more.

“We should go out sometime,” he said.

She juggled the box of truffles, then carefully set it on the counter and turned to face him. “Go out?”

“Yeah, you know. On a date.”