Deliciously Wicked by Robyn DeHart

she’d been up in his private office, and he’d made some changes.
    Behind the desk sat the first chocolate-making machine he’d purchased; it wasn’t even really a machine, more of a hand-held grinder. But it was a reminder of how far the industry had come. The armoire in the corner housed his personal belongings, a box of employee files, and extra pieces of clothing in case he needed to change. Hanging up her cloak, she noticed that the bookshelf on the left looked the same as it had since the day he moved into this office, and housed mostly books from his personal library.
    She straightened the two red leather chairs that sat on the visitor side of the desk. The windows overlooking the factory floor provided the office with some light, but it wasn’t much, as the day was progressing to dusk. So she lit the desk lamp, then sat, glancing around for something to inspect. Something that would make her appear busy.
    She’d barely located a new order form when there came a knock on the door.
    She straightened in the chair, then looked down at the order form. “Come in,” she said.
    Gareth entered but did not walk toward her. Instead he stayed near the door.
    â€œWhy don’t you sit?” she offered.
    â€œI’d prefer to stand.”
    Well, that would never work. She’d sit here and he’d tower over her from the doorway. It would be just asawkward for her to stand on the stairs and holler at him down at his machine.
    â€œThen I shall stand as well.” She set the paper down, then stood. Coming around the desk, she leaned against it for effect. On more than one occasion, she’d seen her father stand precisely this way, so perhaps it would help her appear more official.
    â€œWhat did you want to discuss with me?” he asked.
    â€œYes, well, earlier when I spoke with Mr. Munden, I had to do a bit of negotiating. I felt it would be better if he believed I was as concerned with the theft as he.” Gareth’s eyebrows rose a fraction of an inch. “Not to imply I’m not concerned. There is a thief at the factory and that cannot be allowed. But I also know you’re innocent. So I insisted that you retain your job until we have absolute proof…In short, I made a bargain on your behalf.”
    â€œOn my behalf?” He swaggered forward and stood behind the chairs, placing a barrier between them. “That was rather bold of you, Miss Piddington. Precisely what did you agree to, on my behalf?”
    Meg released a little giggle that sounded supremely false. This was not going well. She shook her hands out, hoping to release the excess nerves that had settled in her body. It was most annoying.
    â€œIt’s a tiny thing, really. Mr. Munden was quite insistent that you stole those chocolate boxes. And since you will not allow me to give you an alibi, I cannot convince him of your innocence. But proof or not, the boxes are still missing and we have an order to fill before Lady Glenworthy discovers the truth and goes elsewhere for her chocolates. So I agreed that you would put a new batch together.”
    â€œPut those fancy boxes together?” he asked.
    â€œYes.”
    â€œHow the devil am I supposed to do that? I work a grinding machine. There is an entire packing block designated for this.”
    â€œI realize that. But we’ve received six more similar orders and so the packing department is already behind.” She hoped her father would be pleased by her administrative decisions.
    Gareth pinched the bridge of his nose. “How many boxes are we talking about?”
    â€œSeventeen. One for each year her lovely daughter has graced the earth,” she said in a melodious voice that perfectly mimicked Lady Glenworthy’s.
    Gareth smiled.
    â€œDon’t concern yourself about the boxes. I’ve already seen to it that the supplies will be brought over. And I’ll personally see to it that you’re paid for the extra