Chapter Six
IT HAD BEEN three days since my breakthrough—or what I felt was a step forward—with Haider Gray.
I’d not approached him or his shop in those three days.
I’d given him space. Today we were meeting for lunch and I had planned a little outing after the meal to help ease him into seeing me as a human being and not just this robotic corporate behemoth intent on gobbling up small independent shops on this side of the ocean.
To that end I was going casual again. An oatmeal cashmere zippered-neck sweater over a classic blue and white-check cotton shirt.
Thin black belt. Ebony jeans. New hiking boots purchased at a shop outside town that sold outdoor supplies as well as quirky stickers of moose and Big Foot.
Seemed the mountains nearby were popular with outdoor enthusiasts.
Which was part of my surprise for Haider. The outdoors, not the enthusiasts.
I was exiting my room, my attention on whether I had my wallet and room key and bounced into Edgar. Literally.
“Oh, forgive me, sir.” Edgar danced back. I took in his nice suit and tie. He blushed all the way to the tips of his ears. “Yes, I am having lunch with Ms. Aubert again today.”
“I see. Edgar, are we sure that you’re only playing along with the lady and not actually enjoying her company?”
His eyes flared. “Sir, I am doing as we discussed. Keeping Madame distracted while you work on bringing her grandson into the Brauning fold. I am immune to the charms of beautiful French women whose laugh is like sunlight falling on tulips.”
“Uh-huh,” I mumbled as he stalked off. “Sunlight on tulips,” I sighed then snickered.
If Edgar was truly enjoying his time spent with the Parisian wildcat of candy—I’d made that up just the other day but it seemed to fit—then good on him.
I was sure that Capucine was plying him for secrets for he had told me she peppered him constantly during their dates.
Sorry, no, not dates he was adamant. Covert assignments, he preferred to call their meals.
As if he were a top secret agent in a James Bond film.
Personally, I was looking forward to spending a few hours with Capucine’s delightfully bristly grandson.
His face had danced in front of me many times over the past three days.
The tangle of curls cried out for a man to run his fingers through them.
And his lips were in need of kissing. I paused on the stairs leading to the first floor of the inn.
My cock was already thickening. Not a good sign.
Going into a business meeting with an erection was totally unacceptable, yet every time I thought of Haider Gray my cock got hard.
I tried to not go into acquisition negotiations with a fixation on the mouth of the man I was trying to get to sign on the dotted line.
Still, even with the attraction to Haider growing I was confident in my ability to see this deal done.
Gods willing it would be soon. Opa was not patient nor kind when it came to delays.
I stood on the stairs admiring a watercolor of the lake in a lovely wooden frame.
I suspected Haider’s friend, Ryan, the woodworker, had made it.
The inn was packed with his work. All wonderfully crafted no doubt, and fitting into the rustic yet tasteful theme of the inn.
Once my dick was deflated, I made my way to the dining room, nodding at Lydia, one of three servers who worked the lunch shift.
I’d eaten here daily, every meal, and had yet to find one item that didn’t please.
“Your table is ready on the veranda as requested, Mr. Brauning,” she called and I gave her a nod and a smile. “Coffee first?”
“Two please and thank you.” I walked out onto the back porch to find my table among the ten that were out here.
The day was a glorious one. Bright blue skies over dark green mountains, birds singing, and the soft whinny of horses in the distance.
I’d spent several hours yesterday riding the extensive trails.
It seemed I thought best when running, riding, or kayaking.
“Oh hey,” I heard Haider behind me. Right on time. I did admire that. I turned to face him and found myself breathless with admiration. Damn, he was a fine-looking man. “I didn’t want to make you wait despite what Mamie says.”
“It’s good to see you,” I said and meant every word.
He was dressed similarly to me minus the cashmere sweater.
His curls had not been moussed into some sort of submission.
Good. I quite liked when they were free.
He’d shaved as well. I did miss the scruff that he wore but nothing could take away from those eyes and those lips.
Neither needed a thing done to make them more appealing.
“I reserved us a table in the sun. I’m finding the mornings a little chilly for my tastes, and this will give us some sun to enjoy. ”
“I thought being from Germany you’d be used to the cold,” he said as I motioned him to the furthest table.
It was also the one that had the most distance from other diners, for a more intimate feel.
I pulled out a seat for him. He eyed me warily but sat, nonetheless.
I took my seat next to him. Two seats as requested.
This inn listened to the requests of their guests well.
“True, Berlin does get quite chilly at times. I have never been fond of the monochromatic colors of winter either, so I tend to dress in thicker clothes to keep warm. Early summer seems to bounce up and down temperature-wise. Ah, thank you, Lydia.” The older brunette server arrived with a silver urn of coffee, two mugs, sweetener in a holder, and a small glass pitcher of cream.
“We’ll need a few moments to decide.” She moved off to seat others that were filing out to eat.
“I hope you don’t mind that I took the liberty of ordering you coffee.
I took note of the well-used pot in your office, plus the mugs lined up on the windowsill. Many with a tiger on them?”
“Tigger. Yeah, I guess I tend to be kind of bouncy,” he confessed as he pulled the mug toward him to sweeten it. “Or used to be. I’m not feeling too rubbery right now.” His blue gaze flew to me as I sipped my black coffee. “Do you always scope out people’s coffee mugs?”
“A coffee mug can tell a lot about a person. They tend to be personalized. You can learn a favorite team, or vacation destination, or cartoon character.”
He stirred sugar into his coffee, not the artificial stuff, then a dollop of cream.
His fingers were long, the nails short, and the cuticles in dire need of some over-the-counter nail-biting deterrent.
I took the ragged state of his nails as a sign of anxiety.
Given the financial state of his candy shop I could see why he was stressed.
I could only imagine how those blue eyes would sparkle when he was free from worry.
Perhaps lying over me, spent and sated. Damn it. I shifted in my seat.
“So, shall we place our order? I have a fun little diversion scheduled for one if you’d like to go.”
His slim brows knitted. Distrust crept into his weary features. “If you’re planning on hitting me over the head with a rock in the woods to get the shop the joke’s on you as Mamie inherits if I die at the hand of unscrupulous chocolate rivals.”
I chuckled into my coffee. “Such a flair for the dramatic. I assumed you ran to the theatrical given your manner of dress and that thin but well-executed liner on your lids.”
He stiffened some, not much, and then the starch left his shoulders. “Okay, fine, I like to wear bright things. Is that a crime Mr. I Dislike Monochromatic Colors?”
“So defensive,” I said then sighed before lowering my mug to the table.
“I enjoy you in color. That pink and yellow poncho over the dark green leggings is striking. As is the way you rouged your lips.” His fair cheeks grew even pinker.
Yes, I had noticed his attire, and his makeup, and the way those delectable curls shifted softly in the wind off the lake.
And that was the problem, wasn’t it? I noticed.
Oh, how I noticed. I gave him a smile that seemed to make him squirm in his seat.
“I hope you do not have such a clause in your will. What happens if, say, a rabid moose with a grudge against men in ponchos tramples you in the wood?”
“Why would the moose have a thing against men in ponchos?” The corners of those tasty lips twitched. He had a nice sense of humor and whimsy hidden under his suspicions about my family name.
I leaned forward, just a bit, to make sure his gaze was locked with mine. A curl danced over his brow. I slid my hand under my ass to keep from brushing the lock back from his brow.
“He may have been chased through the forest by a famous spaghetti western actor with a hankering for moose meat?” I tossed out with a shrug. He laughed. “Or, perhaps he had been double-crossed by a pair of Pottsylvanian spies seeking the whereabouts of his squirrel friend?”
That one made him laugh out loud. It was a beautiful sound. His eyes sparkled like sapphires when he was amused. I wanted to see him this way all the time.
“Oh my God, did you actually toss out where those old-timey cartoon spies were from? Who the hell knows that?!”
“As a child I spent a great deal of time in front of the television set watching American cartoons. Rocky and Bullwinkle were favorites, as was Underdog . There is something highly entertaining about the old cartoons. Something that the newer animations lack.”
“So how old are you exactly? I mean those were shows Mamie probably grew up watching. If you’re as old as she is you held up really good.”