Page 18 of The German's Guilty Pleasure
He motioned me to the counter where two books lay open and waiting. “These are the reports from the caterers for the ninety days they were here. It was only three months, so we don’t have a lot of data, but even after we paid out their contract, we were in the black by thousands. Since I run the reception desk, I can tell you we had several groups coming over for lunch every day from three different buildings. There are no other cafes on this end of the district, so unless you want to have it delivered, you’re brown-bagging it. Last week, I had a group come in for coffee and pastries with a potential client who was tight on time between flights.”
I leaned on the counter and crossed my arms over my chest. “You’re saying the outside revenue is already coming in.”
“To a degree, yes. Most of the traffic is over lunch, though. With a little bit of marketing on your end, we could have the place filled throughout the day. I don’t think that would be a problem. What is the problem? Staffing. I don’t know anything about hiring people to run a café.”
I held up my finger. “You don’t have to. That’s a human resource problem. All we do is tell them what we need, and they hire the positions, starting with a manager. Then we sit down with the manager and go over our ideas and what our marketing directive is. I know this is kind of your baby, so you can have as much or as little say in it as you want, but don’t even think about wanting to run it. We wouldn’t survive without you at the helm of this building.”
He grinned and patted my shoulder. “Thanks for saying so, but you could always hire three other people to replace me.”
I winked and pointed at him. “You almost had me.” I turned and took in the space. “I like how the café butts up to the courtyard. We could put a few tables out on the patio where people could sit and enjoy the gardens. What would you think of calling it Kontakt Café?”
He made the mind blown motion with his hand. “Wow. You just blew me away with that marketing genius name. I didn’t see it coming.”
I stuck my tongue out at him while he laughed. “Hear me out. Do you remember the movie Contact with Jodie Foster?” He nodded, but I could see the confusion in his eyes. “What if we made the logo for the café a satellite? We would put it on the to-go cups and food packaging. Subtle, but it would be an instant association for people. We would spell it the same as the company, but people won’t have a hard time remembering the name. Who cares if they spell it C O N T A C T as long as they utilize the café?”
He shook his finger at me. “I get what you’re saying now. Are we going to have a dildo sticking out of the center of the satellite?”
My laughter filled the café until I couldn’t breathe. I had to bend over and suck in air like a four-pack-a-day smoker. “Oh. My. God. I can’t believe you said that. First of all, it’s a sensual aid.”
He was wiping tears from his eyes, and a new round started at my comment. Finally, he held his hand up and waved it. “I’m sorry. A sensual aid sticking out the center of it.”
“The answer is no. We will pretend to keep it classy, and no one will be the wiser.”
“I’m not following. How do you pretend to keep it classy?” Seth asked, absolutely perplexed.
“You name the products and drinks on the menu after items in your sensual aids catalog.”
He chewed on his lip while a sneaky grin lifted the corners. “I knew there was a reason I liked you. Subliminal messaging while keeping marketing simple.”
I tipped my head to the left in agreement. “I’ll give you a little bit of insider information. Bring back the hot dog wrapped in pizza dough and name it The Diamondback.”
“Diamondback? Like the snake? We don’t have anything in the catalog named that.”
“Yet. You’re going to want to be on the list to test it when it becomes available, and I’m not talking about the hot dog.” I winked, and that small smile he wore grew into a full-fledged grin.
Eight
Lars
I was slowly losing it. I never saw her coming. When she hit me with that smile the first time, I was a goner, and I did not even know it. She was all that and a bag of chips, as they say here. I knew I had to have her after that kiss the other night. After the one this morning, I was aware I had crossed a line I could not uncross. If she wanted to, she had me dead to rights for kissing her in my office. My penthouse or her apartment was a different story, but doing it right in the place her contract says it would never happen wasblöd. That kind of stupidity could land the whole company in hot water. I had to remember to be more careful about when and where I touched her. Let there be no doubt. I would touch her again. I would kiss her. I would, one day, make love to her. I just had to remember to do it in a place that would not break any contract rules.
On the ride down to the lobby, my hand was at her back, and her heat soaked into my palm. I should stay hands-off, but to a casual observer, it looked like nothing more than me helping her over the elevator threshold when the doors opened. To me, it was scratching an itch. I had needed to touch her since she walked out of my office hours ago.
“Where are we going?” she asked again. She had been asking since I told her to change into something for fun and … pleasure.
“Patience, my little—”
“I am not a blue bird!” she exclaimed, throwing her hands up in the air.
“You are also not patient,” I said, a smile on my lips when I passed Seth, who held the door for us. “Thanks, Seth. We’ll be back, but do not wait up for us.”
“You got it, boss,” he said, letting the door close behind us.
“My car or you—”
I beeped the horn on mine and opened the door for her to sit.
“Well, hello yours,” she said, settling into the buttery leather seat.
