Man of My Dreams: A Steamy Contemporary Tortured-Hero Romance (The Manly Series Book 3)

by Teddy Hester

  I missed something between yesterday and today. “You two know each other?”

  Paul turns his head, but doesn’t let go of Menuett’s hand. I notice that Alfred, already standing straight and tall, stiffens. Very protective. “Didn’t anyone tell you? She’s the one who brought you here. We met yesterday. And, again, how are you today, Ms. von Sternau?”

  She smiles, and the room is brighter. “I’m fine, thank you.”

  Alfred drapes an arm around Menuett, and Paul drops her hand with a final shake. Introductions are repeated, then Paul turns back to my angel. “I’m glad you’re here. I need your address and phone number, please. The studio wants to send its thanks.”

  Her gaze drops to the floor, then travels back up to meet Paul’s. “No thanks are necessary. I wish I could have done more. Something to help the other man.”

  The stone sitting in my stomach gets heavier. “I want to fly home with him, Paul. I should be with Nina right now.”

  “She’s taking the kids and moving back to Texas with her parents, Mick. The studio is handling it for her. Moon’s ashes are being sent there as well to be entombed in the family mausoleum. I doubt there’s much anyone can do.”

  “Ashes?”

  He nods. “His will asks for cremation. And considering—” He breaks off and swallows before continuing. “The autopsy’s finished. Now we’re just waiting on paperwork for the mortician and crematorium, and then home.”

  “I need my phone. When’s the funeral, do you know?”

  “It depends on the timing. Once the paperwork gets through the proper channels, then arrangements can be finalized for interment. It’s tedious to navigate all the embassy and governmental steps required to transport a body or even its ashes from one country to another. But we’re trying to make it happen sooner rather than later.”

  “So, it sounds as if he won’t be leaving Germany today, and I might be able to accompany him to the States after all.”

  “Doubtful, but we’ll see. We need you here for the inquest. The police here are very thorough, and the insurance companies need as much info as possible. We got lots from your videos, but we’ll need you to fill in any blanks.” His head swivels to Menuett. “And they’ll probably want to talk to you, too, in case there were things you saw that weren’t caught on video. I really need your phone number, please. Here, type it into my phone.” He pulls out that device, taps and scrolls, then hands it to her.

  Lord, I wish I weren’t in this bed. “I left my bag at the air field. My phone’s in it. Has my family been contacted?”

  “I’ll make sure your bag gets to you today.” He takes his phone back from Menuett and types himself a note. “No, we didn’t call your family. We thought they might prefer to hear from you directly. Go ahead and use my phone to call them.” He finishes his note and offers me the phone.

  Menuett stirs. “It’s time for us to go. I’m sorry for your loss, and I’m glad you’re going to get well.” She nods at Birgitte, and the three move toward the door.

  I pause in typing my parents’ phone number. “Menuett?”

  She stops and looks over her shoulder.

  It feels like there should be more to say. She’s been by my side through the most difficult experience I’ve ever had. She’s the only other person who went through any part of this with me, knows the hurt, had feelings about it. What do you say in a situation like that?

  “Thank you.”

  Her response is a fleeting smile, and in that instant, somehow I know we’re not done.

  CHAPTER 5

  Menuett

  It feels a bit cowardly, driving away from that injured pilot, but at the same time, I can’t drive fast enough or put enough distance between us.

  This whole episode has dredged up old memories of losing my parents. A catastrophic accident, and they never came back. Now this pilot is going through what I went through when I found out my parents were dead. His best friend is dead. And he saw it happen.

  I couldn’t do anything to save or even help my parents. That’s part of why I tried so hard to do something for those pilots. It’s certainly why I stayed overnight. Stayed through awkward interactions with strangers wondering who I am. Stayed until I could make sure at least one flyer was going to make it. To know Mick’s family won’t have to go through what I did.

  Mick said Moon has children. I hate knowing what they’re suffering. The pain, the loss and loneliness—it never goes away. Their lives will never be the same.

  And neither will Mick’s.

  Holding him while he cried for his friend almost broke me. Alfred held me the same way after my parents died. And someday—maybe someday soon—Birgitte and Alfred will die, too. And I’ll hurt all over again. Only worse, because I will be completely and truly alone.

  *****

  The sweet scent of flowers hits me before I see Dieter. When I round the corner into my oak-paneled library, an elegant bouquet nabs my attention. Pink roses and lavender tulips nestle in an explosion of white spring snowflakes with their little yellow dot on the tip of each petal. The last are wildflowers that grow all over this area of western Germany and are a favorite of mine.

  It’s no surprise that he knows what I prefer, considering he’s been bringing me flowers and gifts for the past year.

  Facing the window, the bouquet held behind his back, Dieter stands in his riding gear with his legs splayed, looking like the master of all he surveys. He’s big and blond, as rugged as a Teutonic knight. And he’d like to be my lord and master. An idea I’m not particularly fond of.

  “Guten Morgen, Dieter. What beautiful flowers. Thank you.”

  He turns at my voice and smiles, opening his arms. I let him enfold me in a proprietary embrace and endure the kiss he plants on my forehead. My housegirl, Kati, enters with a vase of water for the flowers, and the moment is over as quickly as it began.

  “Have you recovered from last week’s excitement?” he asks.

  I bury my nose in a tulip and inhale its delicate scent before handing everything over to Kati for arranging. She deposits the filled vase on my desk in the corner of the wood- and leather-filled room and leaves. “Completely. I wish you’d leave it alone.” Every time he’s seen me this week he’s asked the same question.

  He takes my hand and kisses the palm. “And if Birgitte didn’t want to go shopping, I wish you would have called me.”

  We’d been through this once already, too. “Shopping? Oh, Dieter,” I laugh. I can just imagine how much he’d like being perched on a velvet chair in a ladies’ dress shop. He’d be whining for us to leave practically from the minute we walked in.

  His probing blue gaze conveys more than I want it to. “It would be time spent with you. Watching out for you and keeping you safe.”

  I squeeze his hand before dropping it. “I don’t need to be kept safe.”

  He cocks his head and runs a finger down the side of my cheek. “We all need someone to look out for us.”

  The pilot I left in the hospital comes to mind. If I hadn’t stopped, would Mick have made it out of the crash alive? Chills run up my spine at the thought.

  I guess I can’t disagree with Dieter. He really is a good man. I am fond of him. I’ll probably accept his proposal someday, and love can grow from there. “I have Birgitte and Alfred.”

  But for how much longer? Loneliness sweeps over me again, thinking about what my life will be like when they’re gone. But is that a good enough reason to marry?

  He opens his mouth to say something, and I hold up my hand. “I was planning to do something out of doors today. Would you like to go riding with me?”

  Strong white teeth are revealed with his confident grin. “If I can’t talk you into eloping with me this afternoon, I suppose that will have to do. Though I can think of other pleasant ways to spend the time—”

  I give him my stern eye, which someone once told me looks like I’m in pain. “No, that’s not on the agenda.”

  He laughs, his hands raise
d as if to ward off any attack I might be thinking of perpetrating. “All right, all right. I’ll go quietly with you to the stables.”

  “And no more talk of eloping,” I add, leading us out of the house.

  He hooks my arm through his, and we stroll around the front of the Schloss to the outbuildings. “That I won’t promise. I know that someday you’ll say yes.”

  We reach the stables, and Dieter tugs on the sliding barn door. The stalls have been freshly mucked, so the rich, warm smell of horses and hay are what register most strongly. I love that earthy smell and stride quickly to my Oldenburg’s stall to bury my nose in her long, ivory mane and stroke her pale, dapple-gray coat. “Steffi.”

  While my horse and I share nuzzles, Dieter throws my saddle over Steffi’s back. She stomps a hind foot, setting her long, full tail swinging.

  If I don’t distract her, she’ll whip him with it like she flicks pesky flies. “Thanks, I’ll finish that.” I take over saddling her while Dieter moves to do the same to the black Hanoverian he leaves in my stable for our rides. I have to admit our horses are quite a pair, both big, one black, the other gray. As tall as Dieter is, Gunnar could rest his elegant head on top of Dieter’s. But the two males seem to recognize each other’s maleness and share a bonding moment, Gunnar’s long neck bent round to rub his cheek against Dieter’s shoulder.

  I pat Steffi’s neck, running my fingers through her mane, letting her ground me. “There’s nothing better or more permanent than a horse’s love.” I lean in and croon, “Isn’t that right, girl?” Her ears twitch to catch my voice. She nickers in reply, and we walk out of the stables. Dieter leads Gunnar out right behind us.

  As soon as we clear the doorway, we mount, and I head us toward the small lake in the middle of the Sternau land. Gunnar and Steffi adjust their pace to each other, so we’re strolling side by side through fields of wildflowers. The morning sun has burned off the dew, but condensation still rises off the lake. When we’re close enough, I see a fish leap from the clear blue water, its fins glistening where the light hits. I love this land of my ancestors. Maybe someday my children will feel the same.

  Woods grow along one side of the lake, landscaped to provide a grassy space for picnicking or relaxing with a book. We dismount and tether the horses to a tree branch while Dieter and I meander.

  I stoop to pick a cattail growing on the bank and play with its softness. “I’m supposed to be checking fences for Alfred. But I’m too lazy today.”

  Dieter removes his riding gloves and folds them into a jacket pocket. “He probably didn’t expect you to. I told him I’d do it with him this week.”

  That sparks a laugh from me. “He said I should get you to help.”

  “All right. We’ll check the fence along our shared border.” He reaches for my wrist and pulls me close. “Later.” His head dips, and he brushes his mouth against mine. His lips are warm and surprisingly soft. When I don’t push him away, an arm snakes around my waist, and he holds my head in place with his free hand so he can claim my lips again.

  His kisses are always pleasant, if not particularly exciting. His hold is possessive. It makes me feel safe and precious. I inhale his scent—expensive cologne and sunshine—and lean into his big body.

  “Schatzi,” he breathes and slides a hand over my bottom to press our lower bodies closer together.

  But how far should I let things go before pulling back? I’m as curious as the next woman about sex and am interested in seeing what he does next. I’ve even let him touch me in more intimate places than I’ve let others, because it’s always been in the back of my mind that someday I will finally accept Dieter’s proposal. But until then, is it fair to just play with him? Even as he calls me his treasure?

  My phone rings. I break off the kiss, and Dieter curses under his breath.

  “It might be Alfred or Birgitte. I have to check,” I say with an apologetic grin. He nods, but doesn’t let me go.

  That makes it more challenging to pull out my phone, but when I finally fish it out of my pocket for a glance, I don’t recognize the number. “Hallo?”

  “Menuett? It’s Mick DePaul. Have I called at a bad time?”

  My pulse jumps. The pilot is calling me. It’s been a week since the crash, and he never called, so I didn’t expect to hear from him again. Dieter’s studying me. “I’m not at home, but that’s fine. What can I do for you?”

  “Will you please come rescue me again?”

  He’s practically whining. I can’t help my sputtering laugh. “What? Where are you?”

  “I’m still in Trier, at Schroeders Appartementhotel. Before they packed up and went back to the States, the studio put me up here when the hospital released me. It’s a nice place, but it’s sort of isolated from everything. The hospital required the studio to hire a nurse to stay with me until I’m finally cleared by the doctor and can fly back to the States, and she’s driving me crazy. They, I should say, because I have three that come at different times, and they never leave me alone. They monitor my eating, my exercise, my sleeping, my hygiene, of course. Everything. Like I’m an invalid. If I don’t get out of here, I’m going to murder somebody.”

  I smother a giggle. “You don’t like our German efficiency?”

  His silence stretches. “I didn’t mean to disparage Germany or Germans.”

  Dieter scowls and mouths Who is that? I don’t know if he can hear the conversation, or if he doesn’t like that he’s not part of it. “I understand. Can you make it another couple of hours until I get there?”

  “You’re poking fun at me. I deserve it. Yes, I can make it. I’m in suite 106.”

  I end the call and slip the phone back in my pocket. “I need to go.” I kiss him then break away.

  Dieter follows me to the horses and gathers their reins. “Where are you going? What about the rest of our ride?”

  Part of me feels guilty as I take Steffi’s reins from him. “I need to go to Trier and help the pilot.”

  His face goes from a scowl straight to thundercloud. “Why would he call you? Doesn’t he have studio people he could call?”

  “He said they’re gone, and he’s here until the doctor will clear him to fly.”

  “He could go to a hotel.”

  I spring into my saddle. “That’s where he is, but he needs to leave. I’m going to go get him, Dieter.”

  Dieter jumps on Gunnar’s back. “Fine. I’ll take you.”

  We signal the horses into a fast walk back to the stables. The urge to trot niggles at me, but the horses haven’t had enough of a workout yet to keep their legs from cramping, so I tamp down my impatience. “Thank you, but that will be four or five hours out of your day. I’ll be fine.”

  His jaw is cast in iron. “I know you can take care of yourself, Menuett. But a woman alone—what if you have a flat tire? I’d like you to let me show my care for you, sometimes, too.”

  It’s lovely that he wants to protect me. He’s right about the nurturing. Why am I fighting it? He’s a good man, we come from the same world, he’ll take good care of me.

  “Thank you, Dieter. I’d like you to go with me, if you can spare the time.”

  “For you, I’ll make the time.”

  “And, Dieter? I might be open to talking about what we each expect from a marriage.”

  *****

  The call to Birgitte completed, I relax into the passenger seat of Dieter’s Silver Porsche Carrera. It’s as powerful and elegant as the sweaty horse we left for a stable hand to curry. “Birgitte’s holding dinner until we get back. You’ll stay, won’t you?”

  He takes his smiling eyes from the road for a quick glance my way. “Of course, Mausi.”

  I clap a hand over my mouth. “Oh, no, Dieter! I’ll be your little treasure, but you know I don’t like you to call me your little mouse. It’s the name my mother used for me when I was five. Coming from the man I’m kissing, that’s just too weird.”

  “I’m sorry, love, but you’re so little and soft-loo
king over there, like something I’d like to hold and pet.”

  My eyes roll. “Weird and more weird.”

  He grins at the landscape, eyes back on the road. “I’m trying to be romantic.”

  That’s my entrée. “Do you want children, Dieter?”

  He jerks. I’ve startled him. “Yes. Of course. I’d like to have lots of children. Don’t you?”

  “I’d like to have children, too, but maybe not as many as you.”

  “Are we talking about this now? Where should we live—my property or yours?”

  That’s ticklish. “My family’s been at Sternau since 1246.”

  He grimaces. “We’ve only been at Hasen-Klee since the 1500s, but my ancestor was made Herzog.”

  “Duke does rank above my family’s barony. But I don’t know that I could leave Sternau. And I certainly won’t sell it.”

  “It will be hard to keep two estates the sizes of ours, Menuett.”

  “Until we have all those children.”

  He laughs. “Lots and lots of children. We won’t be able to afford to hire field workers or house maids.”

  “Speaking of expense, let’s talk about those parties you’re always giving.”

  “They’re important, since I connect them to my charities. But to be frank, I also like parties.”

  My heart plummets. I like quiet country living, without the fuss or expense of entertaining. “You’d expect me to be a society hostess.”

  “Ja, Liebling. It’s part of our duties. Your parents had quite a busy social calendar. But I know you don’t care for that lifestyle, so we’d compromise. Fewer parties, more casual. Maybe limit the formal ones to the holiday season.”

  He’s trying. That’s something. “With plenty of private time for the family?”

  “Ja, Schatzi. Time to cuddle on the couch, our children and dogs around us.”

  “With Birgitte and Alfred, too?”

  “Of course. They’re part of your family, so they’ll be part of our family.”

  This all sounds good. My life wouldn’t change much, would it? Well, besides the husband and children part. “And I’d still run Sternau while you run Hasen-Klee?”