Made for Me (Danielle Grant Book 1)

by Sarah Gerdes

  “Stephen said it was slow,” he murmured. “Not knowing you all that well, I figured a week might be enough time to determine if we wanted to see each other again.”

  Danielle’s cheeks unconsciously lifted with delight. “You had me deliver food for your party as a ploy to see me?” He pulled back, smiling wickedly as he took the tray from her. That was a first.

  A slow smile of victory raised his lips. “I’ll help you get the rest.”

  She was still happily laughing to herself as she walked beside him, up the grand steps, into the home, setting the food on the credenza in the hallway. She heard male voices in the background and raised her eyebrow.

  “You are having a party and I’m not invited?” she teased. “That’s bad manners, even for an American.”

  He set down his tray of food, guiding her back to the car for another load, his fingertips touching her lower back.

  “Actually, this is my dad’s home, not mine. I recently sold my place downtown and have to wait a couple of months for the new one to be renovated. So here I am, a bachelor back to living at home. As to having you over, I have a bunch of cousins here who came down from Geneva. Besides being male, rather crass and somewhat boring, they’re on the patio smoking and you’d get sick. But trust me, I’d love them to see who’s delivering the food.” With him helping, it only took another trip to unload the car.

  She admired the ironwork up the staircase along with a large painting on the wall. “All that staircase needs is a singing family. I can start on the first verse and you can join on the chorus.” Andre stared for a second then started laughing. “You think this is funny, but I’m serious. I know the words—”

  “But apparently not the country,” he replied. “That was Austria. This is Switzerland.”

  She waved him off dismissively, like a designer to a tailor. “Don’t trifle me with details,” she said, setting him laughing again. “I do need to get back though. Apparently the delivery orders are heavier than normal tonight.”

  The moonlight caught the patina roof and four-story pillars, the vines stretching up from the ground to the fountain on her left. Lilies floated on the surface of the water. When they reached the car, she brought up investing in the restaurant.

  “Are you still interested?”

  “What were you waiting for? Oh, to see if I was serious.”

  “Yes,” she answered, leaning against the car. He stepped forward, his hand touching her hip.

  “I am, you know.” His leaned in to her. “You wouldn’t know this, but I don’t normally act that way on the dance floor. And I don’t make investment offers for ventures that don’t make sense.”

  “Does that mean the two are linked?”

  Andre bit her neck lightly. “No need to insult me.”

  Danielle hummed, tilting her head. “Seriously, you can go back to your cousins now.”

  His breath hit her before his lips did. “Do you think I really needed food from Monroe’s?”

  “Everybody has to eat.”

  “I missed you,” he said softly, his whiskers tickling her skin.

  “Then why didn’t you call?” Even though she’d been relieved, another part of her wanted to know he cared.

  “You had told me how busy you are during the week. I wanted you to know how much I respect your schedule. To call was to interfere, so I didn’t.”

  Aw man, that was a good reason.

  She lifted her right knee, touching the center of his thigh. He responded by sliding his hand down her leg then up again, stopping at her the base of her skirt, holding her in place, squeezing. Voices in the background interrupted her head rush.

  “Someone’s coming down the hall,” Danielle whispered.

  “Want to go for a bike ride tomorrow?” he asked.

  “Yes, after I get on the water for a couple of hours.”

  “Perfect,” he murmured, his lips grazing hers. “I’ll meet you at Giles’ place, say 2?”

  As the voices grew louder, she pulled back. “If something comes up, please call me. No texting,” she quietly ordered. “It’s so…impersonal.”

  “I promise. I’ll call like a perfect gentleman.”

  Yes, she thought on the drive back to the restaurant. He was a gentleman, and so far, he was darn near perfect.

  By eleven she was on the water. She worked every muscle she had doing her best to capture nature’s gift from above and below, using both wind and water to gain speed and catch the waves. She curled, lifted and pulled with intensity, and her thighs screamed as she lifted even higher, pulling back on the sail, flipping a lateral 360 in one movement. Two hours later, Giles met her on the boardwalk.

  “Nice rotation,” he complimented, taking the board. He dried off the board as she headed back down the boardwalk to retrieve the sail.

  “I can help you with that,” called a familiar voice. She turned and smiled.

  “You might get wet,” she warned Andre. He looked divinely sexy in his grey jeans over black riding boots, a grey Porsche t-shirt and his thick hair in a perfectly-orchestrated mess above his ears.

  “I’ll dry,” he told her. “Pretty impressive moves out there.”

  “Yes, I do kick some booty on the water,” she replied with some pride.

  “Here buddy,” said Giles, joining them and directing Andre to take Danielle’s end of the sail. “Hang it there. Sweet.”

  Danielle laughed. “You’re so LA-beach bum with German accent,” she said as she reached behind her neck, ripped off the Velcro, grabbed the long strap of her wetsuit and started to unzip it all the way down her back. “How do these sedate and cultured people put up with you?”

  “They have no choice.”

  Danielle excused herself to change and she overheard Giles ask Andre how he knew her. She slipped on her skinny, worn Levis, her olive green, square-toed Frye’s riding boots, and a mock-turtleneck over a thin t-shirt.

  When Danielle emerged from the back room, she was braiding her hair to the side as casually as if she were in her own home, walking from the kitchen to the living room. Andre leaned against the counter, his arm draped over a carousel, an unchecked pose of casual sexy. The inner walls of her chest felt like her heart was pounding with the feverish pace of a rabbit’s foot.

  “It’s a beautiful day,” she said, glancing up. Andre pointed to the mountains. She saw fluffy, dark bunches resembling floating cauliflower.

  “Will be for another hour or two,” he predicted. “Time to see the town and have lunch.” Before they got on his motorcycle, he showed her how the Bluetooth headsets in the helmets worked. She waited until he was ready to mount the bike, the curvature of the seat tilting her forward. All the memories of their night together were now pushing at the lid she’d put in place to prevent distractions of the emotional kind.

  “You can hold onto the side handles,” he said, his voice in clear, surround sound within the helmet.

  She ran her hands under and up his jacket without hesitation. “I’m more comfortable this way,” she said, tightening her hands around his waist.

  “That will work too,” he said, the faint rumble of his laughter mixing with the revving engine. He eased the machine through the parking lot and on to the main street. She would have pinched herself had she been able to. On a bike, with Andre, taking a tour of the city. The back of her throat flexed from containing the thrill of exultation she felt, and her smile was so big her eyes nearly closed.

  Keep them open, she told herself. You don’t want to miss a moment.

  CHAPTER 14

  Andre veered sharply to the right and her inner thigh muscles instinctively tightened against the metal. Up he went, each steep hill followed by a flat intersecting road, one after another until he reached a plateau. He slowed to a stop where a gap in the homes and trees afforded a 180 degree view of the water. He flipped up his visor, suggesting she do the same.

  “That’s unbelievable,” Danielle breathed. Andre explained the lakeside communities to the south ha
d their own townships and then around the southern bend of the lake was mostly marshes. The opposite side of Lake Zurich was a blend of very new and modern condominiums scrunched against grey warehouses of cement and steel.

  “Your flat is excellent because the entire town can be reached in ten minutes or less, and the clubs are either on or just off the main street.”

  “Is everything in this entire city that close?” she asked dubiously.

  He turned around, his hand on his hip. “Zurich isn’t all that big,” he told her, his glacier blue eyes seeming to ripple with color. “It’s not as big as Portland, by comparison.”

  “Is that so?” she quizzed.

  For the next hour, Andre drove up and down through the hills, pointing out the zoo and telling her about the districts within the city.

  “You lean well,” he said out of the blue. “What type of bikes did you ride growing up?”

  “The type that work best in mud and dirt.”

  “No street riding?”

  “No. Dad drilled into my head that trees don’t usually jump out at you and kill you. Cars or buses do that.”

  “Then why are you on a bike with me?”

  “Because I trust you.”

  He touched her knee. “Thank you. I appreciate that.”

  Danielle enjoyed the seeds of happiness his acknowledgement had planted inside and then felt her stomach rumble.

  “Okay, I’m finally hungry now.”

  Over plates of fresh buffalo mozzarella and tomatoes, she got to know her bike-riding-dancing friend, for that’s the category she put him in. A friend to dine, dance and play with, the definition of play being broad and fluid.

  “Why do you love American things so much?” she asked him. “Beyond the muscle cars.”

  “It’s mostly the culture. The attitude of most Americans is more carefree than here, less inhibited. Even those of us who leave return changed. Look at Giles. He had been on the path to become an accountant and he returned a beach guy. I eat and drive what I really like, which is American.”

  “Have you ever been with an American girl before?”

  Andre lifted a dark eyebrow. “I’ve never dated one before, no. But if this continues, I’ll have the best parts of your country without crossing the borders.”

  Danielle caught the play of words in his answer. “Well, other than my dark looks, I’m not sure I’m all that different from the lovely Swiss ladies I see on every corner.”

  Andre paused. “It’s hard to describe to a person who’s grown up with it, but you are very different. For example, you were completely soaked, didn’t care about taking off your wetsuit on the boardwalk in front of anyone. And then out of the back room, you emerge with your hair half-done and hop on a motorcycle.”

  Danielle replayed the entire image as he said it, cocking her head. “Yes, but you already know what’s underneath. I had nothing to hide.”

  He smiled. “And at the club. You were uninhibited there too.”

  Danielle smirked. “I had a good reason.”

  She thought her comment would generate a knowing smile, but instead he turned thoughtful. “The simple act of being is sometimes the most hard for people, particularly if they are used to putting up a front. I suspect that you don’t.”

  “Don’t what? Put up a front?” She recalled how she’d been completely at ease dancing and kissing him, uncaring if others were looking. But then again, in the States kissing on the dance floor wasn’t all that remarkable. “Is that okay? I mean, does it make you uncomfortable?”

  “You being direct and unfettered? No. I love it. And I like that you are beautiful in your most natural state.”

  “The wet cat look does fit me,” she playfully agreed. He fixed his gaze on her, humor replaced with concentration. A new thought occurred to her. “You know what?” she said in an undertone. Andre raised an eyebrow inquisitively. “I think you are a closet American wanting to bust out of this culture but can’t, so you seek out us crazy foreigners to give you a sense of life on the outside—a temporary thrill.”

  Andre’s eyebrow raised higher. “Do I come across as a temporary-thrill type of guy?”

  “Sort-of, but then I’m no expert in reading the signals from my sample set of one.” In truth, she wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer. Some things were best left undiscussed.

  Beeping from Andre’s hip interrupted the moment. She motioned for him to take it. “Go ahead. I’m not offended.” She had a few bites of her meal as he read his texts. When he looked up, he wore an expression of sincere regret.

  “The singular tragedy of meeting you is that it’s happened at the start of the busiest time for us.” That’s not such a bad thing, she thought, taking another bite of food.

  The waiter returned and Andre signed the check, his hand resting on her lower back as she led the way to the door.

  Danielle hesitated as she looked outside. “Uh-oh.” Andre peered over her shoulder. It was pouring.

  “Ready for some wetness?” he asked her. She swallowed.

  “Absolutely.”

  Andre dashed out in the rain, motioning to her the moment he picked up the helmets. Danielle quickly fastened her strap as she got on the bike. Andre eased out the second her hands were around his waist. By the time he drove the bike up the lane, the top of her jeans were soaked through. The consolation was the rain was more of a drizzle, and it was warm, like when a flash downpour occurred in the tropics and ten minutes later the sun was shining. She glanced towards the Alps and saw the system was already passing through. In another hour, it would be nice again and Andre would be on a boat.

  Andre flipped up his visor when she got off and she handed him the helmet.

  “Thanks for the ride. It was amazing.” He started to get off but she put her hand on his shoulder. “Stay. I don’t want you to be late.” Reluctantly, he nodded and flipped the visor down, slowly pulling the bike around in a U.

  Danielle waved, expecting him to continue down the hill. Instead, he turned in another U, pulling right up alongside her. Andre straddled the bike, his wet jeans sticking to his muscular thighs. He removed his helmet, placing it the handlebar, and tugged at the bottom of her jacket, pulling her towards him. The thrill of his touch lit a flame in her chest that shot up to her throat.

  Danielle’s hands went to his collar, curling around the leather tightly as their lips met and Danielle felt the water move between their skin. “See you tonight?” he murmured, his lips sensually brushing the wet off her face. Danielle inhaled his breath, pressing hard against lips. Her fingers gripped tightly, wanting him so bad she saw lightning in her mind’s eye.

  “It might be after dinner,” he mumbled. “I’ll bring food.”

  “No,” she whispered. “I’ll make some.”

  Andre rumbled an affirmative before he lightly kissed the water from her nose. He then quickly put on his helmet and put his motorcycle into gear.

  Danielle walked back to her door, glancing over her shoulder for a wave. Andre’s visor was raised, and she caught one last look at those glacier blue eyes telling her all she needed to know.

  CHAPTER 15

  Danielle made herself some chamomile tea in an effort to warm up. She stared at an unopened cookbook on the coffee table, trying not to think about what the wet drizzle and Andre’s lips. His comment of dating an American was off-hand, she was sure, not meant to imply dating as in a monogamous relationship. Not someone like him, as Lani said, who went out in groups.

  Putting aside the thought Andre was anything more than fun, she cut the meat and vegetables for beef stew, getting it on the stove in time for it to simmer the hours necessary to tenderize the meat. She then spent the afternoon on the computer, stopping in time to make cornbread muffins and chocolate mousse. By five, the top floor had warmed significantly, requiring her to open the deck door and the bedroom windows, allowing the breeze to come through. She was in shorts and a t-shirt and her hair was up in a ponytail when the buzzer rang.


  “That smells incredible,” he complimented, his eyes taking her in. He smelled of wind and boating, his skin tasting slightly salty. The thought of him sweating under the sun was as sexy as his musky scent.

  “Are you hungry?” she asked him. He pulled her to him.

  “Yes. For food and other things as well.”

  She willingly pressed against him. “The food part can wait.”

  Sunday, Andre took her for a ride to the Alps, stopping at chocolate factories, a roadside chalet for lunch and alongside inlets leading into the various rivers. He took her hand from the time she was off the bike to when she replaced her helmet, the constant touch comfortable and easy. Danielle also noticed the frequency of his left palm on her leg, another connection point between the two of them.

  So different from the older men she dated, she thought, comparing Andre to her previous companions. It wasn’t that they were all about the show, but certainly the lack of emotional connection meant less outward public displays of any type. I guess I didn’t know what I was missing.

  She returned home to find that her father had called. Listening to the voice message, she smiled, grateful. Sheila had invited him over for dinner, making lasagna and homemade sourdough parmesan bread with tiramisu. Just about the worst combination of foods her dad could eat, but the enthusiasm she heard overruled the concern she felt. It was one meal. He was being appreciated. She honored his request not call back. Instead, she spoke with Lani about the upcoming week, which included closing the restaurant on Monday with the demolition beginning Tuesday. That night, Andre called her just as she shut down her computer.

  “Tomorrow night?” he asked.

  “Sorry, I can’t.”

  “Tuesday? I can change the schedules around.”

  She apologized again, then told him she was working.

  “Wednesday I’m on the water, but Thursday?”