The waiter showed the couple to their table. The husband was maybe forty, a big guy with a rugged outdoor look and a friendly, happy-go-lucky manner. The woman was younger, probably late twenties. She was gorgeous with long auburn hair, twinkling green eyes, and a delightful, athletic body. Her physical package was complemented by a warm, witty charm. He was dressed in gray slacks with a natty blue sports coat without a tie. She was in a short black skirt, lacy low-cut blouse, and high heels that combined to show off her feminine physique to advantage.
Fritz, the waiter, held the chair out for the wife and said, "So, what are we celebrating tonight?"
Brooke, the wife, smiled politely at Fritz as she settled into her seat. "Thank you. I put my completed novel in Fed Ex, this morning. This is our celebre dinner for my finally getting it done."
Brooke had procrastinated and gotten behind. It had taken weeks of ten- and twelve-hour days to meet the publisher's deadline. She felt delightfully free and lighthearted tonight.
Fritz replied, "Ah, you are an author then?"
John, the husband, replied proudly, "Yes, indeed. This is her fifth novel. Pretty soon I can put my feet up and be a kept man."
Brooke laughed, "Oh I don't know about that, Dear. You and your construction company pay the real bills." She smiled at Fritz, "I am no Faulkner or James Patterson, I fear. I write ladies' romance novels."
Brooke had tried her hand at a "real" novel after college and still pulled it out occasionally to work on. Maybe some day she would finish it. But she had found her niche in romance novels and had a growing fan base. She knew on which side her bread was buttered and concentrated on the profitable romance novels. She flattered herself that she wrote on a more sophisticated level than most of the bodice rippers, but her stories had a definite lusty side to them. After all, sex is what sells.
As Fritz introduced himself, passed out menus, and took their drink orders, John asked, "How does a restaurant with such highly regarded French and German cuisine come to be located here in such a remote part of northern Florida? It is a forty minute drive from our home in Tallahassee but after reading the reviews in the paper last month, we decided it must be worth the trip."
Fritz laughed. "It is quite a story. My Aunt was from Ramstein village in Germany and was an assistant chef at a famous spa near there. She fell in love with one of your young airmen from the base and married him. Fourteen years later, he retired from the Air Force over at Eglin Air Force Base west of here. He now runs a dive and eco-excursion business taking tourist to the limestone springs near here and out in the Gulf. My Aunt opened her restaurant and also has a small motel and RV park next door. It has worked out very well for them for the last seven years or so now."
Brooke smiled, "That is quite a romantic story. I could use it as a framework in one of my novels. How do you happen to be here, though?"
Fritz raised his hands and shrugged. "Alas, they have two children who are off at college now. Neither one wants anything to do with the business. Our family members in Germany have been chefs and inn keepers for generations. I was managing an inn in Trier when my Aunt and Uncle asked last year if I would come to work with them. They think perhaps as they are getting older, I can take on a bigger role over time and eventually own the business. We will see."
Brooke glanced around. There was one couple at another table being served by a waitress and several patrons at the bar.
"You are not very busy."
"Early April is slow here. In the winter we are overrun with Canadian Snowbirds fleeing their brutal winters. From late spring to early fall when it is warmer, everyone comes for the limestone springs and the Gulf, and we are very busy then. This is a more relaxing time of year. I will get your drink orders while you peruse the menu."
Brooke looked around the restaurant. It had a charming European atmosphere; certainly not what you expect in rural Florida. Definitely she could use this and the Aunt's story as a setting for a new novel.
And that Fritz! He was a casting director's dream of a masculine Teutonic hero. Tall, blond, blue eyed with a rock-solid, square jaw line matched with a narrow waist and broad shoulders. Put all of that together with his endearing German accent, and a girl's loins would turn to mush. Brooke blushed realizing how her body was responding to Fritz. Yep, she had found the sexy hero for her next novel.
Fritz returned with a Martini for John and glass of Sancerre wine for Brooke. He told them about the specials and left them to debate their dinner selections. On his return, Brooke ordered the Dover Sole that was on special and John the jaeger schnitzel.
Fritz observed, "Those are two classic dishes. I am sure you will be pleased."
John remarked to Brooke, "Be sure to save room for desert. The reviews said the creme brule here is the best. I know you are not normally a dessert girl watching your figure and all, but tonight you must indulge yourself."
Fritz chimed in, 'Absolutely! You must indulge. My Aunt does the brule in the French style; it is the best I have ever eaten."
Brooke laughed, "Well, we'll see if I have any room after I've finished my dinner. The menu writeup does makes it sound sinfully delightful though."
John's cell phone rang. He glanced at it with irritation and then said, "It's Terry; he's in Richmond trying to get the bid for the airport job ready to go in the day after tomorrow. I told him to only call me tonight if it was an emergency. I better take it."
Brooke felt a flash of disappointment at the interruption of their celebre dinner date. She sighed and looked up at Fritz, catching him glancing subtly down her blouse at her partially revealed breasts. She had not worn a bra tonight to titillate John who enjoyed sporting her about in sexy outfits in public. Within reason, she actually enjoyed being shown off; she must have an exhibitionist streak hidden inside her somewhere - but not too much!
She smiled, smugly pleased by Fritz's attention. She arched her back as she pulled her shoulders back and leaned forward slightly, discretely providing Fritz a teasingly better view. She was certainly feeling pretty perky and frisky tonight.
John covered the phone and said, "Honey I'll need to talk to Terry for 10 or 15 minutes; I'll be quick as I can."
Brooke smiled resignedly and replied with some irritation, "Don't worry about it, John. I'll have another glass of wine to keep me company."
Fritz turned his attention to Brooke, "I will hold your order until your husband is off the phone. Why don't you go out on our balcony? We are not serving dinner out there this time of year, but it is open to our guests. It is a nice place to sit and has a lovely view of the river. Tonight is quite pleasant outside."
Brooke replied with a miffed glance at her husband, "I believe I just might do that. Get a little fresh air and enjoy the view."
John had returned to his call now and waved distractedly for her to go. As Brooke rose from her chair, she leaned even further over leaving little of her breasts hidden from Fritz's stare. As she rose from her seat, she looked boldly at Fritz and smiled coyly, thinking to herself "you, young lady, are being a very bold girl tonight."
A red-faced Fritz said stiffly, "I will bring the wine to you out on the balcony. When your husband is through with his call, I will come let you know."
Brooke strolled out on the balcony, laughing to herself over Fritz's embarrassment.
It was a spacious balcony with a dozen or so unoccupied tables. Since dinner was not being served out here, none of the balcony lights were on. There was no moon tonight, but the sky was cloudless and filled with crystal sharp stars. This far out in the country the night sky was so much more beautiful than in the city. Brooke glanced in the window into the restaurant and saw John was still engrossed in his call. He had taken a notebook and pen from his coat pocket and was taking notes as he listened.
Looks like John's call may take a while, she thought. With a groan of exacerbation over her ruined dinner date, Brooke turned and wandered the forty feet or so over to the rail. The river snaked off into the darkness below, and the muted starlight made the flowing water shimmer. A whippoorwill trilled over and over out in the forest by the river. They are rare here in northern Florida, and she had not heard one since she was a little girl growing up in rural north Georgia. It was a pleasant and relaxing setting, and her irritation with John was starting to wane some.
"Brooke, here is your wine."
She almost jumped out of her skin in surprise as she had not heard Fritz come out on the balcony. He was standing next to her holding her glass of Sancerre.
Trembling from surprise, she took the wine. "Thank you."
She took a sip and stared at Fritz, faintly revealed in the starlight. He remained motionless and silent in the dark. She could smell the sharp, spicy bite of a cologne she had not noticed inside. He was standing very close; well inside her personal space. A light warm spring breeze was wafting around them. Perhaps that was why she could smell the cologne out here but not inside. She smiled thoughtfully to herself. Or maybe he had just put some on to attract her. If so, it was working.
She glanced in the window. Her husband was still deeply engrossed in his phone call, alternately scribbling notes, talking animatedly, and listening intently. She obviously was no longer on his mind. Her waning irritation with John flared hot again. Brooke took a large sip of wine, thought for a second, and then put the glass on a table to one side.
"Come here, Fritz."