The German’s Guilty Pleasure by Katie Mettner

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About the author:

Katie Mettner writes small-town romantic tales filled with epic love stories and happily-ever-afters. She proudly wears the title of, 'only person to lose her leg after falling down the bunny hill,' and loves decorating her prosthetic with the latest fashion trends. She lives in Northern Wisconsin with her own happily-ever-after and three mini-mes. Katie has a massive addiction to coffee and Twitter, and a lessening aversion to Pinterest — now that she's quit trying to make the things she pins.

What inspired you to write your book?

My daughter challenged me to write a book about a German CEO who falls for an employee. The catch was, his business had to be something taboo. I had so much fun writing this series because while taboo and easy to play on words, in the end, the series makes you laugh and cry, which is what I'm always trying to accomplish as a writer.

Here is a short sample from the book:

The parking lot was empty other than a forest green Porsche convertible sitting near the door. Nothing says I’m rich, powerful, and German like a Porsche 911. My beat-up, hand-me-down, almost dead Buick stuck out like a sore thumb parked next to it. It was a serious case of beauty and the beast. When I walked past, I noticed the license plate on the Porsche read Kontakt. I smacked myself lightly on the forehead. No wonder I couldn't get a hit when I Googled it. Of course they'd use the German spelling. In my defense, I had only been given an hour to change my clothes and make the forty-minute drive here. I didn’t have time to do my due diligence. Standing here now, staring at the eerily empty parking lot, I wish I had.
The building before me was towering steel and glass that went on for miles. The steel made it intimidating while the windows welcomed you. Ironically, that was something often said of the German people themselves. I grasped the opaque door handle, and my eyes took in the European font etched into the glass door. One word. Kontakt. Wait? Does he own the whole building? I shook my head no. That wasn’t possible. When I walked in, and the shine of the marble floor nearly blinded me, I was sure that wasn’t possible. You’d have to be a billionaire to own an entire ten-story building, especially one this opulent. I glanced around the rest of the reception area where a cherry wood desk sat, sans receptionist. I wasn’t going to get much help there.
“No place to go but up,” I muttered after the elevator doors opened. I was suddenly nervous about more than just the job interview. My finger hovered over the elevator buttons. What floor? It would have been nice if my professor had given me more to go on here. A fissure of fear ran down my spine. I retreated from the elevators and paced a few steps in each direction, completely unsure what my next move should be. I’d taken a lot of risks in my life, some far more dangerous than walking into an unoccupied office building to meet an unknown man, but I couldn’t say this wasn’t dangerous. Regardless, I needed this job. I wanted this job. Hell, I wanted any job. I wanted to move out of the professor’s house and get a place of my own, which was something I'd never had. Unless you counted that one time when I pitched a tent behind campus.
I noticed a building directory to the side of the elevator, not surprised when only one floor had a name next to it. "Kontakt Corporate occupies the ninth floor. Looks like Mr. Lars Jäger has almost made it to the top." I snickered when the doors to the elevator slid closed and lifted me upward.
Smoothing the jacket of my pantsuit down, I took a couple of deep, calming breaths. I had no idea what Lars was looking for in an applicant for this marketing position. With so little to go on, I hadn’t bothered to bring anything with me other than my resume, a notepad, and a pen. Oh, and my pepper spray. You don’t grow up the way I did and walk into an unknown situation completely unprepared. I wasn’t dying to die today.
The doors opened, and I stepped out onto a rug done in muted browns and greys. It screamed high class, something I only knew about from my years of cleaning high-rise office buildings for the upper echelon of Miami during college. The reception area directly off the elevator was just as empty as the one downstairs. Apparently, no one had breathed life into the place yet.
“Hello?” I called out. “Mr. Jäger? Is anyone here?”
A disembodied voice answered me from the left and down the hallway. “In my office, Miss Matthews.”
I rolled my eyes at his welcoming ways. “What if I’m not Miss Matthews?”
“You drive a Buick, white with red trim,” he called back. “I noticed it in the parking lot.”
“How did you know that was my car?” I asked, my steps faltering on the carpet.
“You just told me,” he answered as I stopped in the doorway of his office. “Willkommen zu Kontakt, Miss Matthews.”
The man before me was a German god. Standing behind his desk, he knew exactly who he was and what he wanted out of life. He snapped the cuffs on his white dress shirt, his black blazer abandoned on his chair. He wore a ring on the middle finger of his left hand, but that wasn’t what drew my attention. My attention was focused solely on his eyes. Blue. Sky blue. Piercing blue. I sucked in air when they flicked over me from top to bottom and back to top. The forced break in eye contact allowed me to drink in the rest of him.
Perfectly straight nose – check. Strong chin with a tiny cleft to make you swoon – check. Barely-there blond petite goatee – check. Mmm, he was yummy. His blond hair was styled in the mussed, au naturale look, but I suspected he spent a lot of time styling it that way. He was over six feet of lean muscle and under two hundred pounds. I stared at the way his abs and pecs filled out his dress shirt in the most delicious way. He definitely spent his fair share of time at the gym.
“Schön sie kennenzulermen, Mr. Jäger.” It was indeed extremely nice to meet him. He was sexy with a side of yes, please. Even if I didn't get the job, he made the drive over here worth it.
“I am glad you could make it on such short notice.” He held up his finger and turned to the bookcase behind him. He fiddled rather clumsily with a camera while he spoke. “I hope you do not mind, but I will be recording our interview.”
“Why do you deny your accent?” My head was cocked to the side when he spun on me. “It must be torture.”
His highly sculpted brow went up in surprise. “A gutsy little blauer vogel.”
I noted his accent was strong and free with those words and I grinned in response. “I assure you, I’m no blue bird. The gutsy bit is accurate. Now then, if you’d like to turn the camera off, we can proceed.”
He shook his finger at me and then motioned me into the office. “The camera is to protect both of us. If you would like to record it on your own device, that would be acceptable.”
I glanced back at the door to judge the distance to safety. “What exactly do I need protecting from?”
He motioned his hand around the office. “It is the nature of the business we’ll be discussing. It is better to have clear evidence that our discussion was purely business.”
“What else would it be?” He offered me a smile that was meant to be welcoming and reassuring but came off like the Big Bad Wolf’s. “I’m afraid I’m at a disadvantage here, Mr. Jäger,” I paused when he held up his hand.
“Lars, please.”
“Lars. I don’t know what kind of business you conduct. I was simply told to be here at three for an interview.”
He motioned for me to sit opposite his desk and then lowered his beautifully sculpted German backside into his leather executive chair. I glanced at the camera, back at the door, and then back at him. He was waiting patiently, his hands folded over his desk, and a brow crooked up lazily. It was sexy to the nth degree, and he knew it. I lowered myself to the chair and dug out my resume slowly to give my brain time to restart after that little display of hotness. Still unsure of the situation, I slid my pepper spray into the front pouch of my purse at the same time.
“My resume,” I explained, holding it out to him.
“Your resume is not needed. I know that you are graduating summa cum laude on Friday with a marketing degree as well as an honors in German degree.”
I tipped my head to the side. “And you know this how?”
He leaned forward onto his desk and eyed me. “Who told you about the interview, Miss Matthews?”
“Serenity, please,” I responded with slight irritation in my tone, but not at him. I was irritated with the person who had sent me on this wild goose chase. “My professor told me about the interview. He indicated he didn’t know anything about your company, though.”
He smiled, his perfectly straight white teeth glinting back at me for a moment. I suspected it was a smile many beautiful women had seen right before he deflowered them. “I spoke with Professor Watkins at length about the position. I am honestly quite surprised you are here. He did not think you would be interested. He indicated that we had not spoken?”
I shook my head to clear it. I wasn’t used to his formal way of speaking English. It was his second language, so it wasn’t unusual that he didn’t use contractions, but it did take some getting used to. I replayed the conversation with Maynard through my head again. I frowned, and immediately his eyes danced with victory. “Actually, he said he didn’t need to check you out since you were using a big-name headhunting site.”
He tossed his head back and laughed in a manner that told me he was truly tickled. His long neck stretched toward me, and his Adam’s apple bobbed just enough to remind me of his virility. He was all man, and I was struggling to follow our conversation in the face of it. “He may have had it backward. I was headhunting you, once I knew you existed, that is. I noticed you earlier this month at the Campus Clubs event for the incoming freshman. You are exactly the woman I need for this position.”
I cleared my throat and folded my hands in my lap. I prayed my nervousness wasn’t as apparent as it felt. “Maybe you shouldn’t tell your applicant that. It might give them the wrong idea about negotiations for the position. Maynard indicated you were looking for someone with little to no experience. I’d like to know why that is. It would make more sense to employ someone with extensive knowledge of marketing when you’re trying to get a company off the ground.”
The left side of his lips tipped up in a motion that made me want to drop my panties instantly and let him have his way with me. I bet he was an animal in bed. His eyes told me he knew it, too. “Any other CEO might agree with you, but my business is different than most. The person I hire as a marketing director must be open, flexible, and not tied down to what may have worked for them in the past. My vision for Kontakt will require a fresh new eye and a strong desire to learn new techniques.”
“And your business is different how?” I glanced around the office space, but clues were not forthcoming.
“Kontakt involves sensual issues.”
“Sensual issues?”
“Mm, that is what I said, Serenity. Now you understand the need for the video camera.”
I ran my tongue across my teeth while my eyes darted to the camera and back to him. “You want me to market sensual issues?”
He chuckled, and this time, it was light and airy. “No, I want you to market sensual products. Personal care items. Sensual aids.”
“Sensual aids?”
He tipped his head and raised a brow in agreement. “Kontakt designs, manufactures, and sells sensual products for the modern man and woman.”
I tapped my chin and forced the embarrassment from my cheeks before they could stain pink. “Let’s decipher that statement. Kontakt designs, manufactures, and sells sex toys for any man or woman with enough money to buy one off the internet.”
His grin lit up his face, and I sucked in a breath at the idea that he was interviewing me for a position to market vibrators. “We prefer not to use that specific term, but,” he paused and waved his hand, “essentially, you are correct.”
“Is there something wrong with the term sex toy?”
He leaned forward again on his desk, and I instinctively leaned back. “It is outdated, my little blauer vogel. Kontakt uses German engineering to design and manufacture products women all over the world are using to awaken their sexual beings. When a woman has a Kontakt aid, she does not need a man to satisfy her. She can do it alone. While that is true, so it is true that many of our products are designed to be used by couples when together.”
I refused to drop eye contact with him. What was with him calling me a blue bird all the time? It was wholly inappropriate during a job interview. “Sounds like you’re designing, manufacturing, and selling your way out of existence, Lars.”
A smile tipped his lips, and it was the evil twin of the one he wore earlier. "If that camera was not on, I would educate you on how untrue that is. Since it is recording, let us discuss the job requirements."
I dug out my notepad and crossed my legs, waiting patiently.
"The building, as you can see, is empty. I am in the process of sorting through the Miami applicants for the positions of marketing director, an assistant to the CEO, a receptionist for the building, and several other clerical positions. The rest of my team will be arriving from Germany in short order."
"Team?" I asked, glancing up from the notebook.
His smile was patient, but there was an underlying impatience I suspected he tamped down often. "Engineers, designers, and excellent visionaries in the field."
Did he own this whole building?
"Kontakt owns the entire building." This time his smile was self-assured. "Each floor will house a different part of the process. All of our aids are handmade and tested thoroughly before they leave our hands. For that reason, I need my engineers to be here to train the new team. This floor holds my private office along with the offices of my inner circle. The tenth floor is my penthouse."
I whistled. "I was wrong. You have made it to the top."
"Never doubt me. It would be wise to remember that, Serenity.”
The way he said my name sent a shiver down my spine every time. It made me wonder what it would sound like moaned into my ear.
“Your duties would require you to work at any and all hours of the day or night. Germany is ahead of our time zone, so we must be available to them when they need us, whether it is lunchtime or bedtime. Understood?"
"Understood,” I answered, tapping my pen on the notepad. “However, I live forty minutes from here …"
He held up a thin, perfectly manicured finger. "That would have to change." In the next breath, he held out a binder with the company logo on it. The scripted K was gold with filigree surrounding it and gave no indication of what the company actually sold. I don’t know what I was expecting. Dildos forming the letter T? A cock ring for the O? I bit back a snort at my own joke and opened the binder. The list of duties told me they would be copious and slightly overwhelming for a new graduate. When I turned the page to the benefits section, I gasped.
"You're offering me an apartment in the building?" I glanced up in surprise, and his blue eyes were laser-focused on my cleavage. I resisted the urge to tug my top up and waited for him to answer.
His fingers steepled, and he tapped them on his lips. "I am not offering. I am insisting."
I finished reading the folder and sat in shock for several beats. An apartment, company car, full benefits, and my student loans paid off if I stay for the term of the one-year contract. That didn't account for the salary that had more zeros behind it than I'd ever seen in my lifetime.
"Wow." The word was meant to be strong, but it was high pitched and squeaky. "Sensual products must be a hot commodity. This is …"
He flicked a hand at the binder dismissively. "The package is based on your expertise in both my language and culture, as well as your marketing degree. There is little I do not already know about you, Serenity. My extensive research tells me you know the offer is fair and better than you would get working for any other company."
“On the contrary, Lars, there is much you don’t know about me.”
Like how your eyes get me all hot and bothered and how my fingers want to mess up your hair for real.
“I hope I have many opportunities to learn those things while you are working at Kontakt.” He didn’t intend for it to sound erotic, but the timbre of his voice made it so.
I swallowed and tapped the folder. "You were serious about the headhunting." He tipped his head in answer. "Can I have some time to think about this?"
"Of course, take all the time you need."
I stowed my items back in my purse and stood, reaching my hand across the desk to shake his one last time. "Thank you, Lars. I'll be in touch."
He stood from behind his desk and shook my hand, leaving little tingles of sex flowing through my veins. When he dropped my hand, I strode to the door, knowing his eyes were now trained on my perfectly rounded backside.
He called my name, and when I turned, he wore the smile of a man who never questioned if he would get what he wanted. He would. "I will see you tomorrow at nine a.m."
I didn’t respond, but I hated that he knew me so well this early in the game.