earpiece he wore. She peeked in her handbag—the bugged phone he’d given her glowed briefly.
Bach rose as she approached. A few female heads turned. He was tall and seemed fit for his age—almost fifty, by her guess—with silver hair combed back from his angular face.
Kelly slowed down, mentally noting additional details.
He wore a European-cut suit, and that chunk of gold on his wrist had to be a Rolex. His hands were large and strong, as if he could blast a tennis serve or choke the life out of a business competitor with equal ease. There was something unmistakably domineering in his stance. Intelligent eyes, the color of cold steel, surveyed her.
Kelly gave him a sunny smile. “Hello,” she said breathlessly. “Sorry, I’m a little late. Traffic.”
“I understand.”
“Have you been waiting long?” She fished the bugged phone out of her purse and set it next to her car keys on the table.
“No.” He looked pointedly at the phone. “I do hope you won’t have to take a call during lunch.”
“I don’t have to. But I like to know who’s trying to reach me.” Kelly tapped the phone screen twice with a pink-polished fingernail. “That takes care of that. I can see the number and they can go straight to voicemail hell.”
“I consider myself honored,” Bach said dryly. He inclined his head. “Please sit down.”
The maître d’ pulled out a chair for her. Kelly slid into it, smoothing the skirt of her cream knit suit underneath her. She placed her handbag next to the phone and keys. Bach resumed his seat.
“I hope the restaurant meets your expectations. I find that the food is generally quite good.”
His accent was hard to place. It could be Swiss or German—she’d found both listed as his nationality on the Internet, on different sites.
“I’m sure it is.”
“Have you been here before?”
Kelly shook her head. “Never. I think I’ve been to every restaurant in Atlanta but this one.”
“Your presence has been noted.” That dry tone again. He warmed it up. “You are lovely, Kelly. More so in person than on the air.”
“Thanks.” The compliment made her feel a little awkward. The online mentions she’d found pegged him as a womanizer with several hundred million dollars to throw around. It wasn’t enough to make her fall at his feet. “I guess you watch my evening broadcast.”
“Occasionally, yes.”
Gunther Bach didn’t seem to be the chatty type. That went with the arrogance. Kelly unfolded her napkin in her lap. “I really appreciate you meeting with me on such short notice.”
“You happened to catch me at an opportune time. I had nothing else scheduled for the afternoon—and I might fly to Europe tomorrow.”
“Oh. Where in Europe?”
He smiled faintly. “I haven’t decided. London, perhaps. Geneva. Or Milan. I do business in many countries.”
“I see.” Kelly left it at that. His closed expression didn’t invite further questions as to his whereabouts.
A waiter offered her a menu, which Bach allowed her to study for only a minute before recommending his own favorites. From the way the staff fawned over him, she guessed he came here often. Kelly chose broiled trout. He ordered steak, ultra-rare, for himself, and a vodka martini when Kelly declined a drink.
Kelly picked up her water glass and took a sip, eying him. His gaze was still cool, almost wary. She would have to be on her game, she thought, putting the glass down.
“You must be incredibly busy. I’m so glad you could spare the time for an informal meeting,” she began.
“Why did you call me?”
Bach went straight to the point, she thought. Fine. This bogus get-together would be over with sooner.
“When I started researching high-level finance, your name kept coming up. It’s a perfect subject for a special report, don’t you think? There’s big money pouring into Atlanta these days.”
Gunther shrugged. “The bank I run is not that large. But it is exclusive.”
“That’s
Bach rose as she approached. A few female heads turned. He was tall and seemed fit for his age—almost fifty, by her guess—with silver hair combed back from his angular face.
Kelly slowed down, mentally noting additional details.
He wore a European-cut suit, and that chunk of gold on his wrist had to be a Rolex. His hands were large and strong, as if he could blast a tennis serve or choke the life out of a business competitor with equal ease. There was something unmistakably domineering in his stance. Intelligent eyes, the color of cold steel, surveyed her.
Kelly gave him a sunny smile. “Hello,” she said breathlessly. “Sorry, I’m a little late. Traffic.”
“I understand.”
“Have you been waiting long?” She fished the bugged phone out of her purse and set it next to her car keys on the table.
“No.” He looked pointedly at the phone. “I do hope you won’t have to take a call during lunch.”
“I don’t have to. But I like to know who’s trying to reach me.” Kelly tapped the phone screen twice with a pink-polished fingernail. “That takes care of that. I can see the number and they can go straight to voicemail hell.”
“I consider myself honored,” Bach said dryly. He inclined his head. “Please sit down.”
The maître d’ pulled out a chair for her. Kelly slid into it, smoothing the skirt of her cream knit suit underneath her. She placed her handbag next to the phone and keys. Bach resumed his seat.
“I hope the restaurant meets your expectations. I find that the food is generally quite good.”
His accent was hard to place. It could be Swiss or German—she’d found both listed as his nationality on the Internet, on different sites.
“I’m sure it is.”
“Have you been here before?”
Kelly shook her head. “Never. I think I’ve been to every restaurant in Atlanta but this one.”
“Your presence has been noted.” That dry tone again. He warmed it up. “You are lovely, Kelly. More so in person than on the air.”
“Thanks.” The compliment made her feel a little awkward. The online mentions she’d found pegged him as a womanizer with several hundred million dollars to throw around. It wasn’t enough to make her fall at his feet. “I guess you watch my evening broadcast.”
“Occasionally, yes.”
Gunther Bach didn’t seem to be the chatty type. That went with the arrogance. Kelly unfolded her napkin in her lap. “I really appreciate you meeting with me on such short notice.”
“You happened to catch me at an opportune time. I had nothing else scheduled for the afternoon—and I might fly to Europe tomorrow.”
“Oh. Where in Europe?”
He smiled faintly. “I haven’t decided. London, perhaps. Geneva. Or Milan. I do business in many countries.”
“I see.” Kelly left it at that. His closed expression didn’t invite further questions as to his whereabouts.
A waiter offered her a menu, which Bach allowed her to study for only a minute before recommending his own favorites. From the way the staff fawned over him, she guessed he came here often. Kelly chose broiled trout. He ordered steak, ultra-rare, for himself, and a vodka martini when Kelly declined a drink.
Kelly picked up her water glass and took a sip, eying him. His gaze was still cool, almost wary. She would have to be on her game, she thought, putting the glass down.
“You must be incredibly busy. I’m so glad you could spare the time for an informal meeting,” she began.
“Why did you call me?”
Bach went straight to the point, she thought. Fine. This bogus get-together would be over with sooner.
“When I started researching high-level finance, your name kept coming up. It’s a perfect subject for a special report, don’t you think? There’s big money pouring into Atlanta these days.”
Gunther shrugged. “The bank I run is not that large. But it is exclusive.”
“That’s
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