As it turned out, Emily was the perfect distraction for the mundane tasks which he was performing prior to her arrival.  And that would be checking inventory and ordering parts and materials for future motorcycle projects.  He saved where he was on the screen, and stood to greet her properly.<br/><br/>Boris smiled at how pleased she seemed to be with her new helmet, and quite rightly, too.<i>Shoei </i>was an excellent brand, just not as awesome as<i>Arai</i>, but he wasn’t about to tell her that.  Whether she meant to or not, her helmet matched the scooter’s hue as if they were painted from the same supply of red.  Her choice of a flip-up model would serve her well, since it offered her a choice, depending on the situation and the ride.  He was sure to compliment her on the brand and style of helmet, not to mention the matching color.<br/><br/>His eyes and ears (and taste buds) perked up at her mention of “cookies” and “baked.”  With a boyish grin, he peered into the open tin, wondering if she was in possession of a dossier on him and his favorite baked goods.  Oatmeal raisin and chocolate chip cookies were right up there on that list.  Both went equally well with either a glass of cold milk or a mug of hot coffee and cream.<br/><br/>“Much thanks for the treats, Emily,” he said, “though you really didn’t have to do that.  I thought those pitchers and pizza were payment enough.”  He simply laughed when she mentioned his customers and sweets.  “I wouldn’t worry about my customers,” Boris stated, “mostly on account of these cookies probably won’t be around long enough for them to have any.”<br/><br/>Smiling at her, Boris realized she sure wasn’t making it easy in cutting their social ties.