Speaking of Sebastian, where was he?
From the cool solitude of the colonnaded hallway, Tessa could hear a hum of voices, clinking glasses and tinkling laughter. With each step she took the din grew louder.
The ball.
Her stomach turned over.
She’d never been to a ball.
Although she went to a school where balls were a fairly common form of vacation pastime, she couldn’t remember ever being invited to one.
No doubt her classmates—with that inimitable prep-school-bred radar that can distinguish “one of us” from “one of them”—had known better than to ask her. Thus avoiding all kinds of embarrassment of her not having the right clothes to wear, or the correct etiquette.
She’d managed to dodge the gaffes she was about to make right now.
“You look breathtaking.”
Sebastian’s voice in her ear was low and thick with admiration.
“Thanks,” she managed.
“I’ve been waiting for you. I thought you might not want to walk in there alone.”
His thoughtfulness warmed and soothed her anxious heart. “You’re so right.” She smiled. “I’m trying to walk without getting tangled in my dress.”
His dark gaze swept along her legs. “I can see how that could be a problem. Your legs are very long.”
“They used to call me Knitting Needles.”
Did she have to tell him that?
One dark brow lifted. “Because your legs are so long?”
Her face heated. “Yes, and my mom was always knitting. She brought it with her everywhere. She used to knit through all my basketball games.”
Shut your trap and stop babbling!
Sebastian’s curious gaze deepened. “You played basketball?”
“What else would I do with a body like this?” She gestured at her too-long-and-tall physique, accidentally grazing her knuckles on the green beads.
The mellow hum of music and a hundred conversations swelled as they neared the large atrium where the party was taking place. She walked along the receiving line, shaking hands with the king and queen, despite the fact that she’d had breakfast with them that morning, then a liveried servant announced her name to the crowd.
These people loved ceremony.
“Sebastian, dahling!” An older woman with about a kilo of diamonds hanging from her neck stalked forward on spindly legs. “How lovely to see you. I can’t believe we missed each other at Philip’s shindig last month.”
Sebastian murmured pleasantries.
Tessa’s frontal lobes buzzed with the realization that Philip’s shindig was that big party in Monaco during which Sebastian was photographed with no less than twelve different wealthy beauties.
The guy from the clipping service had even joked that Sebastian made every minute count.
“And this is Tessa Banks.”
Tessa glanced at him, expecting him to add “my assistant.”
But he didn’t.
The woman looked at her expectantly for a moment, then held out her bejeweled hand.
Tessa shook it.
“Charmed, my dear.”
“Oh, me, too!” She swallowed. Did she have no social graces whatsoever? “It’s a lovely night.”
She could almost hear Sebastian laughing. But he had the decency to make it silent laughter.
He slid his arm around her back and drew her away. She tried not to get distracted by the warmth of his hard muscle, which was obvious even through his austere dark suit.
“She’s harmless,” he muttered. “Which is more than I can say for this one. Hello, Faris.”
Tessa’s shoulders tightened. She recognized the name. Faris Maridis was a frequent and impatient caller when Sebastian was in New York. He always took her calls.
A tall, black-haired woman in a dark blue dress swept toward Sebastian. She grabbed him by the shoulders and planted extravagant kisses on each tanned cheek, leaving moues of red lipstick.
Tessa fought the urge to whip out a tissue and wipe them off.
“You’re so wicked, Sebastian darling! Why haven’t you taken me out on the Mirabella yet?”
His new yacht. She’d seen the paparazzi pictures.
“I’ve been busy with the lovely Tessa.” He gestured to her. Faris whipped around. She gave Tessa a glare that raised goose bumps, then morphed into a big, toothy smile.
“Tessa? I don’t believe we’ve met. Oh, wait! You’re Sebastian’s little ‘girl Friday,’ aren’t you?”
Tessa blinked. People didn’t usually call you “little” when you were nearly 5’10”.
“She’s my right-hand woman.” Sebastian clearly relished the description. As he said it, his arm slid protectively around her waist.
She softened under her bead-encrusted dress.
Faris’s sharp dark eyes darted to Sebastian’s gesture, then back up to Tessa. They narrowed. “Is this your first time in Caspia, Tessa?”
“Yes. Sebastian’s been kind enough to show me almost every inch of it.”
“Has he now?” She shot an icy smile at him. “Sebastian is always so thorough when he entertains guests.” She tilted her head. Her black hair was slicked into a chignon pierced by a single black hairstick. “Especially female guests.” She winked at him.
Tessa flushed. It didn’t help that Sebastian squeezed her bottom gently at that exact moment. Her nipples tightened and heat gathered between her hips.
She struggled to keep a straight face.
What if someone saw?
“Faris is one of my oldest friends.” Sebastian stared at her. “That’s why she feels free to be so shockingly rude to me.”
Faris looked startled and let out a hollow laugh. “Oh, Sebastian, you are too much. Shall we ride tomorrow?”
“I think the horses could use a day of rest after what Tessa and I put them through today.” He smiled and squeezed Tessa again.
She tried not to fall off her spiky heels.
Faris’s red lips pressed together. “Daddy said you’re calling a meeting about Caspia Designs.”
Sebastian stiffened. “Yes. Tessa’s arranged a gathering of the board for next Tuesday.”
“Daddy’s rather bored playing golf every day. The firm was always sort of a pet project for him.”
“I can tell,” murmured Sebastian through gritted teeth. “It’s time to take Caspia Designs in a new direction.”
Faris raised a slim brow. “Don’t forget, Daddy is your father’s oldest friend.”
That explains a lot. Tessa had wondered why the firm had been allowed to stagnate under incompetent management for so long. Uncollected debts, dwindling markets, exorbitant costs leading to tiny profits on even the most expensive items.
She jumped as the band struck up a fast-paced new tune and people started leaping around as if they had fire ants in their pants.
“Come.” Sebastian grabbed her hand and pulled Tessa into the fray. “It’s our national dance. You’ll like it.”
She wasn’t sure if his last words were conviction based on personal knowledge of her, or a royal command. She decided to assume the latter.
Sebastian grabbed her hand and whirled her around, then they took off across the floor at a galloping pace in a kind of whirling polka.
Blasts of trumpet and the rolling thunder of drums filled the air with a steamroller of sound. Colors and lights flashed before her eyes as they whipped around the room. Sebastian’s strong arms and capable guidance swept her into the dance as if she knew it.
By the time the trumpets subsided to a farewell hum, she was gasping for air and dying to do it again.
“See, I told you.” Sebastian pushed a stray strand of hair behind her shoulder. His own black hair remained slicked into place. His stern features betrayed no emotion.
But something new and different sparkled in his dark eyes. She couldn’t help a rush of excitement as he stared at her.
“That was fun.”
The music slowed to a lilting d
ance number. Tessa wondered if they’d exit the floor. She should probably dash to the bathroom and make sure her makeup wasn’t streaming down her face.
But Sebastian pulled her into his arms. “Don’t even think of running off.”
Tessa laughed. Partly to distract herself from the rather overwhelming sensation of being pulled close to Sebastian’s broad chest.
His black suit had an unusual design, a sleek jacket with no lapels and a Nehru collar. Smooth black pants with no crease. Hip and modern, rather than classic and traditional.
The Caspian royal family apparently preferred clean designer lines to gold brocade and rows of medals.
But no amount of well-cut cloth could hide the brawny muscularity of Sebastian’s athletic body.
The scent of him, musky and enticing, enveloped her as he held her close, swaying to the music.
“Where were we before we got so rudely interrupted?” His low voice tickled her neck. “Oh, yes. Basketball. High school or college?”
“Both. I got a scholarship to St. Peter’s and another one to college. It’s the only reason I was able to go to either of them.”
“Your family isn’t well-off?”
“Not like that. My dad had the same job for forty years. He made a living but not enough to send me to the ritziest school in New England.”
“What did he do?”
“Custodial director. That’s what he always called himself.” She looked right at Sebastian. “At the high school.”
His eyebrows lowered slightly in an expression of confusion. “Custodial director. Is that…? I mean, did he…?”
“Clean the school? Yes.” It came out a little sharper than she’d intended. But she’d had this discussion before and it usually ended in raucous laughter and raised eyebrows and her never being treated quite the same again.
Which was fine. Better to know who will treat you fairly and with respect, and who won’t.
She looked at him, ready to see laughter and derision in his eyes.
Instead she saw something very different.
Admiration.
She sucked in a breath and dragged her attention to the dancers behind her.
“I’m impressed.” His deep voice tickled her ear. “Not only can you play basketball competitively, but you managed to negotiate the social jungle of two of the world’s most exclusive schools.”
“Oh, I don’t know that I so much negotiated it as made my own way through with a hatchet.” She raised an eyebrow.
He laughed. “I’d have liked to see that.”
“It wasn’t pretty.”
“I guess that depends on your aesthetic.” His dark eyes roamed over her face, and her skin heated under his appreciative gaze.
“I bet you fit right in with all those children of CEOs and foreign dignitaries.” He tilted his head, stared right into her eyes. “You look like an aristocrat. An American princess.”
Tessa burst out laughing. “What does an American princess look like?”
Sebastian’s lips twitched as he tried to keep from smiling. “Majestic.”
“Well, I guess you’re an experienced judge so I’ll have to take your word for it.”
It was so easy to forget that Sebastian was one of the fabled Crowned Heads of Europe.
You’d expect a monarch—even a future one—to be starched and stodgy. To have clothes tailor-made on Jermyn Street
, not in a Milan design atelier.
In his leisure time you’d expect him to wear an earth-toned Harris tweed jacket, not a black Dolce & Gabbana T-shirt that clung to his rippling muscles.
On the other hand, you might well expect a future king to spend his time traveling the world, dancing and yachting and riding and skiing and seducing beautiful women from every nation.
In that sense, Sebastian was every bit a traditional prince.
And she’d better not forget it.
Sebastian couldn’t take his eyes off Tessa’s lithe body as it moved beneath the subtle sparkle of her dress.
He couldn’t take his hands off her, either.
Electricity crackled between them as he held her close in a slow dance hours later. He felt hot and he wished he could peel some clothes off.
But he was too well trained in Royal Dignity for that.
And there’d be plenty of time for peeling clothes off later. In fact, he was making very detailed plans to extract Tessa’s gorgeous glowing body—inch by inch—from her slinky gown.
Desire surged in his blood as she smiled at him. Such a warm and open smile. So different from the calculated simpering he’d grown used to.
“Your mom is staring at us.” Tessa leaned in.
He could smell the scent of her. Rich and sweet, like honeyed baklava. “Do you think she’s upset you’re spending so much time dancing with your assistant?” Concern troubled her green eyes.
“No.” He leaned in and couldn’t resist planting a soft kiss on her ear. “Perhaps she’s transfixed by your ravishing beauty.”
Tessa blinked.
“Have I embarrassed you?” he said softly.
“Yes.” She flashed a glance at him. “I was taught to beware flatterers.”
“Wise advice. But many women would be upset if no one stared at them.”
Faris, for example. She lived for the spotlight. He kept hoping its bright light would attract a suitor she couldn’t resist, so she’d stop trying to sink her manicured talons into him.
His mother had assured him that Faris was “waiting for him.”
That was going to be a long wait.
“What are you smiling at?” Tessa smiled, too. He eased closer. Her high heels made her almost his height, and they danced pressed to each other from cheek to hip. Their feet barely moved, though other guests swirled around them to the music.
His blood pulsed in time with the drumbeat. He had to work hard to keep his hands from creeping down to enjoy the curve of her pert bottom.
Her back called to his fingertips, bare in her low-cut dress.
Tessa’s cool fingers crept over his shirt collar and roamed into his hair.
He pulled her closer still. Her hips swayed against his, rhythmic, hypnotic. When he glanced down, her eyes had closed. Her lovely face shone with a rapt expression.
A thick sensation built inside Sebastian’s chest. A thicker one started to pound between his legs.
She’d forgotten everyone else in the room. Given herself to the music, their dance.
To him.
Sebastian laid a soft kiss on her neck and she writhed against him.
Her sensual movements surprised him.
Had she forgotten they were surrounded by a thousand people?
Decades of stern training kept him on high alert at all times. Ready to represent the nation of Caspia in everything he did.
But now even he was beginning to lose his firm grip on protocol and etiquette.
Tessa’s fingers wound around his neck, pulling his face to hers.
Then their lips met in a cool, fresh kiss.
She tasted like mint. Sharp, spicy and bracing.
Her cool tongue challenged his to a duel, and he couldn’t help but spar and parry with it, claiming her mouth in a kiss that deepened with each beat of the music.
The beaded fabric of her dress stirred his senses as he ran his hands over her curves, imagining the feel of the smooth skin beneath.
Hard inside his tailored pants, he suppressed a groan as her soft, wet tongue licked his lips.
He wanted her.
Now.
“Tessa.” He growled the word more than spoke it. His blood had departed his brain for more primal regions of his body.
She didn’t respond except to clutch him closer.
Her fingers now ran over his suit jacket, plucking at the stiff fabric.
He fought the urge to peel it off.
“Tessa.” He breathed it, trying to arch away from her, his arousal so intense it hurt.
“Sebastian,” she rasp
ed, her body pressed to his, still swaying and swinging to the music.
Then she gasped and sprang back.
She staggered back a few feet, crashing into an older couple. The gray-haired old fellow was almost bent double under the weight of his ceremonial medals and he pitched to one side.
“Oh, goodness.” She grabbed his arm and righted him. “I’m so sorry!” She glanced at Sebastian, her eyes wide.
She patted her hair, as if it was wild and windblown. A pink flush spread over her cheeks, contrasting prettily with the cool green of her dress.
Sebastian had never seen a more enticing vision.
“Let’s go somewhere quiet,” he told her.
Her eyes widened. “But we can’t. You can’t.” She glanced out at the crowd of dancers swirling around them.
“Oh, yes, I can.” Resolve, and painful longing, thickened his voice.
“But it’s your family’s party. Your parents will be upset if you…They’ll think I’m some kind of…” Her blush deepened.
“I don’t care what they think. You’d better come with me now, or I’ll have the palace guards arrest you and bring you to me.”
He saw his own excitement reflected right back at him in sparkling green.
“Gee. I’ve never been arrested by palace guards before. I might like it.”
“Don’t tempt me.”
“I think I already did.”
Her bright gaze dropped to the unseemly bulge beneath his pants.
His erection throbbed.
“If you don’t come with me right now, you’re in danger of high treason.”
Her mouth formed a provocative O.
“It’s a capital offense.”
She tilted her head and narrowed her bright eyes. “Have a lot of women sacrificed their lives defending their virtue?”
“Not a single one.”
His eyes roamed hungrily over the glittering green of her dress, shimmering under the lights like a mermaid’s lithe tail.
He couldn’t wait. He reached out and grabbed her arm. Her skin felt hot against his palm. The ache in his groin intensified as he pulled her close and wrapped his arm around her waist.
She stiffened, but he didn’t loosen his grip. There was no way he’d let her get away now.
He knew she wanted him every bit as much as he wanted her.
Prince of Midtown Page 8
