Compromising Kessen

by Rachel Van Dyken

  He smiled triumphantly. “Oh, it will be private.”

  The car took them around to the front of The Ritz and stopped.

  “I thought you said private.” She reached for her door handle.

  His hand shot across hers. “I know chivalry is dead in America, but we open car doors for women here.”

  Whatever he said must have shocked her enough to let go of her death grip on the car. She nodded her head, and to his surprise, managed to wait a whole five seconds for him to arrive at her door to open it. He pulled her arm into his own and escorted her inside amidst the flashing lights of photographers.

  They passed a few tables in the hotel lobby on the way. Every single one of them had a newspaper with a picture of the two of them lip-locked on the front. Titles ranged from “Match of the Century” to “Marriage Made in Stock Market Heaven.” He groaned outwardly, pointing at them as they passed.

  Kessen’s groan matched his own. She had more to lose in this, and he knew she was aware of that. They were launching a new line of products just this month. Bad press wouldn’t go well with how much money they had invested into the new coffee creamer for Newberry and Co. good press, however, would make it a success, skyrocketing her father’s business into the hundred million mark.

  She hadn’t a choice in the matter. Normally a stolen kiss on a balcony would do nothing to seal your fate with someone, but since they were so high profile, and since both their families were that manipulative, it did exactly that and then some.

  The ballroom they entered was set up with tables loaded with food. The sight seemed to upset her when she saw they were alone, but it was nothing more than a brunch.

  He had her just where he wanted her.

  “Throw this on.” He tossed her a baseball hat and workout clothes.

  “What?”

  “Put. It. On,” he ordered, now standing closer to her than he would have liked. She looked mischievous and then she began pulling her clothes off.

  Whatever her ploy, it worked. His face felt so red and hot, he thought he would pass out.

  She approached him and smiled. “Do you think you want to rephrase your command?”

  He cleared his throat and closed his eyes; it was the only way to keep him from doing something they would both regret. “Please change over there, while I change over here.” He pointed to a corner of the room with a makeshift sheet in front of it, specifically designed for changing.

  Her lips were inches from his. It wouldn’t hurt, just one little kiss. He leaned in just as she moved to whisper into his ear, “Thought so.”

  The room was most definitely spinning. Though he would be a fool to admit it. And what kind of perfume did she wear? It was intoxicating. Christian normally despised perfume, thinking it too fluffy, but hers was spicy and seductive. It was an almost identical fit to her personality.

  He thanked God for small favors when she finally disappeared behind the sheet, allowing his breathing to return to normal, even though every muscle in his body had tightened with awareness. She would be the death of him.

  Not that he wouldn’t welcome death with open arms, especially if it looked and smelled like Kessen.

  The very idea that he was entertaining such thoughts proved his insanity. Just days ago he wanted nothing more than to throttle her and send her back to Colorado. Now he was thinking he would rather she throttle him. It must be exhaustion. It had to be—anything but actual attraction.

  As he pondered the many reasons for being disgusted with himself, a sudden clearing throat startled him.

  Two things occurred to him as he turned around—first, this was probably the most fun he’d had in years, and second, he was in dangerous territory with this unpredictable girl, and he wasn’t sure how much more he could take.

  “Ready,” she announced, pulling her hat on. She looked like she was about to run the New York City marathon. When he had picked out the clothes, he only had in mind agility and comfort; it was unfortunate he couldn’t lock her in this banquet hall right now and have his way with her.

  He knew he wanted to; in fact, the desire was so strong, he found himself staring at her shapely legs … right up until she clapped in front of his face.

  The sound made him jump and cower with both hands over his face, in case of some small chance she might actually strike him. He deserved it anyway; had she been inside his head, she would have done more than slap him.

  Regaining what composure he had left, he threw her a brilliant smile and whistled, while he walked behind the sheet and changed into his workout clothes. In all the commotion of her throwing her too-tight body in his face, he had forgotten he too had a disguise.

  “So, what are we doing?” she asked nonchalantly while he pulled on the black fleece jacket. He had never felt so American in his life. They took casual to a whole new level. He had only visited the headquarters in Colorado once. Kessen had been away at school, so he hadn’t met her then, but he did meet all two thousand employees, and every single one of them seemed to be wearing some sort of version of the zip-up he was putting on now.

  At first it had annoyed him, and then the temperatures plummeted, along with his irritation. The next day, he went and bought at least three of them and hadn’t been able to part with any of them since. However, his friends did make fun of him when he returned. None of them had ever seen a future duke in such American garb. It was on many accounts scandalous. Never mind that his love life had drawn public attention on more than one occasion, or that his family had been accused of bribing some of the other families of nobility. The thing which got him the most attention was the zip-up, something he would never understand.

  As he pulled away the sheet, Christian stifled a laugh. Kessen had her arms crossed and was tapping her foot impatiently. “You didn’t answer my question.”

  She was such an easy target; he walked past her, hitting the rim of her hat, sending her hair flying out from underneath and the hat flipping through the air. “Sorry, America. I was lost in my thoughts.” He smirked. “Grab your hat, will you? We have a lot of ground to cover.”

  Her hands formed little fists as she picked up her hat and threw it at him. He had the good sense to duck, even though it wouldn’t have hurt. “Really, Kessen? Act your age.”

  “Just following your noble example, sir.”

  A smile formed on Christian’s lips. “That’s much better. It’s always comforting when people around you understand your superior social class.”

  “How, in any way, are you superior to me?” she demanded, catching up with him.

  He licked his lips and leaned in. “I thought you read all the time? Surely you know a future duke has a higher social standing than the daughter of an earl; especially a daughter of only half blue blood. Your mother was American, after all.”

  “You make it sound like I’m diseased,” she said gruffly.

  He tilted his head as if to say, “Well, aren’t you?” But instead he went for, “If the shoe fits…”

  “How do you feel about physical violence?” she asked, changing the subject.

  “Well, I—” he started to say, but Kessen had already raised her fist and hit him in the arm so hard, he knew he would be gifted with a bruise. “What was that for?” he yelled.

  “Oh … just paying my respects to the higher social class.” She did a little curtsy and put her hat on.

  Maybe taking her on an excursion was a bad choice, he thought as he led her out the back door of the hotel. But how else were they to get to know one another, when every waking moment they would have paparazzi chasing them down the streets? Anyway, she would have to learn how to conduct herself in his social circles—not that he doubted she knew how, but during the next month she would be in the public eye more than she ever had been before.

  The future of her father’s company somehow was inextricably entwined with how Christian and Kessen fared together. If they could pull it off without a hitch, sales would go well. If for some reason people gathered i
t was a publicity stunt, the stocks would likely drop, and her father’s dream of going into every supermarket around the world would be dead.

  But he couldn’t say that to her, not with all the pressure she was already dealing with. He felt bad enough dragging her into such an odd situation. Then again, he couldn’t be happier that his parents were finally off his back about marriage. At least now he could concentrate on trying to woo the one woman he had no desire to woo.

  Well, perhaps there was some desire. But he was hard at work trying to eradicate that need for the sake of his sanity and pride.

  One thing was for certain, his summer would never be the same.

  ****

  Kessen was racking her brain, going through every possible strategy of how to get through the summer. How was she to make this engagement look planned? If everyone loved them being together as much as the papers suggested, then they had their work cut out for them.

  If they couldn’t pass for a real couple, it would be deemed a publicity stunt, and stocks would drop. If they broke up, the new product launch would most likely suffer, and if they got married…

  If they actually did get married—not that she was agreeing to anything—it would quite honestly be a match made in business heaven. At least for both their families.

  She sighed, then stole a glance at Christian.

  He was beautiful.

  Men weren’t supposed to be beautiful, though.

  In the midst of the excitement of escaping the hotel, he had grabbed her hand. They climbed into an unmarked black SUV, but he still hadn’t let go of her hand.

  Kessen hated admitting how good it felt. How long had it been since she had actually dated? That area of her mind most likely was strewn with cobwebs. Apparently the only dating she was regularly exposed to was the kind which took place in her books.

  Why did he have to be British? And a titled Brit, no less? One thing was obvious; God had a great sense of humor.

  Christian let go of her hand, leaving his imprint of warmth where he had held it … making her stomach flutter all the more. And how was it fair someone like him would have a title? He was, as she had already decided, beautifully made—tall, handsome, well built, and he kissed like a movie star. Well, at least how she would assume a movie star kissed. Soft feather-light kisses when he wanted, then deep passionate ones that made her forget her name.

  She happened to like the second ones best; not that she cared, as long as they were touching.

  Oh, my gosh! Kessen panicked. Why am I thinking these things? It’s Christian! CHRISTIAN! I can’t like him; I can’t like him. She chanted repeatedly in her mind the entire car ride, nearly giving herself a headache, until they pulled up in front of a small cottage just outside the city.

  “Where are we?” she asked when they stopped. “It looks like a tiny cottage.”

  “So observant,” Christian muttered. “Americans have such a knack for stating the absolute obvious, as if they are the only creatures to have noticed something of which everyone else is already painfully aware…”

  Kessen heard him scolding, but drowned him out as they sauntered to the house. It was like a storybook come to life. In fact, it was exactly where she would have imagined Snow White had lived with her seven dwarf friends. She shot a sidelong glance at Christian and had to laugh. Right. Him a dwarf—that was like calling herself quiet and feeble-minded.

  He unlocked the door and let her inside.

  And then they were alone.

  Completely alone.

  Something akin to panic jolted her when she realized she was going to be trapped in this cozy little house for God knew how long, with the most attractive man she had ever laid eyes on.

  Normally, in books, a woman swooned and prattled on about protecting her virtue.

  Was it wrong that she was contemplating throwing her virtue at him?

  How could she even think of it at a time like this? She was a good girl, a good girl! Maybe she should repeat that to herself over and over again.

  Christian, not knowing her inner monologue, put his hand on her back and led her to the large sitting room where there was a fireplace.

  “We are going to play cards,” he said, feigning excitement.

  She lifted an eyebrow. “Cards?” He couldn’t be serious.

  He nodded his head and shrugged.

  “Do you think it’s, uh—” She turned away, so he couldn’t see her slowly reddening face “Do you think it’s smart to—”

  “C’mon, Kessen. Spit it out,” he urged, approaching her.

  “Be alone?” she said in a tiny voice.

  Christian pulled her hat off gingerly and smoothed her hair. “You aren’t afraid … are you, America?”

  The fight hadn’t left her; she snatched her hat out of his hands, put it on her head and challenged, “Afraid? Of you? Please. Nothing about British people scares me.”

  Christian raised an eyebrow. “You are going to explain that, aren’t you?”

  Kessen shrugged. “You can’t even curse without sounding polite.”

  He laughed.

  “I mean it!” she said loudly. “Whenever I hear my own father curse—which is rare, by the way—I have to cough to cover my laughter!”

  “Damn,” he said, obviously testing the waters.

  She laughed; she couldn’t help it.

  He ventured another one, challenging her resolve.

  And then she lost it. It didn’t even sound like a dirty word! It sounded like … well, she didn’t know, but it wasn’t something that sounded bad.

  Chapter Ten

  Was she mad? Who insulted a man like that? And who provoked a man to find as many dirty words as he could, just so he could keep her from laughing or make her blush? It was the most bizarre conversation he had ever experienced. He also loved every second of it.

  “Fornication?” he tried, lifting an eyebrow in her direction.

  “Better,” she agreed. “But still, it’s just so … British.”

  “By all means, show me how an American curses then.” He lifted his arm in a gesture as if to say, “After you.”

  “Oh, I don’t curse.”

  Christian laughed. “Never?”

  “No, I don’t think I’ve even slipped before.”

  “I think you’re lying. It’s impossible a girl like you has never used a curse word. I won’t believe it.”

  She threw her arms in the air. “It’s true. I swear.”

  “So, you do swear then?” he teased triumphantly.

  “I dislike you.”

  “Don’t be cruel; it’s not polite.” He knocked her hat off her head once more.

  She clenched her hands into tiny fists and glowered at him viciously. “Would you stop doing that?”

  “If you want me to stop, then you shouldn’t keep putting it back on.”

  She thought about it, and then mumbled, “Point taken.”

  “I knew we’d see eye to eye one day.”

  She threw the hat in his direction. “When Hell freezes over.”

  “And I rest my case.” He folded his arms and sighed. “You’re just too easy.”

  “That’s what she said,” Kessen teased, then put her hands over her mouth, and bit her lip.

  He roared with laughter. “Oh,Kessen! We have a brilliant day ahead of us.”

  She moaned, and with great reluctance grabbed her hat from the floor and tossed it onto the couch. Her hair was already a lost cause anyway.

  “Is it truly real?”

  “I can’t believe I’m having this conversation with you … again.” Kessen rolled her eyes.

  “What? I’m merely curious. It is beautiful, you know.” Christian had moved in front of her and was fingering her hair as if it was the most delicate thing on the planet. “It’s so soft,” he murmured, lifting it to his lips.

  They heard a knock on the door, and the spell was broken. Faster than lightning they separated as a man in a dark suit strode in and nodded. “Everything to your exa
ct specifications, my lord; we will return for you after dark.”

  “I feel like a small child who was just dropped off at the movies by her mom via the minivan,” Kessen lamented, looking directly at Christian.

  He shook the man’s hand and closed the door. “I don’t believe I’ve ever had a conversation with you which wasn’t cut with sarcasm.”

  Obviously he wasn’t used to her American humor. Pity. “I would like to point out,” she insisted, “you aren’t the best at being serious yourself.”

  “I can be serious,” he argued.

  “No, I don’t believe you can. I think you wish you could, but it’s like the cursing. You think you can do something, but you just can’t.”

  “Nemo.”

  “Why are you calling me Nemo?” Kessen asked.

  “How do you not know the line in that movie? The Disney movie? Finding Nemo?”

  Kessen played dumb.

  “The movie with the little fish and the tiny fin? And it’s swimming around?” Christian proceeds to bend his elbow as if he has no hand and starts flailing his hand as if he’s swimming. It was the most priceless thing she’d seen in years … until he started to sing the song. “Just keep swimming, just keep swimming…”

  Somehow she managed to maintain her composure and shook her head again, confused. Seriously, how dumb was he? Everyone knows about Finding Nemo!

  He fell for it. “Oh, come on, Kessen! And the dad, Marlin, says something about how Nemo thinks he can do things, but he just can’t.” He then proceeds, in a good American accent she decided, to quote the movie. “’You think you can do these things, but you just can’t, Nemo!’”

  His arms were now in the air; gone was the gimpy fin.

  Unable to hold it back a second longer, Kessen laughed as the tears streamed down her cheeks.

  Christian scowled and threw a pillow from the sofa at her face. “I can’t believe you let me go on for that long.”

  Still laughing, Kessen said, “I can’t believe you actually fell for it!”

  “Call it a weak moment,” he muttered, cursing under his breath.

  “Now that one wasn’t half bad,” she complimented, patting him on the back. “And your American accent wasn’t too shabby either, by the way.