In fact, several times he had to excuse himself, because he said he was catching a cold and needed to blow his nose. After the seventh time, he admitted he was in fact crying tears of joy.
It made Kessen wonder if he had believed she was going to be single the rest of her life. It’s not as if she owned an obscene number of cats, or any woodland creature for that matter.
“Dad,” she said, after he had returned from blowing his nose again. “It’s just a wedding. It’s not a big deal. More of a business transaction.”
He replied by grunting and saying if he conducted business transactions the way she did, he would be in prison—which led her to believe he had seen page six.
The conversation ended with him promising to attend the wedding if she vowed to try as hard as she could not to kill Christian before then. Not because he was afraid for Christian’s welfare—no, he just didn’t want the stocks to drop. Stocks were the highest they had ever been, to her everlasting shame.
After hanging up with her dad and making herself look more presentable, she dialed Nick’s number. It went straight to voicemail.
She dialed Sammy’s number and hers did the same.
What was wrong with her friends? Where were they during her time of need? She dialed Nick again.
“Hi you’ve reached Nick .You know what to do—and if this is Kessen, I saw page six. You get yours, honey.“BEEP.
“Nick, it’s Kessen. Take that blasted message off of your voicemail! And yes, I did say blast. And no, it’s not because I’m trying to prove a point. It’s because I’m in England, and they have no idea how to use swear words here, so I’m stuck with blast and drat, none of which I ever thought to use in my vocabulary until page six. In other news, if you don’t call me back within the next twenty-four hours, I can’t be held responsible for my actions. But it will involve a machete and paintball gun. Use your imagination.”
Kessen threw her phone onto the bed and groaned aloud, another thing she’d been doing a lot of, especially when her grandmother let her know there would be a party held at the country home in her honor. How perfect. A ball. Wasn’t she leaving London so she wouldn’t have to attend any more balls?
She heard a knock on her door and muttered for the person to enter.
Naturally it was Christian, in all his glory. Did the guy ever wear the same thing twice? His tight sweater left nothing to the imagination as it hugged the planes of his abs and chest. He smelled like he just stepped out of a magazine. If he wasn’t already an English lord, he would make an incredible model.
This time his hair was covered with a fedora. It was as if he was channeling Neil Caffry himself. Not that she thought he would even know what show she was referencing, considering it was on the USA network—something she was convinced all of England most likely censored because of its title. Figures.
“You ready?” he asked in a smooth and perfect voice.
“Uh…”She stuttered, sounding every inch the American she fully was. “Sure, yeah. Let’s go.” That was better; at least her voice wasn’t shaking anymore. For crying out loud, it was Christian. Christian! Her future husband. If she couldn’t be in the same room with him without becoming tongue tied, what hope was there for their future? Then again, he could always simply fill those silences with kissing.
Her face reddened.
“Penny for your thoughts?” Christian tilted his head in her direction. It made his face seem angelic. Almost.
“Worse timing ever,” she muttered, shaking away the thoughts of him kissing her.
“Maybe you’ll show me later, then?” He pressed closer to her, closing the much-needed distance between the two of them.
“I don’t remember canceling our no-touching rule.”
He laughed. “I believe that rule was rendered moot the moment you started kissing me in your room this morning.”
“I plead temporary insanity.”
He smirked. “Care to plead it again?”
His breath was hot on her face. Must escape before bad choices are made!
As if reading her mind, he backed off and took her bag. “Later. You shall be mine later, Kessen. I’ll wait a week, and then all bets are off.”
She wanted to offer a snappy retort, but nothing came to mind. Nothing except for the self-indulgent thought that he in fact wanted her so badly, he could barely think straight. But no, that would be conceited … and impossible. He was a marquess. She needed to remind herself of his title—if anything, it kept her sane. He did this all the time; he was a womanizer. He was a Vandenbrook.
He helped her into the car and started driving. She decided to break the silence with questions. “Let’s play a game.”
He rolled his eyes. “Kessen, I’m actually tired. Exhausted from the preparations for leaving today. I don’t have energy for games.”
“You’re grumpy. Did you eat?”
He appeared to be thinking about it. “No, actually I haven’t.”
“Great! Let’s stop for something. I forgot to eat too.”
“We don’t live in the land of fast food, Kessen,” he snapped.
“Wow. You really do need carbohydrates and sugar. Seriously. You’re dangerous when you’re grumpy. What are you? Hypoglycemic?”
She was shaking her head when she heard him clear his throat. “Oh no! You are! I’m so sorry! We must stop then; you need food.”
“Fine,” he grumbled.
She could tell he wasn’t one who liked being taken care of.
****
Christian hated that he liked being taken care of. What was wrong with him? He was a grown man but still went to stay with his mother when he was sick, thinking she was the only person who could bring him back into the land of the living.
Kessen had that same nurturing side to her. It was odd how he hadn’t noticed it before. She probably rescued stray cats and dogs and…
“Kessen?”
“What?” She was looking curiously out the window.
“Do you rescue animals?”
“Don’t believe anything you hear! It was one time. One time! And the puppy was nearly dead. What did you want me to do, Christian? Just let it die? And then the vet had the audacity to tell me nobody would want such an ugly dog! And honestly, I just couldn’t do it. I couldn’t! So, I put an ad in the paper and a nice kid in a wheelchair took the puppy, because he felt like they had something in common, what with the dog not having any legs and all. What?”
Christian knew he had the deer-in-headlights look going for him. Sometimes he wondered why he even asked her questions? One minute she was silent as the grave, the next he would do anything in his power to get her to shut up, but she was so endearing all he could do was smile.
“What was his name?”
She looked confused. “The boy?”
He laughed. “No, the dog.”
“Oh. I named him Dog.”
He coughed, hiding his laughter. “How original of you.”
She glared. “I’ll have you know it was a perfect name. He didn’t feel like a real dog, because he didn’t have legs. I was helping him with his identity crisis.” She crossed her arms triumphantly, leaving Christian struggling between staring at her dumbfounded and staying between the correct lines on the road.
“So, you haven’t made a habit of rescuing, then?”
“No, only that one time. My dad doesn’t appreciate pets. He gave me a rock once.”
“A rock? As in a rock from someone’s yard, or a cool rock?” He couldn’t help but ask. The girl was so appealing, it scared him.
“I can’t keep things alive. Not even plants. So my dad decided if we ever got a pet, he would end up taking care of it. Like I said, he doesn’t like pets, so he gave me a rock. He even painted a face on it. We named it Kevin.”
Christian was careful to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. “You named your pet rock Kevin?”
She nodded, clearly not getting how odd the whole conversation had become.
“Where is K
evin?”
She giggled. His heart melted a little bit more, then he swerved. After he decided he should keep his eyes on the road as he should have been doing all along, she answered.
“I have no idea.”
“Maybe we’ll find you a new Kevin,” he found himself saying, then realized he sounded like he was talking to a three-year-old.
“I’ve got my hands full enough with you, thank you very much,” she said, patting him patronizingly on the head.
“I deserve that, I guess.”
“Well, you did make fun of my pet rock.”
“I’m not even going to respond to that,” he mumbled.
It was quiet again. Christian found himself praying Kessen would talk. Earlier he wanted to muzzle her, now he wanted to hear her tell stories and never stop. That was it, he needed food. Either that, or he was getting a fever. Never in his life had he wanted any woman to keep talking to him. If anything he had prayed science would develop some sort of listening device to drown out any high-pitched voice within ten feet.
Kessen piped up with more enthusiasm than he thought possible when she saw them nearing the edge of town. “Look, there’s a little convenience store! Should we stop for food?”
He nodded and parked, watching in disbelief as she hopped from the car and ran into the bakery. Just as he was locking the doors and getting ready to step inside, his cell rang.
“Hello?”
“Hey, it’s Nick.”
“Nick! It’s good to hear from you. Sorry about all the confusion this morning with the flights.”
“No prob. Have you told her yet?”
“No. I’m going to leave the surprises to you.”
“She threatened me with a machete, Christian. Surprising her may not be the best idea.”
“She does have a tendency to become violent.”
“Ya think? Page six and all.”
“I’m not commenting.”
“I didn’t think you would.”
Christian paused as he heard silence on the other end.
“Anyway,” Nick said, breaking the spell, “I’m all set to arrive tomorrow morning. Try to prep her a little before I show up. I’m probably more excited about this whole thing than her father, and that’s saying a lot. Did you know he was playing ‘God Save the Queen’ from his sound system for two days straight when he heard you guys were getting married?”
“The poor neighbors.”
“Poor me! I’m his neighbor! My dog still hasn’t recovered!”
“Sorry, old boy.”
“It’s fine. Look, just don’t let me surprise her too much. I’m wickedly attractive, albeit not as smart as I would like people to believe. Basically, I need my looks. They’re all I have.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“Thanks, dude. See you soon.”
“Cheerio.”
Christian snapped the phone shut and sighed, “Americans.” Before he opened the door to the bakery, Kessen was already on her way out, paper bags and drinks in hand.
“Hey, I didn’t know what to get you, so I bought enough carbohydrates and snacks to put you into a food coma. Sound good?”
She looked absolutely flushed and perfect and—he couldn’t even control his own thoughts.
“Christian?” she pressed.
“Um, right. Brilliant, thank you.”
He sounded like his father, and it made him want to jump off a tall building. He hung his head in shame as he strode to her side of the car.
“Oh, I didn’t think you’d want to eat in your car.”
“Why?” His voice cracked. Blast his male hormones!
“There’s frosting, and things flake, and well, you have a nice car…”
“It’s fine,” he snapped, needing to distance himself from her as soon as possible. It was best she had no idea what he was thinking at that moment.
It involved her and frosting.
He threw the thought out of his head and abruptly opened her door. She slid in and smiled, totally unaware of his inner turmoil.
He bit his tongue to keep from saying something he would regret. He probably looked like he was in pain, and quite honestly he was in pain. Everything in his body screamed with unquenched desire.
He nodded hastily and got in on the other side. She handed him a chocolate croissant and tea. When he took the tea from her she seemed to blush. “I didn’t think you’d want coffee.”
He laughed. “You mean you didn’t want to take the risk of bringing me coffee and having me lecture you on the merits of tea?”
“Exactly,” she muttered. “Plus, we don’t have all day for you to lecture me.”
“Pity.” He took a bite out of his croissant.
She shook her head and returned to her own delicious snack. She was careful not to spill anything in her lap; although he noticed she did have a little frosting on her face.
She hadn’t noticed.
He kept staring.
She still hadn’t noticed.
He was going to burn someplace very hot for what he was thinking. Saint Peter was right; it is not good for man to be alone. Ever.
Good thing he was getting married.
Blast it all, why wasn’t she using a napkin? She was so careful not to spill. Everything in him screamed, “Look in a mirror! Stop torturing me!”
Alas, she did nothing but turn towards him with a curious look on her face.
So he devoured her.
In his mind, that is … then he carefully leaned over and licked, yes licked, the tiny fleck of frosting right off of her lip.
The tension in the car was so thick it was hard to breath. His chest constricted as she reached up to touch where his tongue had just been. She touched his face. He closed his eyes, reveling in the feel of it.
A banging on the window jolted both of them in their seats, nearly sending their drinks flying. It was a police officer pointing to a sign that said No Parking.
Christian mouthed they would go. Kessen sank into her seat and closed her eyes in embarrassment.
After a few minutes of maneuvering traffic, they were basically home free. After all, Kent wasn’t all that far away from London. It would be dark by the time they reached the house, but it would be ready for them. It was fully stocked with food and had a few servants who lived on the premises.
Kessen turned to look at him. “I think we should revisit this whole no-touching thing.”
He nearly slammed on the brakes in shock.
Kessen, noticing his inability to drive and talk at the same time, grimaced. “Maybe we should talk when you aren’t in control of a death-mobile.”
“I’m fine. I can talk and drive.”
“That’s yet to be proven,” she said, tensely looking at the road while holding her hand out in front of her, like that would somehow stop the car if they were to crash.
Chapter Fifteen
Kessen didn’t trust herself after ten o’clock at night. Everyone in her family knew of that rule. Nothing good ever happened after ten. Hadn’t she stated as much? Hadn’t it been proven true time and time again? So why she decided to have such a bizarre conversation after ten o’clock was beyond her, yet that’s exactly what was taking place.
Christian turned back toward the road with both hands firmly clenching the wheel. “Perhaps I won’t look at you, but you can talk. I’m sure I could handle it.” He turned quickly to wink at her, though she could tell his confidence was better when he was actually watching where he was going.
“I think we should date.”
Christian swerved; she screamed and covered her eyes.
“Sorry,” he said, throwing her an apologetic grin. “You were saying?”
She exhaled loudly before continuing. “I was saying, before you nearly killed us, that we should date. After all, we are getting married. And people who date, well, they…”
“Touch?” Christian choked.
Kessen put a hand on his arm. “Are you okay?”
“Fine.” His
throat sounded raspy.
“Are you sure? You sound like you’re in pain.”
“May God have mercy on my soul,” he whispered.
“What?” she asked, confused. Why was he talking about God? She knew the Vandenbrooks were fiercely religious, which is probably why she was so attracted to the books in the first place. They were known for being terrible flirts but never crossing any lines with the women they seduced. No, the line-crossing always happened after they were married. All bets were off then. She wondered if that’s what Christian meant earlier when—
“You were saying?” he interrupted, voice clear and normal.
“I just think since we’re going to be married, we should at least try to date like normal people, even if it is only for seven days.”
He nodded his head. “I think you’re right, though I loathe putting your name and being correct in the same sentence.”
“Get used to it.”
He chuckled. “That, my dear, will never happen.”
“It’s always easier when you don’t fight it.”
“You’re telling me,” he mumbled.
“I’m sorry.” She turned towards him. “Are we having the same conversation?”
“Of course,” he stuttered.
She glared at him, hoping he could feel the intense burn of her gaze. If he did, he didn’t show it. Instead he seemed oddly more focused on the road than ever. Pity.
“We’ll start tomorrow,” he said, turning towards her. Was it possible for a man to get more attractive by the second? He seemed to be having his own private conversation with himself, and his eyes did not look friendly; they looked fierce.
“Okay, um, well…” She crossed her arms over her chest and faced toward the front of the car again. All she could hear was the heavy beating of her own heart. She silently prayed Christian couldn’t hear it as well. But he seemed to be so busy concentrating on the road, she doubted he could think of anything else except for speed limits and stop signs.
He looked annoyed.
But then again she could be assuming things; maybe he was concentrating on the road. After all, he’d proven his inability to multi-task countless times. She was surprised he hadn’t gotten a ticket yet.