Compromising Kessen (Vandenbrook #1)(21)

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.