Compromising Kessen (Vandenbrook #1)(22)

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 it 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…”