Compromising Kessen (The Vandenbrook #1)(26)
Author: Rachel Van Dyken

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 Kevin?”

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.