Kessen couldn’t help but laugh. “I really like you right now.”
He winked.
It’s possible she nearly fell out of her chair. The man could be charming when he put his mind to it.
“So,” he said, scooting the coffee closer to her. “They still have the trivia game set up. I thought you and I could cook some dinner and spend some time together.”
Kessen felt more excited than a girl her age should feel about spending a night indoors rather than out on the town. “It sounds perfect.”
Christian suddenly seemed nervous, “Kessen, I—”
“Here we go again,” she muttered under her breath. He had a tendency to stutter when he got serious.
“Excuse me?” he said, amused.
“Oh, sorry. I didn’t think you could hear me. It’s just your speech usually takes a hit whenever you try to have serious talks with me.”
Christian looked embarrassed. “It’s not something I’m proud of.”
“I don’t recall saying you should be proud,” she clarified.
“Fair enough.” He looked wounded. “It’s just I feel bad. I honestly don’t know what’s wrong with me.” He put his hand over her mouth. “And you’re crazy if you think I’m going to stop there and leave it wide open for you to insult me.”
She shrugged guiltily.
“I like you.” He whispered the words slowly, almost too slowly. Her eyes snapped up to meet his. He took another deep breath. “I really like you, and I’m obviously attracted to you; then again, I’m certain every male in the universe is, but I haven’t been fair to you. I shouldn’t just maul you or try to think of ways to compromise you any more than I already have, and I’m sorry. I haven’t been acting … like a gentleman.”
Now, in any romance novel, this was the place where the girl was supposed to swoon and scream her undying love for the man, but Kessen was not in a romance novel, and she wasn’t just any girl. Some girls swoon; other girls get embarrassed.
Kessen, however, had never felt so lustful in her entire life. For some reason, while his confession should have made her feel protected and cherished, it did more than that. It made her want to maul him herself. Maybe it was all the cold water, maybe she had a fever, or maybe—just maybe—she felt the same way, and he was the only one brave enough to admit it.
There was suddenly an electric shift in the room, as if the electrical currents were now pulsating with their hearts. Kessen swallowed as he removed his hand from her mouth. She didn’t count how many seconds she spent staring at him, but it was more than was socially acceptable. He didn’t break eye contact either. In fact, neither of them moved, probably for fear of what would happen. They were totally without chaperones, and they knew—both of them knew—what they felt was fierce.
“Ummm.” Her voice was cracking, but what did he expect? She was pulsing with desire. “I think we should make dinner now.”
“Right,” was his answer, but he didn’t move. Instead he continued to stare.
She broke the spell by getting up, although for some reason it had become extremely difficult to walk in a straight line. Good Lord, she was acting like she was drunk!
Somehow her body found the kitchen, even though her mind was clearly inebriated. Unfortunately for her, she could feel the magnetism of Christian’s presence directly behind her. Did the man have to walk so close to her? It was hard enough breathing the same air without jumping on him. She hadn’t been one to date much. Maybe this was what happened when girls stayed single for too long.
She opened the pantry and scanned the contents. “What do you feel like?” Kessen turned to face him and noticed his visible pause. His eyes furrowed into intense thought as he ran his hands through his dark hair.
“What about spaghetti?”
Kessen turned back around to look for some sauce. “Aha!” She pulled it out. “Nothing beats Ragu Old World style.” She held the prized sauce into the air in triumph, while Christian laughed.
“Pasta?” he asked, washing his hands in the nearby sink.
“You mean noodles?”
“The word noodles spits in the face of actual pasta; it’s a deplorable American word.”
“Fine,” she said, searching the pantry. “What about penne pasta?”
“Good enough,” His hands reached to turn the stove on. Within minutes he had boiling water and penne pasta cooking.
Kessen took it upon herself to locate some wine while Christian went to work on the food. She found an old bottle of port and poured a small glass for each of them. “Is it done yet?”
“Does it look like it’s done yet?” he countered.
“No.”
“Then no, it’s not done yet.”
“You obviously need to do something about your blood sugar levels. You’re like a bear when you don’t eat.”
She swallowed another sip of port and smiled sweetly as he scowled in her direction, then mumbled something under his breath that sounded a lot like, “Insufferable women who talk too much.”
“Let’s bring the game in here!” she said, changing the subject entirely.
“What?” he asked.
“The game. Let’s bring it in here to play while we cook.”
He eyed her suspiciously, and then nodded. “Okay, go ahead. But no looking at the answers when you bring the board in. I don’t like cheaters.”
“Funny. I thought it would be the only way you could win anything.” She blew him a kiss and trotted off, but not before she felt a wooden spoon hit the back of her leg on her way out. Served her right for mocking him. Apparently, she was rubbing off on the almost duke, who was now resorting to throwing objects at her. Oddly, the thought made her smile.
She returned half a minute later with the little trivia game the boys had set up for them. It discussed embarrassing moments; puberty—that she didn’t want to know about—first kisses, favorite colors, and scariest adventures, et cetera. They had obviously outdone themselves.
Christian was already pouring the sauce over the noodles when she got back. The aroma alone nearly did her in, and she was positively ravenous.
“Is it done now?” she pleaded.
He smiled. “Yes, America. It’s done. Now, sit still; you’re making your food nervous.”
“My food? Nervous?”
He rolled his eyes. “When you’re not talking, you’re moving. When you’re not moving, you’re talking. It’s quite distracting. Remember when I talked about just being?”
She nodded her head, not at all sure she liked where he was going with this particular topic of conversation.
“So, tonight for dinner, you will experience it rather than simply consume it as quickly as possible. Not everything is a competition.”
“Is too,” she grumbled.
That earned her a pointed and judgmental look from Christian. Kessen merely shrugged her shoulders in return and did as he asked, or at least tried to do as he asked. She wasn’t perfect, after all.
She sat on the bar stool and watched to her utter horror as Christian grabbed a napkin and covered her eyes, tying it around her head.
Kessen exhaled loudly as the blindfold molded tightly around her head, leaving her in the dark. It made her want to throw the pasta in Christian’s face, but that would be wasteful, and she was ravenously hungry.
“Now.” His voice held amusement. “I’ll let you take a bite each time you get an answer right. When you answer incorrectly, I’ll take a bite.”
She laughed. “Like taking candy from a baby.”
Again, she could have sworn she heard him mumble something highly inappropriate under his breath, but she could have been imagining it.
He cleared his throat. “Question one.”
“Give it to me,” she said competitively.
“Christian, that’s me, has one dog and a cat. What are their names, and why did he name them what he did? You have exactly three minutes to make your guess.”
“First of all, I don’t need three m
inutes. And second, be ready to lose.”
He laughed and waited.
“You have one dog named Mr. Churchill, because at one point you wanted to be prime minister. Your cat is a Siamese whom you named Mrs. Wigglesworth, after the nanny who used to take care of you when you were young. Oh, and Christian, I believe that was under twenty seconds. Just a guess though.”
No answer. It was as if he had disappeared.
And then a giant spoonful of food was shoved into her mouth, splashing marinara sauce all over on her chin and nose. She ate it anyway, then smiled sweetly and leaned in for Christian to wipe her face.
“Question two. This is my question,” he said.
“Wait. What about my face?”
“What about it?”
“I have sauce on it!” she accused.
“And?”
“I want it off.”
“Sorry. That’s not part of the game. You’ll have to wait, America. As I was saying, Question two, my question. There are three things that make Kessen cry, all of which are irrational. What are these things and why?”
Kessen laughed. “Good luck. You have three minutes, champ.”
“Number one, you cry when you watch Extreme Makeover Home Edition, because it makes you happy that people who work hard for others get rewarded.”
“Lucky guess,” she muttered, crossing her arms.
“Number two, you cry when you watch any Disney movie. But the one that makes you the saddest is The Little Mermaid, because when you were young, you wanted to be a mermaid, and your father said you couldn’t. Number three is when you see old people stand up at church on Veteran’s Day. It makes you cry because they proudly served their country.”
Kessen didn’t say anything. She was too angry, and what she wanted to say wouldn’t have been appropriate for even a man to say out loud.
“Did I get close, Kessen?” he sneered.
“How’d you know?” she stammered.
“Nick. And where did you get your information?”
“Duncan, of course.”
He gave her a pointed glare. “It seems we’ve both done our homework. May the best man win.”
“Indeed,” she seethed. “My turn. Read my question.”
“Question three. This one’s for you, Kessen. How many girlfriends has Christian had, and did he kiss all of the girlfriends in question?”
Kessen felt short of breath. She remembered quizzing Duncan quickly about such matters but had no idea what the actual number was. Where was an internet search engine when she needed it? “Okay. You … you have had seven girlfriends, and you only kissed six.”
It was either seven or eight girlfriends; she erred on it being less than she thought.
“And why did I only kiss six?” he asked.
He had her there, but honestly a man like Christian would only kiss a girl if he was attracted to her. “Because you weren’t attracted to her; therefore, you didn’t want to lead her on!” she blurted.
She could feel his scowl and assumed it was as such, considering the force with which he put the spoonful of pasta towards her face.
“Thanks,” she muttered between chewing. Even though she was wearing more sauce than she was eating, she had to admit it did taste good. Christian was obviously a talented chef.
“Next question?” he asked, interrupting her thoughts of sauce and cooking.
“Hit me with it. And just so you know, I mean the question, not the spaghetti sauce. If there is even any sauce left! I’m wearing half of it on my face.”
“More than half, I’d say.” He chuckled. “Okay, America. Here is the question for me. How many boyfriends has Kessen had and did she kiss any of them?”
His words came out slower in the end, almost as if he was questioning what he was reading.
“Um, Kessen?”
Kessen attempted to hum, so she wouldn’t hear what she thought he was going to say.
“What does the question mean by any of them?”
“I’m sorry. Kessen’s not here right now. If you would just leave your name, number, and a short—”
“Kessen!” he snapped.
She felt her shoulders slump in defeat. “I’m going to kill Nick.”
“Because…?”
She huffed. “Because he’s the only one who actually knows the answer to that question and because it’s mortifying!”
“So, I’ll still need to answer it, then?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“You’ve dated three men, two of which were blind dates set up by Nick. And honestly, Kessen, I’m going to have to forfeit the rest of the question and say you win. I have no idea how many of them you kissed or didn’t kiss.”
“Not even a guess?”
“All of them?” His voice held a high amount of optimism, making her feel more like a loser than she would have liked.
She sighed loudly. “No. None of them.”
Silence.
And then laughter, lots and lots of laughter.
“It’s not funny, Christian!”
“I’m s-s-sorry.” His voice shook with amusement. “It’s just that that means your first and only kiss was from your best friend! Poor Nick!”
The laughter continued longer than necessary. “Can I take off this stupid blindfold now?”
She felt warm fingers pull down the napkin and fought to control the smile pressing on her lips. It was hard not to smile in Christian’s presence, especially when he had laughter written all over his perfectly lined face. At least he had the decency to look mildly guilty for laughing so hard.
“So, Nick and me, huh?”
“I’m sorry, what?” she asked, wiping the last traces of red sauce from her cheek. She probably looked a hot mess; of course, she had just divulged one of her most embarrassing secrets. Earlier in the week, she was surprised Nick hadn’t already spilled the beans, but no. Apparently he was waiting for the perfect time for Christian to find out she was basically a kissing virgin. Perfect.
Christian cleared his throat, still smiling. “Nick and I are the only gents you have kissed?”
She avoided eye contact and nodded, finding sudden keen interest in her fingernails, though they were impeccably clean.
“Kessen, look at me.”
She didn’t.
“Kessen,” he barked, grabbing her hand. “Look at me.”
She bit her lip and looked into his piercing eyes.
“It’s not a big deal. I think it’s cute.”
Kessen did not like being called cute. “Cute is what you call a dog with three legs. Cute is what you call your nieces and nephews. Cute is just a nice way of saying someone has a good personality. Cute is not what I want to be. I refuse to be cute.” She stood and started pacing. “I declare right here and now that I am not cute, and I will prove it to you by kissing the next three men I see. All three of them, Christian! And you can’t stop me. Not now, not ever! I—”
And then his lips were on hers. In the back of her mind she hoped she still didn’t have sauce on her face, but logic failed her when his lips were so firmly planted against hers.
It was a different type of kiss.
It was possessive.
She liked it very much.
Christian sighed against her mouth. “Kessen, trust me. You’re not just cute. You’re beautiful, hot, gorgeous … trust me. What I should have said…” He kissed her again, feathering his tongue along her bottom lip “…is you’re endearing, delightful, wonderful, sexy.” His warm breath neared her ear as he flicked his tongue along the base of her jaw. “Other men don’t deserve your kisses. I don’t even deserve your kisses.”
Her legs felt like jelly as she sunk into his arms. No longer hungry, she decided to prolong the kiss, but Christian had other ideas. He released her near her chair and pointed to her food.
“Eat.”
“But…”
“Eat,” he growled and held out her spoon.
She gave him an exasperated look and began consuming
her food at a rapid pace. “How many more questions do we have left?” she asked between bites.
“More than we could get through in one night.” Christian continued to eat his food as Kessen ate hers. It was a comfortable silence. A silence she would normally try to break, except for some reason, this type of silence with Christian seemed almost normal and fun. It was probably the first time since meeting him they hadn’t threatened to cause physical harm to one another. It was a scary thought. It meant they were getting close, forming a bond, a friendship, something she hadn’t planned for or even thought could happen while in London. Yet here she was, hopelessly drawn to a Vandenbrook.
“We’re alone, you know,” Christian said.
She looked up and noticed he had finished his food and was now staring at her while she ate hers.
“Is that a problem? We were alone the first night, too.” She took her last bite and pushed her plate forward.
He put his elbows on the table and folded his hands, resting his head against them as if in deep thought. “Not like this, Kessen.”
She gulped. “I’m not sure I understand.” Which was a total lie, because she did understand—she understood all too well. The hum of electricity was constantly buzzing between them. When they were walking next to one another, she felt the hotness of his body against hers. And most of all, she felt pulled towards him as a person—a pull she would be the first to admit wasn’t present a few days ago.
Suddenly it occurred to her that she needed to make sure she wasn’t with him late tonight. Nothing good happened after ten o’clock, and she couldn’t be held responsible for her decisions with him if she was drugged with sleepiness.
“We should lock our doors!” she blurted.
“Mature,” he snorted
“No, really, Christian. I think we should, and we should also go to bed early, and close our windows, and no sneaking in, and no breaking in and—”
He held up his hand for her to stop. “You’re giving me a headache, Kessen. Stop worrying so much. I do have self-control, you know.”