by Romy Sommer
Tessa choked on her soup. She had to stop doing that.
The sun was just coming up as they left the palace for the last time. It was past eight o’clock and the morning rush hour was already in full swing. Since the thaw had set in, there was a crowd clustered at the gates; the usual mix of royal-spotters, celebrity-spotters and photographers. Tessa recognised a few of the faces from the days she’d dated Fredrik.
That seemed a lifetime ago now.
Frank’s car inched through the crowd, the darkened windows subduing the incessant camera flashes. This was the last time they’d drive together through these gates. Unless she accepted Christian’s invitation to Paris, this would be the last time they’d be confined together in the back seat of a car.
Three long weeks ago she’d prayed for this moment. Now that it was here, she didn’t want it to end.
She cleared her throat. “If I go to Paris with you, I have a few conditions.”
Christian raised an eyebrow.
“The existing booking is for one suite only. I want my own separate suite.”
He nodded.
“On separate floors.”
“If you insist.”
“I’ll be there as your assistant. Nothing else.”
He didn’t say anything, and she frowned.
He shrugged a shoulder. “Scout’s honour.”
She doubted he’d ever been a cub scout.
Why on earth had she agreed to this? She couldn’t trust him to keep his word, nor could she trust herself.
But she had to do this. Forget what Lee and Anna thought, she had to do this for Westerwald.
She had a very good idea what temptation faced her in Paris. How was she going to manage to keep Christian at arm’s length when it was just the two of them, alone in a foreign city, in a hotel? A place with beds.
But they wouldn’t be alone. Dominic would be there. The film’s producers and publicists and stars would all be there. And Stefan would be there. He was the reason her heartbeat quickened at the thought of Paris.
And she’d do some shopping. Nothing beat the Parisian shops.
Yes, that was it. Her excitement had nothing to do with Christian and everything to do with Paris.
Liar.
Chapter 16
They flew to Paris on a private jet, just her and Christian and Dominic. Tessa wasn’t sure whether Dominic’s company was a help or a hindrance. She sat quietly in the corner, trying to concentrate on her novel, while the two men talked sports and drank beer, even though it was still well before noon.
As soon as they landed, Dominic made himself scarce and Tessa and Christian headed to the hotel, a discreetly luxurious establishment off the Rue du Faubourg St Honoré booked for them by the film’s publicity team. The hotel overlooked a park-like garden, a Paris rarity.
“What do you have planned for the day?” Christian asked as they waited at the check-in desk. “Are you meeting your fiancé?”
He never used Stefan’s name, she noticed.
“He has meetings until late. I’ll meet him at the restaurant later this evening.”
“He’s not staying here?”
She shook her head. “He stays at the embassy.”
“So why aren’t you there with him?”
“We’re not married yet. It wouldn’t be appropriate.”
She didn’t like the look he gave her; one of those penetrating, see-all looks. “You’re not still a virgin, are you?” he teased.
She pulled her shoulders up, indignation coursing through her. “Of course not.”
He grinned, eyes twinkling. “Just checking. Since your preference seems to run to the gentlemanly.” His tone was only faintly mocking, but he was right. She and Fredrik had never… and Stefan…
“Our relationship isn’t like that. It’s not about sex. It’s about companionship and mutual understanding.” She felt an overwhelming urge to explain. Or to dig herself out of a hole. She wasn’t sure which. “Sex is highly over-rated. I don’t know what all the fuss is about.” She was very proud of how cool and even her voice came out.
Christian’s eyes glittered dangerously. “Then you haven’t been doing it with the right person.”
“That’s what all you guys think.” She dropped her voice to a deep tone: “I’m such a stud that with me it’ll be different.”
He laughed and leaned closer, so that his breath tickled her cheek. Though he spoke softly there was no chance she could miss his next words. “Oh I guarantee with me it will be different.”
She was no longer rolling her eyes. No, every ounce of energy left in her body was needed just to hold her legs up. She turned her head away so he couldn’t read the temptation in her eyes. “Get over yourself, Stud.”
He grinned as he stepped back. “Just as long as you recognise that.”
He took the key card the blushing check-in girl handed him and headed for the lifts. Tessa leaned against the check-in counter and fought to get her breathing back under control.
What the hell was he doing to her? This wasn’t her. Going all weak-kneed and flashing hot and cold. Perhaps she was coming down with something.
But she knew what she was coming down with. A very bad case of lust. And it wasn’t for her fiancé.
“Your card, ma’am.”
Tessa took the key card held out to her. She had a nasty suspicion it wasn’t the first time the young woman had tried to give it to her.
The walk across the lobby to the lifts gave her a moment to recompose herself. She had a mission, and she needed to remember that. Her knees would have to wait until later to go weak. Preferably until she saw Stefan.
Christian still waited at the lifts.
“You have the list of stores your stylist wants you to visit?” she asked, back in professional assistant mode, even if only for the sake of the porters waiting beside them.
His nose wrinkled. “Do I really have to spend the afternoon shopping? Isn’t that what I pay the stylist for?”
Tessa held out her hand and with a sigh he pulled a dog-eared printed email from his shoulder bag and gave it to her. She scanned the list. Most were shops she’d planned to visit herself, so she could at least do her own shopping while tackling the touchy subject of missing rings.
“I’ll meet you back here in the lobby in fifteen minutes.”
“You’ll come with me?” He brightened.
She cast a pointed look at the sweatpants he wore. “You should not be allowed to dress yourself. And your stylist will kill you if you come back with yet more jeans and sweatshirts. You need me.”
His answering grin was cheeky. “I know I do.”
They hit the Avenue Montaigne first – Dior, Lacroix, Valentino, Ungaro.
Most men she knew would have wilted within half an hour, but Christian, the Energizer bunny, kept on going. Not that she’d ever been shopping with a man before, but she was sure most would not have had the patience to wait while she directed the stream of attendants and made their selections. Christian teased and flirted with the attendants who waited on them, tried on suits and shirts and pants when instructed and drank seemingly copious quantities of champagne.
And though this was Christian Taylor the Joker in full character, he seemed to be enjoying himself.
She was too. Much as she enjoyed shopping at any time, being with Christian brought out the sunlight and the laughter. She no longer fooled herself that it was the champagne.
They lunched at L’Avenue on lobster salads and more champagne.
Without an audience, he was himself again. At ease, quiet, not trying so hard. She only wished she’d had more time to get to know this version of him.
Tessa sipped her cappuccino and eyed him across the table. If there was ever a moment to ask him straight out about his ring, this was it. But she couldn’t bring herself to do it. She didn’t want to break this golden moment, this last bit of time they’d spend together.
They headed back to the Rue du Faubourg St Honoré to tackle Ferr
agamo and Yves St Laurent, but the sunlight was no longer there. The sky turned grey and heavy.
“Your stylist will be proud of you,” Tessa said, as they stood outside the last store and watched the chauffeur load their purchases into the car. Snow had started to full again. She lifted her face to the snowflakes drifting down and closed her eyes. Then, unable to resist the temptation, she stuck out her tongue.
Christian laughed, a throaty, reverberating sound. “When we first met, there’s no way you would have done that.”
She blinked. The princess she’d been trained to be couldn’t just stick her tongue out. At least, not where any camera might see. But she wasn’t going to be a princess, was she? She could do anything she wanted. She smiled at the revelation.
“Thank you for today,” she said. “I had fun.” And she’d especially enjoyed spending an entire day with him without having to worry about how he made her feel or how she would keep him at a distance. She was glad she’d come.
This was a much better way to end things.
Even though she didn’t want it to end.
Christian grinned as he held the car door open for her. “I should thank you. But my credit card doesn’t.”
She stepped into the car. She hadn’t asked him about the ring. And she didn’t care.
Christian opened the French doors of his suite wide, but it didn’t help. The blood in his veins seemed to have reached boiling point. More than a month since he’d last gotten laid and his obsession with Teresa was nowhere near at an end. He stood on the balcony, whiskey tumbler in hand, and enjoyed the sensation of the snow falling about him, settling on the grey rooftops all around.
Even in nothing but shirt sleeves, the wintry air could do nothing to quench the fire inside him.
What kind of a future was Tessa signing up for? A future with an absent husband, with whom sex was highly over-rated?
She needed to be the person she’d been today: a young woman with laughter-bright eyes who stuck her tongue out to catch snowflakes. Because that woman would never settle for a life without adventure and passion.
His grand plan for the weekend had involved letting her see her soon-to-be-husband tonight. Tomorrow he would look in her eyes and he would know. But tomorrow, if she still looked at him with the banked inferno in her eyes, then he would make his move.
It had been a good plan, a sensible one. A plan designed to not scare her off or overstep any boundaries until he was sure.
A responsible plan.
But he no longer needed to wait for tomorrow. How could she not see that she was making a terrible mistake?
He downed the drink.
He couldn’t let her make this mistake and he couldn’t wait. Tomorrow was a lifetime away and he wouldn’t endure another tortured night.
To hell with the plan.
Sticking his key card in the back pocket of his jeans, he left the suite. Though the elevator’s machinery worked with soundless modern efficiency, it moved as slowly as it no doubt had when the hotel was built a hundred years ago.
Tessa couldn’t have put any more distance between their rooms if she’d tried. He found hers at the end of a very long corridor, at the furthest end of the hotel from his.
He knocked on the door, impatient.
The door opened and Tessa’s eyes widened. She wore a hotel dressing gown and smelled freshly showered.
“Do you need something?” she asked, voice breathy.
Yes. You.
The banked fire was there in her eyes. He pushed past her into the room and slowly, reluctantly, she shut the door behind them.
Now that he was here, he didn’t know the words to say. He caught her hips and dragged her against him. His lips crashed down on hers. This kiss was neither soft nor slow as their first kiss had been, but hard and demanding, punishing.
She kissed him back, fighting fire with fire. Her mouth opened, letting him in. His hands were on her lower back, sliding lower. Hers were in his hair, sliding down his shoulders, to his chest.
With an anguished groan she pushed him away, breathing heavily. When he held her fast, she pummelled at his chest and he let her. He could take it. Not for nothing had he spent a lifetime of taking abuse in the gym.
At last she sagged against him, her forehead against his chest, the fight gone out of her. He cradled her against his body, stroked his hand through her hair, silky soft, soft as her lips.
He raised her chin and looked into her eyes and something welled up inside him, something fierce and pure that he couldn’t name because he’d never experienced it before.
“Are you done?” he asked.
She lifted her stark gaze to his. “What happened to scout’s honour? You promised you wouldn’t do anything I didn’t want.”
“But you want this.”
For a long, suspended moment their gazes held. “We shouldn’t do this. We can’t do this. I need to meet Stefan and his colleagues at the restaurant.”
Christian frowned. He wanted to jump her bones and he’d been with her every day for the last four weeks. Her fiancé hadn’t seen her in just as long and the one evening he got to spend with her, he took her out to dinner with his colleagues?
“You’re very big on shoulds and shouldn’ts, but be honest with me. You’re scared. I understand that. But look me in the eye when you tell me you don’t want this.”
“It doesn’t matter what I want.”
His frown deepened. “That’s not what I asked.”
“Want is a dangerous thing. It’s self-serving and destructive.”
“Denying yourself is destructive. One of these days you’re going to implode. Why the hell are you going ahead with this marriage? Surely you must have realised by now you were on the rebound when you agreed to marry him? You were barely over Prince Fredrik when you jumped into this engagement. What you should be doing is ending this mistake before it gets even worse.”
“It’s not a mistake. Stefan and I… what we have isn’t like that.”
“Then tell me what it is like. Because from where I’m standing it looks like you’re about to marry someone you don’t love and who doesn’t love you back. And I don’t understand why.”
“Of course you wouldn’t understand. Stefan and I… we have a shared vision.”
He held her gaze, dared her to look away. Dared her to acknowledge the truth. Surely she wasn’t so blind she actually believed her happiness was worth sacrificing just because they both wanted to be noble and make a difference in the world?
Desire flickered in her eyes, and something else. It wasn’t just him she wanted, but everything he represented, freedom, indulgence. All the things she’d denied herself. And for what?
He pressed his advantage. “If you were mine, I’d say to hell with dinner and you’d be in that bed already. Naked.” He fully expected her to come back with a sassy rejoinder, something about ‘then just as well I’m not yours’ but she stayed silent.
“Your lips say one thing, but your eyes say something else.”
Slowly, painfully slowly, she slid her hands beneath his shirt, gliding over his skin, exploring, setting his body alight. He moaned.
With shaking hands she began to unbutton his shirt.
To hell with the buttons. He yanked the shirt up and over his head and tossed it on the bed.
Her eyes were wide, her pupils dilated, as they’d been the night he first kissed her. But this time she wasn’t tipsy. She knew exactly what she was doing.
She ran her hands over his chest, skating across his hardened nipples, down over his abs. He captured her wrists as she reached his waistband.
First he needed to be sure…
There was only one thing more he still needed to hear from her. “Do you love him?”
If she told him she loved Stefan, then this was the end. He would walk away.
But if she didn’t…
He could practically hear her heart beating in the pregnant silence. Her lips parted to speak and he held his breath.<
br />
A knock resounded through the room.
“Did you order room service?” He held her gaze, not willing to let her free.
She shook her head, slowly, as if mesmerised.
The knock came again, louder. Followed by a voice. “Teresa, are you in there?”
She blinked, waking from her trance, and paled. “Oh my God – it’s Stefan.” She looked around wildly, as if searching for an escape. “I can’t see him now! Not like this.”
“Do you want me to get rid of him?”
“Definitely not!” She sucked in a breath, more a gulp. “You’ve got to get out of here.”
“I’m not leaving. Not until you give me an answer.”
“He can’t see you here!”
It was the closest to panicked he’d ever seen her. Even that first night when he’d vaulted into her car, she’d shown more control.
“I’ll wait in the bathroom.”
Another knock. “Teresa, if you’re in there, please let me in. I need the bathroom.”
Shit.
“Under the bed or in the closet,” she said. “Those are your options.”
The closet would be airless. He swore and got down on his knees. As he rolled under the bed, Tessa threw his shirt in after him and headed for the door.
Oh God, he’d become the ultimate sitcom cliché.
“I’m here,” she said, unlatching the door and letting Stefan in.
“Thank heavens. I didn’t expect the traffic to be so bad coming across town.” Hurried footsteps entered the room.
From his vantage point under the bed, Christian could see little more than a frame of bed-covering and the carpet. A pair of expensive patent-leather shoes appeared, and a smart attaché case was placed on the low coffee table just within Christian’s line of vision. Then the shoes crossed the room and the bathroom door closed.
Tessa followed Stefan to the door. “This is a surprise. I thought we were meeting at the restaurant later!”
“I got off early and wanted to see you. I thought we could have a drink downstairs before we go meet the others for dinner.” Stefan’s voice came indistinct through the closed door.