Compromising Kessen (2 page)

The Newberry brand was different from other brands, because they specialized in tea even though they still served coffee drinks and roasted their own beans. They prided themselves on tea which tasted just like it did during Regency times in London. They also had a line of specialty baked goods.

Kessen hoped that by the end of the year, the product launch of their specialty creamers and coffee flavorings would be as much of a hit as the last surge of peppermint-flavored English breakfast tea. She threw something else in her bag and sighed. She needed to concentrate on packing rather than business. She couldn’t help if her mind was always on the next marketing plan or the week’s sales.

After college her dad had placed her in the marketing VP position, which she took with open arms. He had left out that it was actually a glorified assistant job to the president, where she would be groomed until her father deemed her ready for advancement. And now it seemed she was ready.

She had been waiting two years for his approval.

Not that she blamed him, but she was incredibly ambitious, and this is what you were supposed to do with your life, right? The American dream was success. And she was a vision of success. She was everything America represented, yet why was it she didn’t have fulfillment? She kept telling herself it was because she was grieving, but maybe it was something more.

Needing a distraction, she grabbed her e-reader and plopped onto her bed. Reading was the only thing she could do to completely take her mind to another place. It was escapism, pure and simple. As much as she loved the Wall Street Journal, her feminine heart still desired romance; thus the reason behind her newest purchase … the latest historical romance in The Vandenbrook Series.

She had an unhealthy obsession with historical romance novels—and not just any historical romance novels, but the ones that were centered around London’s aristocratic society, ironically enough. To tell her father this would make him think he’d won. He could never know.

One time at a bookstore her mother had caused a huge scene at the coffee bar just so Kessen could purchase a book without her dad finding out. Naturally, he was too busy helping her mother to notice Kessen was off buying out the store’s supply of Regency romances. After that incident her mother had bought her an e-reader so she could purchase her books in secret. It was always fun to keep such a silly secret from her dad.

Historical romance provided Kessen the vision of a simpler time, a time when women still wore gloves, when men still bowed each time they were introduced, and when stolen kisses were cause for scandal.

What would it be like to be a part of such a time? She sighed and opened her latest book, The Duke’s Decision.

It was the tenth book in the Vandenbrook series. Their heritage had been traced back to Holland, but the family still resided in London to this day. An internet search had revealed the family has always had strict rules about blue blood matches. Each heir, regardless of the match, must marry a blue blood to keep the lines strong. Apparently it was important; though for the life of her, she couldn’t figure out why.

She wondered if her blood was blue. Well, it was partially blue; it would have to be, considering her father was an earl, but her mother had been nothing, a nobody. Though her father hated to discuss it, things in his family had never returned to normal once he left London.

How would they accept her now? She was the much-rumored, long-lost daughter, returning to London in order to please her father, in order to inherit his company. Grandmother would be pleased; she had been begging Kessen to visit for years. Her grandfather had passed away shortly after her father had left London; Kessen figured it was from the shock of it all. Her grandmother didn’t shed so much as a tear at his funeral. She said they married for blood, which seemed to be the case with all British aristocrats.

It’s not as if anyone else in the world cared; why should they?

Some things she would never understand, nor did she want to. She glanced back down at her book and bit her lip. She could finish packing later. Right now all she wanted to do was find out if the duke chose the servant girl over the princess.

She threw on her fuzzy boots, grabbed her book, and let herself out onto her balcony. It gave her a grand view of the mountains, a view she would never tire of. She sat in her chair and began reading. “The duke was distressed indeed to learn the identity of the servant girl was, in fact, the princess herself! A switch had been made, a switch of identities.”

Kessen yawned. So the duke got what he wanted after all. The servant girl was actually a princess, and they lived happily ever after. Puke.

That was entirely unrealistic she thought, yet she couldn’t help the sigh that escaped her lips.

London.

In two days.

London, England.

May God save her … forget the queen.

Chapter Two

Kessen woke up groggy. Proving her theory that nothing good ever happened after ten o’clock. She had stayed up and purchased the next two books in the duke series on her e-reader only to find she couldn’t sleep until everything was resolved.

All in all, she had gotten around two hours of sleep, and it was definitely showing all over her face. She needed to go tanning; she looked like a ghost. She should probably have her roots done as well as her nails. Who knew what the spas were like in London, or if they even had them. After watching some made-for television movies on BBC, she had her doubts.

Kessen went into her large gleaming bathroom and showered before putting on her comfortable sweats and bounding down the stairs. She grabbed a breakfast bar, her new PDA, the keys to her sports car, and ran outside. She needed a spa visit and a coffee. She quickly dialed Nick’s number and waited for him to answer.

“It’s too early,” his voice scratched on the other end. Nick was like a brother to her, and consequently one of the dearest friends she had in this world, not to mention ridiculously attractive and altogether in love with her other best friend, Sammy, who was equally beautiful and charming. They lived down the street from her and were just as much a part of her family as her own father. The wedding had taken place just a few months ago and had been partially paid for by her dad.

He would never admit to how much he actually needed Nick to run the HR department in the local branch of Newberry and Co.

“I’m going to London,” she blurted.

Her revelation was met with a long silence before Nick finally said, “I’ll be right there.”

“I’m going to the spa.”

He mumbled something under his breath she could only assume to being appropriate for her ears, and hung up.

It left her smiling. Nick hated the spa, mainly because Sammy loved the spa and often forced him to join her there so she could show him off to all the nice old ladies who worked there. He usually escaped with only having to succumb to a pedicure, but he considered it a knock to his manhood.

But he loved Sammy. So although it nearly killed him each time she asked, he would often accompany his wife on spa day. He just refused to enjoy it. In fact, though he wasn’t one to drink, he consumed a ridiculous amount of champagne while he sat in the plush chairs, as if someone was purposely torturing him.

“Inside, he probably likes it—though he’ll die before admitting it,” Sammy had told Kessen one day.

Kessen merely glanced at Nick and tried not to smile; he returned a searing glare that said, “I hate this. I hate this. I hate this.” She had turned back to Sammy and nodded. “Oh yes, I think you’re right.”

Nick had stopped talking to Kessen for two days, but finally broke his oath of silence when she promised to fake an accident during his next spa outing.

Thus the reason Nick was not happy about having to meet Kessen at the spa today.

Kessen drove through Boulder with a vengeance. She pulled her car into the first open space she could find and slammed her door. The receptionist, noticing her strained face, smiled tightly and pointed a perfectly manicured nail towards the waiting area.

“Coffee?” she asked, getting out of her seat.

“Yes.”

Kessen waited for five minutes before Nick came bounding through the door. It was obvious she had woken him up. His brown Twilight-styled hair was mussed all over his head. His designer faded jeans and muscle shirt were wrinkled and mismatched.

She shook her head at him and smiled. “You, my friend, do not match.”

He mimicked her words with his mouth before sitting down in a huff. “It’s not like I had many options this morning. It is laundry day, and it’s not every morning I get a call at the crack of dawn from my best friend telling me she’s going to London.” He turned towards her and scowled. “You despise London. What gives? Don’t tell me your father is singing the national anthem over you again. He’s been humming it at work lately, too. I think it’s gotten worse since—”

He didn’t finish the sentence. Tension hung in the air like a cloud. What he meant to say was since Lady Newberry’s death, but the guilty look on his face told Kessen he felt bad for bringing it up.

When the receptionist set the coffee in front of Kessen, Nick grabbed it before she had a chance.

“Nick, I swear I will cut your lips off if they touch that blessed drink before mine do.”

He challenged her with a glare before he finally gave up and handed the coffee over, but not before ordering one of his own—double shots.

Kessen sipped the black brew and sighed. “It’s not that I hate London, I just hate what it represents.”

Nick nodded knowingly. “Tea.”

It was his typical Newberry answer. After working at Newberry and Co., employees were so overwhelmed with tea products, they blamed everything on tea itself, including world hunger. Naturally it was just a joke, considering tea was literally their bread and butter, but it didn’t keep them from teasing one another about it.

Kessen laughed. “More than tea.”

“Stuffy old British people who can’t hug?” He winked.

“Why can’t they hug?” Kessen asked thoughtfully. “I’ve always wanted to know why British people are so emotionally unresponsive. Then again, all of our evidence is based on stories from my father and from watching too much TV.”

Nick shrugged. “It’s the tea.”

Kessen rolled her eyes. “I think it’s all the weird aristocratic bloodlines not allowing themselves to mix. They have no flavor, for crying out loud!”

“And when you say mix,” Nick said, smiling, “you mean—”

“Stop being a guy,” Kessen interrupted.

His response was putting his hands up while he laughed silently. Do boys ever grow into men?

Kessen needed a change of subject. “Where’s Sammy?”

Nick looked sheepish. “It’s possible I told her you were going to London, and she panicked and is trying to get here as soon as she can.” His words gushed out in breathtaking speed.

He put his head down like a little boy who had just been punished.

“Why would you worry her like that?” Kessen slapped the back of his head. “She has enough on her plate right now!”

Sammy was the senior marketing director at competing tea company headquartered in Boulder as well. Her new product launches were due in a matter of days.

Nick rubbed the back of his head and shot Kessen a deadly glare. “She’s a big girl. She can handle herself. Plus, what was your plan? Go to London, then call and tell her where you were? She would have been worried sick!”

Kessen bit her lip. He did have a point. “In my defense,” she said, “I was planning to call her from the airport, not from London.”

“It’s the same thing,” he snorted.

“Is not!”

“Are we going to do this? Really? Stop arguing. You always get so argumentative when you’re nervous. How long do you have to stay in London anyway?”

Kessen sighed. “A Season.”

“Oh, so for the summer?” Nick said, winking at the sixty-year-old receptionist.

“Focus,” Kessen snapped. “And no, not for the summer. A Season, as in a London Season, where they have all the parties, and I don’t know if they still call them balls? I’m ignorant. Anyway, it will be more like four or five months.” She left out the forever part. Poor Nick couldn’t handle that much information this early in the morning.

Nick spit out his coffee, spraying it all over the new fashion magazine in front of him. “That long? And why does your father think you need to have a Season?”

Ah, the dreaded question Kessen knew he would ask. She silently contemplated lying. It wouldn’t matter, because he would find out anyway, most likely from her father.

“Um… I’m being launched into society. Oh, look! It’s my turn for a pedicure!” She jumped up from her seat.

Nick moved his hands to brace Kessen’s shoulders. “Please repeat,” he ordered.

“I’d rather not, my throat hurts.”

“Stop lying.”

She gave him a puppy dog look, but it didn’t work.

“Kessen?” he urged.

“Fine!” Anger welled up in her chest. “My dad’s going to disinherit me, and he refuses to pass the company to me unless I go to London and experience my heritage.“

Nick laughed. “Um, you’re American. As American as they come. For crying out loud, Kessen, you still say the pledge of allegiance every day!”

Her face reddened. “I’m being patriotic, Nick!”

“No,” he laughed. “You’re being a first grader.”

She punched him in the arm.

“Easy,” he mumbled, setting the magazine down.

“Does your dad know you at all? Does he know when you were small you dreamed you would be president, or that you have all of our founding fathers’ names memorized? Good grief, Kessen! This must a bloody nightmare for you!”

The last part was said with a British accent, which Kessen didn’t find at all funny. Nick backed up in anticipation of her slap.

“Nick.” Her teeth were clenched along with her fists. “Don’t you dare tell him any of those things. It would crush him! Just yesterday he was singing “God Save the Queen” and nearly cried when I told him to stop!”

Nick covered his mouth with his hands. “Holy Hannah, Kessen! You are so totally going to have to go to London.” Then as if the seriousness of the situation actually hit him, he added, “Wait. He isn’t trying to marry you off during this Season, is he?”