Chapter 8

Tessa stared at the items on the bed in stunned surprise before turning to look at the man standing a little behind her.

"I cannot accept these." She told him slowly.

"I would like you to wear them tonight."

Sitting on the edge of the bed, she fingered the gossamer ice blue gown and was privy enough to fashion to realize that it cost a fortune. And he did not stop there. Matching shoes were on the floor, and an oblong box contained a stunning diamond necklace and matching earrings.

"You should have asked me first."

"And you would have said no. Am I not allowed to purchase things for my girl?"

Her heart leaped inside her chest at the tone of his voice and his words. "Your girl?"

"Are you not?" Kneeling before her, he took her hands, forcing her to meet his eyes. "I want us to have fun, to enjoy our time together. And I would like you to do that for me."

She did not bother to remind him that their time together was running out because she could not bear to think of it herself.

She had been miserable at the gallery today because he had not bothered to attend. He had not been there for the day, and she missed him so much. What was going to happen when he was gone from her life?

Pushing the aching thoughts aside, she stared at him. Tugging a hand loose, she brushed the lock of hair that had fallen over his forehead, her touch gentle.

"All right," she said quietly.

"If I had known it would be this easy, I would have gone with the rubies and emeralds as well." He teased her.

"Don't you dare!" She laughed, the tension that surrounded her heart dissipating. She was here with him now, and it did not matter that they were living in a dream. She would continue living that dream until it was time for him to leave.

"What time is the show?"

"Eight sharp." He glanced at the expensive watch on his wrist. "Which gives us an hour. I waited to shower so we could do it together."

She gave him a firm look. "No funny business."

"Of course not." His look of sham innocence had her laughing again as he drew her to her feet.

She had stopped at the salon to get her hair shampooed and conditioned in anticipation of the date. Putting the thick dark brown strands on her head, she secured it with pins to keep it from getting wet.

Stepping into the cavernous shower, she reached for the sponge when he first met her. "Let me." He whispered huskily. Touching the button that dispensed the citrusy gel, he turned her around and started to run the sponge, starting with her neck and then down her breasts.

His touch was so gentle and light that she could not bear it. They had showered together before, and it always turned into something else. She warned him she would not allow it to happen again because he had made her late.

Turning off the jet spray, he concentrated on rubbing the sponge over her breasts and nipples with a thoroughness that sent tingles all over her body. Closing her eyes briefly, she lifted her hands to rest on his shoulders as he made his way down to her flat stomach and spent an inordinate amount of time circling her navel.

When he drifted to the curls between her thighs, she was already trembling, the tremors racking her body. "Open your thighs, love." He whispered.

As soon as she did, he dipped the sponge in and started stroking the swollen flesh that was already highly sensitive. Leaning her head forward, she rested her forehead on his chest, her breath coming rapidly between her lips.

Her fingers tightened in his flesh as he eased the sponge into her slowly, the caress becoming unbearable.

"Landen-"

"Darling?"

"I can't." She whispered.

"Let me put you out of your misery," he whispered. Turning the water on, he dropped to his knees and kissed her. Her body arched feverishly, her body splintering with the sensations racing through her entire being. His tongue plunged deep into her and sent her flying.

A low scream escaped her as the climax slammed through her with a force that had her sagging against the wall. She would have fallen if his hands had not gripped her around the waist to hold her in place.

Rising slowly, he lifted her and wrapped her legs around his trim waist, green eyes feverish with passion. Bracing her against the tiles, he drove into her, his head bending as he took her lips in a kiss that sent fresh fire trembling throughout her body.

*****

The Sussex Theater had been around for the past fifty years and was as sumptuous and elegantly furnished as it was when it opened its doors.

Strong towering pillars, graceful arches, and soaring ceilings were some of its interesting features, not to mention the thick, lush red carpet for its patrons to sink their feet into. The building took up several blocks and was in the middle of a swanky restaurant and several storefront shops.

Of course, Tessa had never been inside the building before because it catered to the very wealthy and elite society, who could afford the extravagant fees, which included champagne, caviar, and plush, comfortable chairs.

Looking darkly handsome in his elegant tux, Landen seemed at home in his surroundings, which painfully reminded her of the difference between them. He gripped her gloved hand and entwined their fingers together as if he knew where her thoughts were taking her.

Ever since the car left them at the front of the theater, he had held her hand, his fingers sliding through hers. It was as if he was saying to the world that he had made his decision and damn the consequences.

"Here we are." His deep, accented voice broke through her thoughts and made her aware that they were being directed to the front rows of the upper floors.

"A private box?"

He nodded, making sure she was seated before sitting down. "We happen to be avid patrons." Accepting the glasses of champagne, he handed her one.

"I never asked the name of the play?"

"An Elizabethan drama," he told her with a grin.

"I should have guessed." She responded dryly, taking a sip of the champagne. Turning her head, she looked around the semi-darkened room, fascinated at the glitter of stunning jewelry and dresses the women wore. And that she recognized some of the faces.

"Isn't that the Vice president?" She whispered, leaning close to him so her voice would not carry.

"You tell me," he whispered, his arm going around her shoulders and keeping her there.

"It is." The excitement in her voice had him grinning. He had been so accustomed to these surroundings that he had taken them for granted, but seeing the enchanted look on her exquisite face made it all new and exciting for him.

She turned wide eyes to look at him, and he took the opportunity to bury his lips on hers. For a few minutes, the people milling around them and the champagne in their hands were forgotten as they gloried in the emotions churning in their bodies.

Lifting his mouth from hers, he held her against him, his heart thudding inside his chest. Tessa leaned weakly against him, her body feeling as if it were boneless.

"The show is about to start," he murmured huskily, still fighting for control.

Stirring herself, she tried to sit up, but he held her against him with her head resting on his shoulder. Settling in that comfortable position, she watched the red velvet curtain unfurl to reveal a vast, dimly lit stage.

Within minutes, she was absorbed in the story of a beleaguered queen forced into reign when her father passed suddenly. Landen had watched the play several times before and spent a pleasurable hour staring at the woman in his arms.

He smiled tenderly at her heartfelt reactions to what was happening on stage. At one point, she grabbed his hand and dug her fingers into his palm. He couldn't get enough of her, he thought numbly.

He had escorted countless women to the theater before, not just in his country but all over the world, and never felt the urge to wrap his arms around them or feel the need to ravish them inside the box. That was what he was feeling now.

Tessa's slender body was pressed against his, and he could feel his body hardening with lust. Mentally shaking his head, he wondered what it was about this one woman that made him feel as if he was going to explode.

He was used to beautiful women and had had his fair share. But he wasn't in control of his emotions for the first time. This slender, intoxicating beauty in his arms brought out the animal inside him. She made him vulnerable and strong at the same time. She was passionate and giving; the more he was with her, the more he wanted to be with her.

He had been brought up to be rigid and not show his emotions, which were only supposed to be on the surface. That had never been a problem for him before. He was an Englishman and a sort of nobility. He had been reared to guard his feelings if he had any deep feelings.

It would not do to show enthusiasm or emotions; it was unbecoming for a man of his station. Crying was not allowed, not even when he had fallen and skinned his knee. When he was ten years old, his horse had thrown him as he was making an exceptionally high jump, and he had broken his left wrist.

The pain had been excruciating, but he had gritted his teeth and bore down because his father would have been displeased if he uttered a peak.

Now, it was as if all the suppressed emotions were clamoring to be released, and he was feeling everything simultaneously. He wanted to touch her constantly, and whenever she was not around, he missed her like crazy.

His hand tightened around her shoulder, lifting her head to look at him.

"Enjoying the show, love?" He whispered.

"Immensely," she whispered back.

"Happy you came?"

She nodded, "Are you going to kiss me again?"

He chuckled. "Thinking about it."

"You are distracting me." She pointed out primly.

"I think you are the distracting one here." He kissed her forehead and allowed her to watch the rest of the show.

*****

She felt like Cinderella on her way to the ball. And Landen was the perfect prince. He had made reservations for them at Kelly Takahashi's restaurant, something that was almost impossible to do, but she supposed that with his name, doors would open for him.

They were shown to a private booth in the corner of the large, spacious restaurant and handed embossed menus without prices.

"This is in French." She pointed out with a frown that had him grinning. "I am more fluent in Spanish."

Opening his book, he scanned the list and decided on the duck in orange sauce.

"Why on earth would it be in French?"

"There is an English section. Kelly and her husband are trying out an international theme. There is also a section for Italian, Japanese, Chinese, and German. People fly in from all over the world to conduct business, and this is where they conduct their various negotiations."

"You speak French."

"And Italian as well as Spanish. I also know a little Japanese and German." He flashed her a wry smile as he scanned the menu again. "How do you feel about duck?"

"I love to watch them wading in the pond."

"How about having them as a meal? I guarantee you are going to love it."

She inclined her head. "I bow to your superior expertise."

"I won't disappoint you," he promised.

And he was right. The meal was delicious, and the service was so seamless that as soon as they finished a course, their plates were whisked away to be replaced by the next course, the preceding one, which was more exquisitely delicious than the first.

She also enjoyed watching and hearing him place the order; his accent was flawless. He was clearly in command, and even though he was seemingly relaxed, an aura of leashed power fired her senses.

She had seen him at the theater and now in this very fancy restaurant, and it only proved that they were miles apart, something she did not want to think about.

Forcing a smile, she listened as he regaled her with amusing tales about some famous patrons. "A French model?"

He nodded. "Gay but determined to keep up the pretense that he is a ladies' man."

"I recognize him. And the woman he is with-"

"Maria Allermaine. She is the current cover of Vogue."

"It's rumored that they are a couple."

"They have an arrangement."

Her eyebrows lifted. "How would you know that?"

"Maria happens to be a friend of mine," he told her mildly, picking up his wine glass.

"Friend or something else?"

His eyes met hers, and she saw the truth on his handsome face.

"I see." Picking up the dessert fork, she cut into her creme Brule.

"It was just a fling."

"Like the one we are having now?"

His amusement faded as he studied her exquisite expression and realized she was upset.

"No," he said soberly. "Nothing I ever experienced before is like this."

Instead of responding, she turned her head to look out the window. Stifling a sigh, he reached for her free hand. "Look at me."

When she did, he continued. "I have never been in love before. This is new to me, and I have no idea what to do most of the time. I would like us to have an enjoyable night. Can we do that?"

She hesitated briefly as she returned his gaze. He had gotten rid of the bow tie. She had seen him shoving it into his pants pocket, explaining with a grin that it seemed to be cutting off his air supply. He had also unbuttoned the two top buttons of his tuxedo shirt, revealing the substantial column of his throat.

"Why isn't your skin pasty white?" She asked suddenly.

"I beg your pardon?" He blinked, a puzzled look on his face.

She smiled at his nonplussed expression. "I have seen you naked multiple times, and you have a tan - all over."

"And?"

"And you are supposed to be pasty white." She repeated.

Shaking his head, he reached for his wine glass, secretly happy that her mood had lightened. "Might I ask you how you came up with that observation?"

"You are English." She pointed out.

"And by your assumption, the fact that I am English means I should have very light skin?"

She poked a tongue out at him, and it was all he could do not to crush his mouth to hers. "It sounds silly."

"It does."

"I would still like an answer. Let me guess- you go to nude beaches and sunbathe."

"Or the simple explanation is that I am part Irish and have very dark hair, making my skin slightly tanned."

"You are Irish?"

"On my mother's side." He pointed to his green eyes. "I inherited the hair and eyes from her. And I sunbathe at nude beaches. I happen to be proud of my body."

"And very modest about it, too." Propping an elbow onto the table, she stared at him.

"Completely naked?"

"That's what I said."

"With everything out there for everyone to see?"

"That's what being completely naked means. And you are a prude."

"I am not."

"So, if I invite you to go to one of those beaches, you would gladly accompany me?"

"I would have to think about it first."

"How long?"

"A few days."

"Just what I thought." He gave her a knowing look.

*****

"You ripped the dress," Tessa murmured,

They were both trying to catch their breaths after a very rough and energetic sex that had started in the living room and ended up in the bed.

"I will buy you another, several as a matter of fact." He brushed back the hairs from her cheek, his eyes darkening as he took in the passion shining in her dark brown eyes.

"No, you won't."

"Are you going to stop me?" He cupped her cheek and turned her to face him.

"I don't want things. All I want is you."

"You have me." He was about to claim her lips when she wedged a hand on his chest.

"Do I?"

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing."

"Please talk to me."

"We are pretending this will be a happy ending."

"It can be."

"Please don't do that. I am a grown-ass woman who went into this thing with you with wide-open eyes. You are British, and I am an American—a black American at that. You are fabulously wealthy, and I earn an income.

It is not a shabby deal, but compared to the amount of money you have, it's not even a drop in the bucket. I am not Cinderella, and I certainly do not believe in fairytales. We will not end up together, and I am bracing myself for the day when you say goodbye."

"What if I don't?"

"Please, stop."

"I have money of my own. We could go somewhere - we have flats and houses in Scotland, Italy and France. I have my place in London. We could live anywhere." The idea was suddenly taking root inside his mind.

"You want to get away from your parents."

"Yes."

"Because you know deep in your heart that they would never approve of me."

He considered lying to her, but he refused to insult her intelligence. "Yes." He acknowledged quietly.

"Because I am black."

"Among other things," he admitted.

Pulling out of his arms, she dropped back on the pillows.

"I am sorry."

"Why?" She asked huskily. "You didn't do anything." Turning her head, she gazed at the man who had come into her life unexpectedly and turned it inside out. "I was holding out for someone suitable.

My siblings kept setting me up on these blind dates or urging me to go out with one of their colleagues, and I did it to please them until I realized that I did not want to anymore. I want a family with a man I love and did not want to settle for anything less."

"What are you saying?" He asked hoarsely.

"I wanted normal, and then I met you." Her eyes shimmered with tears. "You came into the gallery and headed straight for me, and the moment I saw you, that was it.

My senses screamed that I should stay away from you, that nothing good would ever come from being with you. I am not one for casual sex, and at first, when you approached me, I was amused." The tears were trickling down her cheeks. "Now the fricking joke is on me."

"Tessa-" he started to reach for her, his heart breaking, but she held up a hand.

"Just let me finish. I am in love with you, irrevocably and head over heels in love with you, and there is no going back for me."

"I feel the same way," he told her quietly.

"Then we have a problem." Lifting a hand, she wiped away the tears. "Your family will never accept me, and I am not certain I could live my life with you, knowing they don't."

"I am not letting you go," he told her tightly, pulling her into his arms and snuggling her against his chest. "No matter what."