Prince of Midtown / Marriage, Manhattan Style: Prince of Midtown. Jennifer Lewis
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was he up to?
Four
“Your hair is wavy.” Sebastian’s gaze followed the undulating mass of hair that she’d tied back with a clasp before breakfast.
Tessa’s hand sprang self-consciously to her head. At least it was nearly dry. “My dryer didn’t fit the outlet.”
Sebastian reached behind her head, his arm almost brushing her cheek in a swift movement that made her gasp. With thumb and finger he unsnapped her hair clip and removed it. Her hair tumbled down her back.
His eyes shone with appreciation. “You should always wear it like this.” He pocketed her clip. “Why do women scorch the natural beauty out of their hair?”
“It looks neater blow-dried straight.”
“I disagree.” He reached into her hair.
Tessa fought the urge to protest. This was totally unprofessional! He stroked her hair. Heat rippled in her belly and she swallowed the desire to purr like a contented cat.
She gulped for air. Had he forgotten she had a boyfriend? “Where are we heading?”
“The harbor. I’ll phone ahead and have my boat prepared.”
He withdrew his hand from her hair and reached into his pocket for his cell.
Oh, how the other half lived.
Tessa expected a chauffeured limousine—especially since that’s how Sebastian generally moved around New York.
But no. They left the palace on foot, through an arched doorway that took them out onto one of the winding cobbled streets flanked with whitewashed buildings.
She was even more astonished when Sebastian stopped to greet ordinary citizens. He seemed to know everyone on a first-name basis, and inquired after their families and their businesses like an old friend.
Weirder still, Tessa found she could understand snatches of conversation, although she’d never had the need to learn the Caspian language.
After a few introductions, she made a halting attempt to greet an elderly man in Caspian.
Sebastian rewarded her efforts with a broad grin. “You speak like a native.”
“No, I don’t! But I’m having fun trying. How come so many of the words sound familiar?”
“Did you study Latin in school?”
“I went to St. Peter’s.” She chuckled. “You know the snootiest prep school on the East Coast made everyone take Latin.”
“That’s why you understand us. Caspians speak a dialect of Latin that’s changed little since the time of the Roman Empire. Add a vowel at the end of a few words, and you’re speaking Caspian. Some words haven’t changed at all. Te amo, for example, still means I love you.”
Mischief sparkled in his eyes.
Tessa ignored the rush of heat to her chest. He was toying with her! What a nerve. Just because she’d handed in her notice he thought he could let loose and flirt with her before she quit?
Te amo. Yeah. Right. As if she was dumb enough to join the cohorts of women notched on his bedpost. Maybe he thought it would be fun to make her fall in love with him—then dump her—as punishment for quitting her job and leaving him in the lurch.
Sebastian had a reputation for treating seduction as a sport. His little black book—little BlackBerry, rather—must have a thousand names in it. She knew about all those starlets and models and fashion designers, not to mention tennis star Andrea Raditz and soccer champion Leah Mannion. Oh, yes, and half his graduating class at Brown University. And let’s not even get into all those British girls he’d romanced during his years at Eton.
Loving Sebastian was a game with a very crowded playing field, and she had no intention of joining in.
When they reached the end of a row of stuccoed buildings, Tessa stood facing the magnificent bay she’d seen from her room.
The sea breeze cooled her, and the salt air mingled with the sharp scent of lemons piled high on a nearby market stall.
“This scene looks as if it hasn’t changed in two thousand years.”
“It probably hasn’t, at least on the surface. The wireless Internet is pretty recent.” He flashed a sly smile. “No one’s sure who first built this harbor. It’s been here for all of recorded history.”
They walked toward the water. Almost turquoise in the shallow bay, it lapped against ancient blocks of stone worn smooth by the passage of a million feet.
A long painted boat bobbed a few feet offshore, and Sebastian waved to the man seated in its prow. He punted the boat alongside the quay, and lashed it to a giant iron ring.
The boatman was young and handsome. Tessa found herself held on both sides by gorgeous Caspian men as she stepped down into the rocking, red interior.
Sebastian jumped in after her. He landed so lightly on his feet, the boat barely twitched. “Feels good to be back on the water. A true Caspian gets edgy on dry land for too long.”
He settled back into a red velvet banquette that spanned the width of the boat. “Give us the full tour, Dino. Tessa has never been to our country before.”
“That is deprivation, indeed,” said Dino, in unaccented English.
“Ita vero,” agreed Tessa in Latin.
Sebastian grinned. “Show-off.”
Tessa raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, and?”
He leaned back on the seat and once again wove his long fingers into the thick, loose mass of her untamed hair. “I like a woman who’s not afraid to show what she’s made of,” he whispered.
Dino tactfully kept his eyes on the harbor wall as they rowed toward it.
Tessa’s blood heated with a mix of excitement and confusion. Her nipples rose to meet the delicate chiffon of her summery dress, and she became instantly aware that they were likely visible, since the strappy design didn’t allow for a bra.
“What impressive stonework,” she exclaimed, to draw Sebastian’s eyes away. The last thing she needed was for him to think she was aroused. “How did they get it here?”
“Historians speculate that they floated the huge carved blocks out there on wooden rafts. They also talk about a giant golden statue that used to guard the entrance to the harbor.”
“What happened to it?”
“Some people think it’s buried under the sand out there.
A team of archaeologists once tried to find it, but they couldn’t. With new sonar technologies, though, it might be worth another look.”
“Could be an interesting tourist attraction.”
“Exactly.”
Attracting people to Caspia was a passion of Sebastian’s. Now that she was here, she could see why. “How come there hasn’t been much tourism until now? It’s so incredibly beautiful.”
The sun sparkled on the clear, shallow water. She could see the clean sandy floor below. A boat loaded with freshcaught fish chugged by, heading for the quay.
“For so long, we had no hotels, no advertising, an obscure language that no one speaks.” He glanced at her, sun dancing in his dark eyes. “Much as it pains me, I suspect the average person still isn’t even aware Caspia exists.”
He turned to stare at a white-sailed yacht cruising nearby. “Tessa, does that man look familiar?”
She squinted against the high sun and looked at a tall, tanned man with salt-and-pepper hair in a yellow polo shirt. She recognized his face from the TV news. “It looks