Her Christmas Temptation: The Billionaire Who Bought Christmas / What She Really Wants for Christmas / Baby, It's Cold Outside

Jack snickered. “He knocked over an oil lamp, caught the table cloth on fire and burnt up the tarot cards, the table and the tent.”

“I wonder what that did to his destiny.”

“Nothing. Six years later, he met a redheaded girl.”

“No way.”

Jack nodded.

“Did she have twins?”

“Nope. They broke up.”

“That’s not a very good ending.”

“My uncle paid the gypsy thirty-five thousand dollars for the tent.”

“Now that’s a good ending.”

Jack stretched out his legs and propped himself on his elbow. “She thought so, too.”

Kristy followed his lead, straightening her blouse and jeans, then removing the plastic cover to snag a triangle of gouda. “What about you? Did the gypsy tell you your fortune?”

“That she did.”

“What was it?”

He shook his head. “Uh-uh. Your turn to share.”

“My life’s boring compared to yours. Did your fortune come true?”

“Not so far.”

“Well, what was it?”

He helped himself to a slice of havarti and a small, round cracker. “What do I get in return?”

“Twins?”

“Ha!” He nearly choked on the cracker.

“What do you want?”

He stared at her intently for a moment, while the waterfall roared, the breeze waved the mesquite trees, and the birds continued to twitter amidst the big, empty desert.

Kristy grew hot, then cold, and then very confused by her intense desire to kiss him.

“I’ll trade you for a secret,” he finally said.

She swallowed. “I don’t have any secrets.”

“Everybody has secrets.”

“Not me.”

Except maybe the fact that she wanted to kiss him. She hadn’t murdered anyone or knocked over a bank. She occasionally didn’t answer the phone when she knew it was her mother—especially if it was a Friday night, and she had a sappy movie on DVD and a pint of triple fudge chunk in the freezer.

But he wasn’t getting that one. No way.

Jack watched her expression for a long moment. “Your first lover,” he said.

Her throat went tight, and her voice came out as a squeak. “What?”

“Tell me about your first lover.”

She drained her wineglass, stalling for time. “I don’t think so.”

“How old were you?”

“How old were you?”

“Seventeen.”

“Really?” Despite herself, her curiosity was piqued, as was her imagination. She closed her eyes and gave her head a shake.

“How old were you?” he asked again, his voice husky against the birds and the breeze.

Kristy sighed. Fine. “Twenty.”

He reached behind him for the wine bottle and topped up both of their glasses. “Ah. Late bloomer.”

“No. An absolutely perfect bloomer.”

Jack grinned at her expression. “Who was he?”

“A boy I met in college. It was in his dorm room and completely unmemorable. Now, are you destined to cross oceans? Father many children? Fly to the moon?”

“Buy a golf course.”

He looked completely serious.

“What the heck kind of a fortune is that?” For this she’d told him about her first lover?

“The gypsy was a fake, Kristy.”

“She was right about Hunter.”

“The law of averages was right about Hunter. He’s dated a whole lot of women of varying hair colors.”

“But a golf course? That was all she told you?”

Jack hesitated. His eyes twitched, and he got a funny, faraway look in them. “No,” he said. “She also told me I was going to marry a woman I didn’t trust.”

“I suppose that’s better than having twins.”

It was Jack’s turn to drain his glass. “I suppose. You want to swim?”

“It’s too cold. And we don’t have suits.”

He came to his feet, placing the empty glass on the top of the plastic cooler. “There’s nobody around for miles.”

She stood with him. “You’re around.”

“I won’t look.”

“I might.” The thought came out her mouth before she could censor it.

“There it is,” he said softly.

“What?”

“Your secret.”

CHAPTER FIVE

THEY didn’t swim. But Jack had accomplished his mission. Kristy was getting to know him, and she was still attracted to him. He was halfway home.

The helicopter had picked them up and ferried them back to the hotel. In the interest of time, Jack had made arrangements for the rental car to be picked up at the hot air balloon base. That gave them time for a shopping spree before dinner and Cirque du Soleil.

He picked Addias Comte, a shop just off the strip in an exclusive mall.

At first, Kristy resisted the idea of him buying her clothes. But he insisted and prevailed. And, after trying on a few outfits, she got into the spirit of the adventure.

“I’m not even coming out in this one,” she called from behind the door of the spacious changing room.

“You have to come out,” he countered, sitting up straight in the leather armchair in the richly appointed alcove at the back of Addias Comte.

Silence.

“Kristy?”

“It’s …”

“What?”

“Fine.” The door opened, and Kristy marched defiantly out in an emerald-green satin cocktail dress. It was cut low, revealing a wide swath of skin between her breasts, the V dipping almost to her navel. The waist was gathered in a wide belt, with a circular rhinestone buckle that would have done Liberace proud. The way the fabric was gathered around the buckle made her look like the back of a chair at a big hotel wedding. The skirt was split up the front, revealing almost as much thigh as tummy.

Jack loved it. But she sure wasn’t going out in public like that.

“Next,” he said.

“See?” she retorted, turning to flounce back into the changing room.

Next was a plain black pinstripe, very straight, buttoned up the front with a mandarin collar and a leather belt.

“You look like you’re going to a funeral,” he said.

“Something softer?”

“Something a whole lot softer.”

She turned back into the room.

While she was changing, Jack asked the clerk to bring some jewelry, purses and a few pairs of shoes. Once she found the right dress, he fully intended to accessorize it.

The next one was basic black. It was strapless, with a small lace fringe along the neckline and a skirt that draped to mid-thigh. It was sheer and frothy, and he absolutely wanted her to wear it for him later. But it wasn’t right for tonight.

“Too short,” she said.

He nodded his agreement, but after she returned to the changing room, he instructed the clerk to wrap it for them when Kristy was done.

The next time Kristy came out, he knew they’d found the right dress. It was a snug-fitting, shimmering gold sheath. Sleeveless, with a scooped neck and a tight skirt that came almost to her knees, it was topped with a three-quarter sleeve, cropped, black satin jacket.

“You’ll need your hair up,” he said. And she’d need a diamond choker, black stockings and some spike-heeled shoes.

“You like it?” she asked, glancing down at herself.

“It’s the one.”

She stared at him in obvious surprise. “But, I’m—”

“It’s the one,” he repeated.

Just then the sales clerk arrived with the jewelry. He picked up a diamond-and-yellow-gold necklace and earring set and walked over to her.

She watched him closely, looking both worried and excited.

“Try it with these.” He unfastened the clip and motioned for her to turn around.

Her hand went to her throat, fingering the rich jewels. “Are they real?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Jack—”

“I said, don’t worry about it.” He managed to get the delicate clasp fastened.

She turned, and her cheeks were delightfully rosy. “I can’t let you—”

“Put these on.” He handed her the earrings.

Biting down on her lip, she slipped them onto her ears.

The sales clerk appeared. “Pumps or open toes?” she asked Kristy, holding up two pairs of shoes.

Kristy glanced at Jack.

He pointed to the pumps, and the sales clerk produced a pair of sheer black stockings to go with them.

He backed up to sit down on the chair again. “So now let’s see the whole thing.”

Kristy took a deep breath, but she went back into the change room without complaint.

“We’re at the Bellagio,” Jack said to the sales clerk. “Could you see if their salon will have time to do her hair tonight?”

“Certainly,” the sales clerk answered. “Anything else?”

Jack glanced around. “The black dress. A negligee—something elegant, soft, with some lace. And maybe an evening purse?”

The woman smiled. “Right away.”

WHILE KRISTY had her hair done, Jack bought himself a requisite suit at one of the hotel shops. Then he sat through an exquisitely torturous evening, hearing her laugh, watching her smile and seeing her move beneath that shimmery gold dress.

At the end of it all, he handed her the package with the negligee and all but ran into his own room. He didn’t know what it was, but something inside told him to keep his hands off for tonight. He used every ounce of his willpower to stay in his own bedroom instead of begging her to make love with him.

But then Sunday dawned, and she was wearing jeans, and it was much safer around her in the daylight. They joked their way through a tour of the Hoover Dam, then had a late lunch on the deck of a Lake Mead marina and took a sunset boat tour. By late evening, they were just off the Strip, walking hand in hand, absorbing the energy of tourists and partiers.

Suddenly Kristy stopped dead, tugging on Jack’s hand. “Oh, my God.”

He quickly scanned the crowds around them, looking for trouble. “What?”

“Over there. A gypsy fortune-teller.”

Jack shook his head, and reflexively backed away from the sign where she was pointing. “Oh, no.”

“Oh, yes.” She pulled hard on his hand, dragging him toward the gaudy, flashing storefront. “We need an update on your golf course. And I’ve never done this before.”

“And you don’t need to do it now.” Three was definitely a crowd. He didn’t need any distractions tonight. He was trying to think of a quiet spot back in the hotel, rehearsing over and over in his brain how he’d propose.

Not that he expected her to say no. Well, he supposed she could say no, since she already had Cleveland’s offer on the table. And wouldn’t that suck for Jack’s ego?

He shook that thought right out of his head. All things being equal, Kristy should prefer him over his grandfather. After all, she seemed to like hanging out with him, and she got all his jokes.

Still, he was unaccountably nervous at the thought of popping the question.

Luminitsa the Gypsy—Your Future Revealed, proclaimed the glass door.

“Kristy,” Jack protested, but he couldn’t bring himself to physically stop her.

Bells jingled as she pushed opened the door.

He blinked to adjust to the low light.

The room had an orange glow, candles flickered on most horizontal surfaces, and the walls were covered with tapestries, bright-colored scarves and Celtic drawings. A woman with huge earrings, eyelashes a mile long and a silk kerchief wrapped around her head, emerged from behind a beaded curtain.

“Come in. Come in.” She motioned with wrinkled, ring-bedecked hands to a small, round table.

Kristy eagerly slipped into one of the folding chairs, while Jack hoped humoring her in this wouldn’t take too long.

He glanced at the walls until he saw the gypsy’s price list. Then he handed the woman a fifty for the shortest reading she offered.

She waved her silver rings at him. “You, too. Sit, please.”

Jack clunked into the other chair with a sigh.

“You are a skeptic,” she said, arching one brightly painted eyelid.

“You could say that,” he agreed.

Kristy nudged him with an elbow. “Ignore him,” she said to the woman.

Luminitsa nodded, jangling her hoop earrings with the motion.

She held out her hands, dramatically waving them over the crystal ball positioned in the middle of the table. A spotlight shone on it from above. As she moved her hands in a series of sweeping motions, the spotlight became brighter, making the ball glow.

“I see water,” said Luminitsa. “Maybe a beach. It could be the ocean.”

“We’re going to California,” said Kristy.

Jack shot her a censorious look. The least she could do was make it slightly harder for the con artist.

The woman shook her head. “No.”

“We’re not?”

“Not today.”

“Tomorrow,” said Kristy.

“Maybe,” said the woman. She eyed Jack, then Kristy, then turned her attention to the ball.

The spotlight had gradually turned yellow, then orange, making the ball seem to have a life of its own.

The gypsy suddenly sat back. “There was a plane crash.”

Kristy shot Jack a look of astonishment.

He remained unimpressed. Everybody knew something about a plane crash somewhere.

“No. Not a crash,” said the woman. “But something …”

Kristy opened her mouth, but Jack grabbed her knee and squeezed.

She turned to give him an impish grin.

“What about the future?” he asked. “Kristy’s future.” The sooner they got to that, the sooner this would be over.

Luminitsa screwed up her wrinkled face, peering intently into the ball that was now bright red.

She jumped up. “Oh.”

“What?” asked Kristy.

Luminitsa glanced from one to the other, a sly smile forming on her face. “Congratulations.”

Jack and Kristy’s gazes met.

Kristy mouthed the word twins, and Jack rolled his eyes.

He turned back to Luminitsa. “Congratulations on what?”

“On your wedding,” she said.

Jack’s entire body went still. Was there something in his eyes? Something about his posture?

“Wedding?” asked Kristy.

“Today’s your wedding day.”

“Which one of us?” asked Kristy.

“Both.” She waggled her wrinkled finger back and forth between them.

Kristy’s mouth dropped open. “To each other?”

Luminitsa nodded.

Jack grabbed Kristy by the hand. “That’s it,” he announced decisively, tugging her out of her chair and turning her to the exit.

The bells jangled again as they left.

“That was weird,” said Kristy.

“We’re in Vegas,” he responded. “How many just-been-married or about-to-be-married couples do you suppose she sees every day?”

“I guess,” said Kristy. “But that was weird.”

For Jack, it wasn’t so much weird as it was damned annoying. Luminitsa had just thrown a wrench in his carefully laid plans.

KRISTY SWAYED to the music of Yellow Silk, the jazz band playing in the Windward Lounge, as she rested her head against Jack’s broad chest. She was trying to pretend that she didn’t care that these were their last few hours together. Simon had promised the plane would be ready by ten, and they’d be in L.A. an hour after that. She was wearing the lacy black party dress Jack had secretly purchased at Addias Comte, along with the diamond necklace and earring set, and she couldn’t help feeling like Cinderella.

Too bad the clock was about to strike midnight.

She knew she should be happy. Tomorrow morning she’d meet with Cleveland and the Sierra Sanchez buying team, and career-wise, she might just live happily ever after. Because if everything went her way, her life would turn on a dime. What she had dreamed of for years was suddenly within her grasp.

But melancholy overtook the joy in her heart. This was the end of such a beautiful fantasy.

The tempo slowed, and Jack gathered her close. She could feel the beat of his heart thudding rhythmically against her chest. His scent had become familiar. At some point, she’d started associating it with peace and safety, and she certainly felt that way now.

The fabric of the lacy black dress whispered against her legs. It clung to her breasts, nipped in at her waist, then flowed gently to midthigh. A Jacynthe Norman, from the winter collection in Paris, she knew it had to have cost Jack a fortune.

She’d have to leave it with him, along with the diamonds.

She wondered briefly if she’d ever see him again. If she was a supplier to the Osland Corporation, maybe they’d have a chance—

Then she stopped that thought in its tracks.

They’d spent a stolen weekend together. It was never going to be anything more than that. Their real lives were about as far apart as two people could get. He lived with the ultrarich in L.A. She lived with the struggling class in New York. Even if she did make a sale to Sierra Sanchez, they’d hardly be moving in the same social circles.

“You’re so quiet,” he murmured into her ear, his breath tickling her skin in a way that made her long for his lips to brush up against her. She itched for it. She ached for it.

“Just thinking,” she said, splaying her hand over the taut muscles of his back.

“About?”

She tipped her head to look up at him. “Tomorrow.”

He paused. “Really? I’m thinking about tonight.”

“You worried about the plane?”

He shook his head, his eyes turning the color of thick smoke, as his hand slid up her ribcage, brushing purposefully against the side of her breast. “I’m not thinking quite that far in the future.”

Her heart thudded in response to his caress. Her skin prickled with anticipation. And her body convulsed with longing.

She swallowed, hardly able to form the words. “We still have the suite.”

He stared at her, but didn’t say a word. Then his arm tightened firmly around her waist, and he turned them both toward the nightclub door.

Outside, the air was sultry warm, thunderclouds had gathered above the skyscrapers, holding the daytime heat. Their forked lightning strikes sparked like lasers in the haze, faint thunder echoing after. Halfway down the block, the first raindrops splattered on the warm concrete, and Kristy and Jack joined the other tourists who scattered for shelter.

Damp and laughing, they made it to the Bellagio lobby.

Jack turned to look at her, taking in the rain-spattered dress, smoothing her damp hair back from her face. “You are so beautiful.”

Kristy inhaled. “So are you.”

He glanced at his watch. “We’ve only got a couple of hours.” Then he looked into her eyes again, voice bedroom-husky. “I can’t believe we put this off so long.”

“What were we thinking?”

He took her hand and started across the lobby. “I don’t know.”

But instead of heading for the main elevator block which provided the more direct line to their room, he took a circuitous route past the shops. She wondered if they needed something from a store. Condoms, maybe? It wasn’t the height of romance, but she supposed practical was practical.

But they carried on past the Essentials store, around the courtyard pool area.

“Did you rent us a cabana?” she asked. The suite was fine. The suite was wonderful. And, really, the clock was ticking.

Jack shook his head. He slowed, turning to look at her as they passed the grand balcony. “I don’t want this to end.”

“The walk to our room?”

His mouth curved in an ironic grin. He squeezed her hand while shaking his head. “You and me.”

She peered at his expression. “I don’t understand.”

He nodded to a spot in front of them, and she followed his gaze. The East Chapel.

“Marry me, Kristy.”

She stopped dead. “Huh?”

He held her gaze with his own. “Did something ever seem completely right to you?”

“What?” Had he lost his mind? Yeah, they were having a fantastic weekend. And yeah, she couldn’t wait to get back to the suite and tear off his clothes. But this wasn’t 1952. They could make love without getting married.

“This feels right,” he repeated. “I know it’s right.”

She took a step toward him. “Jack. The fortune-teller was a fraud.”

“This has nothing to do with the fortune-teller.”

“Then what does it have to do with?”

“You and me.”

“You and me are about to make love.”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Over and over again if I have my way.”

Kristy glanced at her own watch. “Not unless you’re a whole lot faster at it than I’ve fantasized.”

He drew back. “You’ve fantasized?”

“Yeah,” she admitted. “Haven’t you?”

“Oh, yeah.” His eyes went softer still. He blinked. “Marry me, Kristy.”

“No.”

A group of partiers rounded the corner, their drunken shouts and laughter intruding on the moment.

Jack whisked Kristy to a glass door, opening it to steer her onto a pillared patio overlooking the pools. He closed the door behind them.

“Listen to me,” he said.

“Jack,” she sighed, fighting hard to hold her emotional ground.

Truth was, making love to Jack over and over again for the rest of her life sounded really good right now. And there was a deceptive intimacy to huddling in the sheltered darkness while the storm rumbled and flashed in the sky. Raindrops battered the waxy leaves of the potted tropical plants, while a film of steam rose from the pool decks and fountains, obscuring the pot lights, giving the entire garden an eerie glow.

He moved in close, his whisper tortured and husky. “I can’t lose this chance. I can’t let you go.”

She squinted. Was he serious? Did he really want to see her again? Romantically?

She’d hardly dared hope.

No. Scratch that. She wouldn’t dare hope.

His fingertips brushed her cheek. “This is something, Kristy.”

Her chest contracted. She had to agree with him there. This was definitely something.

“Have you ever—” he breathed. Then he closed his eyes for a second, as if gathering his thoughts. “Have you ever, in your entire life, ever felt this way?”

She slowly shook her head. There were no words to describe how she felt about Jack—the passion, the admiration, the deep-down soul connection.

“We can’t let it go,” he said.

“We don’t have to let it go.” They could see each other again. He could come to New York. Heck, he had an office there, and his own jet plane. He could drop by and see her whenever he was in town.

He ran his hands up and down her arms. “How many people do you suppose say that?”

“Say they’ll get together again?”

He nodded. “Hundreds, maybe thousands. And how many of them ever do?”

She shrugged. Not many, she’d suspect, and that gave her a hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach.

“We leave this hotel, Kristy, and you know as well as I do that’ll be it.”

Would it? Would they really walk away from a connection this strong?

“You’ll go back to New York. I’ll go to L.A. We’ll e-mail, maybe call. But pretty soon, our memories will fade. We’ll decide it couldn’t have been as great as we thought. We’ll write each other off as a weekend fling.”

She found her voice. “We are a weekend fling.”

“We don’t have to be.” His hands met her upper arms, his voice going earnest. “We can be better than that. Let me make it so we … So I have to be better than that.”

She knew he was talking crazy. People didn’t get married to guarantee a second date. She opened her mouth to tell him so, but he put an index finger across her lips.

His gaze bore directly into hers. “I think I’m falling in love with you, Kristy.”

Her entire body convulsed with a wash of emotions and hormones. Love? Could this possibly be love?

“Don’t let me walk away from you, Kristy. Don’t let me be the man I know I’ll be.”

She wanted to say yes. In every fiber of her being, she longed to complete the fantasy.

Love.

She rolled the idea around in her brain.

She didn’t know anything about romantic love, but she’d sure never felt this way about any man before. And if this was as good as it got … Well, it was pretty darn good—talking, laughing, touching. All Jack, all day, every day, for ever and ever.