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

Kristy hesitated, worried about making him angry. But they had to get the matter at hand out in the open.

“You do know why Jack married me, right?” She might be embarrassed about being duped, but she had promised Cleveland she’d be completely honest with him. And, on this, she definitely needed to be honest.

“Certainly I know why he married you. They think because I’m eighty, I’m losing my marbles.”

His bluntness surprised her.

“Are you?” she dared to ask.

He sobered, and the sound of the indoor waterfall filled the silence around them.

“No,” he said. “I’m running out of time. I like beautiful young women. And I’m running out of time.”

Her stomach clenched with worry. “Are you … ill?”

He shook his head and smiled. “Just old.” Then he straightened, taking command once again. “But I’m still the major shareholder. This is your choice, young lady. You can work through the holidays in Vermont, or I can find someone else to sponsor for the Breakout Designer Contest.”

“And Jack?”

A twinkle came into Cleveland’s eyes. “You’re worried Jack won’t want to see you?”

She was more worried that she didn’t want to see him. But the other had certainly crossed her mind. She and Jack had parted with some pretty harsh words. Still, it didn’t mean she’d let him ruin her career.

Watching the play of emotions across her face, Cleveland patted her shoulder reassuringly. “I think my grandson deserves to reap the consequences of his actions, don’t you?”

And then she got it, she understood Cleveland’s motivation for inviting her to the family mansion. “I’m your revenge on Jack.”

“Nice little twist, isn’t it?”

“He was trying to protect you, you know.” Even as the words popped out, Kristy couldn’t believe she was defending the man. He’d manipulated, hurt and humiliated her for his own ends. He was a cold-hearted snake, nothing more.

“And what makes you think I’m not trying to help him?” asked Cleveland.

“Because there’s nothing about me being in Vermont that will help Jack.”

“Well then, what about becoming a successful fashion designer and winning this year at the Matte Fashion Show?”

Kristy paused. “And I should do everything in my power to make sure that happens, shouldn’t I?”

“If you have a single brain cell in your pretty head, then yes.”

“I do,” she said.

“Then we understand each other.”

She couldn’t help but smile in admiration. “Your marbles are fully intact, aren’t they?”

“That they are. But it suits me sometimes to let people think otherwise.” He gestured towards the glass doors leading to the street. “Shall we get that drink now?”

Kristy started walking. “You know what I think?”

“What do you think?”

“That Jack learned everything he knows from you.”

“Let’s hope you’re wrong about that.”

“SO I GUESS we got it wrong,” said Hunter, looking more amused than worried as he teed off on the first hole at Lost Links. He watched as the ball arced down the fairway, bouncing to rest just shy of the horseshoe-shaped sand trap and a small grove of oaks.

“We damn sure got it wrong,” said Jack, accepting the one wood from his caddy. His mood had been foul for two days now. “And I blame you for the screw-up.”

“Me?”

“It was your brilliant idea to date her.”

“I wanted to date her because she was hot, not in some Machiavellian attempt to thwart Gramps’s wedding.”

“Don’t knock Machiavelli.” Planning and strategy were the watchwords of every executive.

“I noticed you didn’t deny she was hot.”

“All right, she’s hot. But she was dating our grandfather.”

“No, she wasn’t.”

“Well, she could have been.” Jack pushed his tee into the turf then straightened. He’d gone over and over his weekend in Vegas, wondering why he’d never once questioned Kristy’s identity. Even with all the little inconsistencies in her behavior, he’d never once asked himself that pivotal question. He hated making mistakes.

“If she had been dating him,” he felt compelled to point out to Hunter. “It would have been a good plan.”

Hunter peered down the sunny fairway. “With a solid plan like that, it’s almost hard to believe anything went wrong.”

“Yeah,” Jack agreed as he lined up to tee off.

He thwacked the ball dead on, and it sailed over the treetops, bouncing into the center on the fairway only a few feet short of the green.

Hunter waited for Jack to hand over the club to his caddy. “So, explain to me why we’ll lose less money with you married to her instead of Gramps.”

“Because I had her sign a prenup. You think I’m stupid?”

“You really want me to answer that today?”

“Get stuffed.” Jack pulled off his white leather glove and turned to head down the fairway. He’d spend years living this one down.

Hunter fell into step beside him, the two caddies staying several paces behind. “Let me make sure I’m understanding this. In a haze of passion, on a lark, at the hotel chapel, she agrees to marry you, and you pull out a prenup. She didn’t find that odd?”

Jack was trying hard not to think about the hotel chapel, nor the lies he’d told her to get her there. “There were other things to sign. And she wasn’t paying all that much attention to the details.”

“Because you’re irresistible to women?”

Yeah, right. “It’s a curse.”

Hunter’s laughter rumbled across the quiet golf course. “My sympathies. So, what now?”

Jack shrugged. “Now we get divorced.”

“Just like that?”

“I suspect she’s called her lawyer already.”

“You don’t think she’s going to sue your ass?”

“Based on what? Showing poor judgment in Vegas? If that was grounds for action, our legal system would be gridlocked into the next century.” No, Jack was pretty sure he was safe on the financial front.

Hunter stopped next to his ball, sizing up the lay of the course and checking the direction of the wind rustling through the palm fronds. “So, that’s that?” he asked Jack, then glanced at his caddy with his brow raised.

“Six iron,” the young man suggested.

“Not exactly,” said Jack. “Gramps is still engaged to Nanette.”

“Well, you can’t marry them all,” said Hunter.

Jack’s marrying days were definitely over. “I wasn’t thinking about me.”

Hunter lined up his shot. “Look into my eyes,” he said matter of factly, with a swing and follow through. He went to stand directly in front of Jack. “Not with a gun to my head.”

“I’m sure she’s a knockout.”

“And I’m sure you’ve lost your mind.” Hunter handed the club back to his caddy, and they all started for the spot where Jack’s ball lay.

“You got a better plan?” asked Jack.

“I’ve got a thousand of them. And none of them involve me marrying anybody.”

“He marries Nanette, it’ll cost us.”

“There are more important things in life than money.”

As they made their way over the fine-trimmed grass, Jack pondered the relative value of money and emotional health. He’d never really thought about it before because money had always been paramount. But if his wakefulness the last two nights was anything to go by, money had some serious competition. He wished he’d put Kristy on a commercial plane the minute they hit Vegas.

He didn’t need the stress of worrying about how she was feeling, nor of his conflicted memories, nor of dwelling on the prediction of a long-ago gypsy. Which, by the way, was beginning to feel like a curse.

The curse of the midnight gypsy. It would make a good movie title. Hunter could be the hero. Jack the villain. Kristy would get rich, and the redheaded girl would be adored by fans around the world.

He lined up on the ball, chipping it up onto the green, less than ten feet from the hole.

“So, whatever happened to Vivian?”

Hunter glanced up sharply. “Huh?”

“She was the redhead, right?”

Hunter stared at Jack as if he’d lost his mind.

“A couple of years ago. You dated that redhead who beat the crap out of you at golf.”

“Only because she used the ladies’ tee.”

“So, you do remember.”

Hunter shrugged, snagging his putter and walking onto the green. “Sure.”

“Where is she now?”

Hunter crouched down on one knee, eyeing the slope of the terrain. “Why do you care?”

“You remember when you burned down the gypsy’s tent?”

Hunter stood up. “You mind if I play golf now?”

“Seriously,” said Jack.

“No. I’ve forgotten the rampaging elephants, the fire department and the lawsuit that grounded me for a month.”

Jack grinned, his mood lightening for the first time in forty-eight hours.

“You remember what she said?”

“How did this get to be about me?”

“She said a redheaded girl would give you twins.”

Hunter shook his head in disgust and turned to address the ball.

Jack held his tongue while Hunter swung the putter.

The caddy lifted the flag, and the ball plunked into the hole.

“She also said I would marry a woman I didn’t trust,” said Jack. “Think about it, Hunter. What were the odds?”

Hunter slid the putter through his grip, handing it upside down to his caddy. “Please don’t let the shareholders hear you talking like this. They’ll have you impeached.”

Jack stared hard at his cousin. “You remember what else she said.”

“That you’d buy a golf course.” Hunter glanced around. “You bring your checkbook?”

“Don’t play dumb.”

Hunter snorted. “I don’t need to. You’re doing a fine job of that all by yourself. You’re a logical man, Jack. I didn’t marry Vivian. There are no twins. And gypsies can’t predict the future.”

Maybe not consistently, but the two Jack had talked to were sporting pretty good averages. And the first one had also predicted Jack and Hunter would blow the family fortune. “Are we over-leveraged on anything?”

“No. Now hit the ball.”

“Nothing out there that can bite us in the ass?”

“Not unless Kristy signed the lamest prenup ever.”

Jack took a deep breath, running the cool shaft of his putter across his palm and settling his grip on the black, perforated rubber. Hunter was right. The prenup was fine. Kristy took away what she brought to the marriage, and Jack took away what he brought. Which was exactly the way he wanted it.

He took a few swings, testing the weight of the putter. Then he tapped the ball.

It followed the contour of the green, arcing up the high side then veering at the last second to hit the hole. Exactly the way he wanted it.

CHAPTER SEVEN

AS SHE marched up the impossibly imposing brick steps at the Osland mansion outside Manchester, Dee Dee trotting along on her leash, Kristy reminded herself that nothing had changed. Recognition and success in the fashion world were still her dream.

She’d already had plenty of other setbacks over the years. And every time, she’d picked herself up, dusted herself off and redoubled her effort to bring her fashions to the attention of the industry.

Now, gazing up at the sprawling, three-story, snow-covered Colonial, she assured herself this was no different. She’d pick herself up one more time. Marrying Jack was merely a blip on her road to success, and a year from now she’d be laughing at the absurdity of thinking she was in love after only two days. Nobody fell in love that fast. She’d been swept off her feet by a man who’d set out to trap her. That was all.

Of course he’d seemed like the perfect man. Anybody could pretend to be perfect for two days. He’d laughed at her jokes, pretended to admire her intelligence, professed to like the same wines and catered to her every whim.

But it had all been a lie, a sham. And as soon as he’d shifted to the real Jack, she hadn’t liked him at all. In fact, she’d hated him then. She still did. And that was why showing up on his doorstep and cornering him with his fake marriage was going to be so easy.

In the back of the limo, halfway between the airport and the Osland estate, she’d realized she wasn’t simply getting revenge for Cleveland. She was also doing it for herself. Jack was in line for a comeuppance, and her success would show him a thing or two about judging people.

“And it will be his own darn fault,” she pointed out to Dee Dee as she reached to ring the bell.

It chimed a musical tune, echoing inside the huge house.

A dark-haired, middle-aged woman opened the door. She wore a blue-and-white tunic with slim gray slacks. Her glance flicked to Dee Dee then returned to Kristy.

“Can I help you, ma’am?” she asked pleasantly.

“I’m here to see Jack Osland.”

The woman stepped back, opening the door wide. “Mr. Osland is expecting you?”

Kristy shook her head.

The woman’s smile faltered for a scant second. “Who shall I tell him is calling?”

Kristy stepped over the threshold. Dee Dee followed, her trimmed nails making muted clicks on the black-and-white tile.

“His wife,” said Kristy.

The woman’s brown eyes went round for a moment. “I’m sorry?”

Kristy nodded in confirmation of what the woman had just heard. “You can tell him his wife is … home.”

“Fine.” With admirable aplomb, the woman gestured to a gilt settee along one oak wall of the bright, octagonal room. “Please, do have a seat.”

“Thank you,” said Kristy, as the woman exited down a long hallway. She walked over to the settee with Dee Dee trotting along beside her. Instead of sitting down, she scooped the dog into her arms, straightening Dee Dee’s blue, satin-lined coat. It was made of fleece, with a discreet appliqué sewn at the collar. She gave the dog a reassuring pat, snuggling it close to her chest.

It took about thirty seconds for swift, masculine footsteps to sound on the hardwood floor of the hallway.

Kristy took a deep breath, squaring her shoulders as Jack rounded the corner.

When he saw her, he came to an abrupt halt. Sunbeams from the beveled windows shone in his dark eyes, highlighted the uncompromising planes and angles of his clean-shaven face.

“Is this a joke?” he demanded.

She kept her voice light and airy by sheer force of will. “Hello, honey.”

His square jaw clenched in the booming silence that followed her words.

“I’m home,” she finished.

He advanced warily, as if Dee Dee might bite. Which was ridiculous.

“This isn’t your home,” he stated.

“I’m your wife.”

“In name only.”

“Actually, if you’ll recall, your name was pretty much the only thing I didn’t take.”

“What do you want?”

“Domestic bliss.”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

“If this is about money—”

“This is about fashion.”

He rolled his eyes and made a sound of disbelief deep in his chest.

Another figure emerged from the hallway. “There you are.” Cleveland strode across the foyer, his hands outstretched.

Jack jerked back in reaction.

“We were getting worried,” said Cleveland, scooping Dee Dee out of Kristy’s arms and planting a dry kiss on Kristy’s cheek.

“Gramps,” Jack interrupted.

“Did I forget to mention Kristy was coming?” the old man asked Jack, his face a picture of innocence. Kristy didn’t buy it for a second.

Then all of Cleveland’s attention turned to Dee Dee. “There’s my sweet Pookie,” he cooed, holding the dog aloft and letting her lick his nose. To Jack he said, “Don’t just stand there, my boy. Get the suitcases.”

“She’s not staying,” Jack quickly put in.

“She is. She’s your wife.”

“This isn’t a joking matter. If she moves in—”

“I’ve offered Kristy the use of the workshop above the garage.”

Kristy watched Jack’s eyes narrow, small creases appearing in the corners. “Why?”

“To prepare for the Breakout Designer Contest at the Matte Fashion Event in London. Sierra Sanchez is sponsoring her.”

Jack shot Kristy an accusatory glare.

The man could certainly be intimidating, but she refused to back down. She wouldn’t, not after coming this far. Still, she didn’t want to fight in front of Cleveland. So she arranged her features in a picture of naïveté. “Would you mind showing me to my room?” she asked Jack.

“Great idea,” said Cleveland, tucking Dee Dee into his arm like a football. “By the way, Nanette and I have called it quits. She’s keeping the ring. And the Ferrari as a matter of fact.”

With that, the older man strode from the foyer.

Jack’s dark gaze bore into Kristy. “How did you do it?”

She couldn’t resist. “The same way Nanette did it?”

“Kristy,” he growled.

“I showed him my clothes, Jack. Not that it’s any of your business.”

“This family is my business.”

Okay. She wasn’t going to do this. He was one powerful and sexy man, and he clearly wasn’t used to being crossed.

Not that she was crossing him. Quite the contrary. He was the one who’d crossed her. But she suspected it would be a cold day in hell before he’d admit it.

She tipped up her chin. “I think I’ll check out the workshop. I’ve got a lot to do.”

“This is about revenge, isn’t it?”

She barked out a cold laugh. “Don’t flatter yourself. If not for the career opportunity, I wouldn’t have given you another thought for the rest of my life.”

She was lying. She’d lain awake four nights running remembering him.

THE WORKSHOP was a dream come true. Kristy had been expecting something dark and dusty, since it was above the garage, which was separate from the house. Instead, the room was bright and sparkling, with high ceilings and freshly painted white walls. A bank of windows lined one wall of the huge, rectangular room, while fluorescent lights gleamed off the hardwood floor. It had five oversized, white-topped tables, at least a dozen utility chairs, several padded stools and a long bank of closets stretching from one end to the other.

While she struggled to keep her jaw from dropping open, Jack crossed his arms over his chest. “Tell me again how this isn’t about revenge.”

She snapped herself back to reality. “I don’t have to explain myself to you.”

“I’m the one footing your bill.”

“Your grandfather’s footing my bill. He’s also the one getting revenge.”

Jack drew back in surprise. “You’re Gramps’s revenge on me?”

“Either that or I’m a brilliant fashion designer. Take your pick.”

Jack gave a snort of disbelief.

“Thanks so much for the vote of confidence.”

“I’m going with the mathematical odds.”

“Well, I’d give it a thousand to one that I’m staying.”

“You can’t stay.”

“Oh, yes I can.” She was planting her butt in this dream of a workshop and getting ready for the most prestigious fashion contest in the world.

“My mother will be here tomorrow.”

“So?”

“So, I am not about to explain a wife over the garage.”

“I take it she doesn’t know about your preemptive marriage?”

“Of course she doesn’t know.”

“Then you might want to come up with a cover story.” Kristy turned away, running her fingers over the smooth tabletop, meandering her way through the room.

“I get it,” said Jack with a frustrated sigh. “Go ahead. Tell me what it’ll take?”

“For me to disappear?”

“Of course.”

“Nothing.”

“Really?”

“I mean there’s nothing you can offer. Nothing I want.” Other than what she had here. She had exactly what she wanted right here. Except for Jack’s oppressive presence, obviously.

“Everybody wants something,” he said.

“Maybe. But I’ve already got it.”

“Do you want an apology? Is that it?”

She turned back. “An apology would have been nice four days ago.”

“Okay, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I misjudged you. I’m sorry I married you.”

“What you mean is that you’re sorry you’re stuck with me.”

“Can you be reasonable for a minute?”

“I don’t think so.”

Jack gave a hard sigh.

“You made your bed,” she pointed out.

“And I made a pretty damn fine bed for you while I was at it.”

“And I’m lying in it.”

His jaw tightened, and they stared at each other in crackling silence.

But, despite her best efforts, her sympathies were engaged. She had a mother, too.

“You don’t have to tell her we’re married,” she finally suggested.

“You announced it to the staff,” he reminded her.

“Oh, yeah.” She paused. “Bad luck.”

“That makes this partly your fault.”

“That’s the tack you want to take?”

He’d had her there for a second, but he was quickly losing the advantage. This wasn’t her problem. It was his. And she didn’t need to feel any obligation to solve it for him.

But then he had the grace to look sheepish, and she felt bad again. And his motives, after all, were honorable. He was trying to help his grandfather. Kristy had merely been collateral damage.

“We could tell her the truth,” she offered. “We had a whirlwind relationship in Vegas.”

“And how do I explain that you’re in the guest room?”

“I didn’t work out? We had a fight?”

He advanced on her. “That’ll just raise more questions.”

“Well, we’re running out of options here.” She was trying to be helpful, but he wasn’t making it easy.

“Not quite.”

“What do you mean?”

“We pretend we’re happily married. Then we pretend we divorce in a month or so.”

Kristy shook her head. That sounded like way too much Jack, and way too often. “I don’t think so.”

He glanced around the big room. “Name your price.”

“I already told you, I don’t have a price.”

“Fabric? Notions? Sewing machines?”

“Cleveland beat you to it.”

“A staff?” Jack continued. “An unlimited budget.”

“No.”

“Do you have any idea what an unlimited budget means in my world?”

“You mean the world where you own private jets and rent helicopters?”

He nodded. “That world.”

She wasn’t sure if it was his apology, the expression in his eyes or the thought of an unlimited budget. But, she hesitated.

“Do you want to win the contest?” asked Jack.

Sure, she wanted to win. Her life would change overnight if she won.

His voice dropped to a conspiratorial level. “I can make that happen.”

“You can’t bribe the judges.” What kind of a victory would that be?

Jack rolled his eyes. “I’m not bribing anybody. I can get you silk from the Orient, wool from Kashmir, lace from France, and I can fly you to the corners of the earth to pick it all out.”

Kristy was human enough to be tempted.

And Jack was smart enough to seize the moment. He held out his hand.

She narrowed her eyes, wanting to make sure their cards were on the table. “And I’d have to …?”

“Smile at parties, sip champagne, wrap a few gifts and skate on the pond.” Then his gaze went dark and his voice turned husky. “And sleep in my bed, of course.”

A rush of heat burst in her chest.

“Purely platonic, I promise,” he quickly added.

“You’ve lied to me before,” she pointed out.

“True enough.” He inched closer. “But I’m not lying this time. I’ll keep my hands off, and the world is yours for the taking.”

Kristy’s instincts screamed at her to say yes. She was probably crazy. In fact, she was sure she was crazy. But he’d apologized, and he didn’t really seem like a bad guy. And the things she could do with an unlimited budget….

Fate was smiling on her.

In fact, fate was flat-out grinning at her.

“Deal,” she said, before she could change her mind. Then she reached out to shake his hand.

LATER THAT evening, Jack stopped in the open door of Cleveland’s study. “You,” he said to his grandfather, “are a scheming and manipulative old man.”