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

Cleveland glanced up from where he was cooing at the goofy little dog. “Unlike you?”

“You brought her here on purpose.”

“I brought her here to design clothing.”

Jack shook his head, advancing into the room, past the leather sofa, the grandfather clock and the stone fireplace, to get to the mahogany bar, which jutted out from an oak-paneled wall. “You did not. And this fashion contest is going to be a total embarrassment for Sierra Sanchez.”

“Not necessarily,” said Cleveland.

“Yes, necessarily,” Jack countered. Plucking a gorgeous woman out of obscurity and throwing her onto the world fashion stage had about a million-to-one chance of being successful.

“Well, I really like her,” said Cleveland.

“You really like all hot women under the age of thirty-five.”

Cleveland smiled. “At least I don’t marry them.”

Jack poured himself a snifter of brandy. “Actually, Gramps, you do.”

“As usual, you’re exaggerating. All Nanette got was a sports car, a mink coat and a diamond ring.” Cleveland ruffled the fur between the dog’s ears. “Wasn’t that all she got, Pookie?”

Jack took a seat in a leather armchair, frowning at the dog. His grandfather had always had a soft spot for animals. Though Jack had never seen him quite this attached to one before.

“You should make a go of it with Kristy,” said Cleveland. “She’s a great girl.”

Jack coughed out a laugh. “That’s a perfect idea. Because we’ve obviously set such a good foundation for a long-term relationship.”

A telltale twinkle came into Cleveland’s eyes. “So, have you decided what you’re going to tell your mother?”

Jack gave him a smug smirk in return. “That it was a whirlwind romance. Kristy’s agreed to play along.”

“Really.” Cleveland looked surprised.

Jack nodded his answer, swirling the amber liquid against his warm palm.

“And what did that cost you?”

Jack paused. “More than Nanette’s sports car. Less than the condo you bought for Opal.”

“I knew I liked that girl.”

“Irene Compton says she’s mediocre.”

Cleveland shrugged. “What does Irene know? I have a feel for these things.”

“No you do not have a feel for these things.” What Cleveland had a feel for was his libido. He might not have been dating Kristy, but he couldn’t have missed the fact that she was a knockout. “Irene, on the other hand, has been in the fashion business for thirty years.”

“Everybody’s wrong sometime,” said Cleveland.

While that might be true, Jack knew experts were right a whole lot more often than they were wrong. That’s why he hired them, and that’s why he paid them so well.

Irene was an expert. And since Kristy was, by Irene’s account, a mediocre designer, there was a good chance she’d crash and burn at the Breakout Designer Contest.

Bad for Sierra Sanchez, and bad for Kristy. Jack frowned at both of those thoughts and took a swig of his brandy.

Hunter appeared in the doorway. “You two kids playing nice?”

“Jack’s a bit snippy,” said Cleveland.

“Gramps is busy playing God.”

“Not God,” said Gramps. Then he paused. “Yeah, okay. God it is.”

Hunter chuckled and shook his head, sauntering over to the bar. “You know there are three huge vans out in the driveway?”

“I called earlier to express a few things over for Kristy,” said Jack.

“Ahh, the blushing bride,” said Hunter as he followed Jack’s lead and poured himself a brandy.

Jack gestured to the two men with his glass. “You two remember, for the holiday season, she is the blushing bride.”

Hunter held up his hands. “Hey, I’m not about to tell our moms what you did.”

Cleveland nodded. “And I’m not about to tell them why you did it.”

“Just so we’re clear,” said Jack. “I’ll announce an amicable divorce in January.”

“And Kristy’s going along with this because?” asked Hunter.

“Because of the three huge vans in the driveway,” replied Jack.

“See how easy it is?” asked Cleveland.

“Funny,” said Hunter. “She didn’t strike me as the mercenary type.”

“Everybody has their price,” Jack repeated.

Not that he held it against her. Kristy recognized a good thing when she saw it was all. And Jack could respect that. It wasn’t as if he was buying her a sports car or a five-carat diamond she could turn around and hawk. It was in everybody’s best interest for her to do well at the Breakout Designer Contest.

Cleveland rose from his chair. “So, now that the fun’s over, Pookie and I are off to bed.”

“You’ll remember about Kristy?” asked Jack.

“Yes, I’ll remember about Kristy,” Cleveland harrumphed. “You think I’m going senile?”

Jack looked at Hunter, and Hunter looked at Jack.

Cleveland shook a wrinkled finger in their direction. “Don’t you forget whose brain it was that built this company. An empty warehouse and a corner store. That’s what I started with.”

“And the family seat at the stock exchange,” Hunter pointed out.

“Wasn’t worth a dime in the thirties,” Cleveland countered, scratching Dee Dee on the head. “Insolent young pups,” he muttered. Then he left the room, his footsteps echoing down the hallway.

“He seem okay to you?” Hunter asked, folding himself into the armchair opposite Jack.

“Mostly,” replied Jack. He always thought his grandfather was absentminded only when it suited him. But Jack wondered how much of it was an act, and how much of it was a sign of a failing memory.

“He broke up with Nanette,” said Jack. “So, that’s a plus.”

“And you marrying Kristy?” Hunter asked with a self-satisfied grin. “That a plus, too?”

“That,” said Jack, swirling his brandy again, “is an inconvenience.”

“A gorgeous woman pretending to be your wife. Yeah, I’d call that an inconvenience, all right.”

“She’s not pretending,” Jack corrected. For better or worse, Kristy actually was his wife.

“So, you’ll be sleeping with her?” asked Hunter.

“In a manner of speaking.” Jack shifted in his chair.

Hunter gave a knowing chuckle. “Now that, cousin, is an inconvenience.”

Jack polished off his drink. “Speaking of which.” He rose to his feet. “I’d better make sure she can find the towels.”

“You poor, pathetic thing,” laughed Hunter.

“What?”

“It’s only ten-thirty.”

Jack refused to react. So it was early. So he was looking forward to climbing into bed with Kristy. So sue him.

CHAPTER EIGHT

IN JACK’S big bedroom, Kristy gave herself a mental pep talk. Sleeping here wasn’t going to be so bad. She could keep everything in perspective.

Sure, she was attracted to him. After all, he was a great-looking, sexy guy. But she was still annoyed with him for lying to her. And her annoyance would keep her from doing anything rash.

She eyed up the king-size bed. Then she checked out the love seat tucked in an alcove with a bay window that overlooked a pathway lined with winter-bare trees, each of them glowing with hundreds of white lights. In the distance, a giant evergreen rose above the garden, blinking with color, its crowning star golden against the black sky. The Oslands really went all out with Christmas decorations.

Back to the love seat. She could co-opt a pillow and blanket from Jack’s bed. The love seat was on the short side, but she could make do. And it would be better than sharing the bed.

She sat on the cushions and bounced up and down. Not bad. She leaned over to lie down, turning on her side, bending her knees in an effort to find a comfortable position.

Not perfect.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” came Jack’s voice from the doorway.

Kristy popped into a sitting position. “Just considering my options.”

He clicked the door shut behind him. “You are not sleeping on the couch.”

“Well, I’m not wild about sleeping in the bed.”

“We’re newlyweds.”

She stood. “I’ve got news for you, Jack. The honeymoon’s over.”

“Not as far as my mother is concerned. And she’ll be here any day.”

“Your mother won’t be in your bedroom.”

“But the staff will be in our bedroom. And I have no desire to explain why my bride is sleeping on the couch.”

“I’ll fold up the blankets every morning.”

“Not.”

“Jack—”

“Me, you, bed.” He punctuated his words by pointing with his index finger. “This is not optional.”

“Women usually respond well to that tone, do they?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never had to order a woman into my bed before.”

Kristy moved toward him, putting some swagger into her step. “Is that what you’re doing?”

“Yeah,” said Jack, hot eyes following her progress. “That’s what I’m doing.”

She stopped in front of him. “Well, good luck with that.”

“I’m not going to need luck.”

“No?”

He scooped her into his arms. Before she could do anything more than gasp in surprise, he marched across the room and deposited her on top of the duvet.

“No luck required,” he stated, staring down at her.

She propped herself on her elbows, trying to look affronted, even as a grin crept out. “You cheated.”

He grinned in return. “Who cares? I won.”

“And how much satisfaction is there in that if you cheated?”

He leaned down, bracing a hand on either side of her, bringing their faces close together. “Quite a bit, actually.”

Kristy could feel an awareness humming through her body. “I will escape,” she warned in a whisper.

He raised his eyebrows. “You think?”

“The minute you’re asleep.”

“Well, good luck with that,” he parroted.

“I’m not going to need luck,” she countered.

AN HOUR LATER, Kristy realized that what she really needed was a crowbar.

Jack’s arm was latched firmly around her waist, anchoring her, spoon-fashion, to his body. His breathing was deep and even, so she was pretty sure he’d fallen asleep. But his grip hadn’t slacked off one bit.

She was well covered, having passed over the filmy ivory and peach negligee Jack had secretly bought her in Las Vegas in favor of an oversized T-shirt. The shirt fell past her knees and was thicker than flannel. Still, Jack’s forearm was warm and intimate against her stomach.

She wasn’t uncomfortable. In fact, she could have easily fallen asleep. But it was a matter of principle now. She couldn’t let him win this particular war.

She wrapped her fingers around his thick wrist and pulled against his arm.

His response was to mutter in her ear and snuggle closer, drawing her buttocks tight against the cradle of his thighs, his hand slipping lower, cupping her hip bone.

She froze, willing her body to ignore the sexual signals he was sending out in his sleep.

But goose bumps rose on her skin, and a thick pulse started deep in her abdomen. She squirmed, trying to get away from the sensations. But that only made things worse. Her nightgown rode up to midthigh, and the friction of Jack’s hand through the fabric of her gown made the goose bumps tingle with desire.

She squirmed again, scrunching her eyes shut and biting down on her bottom lip. Desire throbbed freely now. Her toes curled and her muscles began to clench. Her nipples tightened as his breath fanned against the back of her neck.

She straightened her legs, but that brought the back of her thighs against his hot body. Skin on skin, inch after glorious inch. Her hands curled into fists. Oh, this was going to kill her.

His hand moved, and her hips flexed involuntarily backward as a gasp escaped from her lips.

He sucked in a tight breath, and she realized he was awake.

She stilled, expecting him to say something. She was embarrassed, but, more than that, she was completely aroused.

His body hardened against her.

He gave her a few moments to protest, but then his thumb drew a lazy circle around her navel. His fingertips were still snug against her hip. She knew she should say something, knew she should stop him. But cocooned by his warmth, with the Christmas lights twinkling through the big windows and his strong body enveloping her, she couldn’t bring herself to break the moment.

His lips touched the back of her neck. They parted, turning the brush into a kiss.

She really had to stop him.

If she didn’t stop him right this second …

Her fists curled tighter, nails biting into her palms.

His fingertips fanned their way down her thighs. They encountered bare skin. She held her breath as they trailed their way back up.

His kisses worked their way around her neck. He kissed her ear, her jawbone, her cheek, while his fingertips brushed her downy curls.

Then he drew another strangled breath. “For God’s sake, tell me no.”

She tried, but she couldn’t form the word.

He kissed the corner of her mouth.

She turned her head to meet him, angling her body, tipping her chin.

His gaze caught hers in the blinking red and green glow. He gently found her center, and her hips flexed in reaction.

Then his mouth was on hers, kissing her passionately, his tongue delving deeply into her mouth as his finger entered her body.

She moaned, and her thighs twitched apart.

He stretched his leg over hers, pressing her into the mattress. His hand set up a rhythm, and the world shifted to the apex of her thighs.

She tried to hang on, but he hit all the right spots. She dragged in a breath, inhaling his scent. She flicked out her tongue, tasting sweet brandy on his lips. She twisted the comforter convulsively between her fingers.

He had to stop.

This was crazy.

She was out of control.

She opened her mouth, but her words turned into a cry, and sensation shattered around her.

He held her tight, slowed his kisses, whispered something that she couldn’t begin to hear around the roaring in her ears. But it sounded nice. It sounded soothing. It sounded like she didn’t have to worry that she’d just let go under his caress.

And then the lights blurred and the soft bed turned into a cloud, as a warm peace settled into her very bones.

IN THE MORNING, Jack hauled himself out of bed at 6:00 a.m. He’d nearly given in to temptation last night, and he didn’t want to think about what he’d do if Kristy woke up sleepy and pliant in his arms. It could go one of two ways, neither of them good, and he owed it to her to at least try to keep his word from now on.

He left her sleeping and showered down the hall. Then he took coffee into the study. It was too early on the west coast even for Lisa, so he logged on to the Sierra Sanchez computer server and hunted around himself. It took nearly half an hour to find a number for Zenia Topaz.

Jack wanted to make contact with the one person who might be able to help him help Kristy. Zenia Topaz was a top fashion designer, and her contract with Sierra Sanchez gave Jack a little leverage. Plus, they’d grown to be friends over the years.

He’d already ordered what he could think of for Kristy last night from the Manchester area. But he didn’t know anything about international fashion design. He had no idea what was in and what was out, what kinds of things Kristy would need to have a running chance at the Breakout Designer Contest. Hopefully, Zenia could give him some advice.

And he wasn’t only doing this for Kristy, he assured himself. He had the best interests of Sierra Sanchez in mind, as well.

“Topaz Fashion,” came the cheerful answer.

“Zenia Topaz, please.”

“She’s expecting your call?”

“No. It’s Jack Osland.”

“One moment please, Mr. Osland. I’ll see if she’s available.” The line clicked.

Jack listened to elevator music, tapping his fingers against the desktop as the minutes ticked by. He realized as he waited that he didn’t spend very much of his life on hold. Other people must. Although he had to remember that Zenia hadn’t been expecting his call.

The line clicked again. “Mr. Osland?” came the same voice, sounding a bit breathless and flustered this time.

“Yes?”

“Ms. Topaz will be right with you. I’m sorry, sir.”

“No problem,” said Jack.

Another click.

“Jack,” Zenia’s voice singsonged.

“Good morning, Zenia. How are things in New York?”

“Things are fabulous. The city’s lit up. We’ve been out skating already. Are you in town?”

“I’m in Manchester. I was wondering if you could help me out.”

“Absolutely, Jack. Whatever I can do.”

“Sierra Sanchez is sponsoring a designer in the Breakout Designer Contest at Matte Fashion.”

“Umm-hmm.”

He swiveled his chair to face the window. “She’s working here over the holidays, and I’d like to pick up a few things for her.”

“What kind of things.”

“That’s the problem. I’m not sure.”

“Okay …” Zenia’s voice was searching.

“Fabric, notions, shoes, I don’t know. I was hoping you’d have some ideas.”

“Do you have her sketches?”

“Not really.”

“Jack—”

“It was a last-minute thing. I think she might be building on something she has, or she might be coming up with something brand-new. Gramps met her—”

“Ahhh.”

“Oh. No.” Jack automatically shook his head. “It’s not like that.” Well it was kind of like that. “Listen, my jet is at your disposal, as is my credit card. Can you make a few calls to your suppliers? Just send one of everything.”

Zenia gave a husky chuckle. “Who is this woman?”

Jack paused. “My wife.”

“No way.”

“It was a whirlwind courtship.”

Zenia clucked her tongue. “Like grandfather, like—”

“No! Like I said, it’s nothing like that.”

“Sorry.”

“That’s all right. Can you help me out? I want to surprise her.”

Kristy could buy anything else she wanted later, but Jack couldn’t help thinking they’d do better with an expert like Zenia making the choices.

Zenia was silent for a minute. “You know she’s only got two weeks.”

“The jet is warming up on the tarmac.”

Zenia took a breath. “Okay. Tell the pilot to file a flight plan to Paris then Milan. I’ll send one of my assistants along to purchase what she’ll need.”

“You’re a goddess,” said Jack.

“Yes, I am. And I want to meet this woman when I’m at the show in London.”

“Actually, I can suggest something even better….”

WAKING UP alone in Jack’s bedroom was a mixed blessing. It saved her the embarrassment of facing him after last night. But now she had to spend the day dreading the moment she’d have to face him.

Did he think she was selfish? A tease? Did he think it was his turn next? Did he have expectations for tonight?

She paced the length of the workshop, giving her head a quick shake, forcing Jack from her thoughts.

She stopped herself at the drafting table, plunked down on the stool, opened the sketch pad and stared down at Irene’s notes. The Sierra Sanchez team had liked the necklines. They’d liked some of the fabrics, too.

The team’s biggest complaint had been the lack of sparkle and imagination. Kristy thought she understood. Unfortunately, now she wasn’t so sure.

She closed her eyes, trying to think about sparkle, imagination, maybe passion.

Oops. There was Jack again.

She could see him in the hot air balloon this time, skimming over the desert against the bright-blue sky. The balloon was round, billowing out with primary colors, bright yellow, red and blue. The lines were soft, sand rippling off in the distance, rocks polished by the foaming water, curves on the river sweeping through the valley.

In the distance, the cliffs were jagged, painted with muted stripes of brown and rust and gold. A waterfall crashed over them, hurling spray high into the air, white water bubbled at the bottom of the falls. She heard Jack’s rumbling voice, his laughter, his teasing suggestion they skinny-dip. She was hit with a new sense of desire, even while the foaming water turned into billowing crinoline and the stripes from the surrounding cliffs took the shape of a bodice.

Her eyes flew open. “Wow.”

She grabbed her sketchbook and began bold pencil strokes across a blank page.

A wild and exotic dress grew before her eyes—a tight, sleeveless bodice, with stripes arching into a reverse, rounded neckline. She’d use some kind of metallic in the fabric, jazzing up the earth tones. She nipped in the waist, then filled out the skirt, widening the stripes as the fabric fell to midthigh. Then she penciled in the billowing crinoline, at least six inches showing below the skirt.

Dark stockings and spike heels would give the sensuality she was looking for. It was sassy and sexy and completely different from anything she’d conceived before.

She had a sudden vision of herself wearing it, curled up on the blanket in front of the waterfall, Jack’s hot gaze traveling the length of her body.

She drew a deep, shuddering breath.

Then she came back to earth, blinking at the surprising creation. It didn’t look like the kind of thing Irene would like. The woman’s tastes had tended toward sleek and sophisticated.

But this dress was definitely passionate. And, for better or worse, Kristy was feeling passionate.

Maybe it was frustration. Or maybe it was repressed desire. Or maybe it was simply the opulence and excess of the Osland mansion. But Kristy definitely wanted to let herself go, to find her sensual side and bring it out in jazzy, extravagant clothing.

Of course, she couldn’t.

She had a sponsor. And she had a job to do.

Enough fooling around. She flipped to Irene’s notes on her original sketches. She’d start with her classic cocktail dress and take it from there.

WHEN KRISTY entered the mansion many hours later, tired, hungry and pretty frustrated with her efforts, she heard voices coming from the great room. She realized the rest of Jack’s family had arrived, and she was in no shape to meet any of them yet.

She darted up the stairs, grabbed a shower, blow-dried her hair and got herself into a simple white-and-silver tunic dress that shimmered as she moved. High heels gave her confidence, and she matched a pair of dangling black earrings to a dramatic necklace that highlighted the V neckline.

She heard the bedroom door open and turned to see Jack approach the en-suite.

“Ready?” he asked through the doorway.

The second she heard his voice, the night before came flooding back in all its reckless, sensual glory. She instantly realized she wasn’t ready to face Jack or anybody else.

“Kristy?”

She swallowed. Should she acknowledge it? Pretend she’d forgotten? Hope he’d forgotten that she selfishly went to heaven and back in his arms?

“Kristy?” he repeated, taking a couple of steps into the room. Then he stopped behind her, gazing for a long second at her reflection in the vanity mirror.

“Please don’t be embarrassed,” he finally said.

What else could she possibly be?

“You were beautiful,” he said softly, bringing his hands down to rest on her shoulders.

“I’m sorry,” she muttered, covering her face with one hand.

A smile came into his voice. “Well, I’m sure not.”

She dared to meet his eyes.

“Never,” he assured her. “Not even for a second.”

There was something comforting about his tone and his touch. She found herself relaxing.

“Besides,” he said, giving her a squeeze, “I don’t know if you noticed, but we’ve got bigger problems downstairs.”

So much for relaxing. “I noticed,” she said on a sigh.

“Then buck up,” he advised. “Because your in-laws are waiting.”

She nodded, finishing her lip gloss and chasing down a surge of butterflies that collected in her stomach. She reminded herself they weren’t really her in-laws. She didn’t have to win them over for life. All she had to do was smile, nod and try not to spill anything.