Her Christmas Temptation: The Billionaire Who Bought Christmas / What She Really Wants for Christmas / Baby, It's Cold Outside. Debbi Rawlins
in a rush at the mere mention of the prestigious London fashion show. A designer couldn’t even enter the Breakout Designer Contest without a powerhouse retailer behind her. Even in her wildest dreams …
“Perhaps if we mix and match some of the ideas,” Irene offered slowly, glancing at a patterned skirt and a white lace blouse.
Cleveland nodded his approval. “Now you’re getting creative.”
Kristy didn’t want Cleveland’s charity. But the Breakout Designer category? She swallowed her common sense, and let the conversation carry on around her.
Bernard jumped in. “This neckline is unique. And we can certainly scallop the hem and slim down the line.”
“We’d need at least a half-dozen new or revamped pieces for the contest,” James warned.
Cleveland brought the flat of his palms down on the tabletop. “That’s fine. Since we’re all on board, you can talk through the details later.” His attention turned to Kristy. “Right now, Kristy is joining me for a drink.”
She glanced at the buying team, bracing herself for narrow-eyed glares and sidelong expressions of condemnation. They might all think the way Jack did—that Kristy was Cleveland’s floozy. Why else would he overrule their judgment on her behalf?
But, to her surprise, everyone was smiling.
Irene rose from her chair and offered her hand. “We’re looking forward to working with you, Kristy.”
The other team members nodded and murmured agreement.
Kristy stood up to shake hands with Irene. “Uh. Thank you.”
Cleveland opened the boardroom door. “This way, young lady.”
She nodded her thanks to the rest of the team, then preceded Cleveland into the wide, bright, plant-adorned hallway.
“You didn’t have to do that,” she said as they made their way to the bank of elevators.
“Do what?”
She motioned behind them, torn between being polite and shutting the heck up. “Back there. Give me special—”
“You think I pulled rank because I like you?”
“Well …”
He pressed the elevator button with a wrinkled finger. “Kristy, I’ve made a whole lot of money in my life by seeing things that other people miss. You have something. It’s raw, but I think it’s there.
“I’ll work with you,” he continued. “And I’ll buy your collection when and if it’s good enough. But that back there wasn’t altruism and it wasn’t nepotism.”
A flutter of excitement rolled through Kristy’s stomach. Cleveland actually thought her fashions had a chance?
“It’s going to take a lot of work and dedication.”
She eagerly nodded. She’d work as hard as it took for a chance to fly to London and compete in the Breakout Designer Contest.
“Are you prepared for that?”
“Of course.”
“We have until December thirtieth.”
Kristy quickly did the math in her head. That was less than three days per outfit. Impossible. But she’d have to do it anyway. “Right.”
“Your staff is available over the holidays?” he asked.
Kristy hesitated. Not because her staff might not be available, but because she didn’t actually have any staff.
“Kristy?”
The elevator pinged, and the doors slid open.
She took a step forward. “Don’t worry. I’ll manage.”
“Kristy.”
She didn’t look up at him. “Yes?”
“How many people work for you?”
She swallowed as the doors glided shut.
Cleveland waited.
“Just me,” she finally squeaked.
There was a long silence as the car glided downward and floor numbers flashed red.
“You’ve got guts,” said Cleveland. “I’ll give you that. But if this is going to work, you must be completely honest with me.”
“Sorry.”
“How big is your workshop?”
“It takes up most of my loft.”
He raised a gray, bushy eyebrow. “Don’t be evasive.”
“It’s six hundred square feet.”
The elevator eased to a stop.
“Well that’s definitely not going to do it,” said Cleveland, gesturing for her to move ahead of him into the lobby.
As they walked across the polished marble floor, past statues and paintings, skirting a central waterfall encircled by bench seats, Kristy could feel the deal of a lifetime slipping from her grasp. She couldn’t really blame Cleveland. Six outfits in three weeks was nearly impossible under the best of conditions. But it seemed downright cruel of fate to bring her this close, to tantalize her with the brass ring, only to unceremoniously yank it away from her.
“You’ll come work at the mansion,” said Cleveland decisively.
Kristy stopped in her tracks. What mansion? His mansion? The Osland family mansion?
He halted and turned back, a sly smile coming over his wrinkled face. “Really. You’re married to Jack now. You have every right to spend the holidays with his family. We have a lovely estate in Vermont, near Manchester.”
Kristy didn’t even know where to start. She wasn’t married to Jack. Well, she was. But she wasn’t. At least not in any real sense. And she never wanted to see him again. She sure wasn’t about to arrive on his doorstep for the holidays.
“That’s insane,” she finally managed.
“Excuse me?” said Cleveland, his bushy eyebrows slanting in an expression of surprise.
Whoops. For a minute she’d forgotten who she was speaking to.
“Sorry,” she offered.
He gave her a sharp nod. “There’s a workshop. Plenty of room for you to spread out. And we can bring in machines, materials and staff.”
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.