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