Her Christmas Temptation: The Billionaire Who Bought Christmas / What She Really Wants for Christmas / Baby, It's Cold Outside. Debbi Rawlins
“Reports to read?” she asked. “Phone calls to return?”
It was nice of her to offer. Really it was. But didn’t she know enough to shut up and take the free dinner? Besides, he had no intention of letting her out of his sight.
“I’m honestly only planning to eat,” was his answer. And conspire against her, of course. But he didn’t think it was necessary to divulge that bit of information.
She gave him a look that said she didn’t believe him. “What about Dee Dee?”
“The hotel will take care of her. You won’t be the first celebrity to show up with a pet.”
“I’m not a celebrity.”
“Yeah, but they won’t know that. I’ll get us a really long limo, and I guarantee the concierge will find a solution.”
He could see she was still hesitating, so Jack brought out the big guns. “Do you really think my grandfather would ever forgive me if I abandoned you in an airport?”
Her eye twitched, and he knew he had her.
He knew he had her even before she opened her mouth.
“Okay,” she finally said with a nod. “We don’t want to upset your grandfather.”
“That’s right. We don’t.”
Hunter gestured to the up escalator with a jab of his thumb. “You two kids have fun. I’m off to find another ride.”
Kristy gave Hunter a brilliant smile and moved gracefully toward him, her hand outstretched. “It was a pleasure to meet you.”
Hunter reached for the hand, a goofy grin growing on his face. “Me, too. I’m sorry I have to leave you here.”
“Don’t be silly. You obviously have things to do. Me, I’m clear for the rest of the weekend.”
“Really?”
Jack could see Hunter rethinking his golf game with Milo and Harrison.
“If you want to come along,” Hunter said to Kristy. “We can probably catch something on United.”
Jack wasn’t about to let that happen. “Kristy’s not interested in being stuffed in a last-minute back seat of a commuter jet.”
“How do you know?” asked Hunter.
“Because she has a brain,” said Jack, shifting in front of Kristy, squaring his shoulders and giving his cousin a crystal-clear back off glare. How was he supposed to save the family fortune if Kristy was off flirting with Hunter?
Hunter shrugged his capitulation. “Catch you next week, then.”
“Yeah,” Jack returned. “Next week.”
With a wave, Hunter stepped onto the escalator.
Taking Kristy on a date. Of all the crazy, lame-ass plans. Did Hunter think he could dazzle her with his good looks and charm and make her forget all about Cleveland’s billion-dollar offer?
Kristy didn’t want a relationship. She wanted a sugar daddy. She wanted a besotted rich old man who would indulge her every whim.
Jack stilled.
Wait a minute.
What was he thinking?
Kristy didn’t want a besotted, rich old man. She simply wanted a besotted rich man. She’d probably take a young one just as quickly. In fact, she might prefer a young one.
He stole a sidelong glance to where she was cooing at Dee Dee.
They were stuck together in Vegas. The land of glitz and glamour and fantasy. Where better to fall head over heels for a rich young man? Where better to have a rich young man fall head over heels for you?
And Jack was a rich young man—at least he was comparatively young. When you put him up against Cleveland.
Cleveland. What better way to make sure his family’s reputation and fortune didn’t take another hit, he’d get Kristy to marry him instead. And keep their money out of her hands.
Of course, he’d have to work fast.
Simon would lie for him about the jet repair, buy him tonight, maybe part of tomorrow. But eventually Kristy would get tired of waiting. She’d bite the bullet and buy a ticket on a commercial airline.
Until then, however …
He offered his arm and gave her a genuine smile. “Ever tried the tasting menu at Le Cirque?”
She shook her head, hesitating then taking his arm.
“Then you’re in for a treat. Come on.” He gently urged her forward. “Let’s go find ourselves a really flashy limo.”
FORTUNATELY, since Jack ordered the tasting menu, Kristy didn’t get a chance to look at it. If she had, she suspected the prices would have given her a heart attack. Everything about Le Cirque reeked of wealth and privilege.
The tables were covered in white linen, well-spaced, with comfortable, padded chairs. The service was impeccable, and the decor spectacular. Bold burgundy carpets covered the floor, while padded, striped chairs surrounded the tables and spotlights shone on recessed circus murals.
They started almost immediately with chilled cocktails, then she savored course after course of exotic delicacies complemented by fine merlots and chardonnays.
Afterward, Jack didn’t even glance at the bill before handing over his platinum card.
His cell phone rang.
“I’m sorry,” he said, reaching for his inside breast pocket.
Kristy shook her head. “Don’t worry about me.” She settled into the overstuffed chair, sighing as she gazed around the softly glowing room. The ceiling was draped with bright silk—yellow and orange and ivory fluttering like a tent dome around a central chandelier. It was dark outside, and the dancing lights of the fountains beyond the windows added to the intimacy of the restaurant.
“What time?” Jack asked into the phone.
Kristy took another sip from her wineglass, letting the tart, woodsy flavor ease over her tongue, as the room’s ambiance seeped in and relaxed her.
“If that’s the best you can do,” he said, catching Kristy’s gaze and giving her a smile that warmed her blood. “I understand. Okay.”
He flipped the phone shut.
“Everything okay?” she asked, truly not caring for the moment. As long as nobody had gone bankrupt or died, she was going to enjoy her stolen evening with a handsome, intelligent and interesting man.
Things like this simply didn’t happen to women like Kristy. Her last dinner out had been the bistro down the block. She and her date had split the bill. It hadn’t been expensive. But watching him calculate the charges, add the tip and count out change had definitely taken any romance out of the evening.
“Simon’s waiting for parts,” said Jack.
Well, that didn’t sound too dire. “What does that mean?”
“It means we’re stuck here for the night.”
Okay. That burst Kristy’s little bubble. Cash-flow alert. She’d planned on finding a small family-style motel outside of L.A. Her travel budget didn’t include Bellagio rates. Not even for one night.
“Don’t worry about it,” said Jack.
“About what?”
He reached for her hand, stroking his tapered fingers over her knuckles. “Whatever it is that made you frown. Don’t worry about it.”
“I have to worry about it.”
“Says who?”
“My