The Billionaire Who Bought Christmas(11)

The man was being deliberately obtuse.

"I mean all of it." He could easily have dumped her at the airport last night and gone about his business.

"All of what?"

Fine. She'd play along and spell it out for him. "Dinner. A balloon ride. A picnic?"

"Would you rather do something else?"

She pulled back from the arm that was still loosely around her waist. "You act like we're dating."

He let her go, fighting a grin. "Dating?"

"You know what I mean."

"Did I say we were dating?"

Okay, now she was embarrassed. "No, you didn't."

"Good. We're together on that at least."

She scowled at him. "You're wasting your time."

"No, I'm pretty sure I'm having a picnic."

"You should have left me at the airport."

"That would have been rude."


"I'm not your responsibility."

He glanced around. "Why are we discussing this now?"

"Because-" She paused, following his lead, giving a quick check on the    desert around them. He made a good point. What was she hoping to    accomplish by standing here arguing with him in the hot sun?

Answers, she supposed.

Like, what was he doing here? What wasshe doing here? She wasn't the    kind of person to fall into adventures with rich, sexy, exciting men.    Her life simply didn't work that way.

After a minute's silence, he lifted the blanket from the sand, gripping the cooler firmly in his other hand.

"We're here," he explained, "Because sightseeing is way more fun than    hanging around an airport for two days. You know, you really have to    lighten up, Kristy. You want to stand here and argue until we get    sunstroke, or find some shade and break out the wine and sandwiches?"

At the mention of the food, Kristy realized she was starving. Her attention turned to the little cooler.

"Sandwiches?"

He gave a sharp nod of approval and started for the oasis, tossing a final volley over his shoulder.

"There. I knew you'd see things my way."

She scrambled to catch up, sand creeping into the crevices of her shoes. "I didn't see things your way."

"Sure you did. And that means I won the argument."

"There was no argument. And definitely no winner. We came to an amicable    agreement involving shade, food and wine." She fell into step with   him.

He slanted her a knowing grin. "You agreed to relax and enjoy the picnic."

"I did not."

He shrugged. "Okay."

"I merely accepted the fact that I'm trapped here with you for now."

"Poor baby."

She jabbed him with her elbow.                       
       
           



       

He hunched over to protect himself, but he was grinning. "Just make sure you don't have any fun.

Otherwise, I'm the winner."

Kristy struggled not to laugh along with him. "Don't worry. I won't."

He glanced down. "You sure? 'Cause I think I see a smile in there."

She shook her head and pressed her lips together. "No, you don't."

"Liar."

She let herself grin, silently deciding to relax and take a breath.    There really was nothing for her to worry about for the moment. Dee Dee    was happy. She was having a great time with a concierge staffer named    Randy and three other dogs staying at the hotel. A picnic beside a    waterfall definitely beat an airport waiting room, even if it did mean    Jack won the argument.

Maybe it didn't matter that today didn't reflect her real life. Fact    was, it was happening to her. Against all odds and previous life    experience, she was stranded in Vegas with a sexy billionaire who wanted    to entertain her. She should enjoy it.

"What kind of wine?" she asked.

"Ha. Getting fussy are we?"

"No. I'm taking your advice and lightening up." On impulse, she covered    his hand that held the cooler and gave it a squeeze. "This is   incredibly  nice of you, you know."

"I'm an incredibly nice guy."

"I'm serious."

"So am I."

She laughed, and then went silent as the ground turned from sand to    sparse cacti, then to shrub brush and a few sparse pine trees. The roar    of the waterfall intensified, and the spray cooled the air by several    degrees. A brilliant glittering pool came into view amongst the rocks    and willows.

"How did you know this was here?" she asked, glancing around in awe.

"The tour guy told me about it."

They came to a halt next to the pool, beside a small tangle of mesquite.

"We lucked out," said Jack. "Depending on the wind, we could have ended up at Lone Pine, Condor Point or Dead Man's Gulch."

He set the cooler down on the grass to spread the blanket.

Kristy kicked off her shoes. "Dead Man's Gulch? Now I'm picturing alkali residue and bleached cow skulls."

"Not exactly romantic."

She did a double take. "Why would we want romantic?" Then she    immediately wished she'd kept her mouth shut. They weren't dating.    They'd been particularly clear on that point a few minutes ago. She    should have let the comment pass.

He bent over the cooler, swinging open the lid. "I mean in the generic sense."

There was a generic sense to romantic?

Nope. She wasn't going to ask.

He retrieved a bottle of wine. "Oh, look," he announced. "The hotel packed Chateau Le Comte merlot.

Now that's hardly generic."

He gestured for her to sit down on the blanket then took a seat beside    her. The wind waved its way through the mesquite trees, while birds    twittered from branch to branch. Jack rustled through the cooler,    retrieving two long-stemmed glasses, a corkscrew and a plastic-covered    platter of cheese and wafers.

Making quick work of the cork, he poured them each a glass of the wine.

He smoothed back his dark hair and held his glass up for a toast. "To    us," he said, his eyes going silver in the brilliant sunshine. "In the    generic sense."

Everything inside Kristy relaxed. There was something so reassuring    about his expression. It told her they were okay. They could go ahead    and goof around, drink wine, see the sights, and it didn't have to lead    anywhere.

She clinked her glass against his. "You know, this is about the strangest thing I've ever done."

He took a sip. "Yeah? Well, for me, it's not even close."

She tasted the fragrant wine. It was smooth and light, the flavor    bursting in her mouth. Then she eyed him up. "You do realize that    absolutely begs the question … "

He grinned. "It does, doesn't it?"

She nodded encouragingly.

He thought for a moment. "Let's see. If I had to choose, I'd say it was the fire."

That definitely got her attention. "You lit something on fire?"                       
       
           



       

"Hunter lit something on fire. I was only along for the ride."

Kristy took another sip of the merlot. "It was Hunter's fault. Of course."

"It was definitely Hunter's fault. He was upset. Still, if it wasn't for the gypsy and the elephants, we'd have been fine."

"You're making this up."

"I swear it's true. We were maybe fourteen and fifteen. We all went to    the circus. Dad being Dad, and Gramps being Gramps, we got a special    pass to go behind the scenes.

"Hunter decided to get his fortune told. But special pass or not, the    wrinkled old gypsy made us pay twenty bucks. Trouble was, back then, we    weren't as grounded in reality as we are-"

Kristy scoffed, practically choking on her wine.

"What?"

"Grounded? Your private jet has mechanical trouble, so a helicopter is    picking us up after a bottle of Chateau Le Comte at the Grand Canyon.    You call that grounded in reality?"

His eyes narrowed. "You want to hear the story or not?"

"Absolutely. Sorry."

"At least now I know I have to pay for the helicopter and the jet," Jack muttered.

"You've made amazing progress," she allowed.

"I have. Anyway. I told Hunter to keep his money. But he wouldn't    listen. He paid her, and the gypsy gave us the standard    someone-close-to-you-has-suffered-a-loss spiel."

Kristy had seen con artists at work before, testing basic questions    until the subject engaged with one of them. "It could be an economic    loss or a personal loss," she mused aloud, attempting to put the right    quavering note in her voice. "Or maybe 'he has dark … no, light hair.'"