The Billionaire Who Bought Christmas(25)

Kristy crossed the room. The box held beaded, corded, Chantilly, metallic and colored laces.

Isabella tsk-tsked. "I sure wish we were making something with lace."

What Kristy wished was that they wereshowing something with lace. The    Irene collection-as she'd begun calling it in her head-was sleek and    sophisticated, where the fantasy collection was flirty and fun.

Kristy would be able to use all kinds of different lace on the fantasy    collection. It was just too bad nobody but her would ever see it.

She was halfway through sewing the sexy, short desert dress. For that    one, the lace would be key. It had to be stiff to fill out the skirt,    and the edging needed to be dramatic to draw the eye, but the detail had    to mimic the frothing waterfall. Kristy smiled at the memory.

"What?" asked Isabella.

Kristy immediately erased the smile. "We'd better get back to work."

They closed the box, but Kristy didn't take her own advice. Instead of    settling on a fabric for the Irene collection slacks, she gazed out the    window at the delicate snowflakes catching the bare branches of maple    trees.

She saw the hot-air balloon again. It morphed into striped pants made of    thin nylon in the same primary colors. She'd pair that with a cropped    top of blue or red or … the lace! That was it. Thin out the stripes,  make   the top out of lace-flat cotton eyelet perhaps. She could even  use a   color, or maybe colored buttons down the front of the top.                       
       
           



       

Kristy surreptitiously flipped to a blank page in her sketch book.    Multicolored buttons would match the colors in the pants. The lace would    tie in with the frothy skirt. She put a few bold strokes across the    pages, and she was off and running.

"Kristy?" Megan's voice seemed a long way off, and Kristy realized a    couple of hours had gone by. Her shoulders and hand were starting to    cramp.

She looked up. "Yes?"

"We're heading out now."

Kristy nodded. "Of course. Thanks."

"We can probably do a first fitting on the blue dress tomorrow. The Harold Agency said they'd send a couple of models."

Kristy nodded again. "That's great. And the green one?"

"We can cut the silk tomorrow," said Isabella.

"Thanks, guys," said Kristy.

"See you in the morning." They waved and opened the door, nearly bumping into Hunter on their way out.

They greeted him, and he bade them goodbye, then closed the shop door after them.

"How are you holding up?" he asked, strolling over to Kristy.

She closed the sketch book of fantasy designer drawings like a guilty    little secret and stood to stretch her shoulders. "Not bad."


He nodded, glancing around. "Looks like you're doing a lot of work."

"That's because I am." In fact, it was double the work it should have    been. But that was Kristy's own fault. Her own, self-indulgent fault.

"You working late again tonight."

"For a while. Did you need something?"

"Gramps asked if you'd-"

The shop door burst open, cutting off Hunter's words.

Kristy blinked in astonishment at the image of her sister in a bright-green woolen coat with a matching beret.

She stood. "Sinclair? What on earth?"

Sinclair marched into the room, gesturing to Hunter with her thumb. "Is this the guy?"

"What are youdoing here?"

Sinclair whipped off the beret, revealing her wild auburn hair. "Am I    not your best friend? Your confidante? Your partner in crime?"

"Hold on," said Hunter, drawing Sinclair's attention, and her ire.

"Andyou, " she said to Hunter, marching forward. "Youmarried my sister?"

The wordmarried clanged in Kristy's ears. "Wait a minute. How did you-"

"The old man in the house." Sinclair kept her focus on Hunter. "Where did you meet her?"

"On my jet," said Hunter.

"Hunter, don't-"

"Money doesn't give you carte blanche," said Sinclair, pacing around    him. "She has a family, people who love her. People whodeserved to meet    you, before-"

"Sinclair."

"Before I kidnapped her and dragged her off to my lair?" asked Hunter.

"There's no need to be sarcastic," said Sinclair.

"And there's no need to blitz in here like the Tasmanian Devil."

"I want some answers."

"Then shut up for a minute and listen."

To Kristy's surprise, Sinclair actually did.

"He's not my husband," said Kristy.

"Somebody looking for me?" drawled Jack from the doorway.

Sinclair spun to face him. She blinked from one man to the other.

"Jack, Hunter. This is my sister, Sinclair. Sinclair, this is my husband, Jack, and his cousin Hunter."

"Mom told me you'd met a man." Sinclair unbuttoned her long coat.

"I did."

Sinclair eyed Jack up and down. "She didn't tell me you'd married him."    She pulled a cell phone from the pocket and hit a speed-dial button.

Kristy jerked forward, visions of her mother on the other end of the line. "Who are you calling?"

"The airline," said Sinclair. "I had a four-hour stopover. But clearly, I'll be staying the night."

"Is she always this bossy?" asked Hunter.

"Is he always this rude?" asked Sinclair.

"Pleasure to meet you," said Jack, advancing with his hand out.

Sinclair shook, cradling the phone against her neck. "I have a few questions."

"Me, too," said Jack. "You know how to skate?"                       
       
           



       

Before Sinclair could answer him, her phone call connected, distracting    her. She listened for a few seconds, then pushed a button.

"We're skating on the pond tonight," Jack explained to Kristy. "It's a traditional thing. Mom would love to have you join us."

"I should talk to Sinclair first."

"She can talk to both of us," said Jack.

Sinclair covered the mouthpiece. "I don't really care who I talk to. As long as somebody starts talking."

"Jack and I met in Vegas," said Kristy. "It was a whirlwind courtship."

"You … yougot married in Vegas?"

"I did."

"And this doesn't warrant a phone call?"

"We were waiting-"

"For what?"

"To tell Mom and Dad in person."

"I'm not Mom and Dad."

Kristy blew out a breath. "I know."

Jack put an arm around her. If he'd tried that when she'd first arrived    at the mansion, she would have shrugged it off. Now, she reveled in  the   strength and comfort of his simple gesture. "I think Kristy was   somewhat  embarrassed. She's not normally impulsive."

"And you know what she's normally like, do you?"

"She's my wife."

Sinclair shook her head. "Hello?" she said into the phone, turning away. "Yes. I'd like to change my ticket."

"You okay?" Jack asked.

"Not really," replied Kristy.

Hunter moved closer. "You want me to get rid of her?"

Kristy couldn't help but smile. "You offering to harm my sister?"

"I meant get her out of the room," clarified Hunter.

"She'll calm down in a minute."

Sinclair finished her call.

"I'll skate if I have to," she informed Jack. "As long as somebody does some talking while I'm skating.

And as long as there is some kind of alcoholic beverage at the end."

Then she moved forward and drew Kristy into a one-armed hug. "I wanted    to be a bridesmaid," she muttered. "How could you do this to me?"

"Jack is persuasive," Kristy answered.

Sinclair drew back, smoothing the front of Kristy's hair. "Obviously. And I want to hear all about it."



The moon was full, the stars snapping bright, and strings of white    Christmas bulbs illuminated the periphery of the glassy pond. Jack's    gloved hand was tucked into Kristy's as they made lazy circles around    the edge of the ice.

He could see Hunter in the distance, annoying Sinclair by skating around    her as she struggled to stay on her feet. Further back was his  family.   Cleveland carried Dee Dee, while Elaine and Melanie laughed  their way   through fumbled spins and jumps.

Beside him, Kristy looked beautiful. Her cheeks were rosy beneath her    fur-trimmed hat. Her lips were full and dark, and her eyes glowed indigo    beneath her thick lashes.

"I seriously thought about telling her the truth," she admitted,    referring to her private conversation with Sinclair at the beginning of    the excursion.