The Billionaire Who Bought Christmas(32)

"So you've noticed."

"I also noticed she's bossy and judgmental."

"Well, if you're going to get picky about it." A slow smile grew on    Kristy's face. It felt like the first time she'd smiled in days.

Hunter frowned in return and polished off the cognac.

"We have twin uncles," Kristy noted.

"Kristy."

"I'm just saying, from a gypsy perspective … "

"Go to bed."

She rose and set down her snifter. "And, of course, there's Sinclair and me."

Hunter did a double take. "What?"                       
       
           



       

"Sinclair and I are twins."

"No, you're not."

"I'm pretty sure we are."

"You're taller."

"We're not identical."

He stared at her for a moment. "Really?"

Kristy leaned into him, stretching her smile from ear to ear. After the    past couple of days, it felt good to goof around with somebody. "So,   you  see, Hunter, it's fate."

A wolfish grin grew on Hunter's face. "Maybe the gypsy didn't mean a    redhead with twins. Maybe I get twin redheads. You could dye your hair."

"No, she couldn't," came Jack's deep, censorious voice.

Kristy reflexively jumped back.

"We're just messing around," said Hunter.

"So, I see," Jack growled, glaring at his cousin.

"Don't do this." Kristy scoffed.

He paced into the room. "Don't do what? Interrupt your late-night chat?"

"You know it's nothing."

"I do?"

Hunter came to his feet. "It's nothing, Jack. Trust her, don't trust her. But trust me. It's nothing."

Jack stared at Hunter as the silence thickened.

"Guess I'll head upstairs," Hunter finally offered.


"Good idea," said Jack, shifting his gaze to Kristy.

"I'll come with you," said Kristy.

"I'd like to talk to you," said Jack.

"It's late."

"No kidding."

She heaved a sigh. "I'm tired, and I really don't want to fight with you."

"Who said anything about fighting?"

"Maybe it's that frown on your face."

Jack spared another glance for his cousin. "Good night, Hunter."

"Right," Hunter muttered, heading for the door.

Kristy crossed her arms protectively over her chest, steeling herself    against the familiar pulse of desire, promising to end the conversation    quickly so she could climb into bed and bury her head under the  covers.

Hunter's footfalls disappeared, and the silence seemed to boom off the    walls. Firelight flickered on Jack's hard profile, shimmering in his    hair, sparking the depths of his slate gray eyes.

He reached for the cognac bottle and poured himself a drink.

"You said you wanted to talk?" she prompted.

He straightened and drew a deep breath. "I really need you to understand."

"Oh, I do understand," she said.

It wasn't so tough to figure out. She was a distant second to Osland    International. Understandable, even logical, but hurtful all the same.

He swirled the cognac in the depths of his glass, watching the amber liquid. "It should have been so simple," he sighed.

"Simple?"

He looked up. "I thought we'd be divorced by now. I thought you'd … I expected … "

She put an edge to her voice. "I'm sorry I disappointed you."

He took a step closer. "That's not my point."

"What is your point?"

"My point … " He gazed into her eyes, searching. "Do you have any idea how much I want you right now?"

Kristy's stomach hollowed, while her chest tightened with undeniable desire. "That's an interesting point," she managed.

"You know what I mean."

"It's over, Jack."

"Really? Because it doesn't feel over."

It had to be over. She'd found the strength to walk away last night, and she had to stay away, no matter what.

"Sleep with me tonight," he rasped. "We don't have to make love-"

"I can't." Her voice caught, emotions raw in her chest. It would kill her to sleep with him one more time.

And, if it didn't, it would kill her to walk away again.

His voice went thick with emotion. "We had something, Kristy."

No they didn't, they couldn't.

"This week," he continued. "Last week. Back there in Vegas, we seriously had something."

"What we had, Jack, started with a lie, and then we lived another lie.    You wanted to save your grandfather, and I wanted to win a contest. We    used each other. I'm not very proud of that, are you?"                       
       
           



       

"I'm not proud," he said. "I'm a lot of things at the moment, but proud    isn't one of them." The defeat in his voice leeched the fight right  out   of her.

"I'm just tired," she confessed.

Compassion turned his eyes to pewter.

He nodded and polished off the drink.

Then he set the glass down on the table. "And you need to go to bed. So,    let me just say … " He drew a deep breath. "Goodbye, Kristy."

She gave him a shaky nod, fighting an instinct that urged her to throw    herself into his arms, hang on tight and to never let go. Her throat    clogged. She could barely get the words out. "Goodbye, Jack."

They stared at each other for a frozen moment. But then he glanced away,    focusing on the fire behind her, and it was well and truly over.

Twelve

Three days into the London trip, and Kristy could still see the haunted expression on Jack's face.

"Twelve pounds, ma'am," said the cabdriver, rousing her from her    daydream. She realized they'd arrived at the Claymore Diamond Hotel.

She handed the man the fare and what she hoped was an appropriate tip and hopped out of the traditional black car.

Then she stared at the stone facade of the hotel, its lights already    burning bright under the gloomy afternoon sky. She'd wandered aimlessly    through a couple of museums, burning up time. This afternoon was the    dress rehearsal in the convention center connected to the hotel.    Tomorrow night was the big event.

She knew she should be feeling some sense of anticipation, certainly the    other contestants she'd met were getting more nervous by the hour.   But,  she still hadn't emotionally engaged in the Irene collection.

And, besides, she couldn't seem to get her thoughts off Jack.

Was he still in Vermont? At the mansion with Cleveland and Dee Dee? Had he flown back to L.A., or to New York?

Did he miss her? Did he think about her? Had he figured out what was between them?

Because she hadn't. And, worst of all, would she regret not sharing her last night with him in his bed after all?



Jack was getting into the limo to head for the airport, when Hunter's bellow stopped him in his tracks.

"You'd better get your butt up here," Hunter called from one of the workshop windows.

"I'll only be a minute," Jack told the uniformed driver.

"Take your time, sir."

"Can you call Simon and give him an update?"

"Yes, sir." The limo driver reached for his cell phone.

Jack slammed the car door then took the workshop stairs two at a time.

"What the hell?" he asked as he walked through the workshop door. "I'm going to miss my meeting in New York."

Hunter gestured to an open trunk of colorful clothes. "Take a look."

Jack stopped short. "Dresses? You called me up here to see dresses?"

"Kristy'sdresses."

"So, send them to her." Jack was trying desperately not to think about Kristy.

"Not to wear," sneered Hunter. "Do you know what these are?"

Jack knew full well what they were. "Zenia didn't like them," he said.

"And?"

"And nothing. Cleveland made a deal on one set of designs. Irene helped    her fix them. Zenia said they were technically strong. While these,    these-"

"Are her heart and soul," said Hunter.

Jack flinched.

"She asked you," said Hunter. "Sheasked you."

"Is that what you were cozying up to her about on Christmas Eve?"

Hunter glared daggers. "That's whather sister told me."

"Oh."

"Yeah. Oh."

Jack squared his shoulders. "Fine. Is this conversation over?"

"Take the clothes to London," said Hunter.

Jack snorted his disbelief. Like he could drop everything and do that. Like he could compromise Sierra Sanchez's reputation.

"That's something Gramps would do," he said to Hunter.

Hunter took a step forward. "So what?"

"So, I'm not Gramps."

"Maybe not. But, cousin, you need to ask yourself some very serious questions."