The Billionaire Who Bought Christmas(33)
Jack turned and started to walk away. He was done here.
"Do you want respect for your business?" called Hunter. "Or do you want Kristy?"
Jack kept walking.
"Do you want more fashion sales? Or do you want Kristy?"
Jack paused at the door, bracing a hand on the jamb.
"Do you want the family fortune? Or do you want Kristy?"
Kristy.There wasn't a doubt in Jack's mind. But how could he give in on every front just to make her happy?
"What if they're good?" Hunter asked softly. "What ifshe's good? What if she'sgreat and you took that chance away from her?"
Jack scrambled to weigh the facts. Irene said she was competent. Zenia said the dresses were risky.
Everything inside Jack screamed at him to listen to the experts. He always listened to experts. They had the facts, knew the odds, were always right.
"Stop it!" shouted Hunter.
"What?"
"Stop talking yourself out of it."
"I can't."
"Well then here's one for you. What if she loves you?"
Jack faced his cousin.
"She married you," said Hunter. "Somehow Kristy doesn't strike me as the kind of woman who does that lightly. What if she fell in love with you that weekend in Vegas? What if, against all odds, with all the crap you've pulled, she's still in love with you? What do your experts say about that?"
"Who are the experts in love?" Jack all but yelled. "The gypsies?"
"I'd like to think," came Cleveland's level voice from the doorway. "ThatI'm the expert in matters of love."
Jack turned.
With Dee Dee tucked predictably under his arm, Gramps advanced into the room. "You boys both know I've been married a number of times."
"Yeah, Gramps," said Hunter, calmly. "We know."
"And I bet you're wondering how I feel when the young lady and I part ways."
Jack had never once wondered that.
"I feel great," said Cleveland. "There are never any hard feelings. No tears. Everyone has a good time. I never give her another thought."
He walked past Jack and peered into the open trunk. "They're fancy. I'll give her that."
Then he straightened and stood toe-to-toe with Jack, looking his square in the eye. "How 'bout you, boy. You given Kristy another thought since she left?"
Jack didn't answer. He'd done nothingbut think about Kristy since the moment she'd left the mansion.
"If not," said Cleveland. "Then you both got what you wanted." He glanced at the trunk again. "Sort of.
But if you're thinking about her. If missing her is gnawing at your guts, and if you'd give anything to hear her voice or hold her in your arms again. Well, then you've got a problem. Because you're in love, and you've just screwed yourself out of the woman of your dreams."
Cleveland looked down at Dee Dee, ruffling the little dog's head. "Isn't that right, Pookie? Uncle Jack blew it with your mama."
Something that felt like an iceberg slid into Jack's chest and parked itself next to his heart. He stared at Hunter, and Hunter stared back.
"It's noon," said Hunter. "Do the math. You can make it if Simon fuels up now."
Not giving himself another moment to hesitate, Jack grabbed his cell phone, hitting the speed dial for Simon.
"Yes, sir?" came Simon's voice.
"Refile the flight plan. We're going to London."
"Will do. Do you have an ETA for the airport?"
"Twenty minutes."
"Roger that."
Jack flipped his phone shut.
Hunter snapped the catches on the trunk. "Grab an end."
With Kristy's trunk safely on a delivery truck at Heathrow, Hunter taking care of business back in New York and Zenia on deck for the switch off at tonight's fashion event, Jack climbed into the back of the waiting Rolls.
"The Claymore Diamond Hotel, please."
The driver nodded his acknowledgment and closed the door behind Jack.
Jack knew he should try to rest to combat the jet lag, but he was too excited at the possibility of seeing Kristy again.
Could Hunter be right? Was there a chance she was in love with him? If she was, she could make any damn fashion collection she wanted. He'd pay for it. Hell, he'd pay people to wear it if that's what it took to make her happy.
But first, he had to convince her to give him a chance. And that meant starting from scratch, doing it right this time.
He called out to the driver. "Excuse me?"
The man glanced in the rearview mirror. "Yes, sir?"
"Can we make a stop at Tiffany's?"
"Very good, sir."
"Thanks." Jack nodded. Hopefully, a two-carat, flawless solitaire engagement ring would start things off on a new, positive note.
"Don't worry about the necklace," said Zenia. "They need you out front right away."
Kristy glanced around at the frantic buzz of the dressing rooms ten minutes before the Breakout Designer Contest. Elbow to elbow, makeup artists and hairdressers put the final touches on the models, seamstresses took care of last-minute repairs, and the technical staff shouted instructions or talked into their headsets. Photographers made their way between the rows of onlookers, searching for that potential cover shot. The lighting technicians were ready, music had been cued and the announcer was flipping through his notes, confirming last-minute changes to the program.
The show's stage manager negotiated a path through the chaos. "Contestants in their seats, please. The news networks will want footage."
Zenia gave Kristy a quick hug. Then she stood back and squeezed her cool hands. "You look fantastic."
"Thanks," Kristy whispered.
She'd designed the dress herself. It was the one thing she'd brought to London with her from the desert collection, short and basic black, with small triangles of lace sewn into the hem and neck, and sleeves capped with lace that matched her waterfall dress.
Early this morning, she'd come to terms with her Irene collection. It was technically sound. Zenia had said so herself. And Kristy could build on that. She could take the creativity part slowly, learn to add the sparkle and imagination as she went along. Zenia had suggested the hide of a rhino. Kristy could be a rhino. A rhino brimming with imagination and passion, but stubborn and driven and willing to take on the world. However hard she had to work, whatever it took, she was going after her dream.
The Breakout Designer Contest was televised because viewers liked to see the expressions on the contestant's faces when their fashions were paraded across the catwalk. They particularly liked to see the delight on the winner's face at the end of the evening.
So, along with her eleven fellow contestants, Kristy left the backstage area, took the small, side staircase down to the floor, and slid into her seat in the front row.
A program was handed to her. She flipped through the pages, the buzz of chatter wafting around her as she waited for the opening music.
A calm settled over her as the announcer's voice came through the speakers. The spotlight hit the stage.
Kristy had seen the other designers' collections, both in the dressing rooms and at rehearsal. But nothing compared to seeing the creations strutted down the catwalk with the music blaring and a real audience applauding from the seats.
Kristy reached out to congratulate those closest to her as their models went by.
And then it was her turn.
She heard her name, felt the spotlight shift. And right then she didn't care that it was her second choice of a collection. She was part of this fabulous show, and it felt wonderful.
The spotlight hit the model, and Kristy jolted back in her seat, blinking in confusion. Lucinda was wearing the flirty waterfall dress. Kristy's swooping desert stripes glittered under the strong stage lights.
The lacy crinoline bounced, showing off the sleek legs of the model.
Lucinda winked at Kristy as she passed by, but Kristy was too astounded to react. How had Zenia done it?
Next came the hot-air-balloon pants, with a pair of strappy black sandals, then the bikini and the sunset dress. By the time her roulette evening gown crossed the stage, Kristy recognized that the applause was strong and steady.