Her Christmas Temptation: The Billionaire Who Bought Christmas / What She Really Wants for Christmas / Baby, It's Cold Outside

CHAPTER THREE

KRISTY MAHONEY was quite possibly the most perplexing person Jack had ever met. She admitted she was marrying his grandfather for money, yet he practically had to twist her arm to get her to gamble. They’d walked past designer fashions, fur coats and numerous jewelry displays in the hotel lobby, and she hadn’t so much as sent a covetous look at the merchandise, never mind suggesting she needed a few things to tide her over until morning.

Any gold digger worth her salt should be demanding Cleveland send a new private jet by now or dressing herself to the nines on Jack’s credit card. Instead, she was gazing around the luxury hotel suite in what appeared to be awe.

“It’s huge,” she muttered, her heels echoing on the marble floor of the foyer, Dee Dee’s claws ticked along at her side as they stepped into the living room.

Jack shut the suite door behind them. “You were the one who insisted on two bedrooms.”

She turned. “Did I foil your plans?”

He tensed for a split second before realizing she was referring to any plans he might have had to sleep with her. “I have no plans.” At least not to make love with her. At least not tonight.

Though, if she’d agreed to one bedroom and hopped into a king-sized bed, he would have eagerly followed.

“Let me guess,” she purred. “Other women generally fall for your ‘come on up to my free hotel suite. Oh—’” she dramatically raised her hand to her lips, mimicking his voice “—look, there’s only one great big bed.’”

He couldn’t help but grin at her exaggeration. Yet, somehow her opinion pricked his pride. It seemed she felt he had no honor, and had to resort to trickery to attract women.

He found himself crossing the foyer to gaze down at her. “Kristy,” he began in his own defense. “I’m a thirty-two-year-old man who works out five mornings a week and is in control of a billion-dollar conglomerate. What have I done to make you think I can’t get women?”

She didn’t miss a beat. “You’re only thirty-two?”

God, she was spunky. “Ouch.”

“And I thought it was Cleveland who was in charge of Osland International.”

Ahhh. This one definitely had a better brain than the last two gold diggers.

“He’s the major shareholder,” said Jack. “I’m the CEO.”

She shrugged. “I don’t even know the difference.”

Like heck she didn’t.

“But, whatever,” she continued. “I’m still not sleeping with you.”

“Kristy, Kristy, Kristy.” He didn’t want her to sleep with him.

Okay, yeah, he did. Obviously. Since she was stunningly sexy, and he did have a pulse. But what he really wanted was for her to fall for him.

Which meant he should probably stop yanking her chain.

But it was so much fun to tease her. And the woman could definitely give as good as she got.

“I’m sure you get women all the time,” she conceded.

“Now you make me sound like a player.”

“Are you?”

“No.” He wasn’t. He dated women occasionally. And he slept with women occasionally. But he was very discriminating. And he never led them on.

She moved to the middle of the living room, checking out the rest of the suite. “Got a girlfriend?”

“Not at the moment.”

Her perfume left a trace in the air. It was nice. More than nice, actually. It wasn’t fruity, yet it wasn’t floral …

“Did she break up with you, or did you break up with her?”

Jack blinked. “Who?”

“Your last girlfriend.”

“It wasn’t a serious relationship.”

Kristy turned back and nodded. “Ahhh.”

“What’s with the ahhhs?”

Was she accusing him of something?

“I know your type. Love ‘em and leave ‘em.”

There was something in her eyes, not hurt exactly, but something. Had somebody left her? Was that why she was willing to settle for money instead of love?

Now he was curious, but he didn’t want to bring up the subject of her love life. Because that would invariably lead to his grandfather, and Jack wanted her to forget all about Cleveland for tonight.

“I can hardly love you and leave you in forty-eight hours, can I?” he said instead.

“Forty-eight?”

Oops. “Twenty-four,” Jack corrected himself. “I meant twenty-four.”

“You scared me there for a minute.”

He gave her his most congenial smile. “Wouldn’t want to do that.” Then he nodded to the glass balcony door and the view beyond. “How about a swim?”

She turned to follow his gaze.

He crossed the room to open the doors, implicitly bidding her to follow him onto the wide veranda. “Take a look down there.”

She joined him to lean on the rail, between a pair of twin loungers at one end of the veranda and an umbrella table set up for four at the other.

He heard her suck in a breath as she gazed at the Mediterranean-style courtyard. The lighted pool was embraced by pillared fountains, terra-cotta tiles, tropical trees and sculpted shrubbery. It was peaceful and deserted this time of night, and the patterned pool bottom wavered through the mist rising from the heated water.

“It’s almost midnight,” Kristy whispered. “Are we allowed?”

He shrugged. “We’re high-rollers in a complimentary suite. You think they’ll stop us from taking a swim?”

“My swimsuit’s still in the plane.”

Had the woman never heard of shopping? Had she never heard of butler service? As if a tiny thing like a swimsuit would stop them. There was a phone on the table between the two loungers, so Jack picked it up and pressed zero.

The voice on the other end was prompt. “Yes, Mr. Osland?”

“Any chance we can get a couple of swimsuits up here?”

“Of course. I’ll have the butler bring up a selection right away. The sizes?”

Jack covered the mouthpiece. “Size?” he asked Kristy.

Her eyes went a little wide. “Uh, four.”

He nodded. “Women’s four and men’s thirty-two.”

“Thank you, sir. Someone will be right up.”

Jack replaced the receiver.

Kristy glanced at the phone. “Just like that?”

“Just like that,” said Jack. Then he couldn’t resist giving her an impish grin. “I’m hoping you get a bikini.”

She eyed him up and down, a frown on her face that made him self-conscious. “I guess it’s not quite the same for women.”

“What do you mean?” Was it an insult?

She gave him an exaggerated shudder. “I mean, the thought of any man in Spandex.”

He took a couple of steps toward her. “Did I mention I work out?”

“I’m sure you’re perfectly gorgeous under that suit.” Then she stilled as her own words obviously registered.

He was torn between making a joke and making a move. Deep down, he knew he shouldn’t do either.

Still, he was suddenly aware of the way her eyes sparkled in the moonlight and her hair framed her face in gentle waves. That elusive perfume wafted through his senses once more. And everything inside him screamed at him to kiss her. Under normal circumstances, he’d definitely take the expression on her face as an invitation.

But these were not normal circumstances. He was on a mission. And he didn’t dare scare her off.

He settled for brushing a wisp of her hair from her face. Her cheek was soft under his fingertips. Her lashes fluttered at the contact, and it was more than he could do to ignore the signal.

He subconsciously leaned forward, and she tipped her head to one side.

The knock on the door saved him.

Jack forced himself to pull away, his voice husky with burgeoning desire. “Our suits are here,” he stated unnecessarily.

Kristy drew in a breath, and gave her head a quick shake. “Right.”

He squeezed her hand gently, in silent acknowledgment of what they both knew had almost happened. Then he stepped into the suite and answered the door.

The butler handed him three women’s and three men’s suits on silk padded hangers. Jack tipped the man and sent him on his way.

Then he turned to find Kristy back inside the suite.

“Pick a bedroom,” he invited, refusing to let himself look too deeply into her eyes as he handed her the women’s suits.

She motioned to the closest door, the smaller of the two rooms. Again, Jack was surprised when her actions didn’t fit his expectations. Either their almost-kiss had truly rattled her, or she didn’t care about sleeping in the plush, four-poster bed in the main bedroom.

Either case was intriguing.

IN THE COOL evening air, the pool water was chilly against Kristy’s legs. A sultry breeze blew over her aqua, one-piece suit as she gradually made her way down the sloping stairs.

Jack on the other hand, executed a neat dive into the deep end, his shimmering form moving swiftly underwater toward her. He broke the surface, coming to his feet and raking back his dark hair with spread fingers.

“Feels good,” he announced, looking slick and sexy in the diffuse garden lights.

“Feels cold,” she responded, especially in comparison to the heat building inside her at she stared at his broad, bare chest.

He took a couple of steps forward. “Need help getting in?”

She reached out and gripped the handrail. “Don’t you dare.”

His grin was wide, showing straight, white teeth and bringing out a small dimple in his left cheek. His dark eyes sparkled. “It’s easier if you do it fast.”

She took a step down another stair. “I don’t need your help, thank you very much.”

She should have been worried about the cold water. And she was. But her mind also went immediately to Jack’s slick, wet hands against her own bare skin, and her blood pressure took a jump.

She put her foot on the bottom of the pool, the water coming slightly past her waist.

He closed the distance between them. “My sister always screamed when I threw her in, but in the end she thanked me.”

“I’m not your sister.”

“You think I don’t know that?” His gaze darkened as it dipped to take in her suit.

Her entire body clenched in reaction, reminding her all over again that he was sexy and smart and funny, and women around the world adored him. She definitely wasn’t going to sleep with him. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t take advantage of the opportunity to flirt a little.

He shifted even closer in the waist-high water, and her mind waged a split-second war. Wrestling around in the pool at midnight was quite a ways past flirting. But then, he was only going to dunk her, not ravish her. Despite his joking innuendo, he had been a perfect gentleman all evening.

Still, they’d almost kissed on the balcony. And Kristy wasn’t a complete fool. So, just before his fingertips brushed her skin, she did a surface dive, scissoring her feet, propelling her body away from him and into the deeper water.

“Chicken,” he mocked as she came up for air.

“I prefer to take care of things myself,” she responded, pushing her wet hair back from her face.

His forehead creased for a microsecond, and she thought he was about to say something. But then his expression smoothed out. “Where I like to help out as much as possible.”

She kicked her legs to keep herself afloat. “You’re such an altruist.”

He gave a dramatic, self-effacing sigh. “This is true.”

“And an egomaniac.”

He swam closer. “Well, you’re a tease.”

“I am not.” But she paused, reevaluating her behavior so far. “How do you mean?”

“Batting those come-dunk-me eyes, and then spoiling my fun.”

She splashed at him. “Poor baby.”

He grinned, then dove under.

Before she could react, his hand wrapped around her ankle. He tugged just hard enough to pull her below, then he instantly let her go, and she bobbed back up.

“Not fair,” she sputtered, kicking over to where she could grab the edge.

He glided up beside her and rested his hand on the pool deck. “Who said anything about fair?”

He inched closer, his skin glistening with droplets of water, his hair nearly black in the shadow of the deck chairs. His eyes grew heavy with desire, and his voice vibrated her very core.

His thigh brushed hers, sending licks of energy across her skin. Her stomach contracted, and her lips went soft. She could feel an invisible pull compelling her forward.

“I’ve had some really bad ideas in my time …” she breathed.

He lifted her chin with his index finger. “And we’re definitely going to talk about that someday.”

She stared straight into his slate-gray eyes. Her chest went tight with emotion, and her body tingled with blatant sexual desire.

He tipped his head, light mist curling around his face as he leaned in. “But right now …”

Her body shifted forward, and she closed her eyes, savoring the sensation of his strong arms, his broad chest and his hard, hot thighs coming up against her own.

Their lips met.

His mouth was silky-soft, warm and mobile, with just the right combination of moisture and pressure.

She leaned in, bringing her breasts flush against him, wrapping her arms around his neck, letting him keep them both afloat in the deep water.

His hand splayed across her wet hair, holding her close, deepening the kiss. His hard thigh inched its way between hers and sensation burst through her body, coming out in a moan and a plea for more around their passionate kiss. She wanted to rip off her suit and rip off his suit and make wild wet love right here in the pool.

He broke off the kiss, moving to her neck, then outward, nudging the bathing suit strap out of the way to plant wet kisses on the tip of her shoulder.

She buried her face in the crook of his neck, inhaling deeply, flicking out her tongue to taste the salt of his skin. She threaded her fingers through his hair, tightening her arms, wanting to get closer, harder, tighter. Her legs went around his body, pulling him intimately between her thighs.

He slid his free hand up the tight suit, resting on her ribs, his thumb creeping along the underside of her breast.

She held her breath, as it circled higher and closer. When it rasped its way over her nipple, she groaned in his ear.

He swore in return.

Then he stilled, and slowly drew back, resting his forehead against hers.

“A little too public here,” he breathed.

When her world settled back on its axis, she nodded in agreement, even as she tried to put some context around the experience. “That was …”

“Unexpected,” he said.

She nodded again.

“Better make that surprising,” he continued. Then he paused. “No. Better make that astounding.”

He was right. On all counts.

“Tell you what,” he began, his voice growing stronger.

She fought an urge to melt against him again. She didn’t know what was happening here, but there was no denying she wanted more of it. They were both adults. And this was Vegas. If she got a vote, she’d vote they find someplace more private—say their hotel suite—to see where this all went.

“We’ll dry off,” he said.

She liked the plan so far.

“Then we’ll go somewhere very public.”

She started to nod, but then his words registered. Wait. The plan was off the rails already.

He drew back even farther, and the water sloshing gently against her felt cold again.

“And have ourselves a very decadent dessert.”

Did dessert mean what she thought it meant?

She gazed into his eyes to find out.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he growled.

“Why?”

“Because I’m trying to be a gentleman here.”

“I mean why dessert in a public place?”

He smoothed her wet hair back from her forehead, and gave her a melancholy smile. “Because I really meant dessert. Like I said, I’m trying to be a gentleman here. You said you didn’t want to make love with me.”

“But—”

He put his index finger over her lips. “Truly, Kristy. I don’t want you to regret anything in the morning.”

She wasn’t going to regret anything in the morning. She’d said no lovemaking earlier, before she knew him, before she understood the power of the electricity and passion between them. They owed it to themselves, to the rest of their lives, maybe to the entire universe, to see where this was going.

“Would you regret it in the morning?” she asked.

He searched her face. “Not a chance in hell.”

“Then—”

“Dessert,” he said, with a small shake of his head. “And then our respective bedrooms.”

A small part of her knew he was right. But a much bigger part of her railed against logic. She wanted to throw caution to the wind and drown in Jack’s arms, even if it was only for one night.

She wasn’t normally an impulsive person. But he brought out something latent and wild inside her, and she feared if she stopped it now she’d never get this chance again.

Maybe she’d regret it later, and maybe she wouldn’t. “I don’t see—”

“But I do see. Trust me on this one.” His look was deadly sober. “Because I’m right.”

Finally, she nodded, telling herself it would seem like a good decision in the morning.

AT 7:00 A.M., with sunlight streaming through the window of the hotel bedroom, Jack wished he still thought tucking Kristy into her own bed had been the right decision.

He wasn’t a man who normally questioned his actions. Once his decision was made, it was made. And for better or worse, he went forward from there. But at this particular moment, he was questioning. For one, he’d be in a lot less pain if he’d let last evening proceed to its natural conclusion. For another, she’d made no secret of wanting him.

And making love might have actually helped in his plan to romance her. He hadn’t been dishonest about his feelings. Deliberately romancing her had been the furthest thing from his mind for most of the evening. He’d simply been enjoying himself with a bright, beautiful, funny woman.

Now, while the daytime traffic came to life on the city streets below—just past that eerie lull between five and seven while the gamblers and partygoers crawled into bed and the bakers and city workers ate breakfast—the right or wrong of his actions last night pounded uncharacteristically through his brain.

Following a private opening of the hotel boutique for slacks and T-shirts, he and Kristy had dried off and changed. Then they’d shared a sticky, sweet, chocolate volcano in the restaurant.

Watching her spoon the smooth, dark sauce into that pert mouth would have broken most mortal men. But not Jack. He’d kept his hands to himself, all the way through dessert and all the way back to the suite.

There he’d behaved like a monk, and he’d been inordinately proud of himself at the time. Because her flushed cheeks and smoky sapphire eyes had transmitted the kind of invitation that made his body beg for mercy.

And it was still begging for mercy.

And she was in the next room. Probably still sleeping, since the traffic noise and the whirr of a far-off vacuum in the hotel hallway were the only sounds in the silent suite.

He toyed with the idea of waking her up.

There was nothing stopping him from crawling in next to her in the warm bed and picking up right where they’d left off.

The worst she could say was no.

The best she could say was …

Instead, Jack reached for the telephone next to his bed. Seven in the morning with no sleep and a raging hard-on was not the best time to be making logical decisions. He punched in Simon’s cell phone number.

“Captain Reece here,” came Simon’s staccato but sleep-edged voice.

“Sorry,” said Jack, feeling a twinge of guilt for unnecessarily waking the man up.

“No problem. You ready to go?”

“Not yet.”

“Okay.” To his credit, Simon didn’t ask Jack why the hell he was calling this early.

“Can you buy me another day?”

“In Vegas?”

“Yeah.”

Simon stifled a yawn. “Sure. Shipment delay on the parts?”

“That’ll do it.”

“Done. Just keep me posted.”

Jack chuckled. “But maybe not at 7:00 a.m.?”

Simon’s voice relaxed. “That’d be nice. But I’m on call whenever you need me.”

“Am I screwing up anybody else’s schedule?” Jack asked.

Cleveland had exclusive use of one of the Osland company jets, while Jack was the primary user of the other. But Jack didn’t need his jet every day, and other Osland executives frequently booked it when he was in L.A.

“Hunter called a charter company. We’re covered.”

“Great. Thanks for your patience, Simon.”

“No worries. I’m fine. I’ll grab some tickets for a show tonight.”

“Have a good time.” Jack hung up the phone, his hand resting on the receiver for a moment. He’d wondered if Kristy might enjoy a show. Cirque du Soleil was playing.