The Billionaire Who Bought Christmas
Barbara Dunlop

www.millsandboon.co.uk

For Jane Graves, author extraordinaire.

You know the rest.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

One

Jack Osland peered through the window of his Gulfstream jet plane as an indistinct figure emerged in the scattered snow falling on the tarmac at JFK.

“Did I even mention the word kidnap?” he asked his cousin Hunter who was sitting in the opposite seat.

“I can tell you’re thinking about it,” said Hunter, turning to improve his view, the white leather creaking beneath him.

“You’re clairvoyant now?” asked Jack.

“I’ve known you since you were two years old.”

“You were a baby when I was two.”

Hunter shrugged. “You’ve got that telltale twitch in your temple.”

“That just means I’m ticked off.” Jack’s attention went back to the woman who was striding through the frozen swirls of white. Ticked off was an understatement, and he was watching the reason walk toward him.

A slim five and a half feet, her face was obscured by a furtrimmed hat and the enormous collar of her matching, cream-colored coat.

“Maybe she’ll say no,” Hunter offered, a hopeful lilt to his voice.

“And maybe pigs fly,” Jack responded.

The woman wasn’t about to say no. Nobody ever did. When Jack and Hunter’s billionaire grandfather Cleveland Osland asked a gold digging, trophy babe to marry him, it was a done deal.

“Well it looks like dogs fly,” said Hunter with a nod toward the future Mrs. Osland.

Jack blinked.

A flash of red pulled his gaze to her high-heeled boots. Sure enough. There, prancing along at her feet, was a tiny, plaid-coated fur ball.

As the implication registered, Jack shot Hunter a triumphant look. “Am I right, or am I right?”

“Her dog doesn’t mean a thing.”

“It means she’s not turning around and going home.”

“They only loaded one suitcase.”

“You don’t think Gramps’s first wedding gift will be a platinum card?”

“Well, you still can’t kidnap her,” said Hunter.

“I’m not kidnapping her.” Jack was desperate, but he wasn’t a fool. He had no desire to give up a Malibu Beach penthouse for an eight-by-eight cell with a lumpy mattress, a leaky toilet and a roommate with a skull tattoo.

He didn’t know how he was going to stop her. But, whatever his plan, he’d have to come up with it before the jet made it to L.A.

“What exactly did your mom say to you?” asked Hunter.

“She said that Gramps was at it again, and the latest one was hitching a ride with us. That’s all I got, because she was boarding a flight to Paris, and we lost the connection. She’s on the plane now.”

“Could she have meant something else?”

Jack gave his cousin a deadpan stare. “No. She could not have meant something else. Gramps is getting remarried, and it’s up to me to put a stop to it.”

The future bride approached the aircraft, tipping her head to gaze at the fuselage. Jack caught a glimpse of straight, white teeth, burgundy lips, a smooth, flushed complexion and blue eyes that sparkled like jewels.

“Well, there’s nothing wrong with Gramps’s eyesight,” muttered Hunter.

“I sure wish something would go wrong with his testosterone,” Jack returned, giving the steward, Leonardo, a nod to open the cabin door.

“He doesn’t sleep with them,” said Hunter.

Jack stared at his cousin in disbelief.

“At least not until they’re married. And then, well it sounded like sporadic attempts.”

Jack was momentarily speechless. “You actually asked Moira and Gracie about their sex lives with Gramps?”

“Sure. Didn’t you?”

“Of course not.”

Hunter smirked. “You are such an easy mark. It was your mom who told me. I guess she asked them. She was worried about a possible pregnancy.”

Jack wondered why his mother hadn’t talked to him about her fears, instead of Hunter. Jack was her son, and the CEO of Osland International, the man whose job it was to protect the family interests.

Leonardo finished lowering the aircraft staircase, and the woman’s quick footsteps echoed on metal stairs.

“You could try reasoning with her,” Hunter suggested as they rose to their feet.

Jack snorted his disbelief.

But Hunter didn’t give up. “Warn her that Gramps has done this before.”

“She’s a twentysomething trophy babe, dating an eighty-year-old man. You think there’s a chance she’ll be offended by his ethics?”

The woman in question rounded the corner in all her fur-trimmed, youth-dewy glory. The little dog barked once, but obeyed when she shushed it.

After a brief moment’s hesitation, she smiled brightly at the two of them, leading with an outstretched, manicured hand. “Kristy Mahoney. I don’t know if you heard, but I’m meeting with Cleveland and the Sierra Sanchez buying team on Monday. Cleveland said you wouldn’t mind if I caught a ride?”

Her voice was as soft and husky as a lounge singer’s. And she had an interesting flare of fashion—both for herself and the dog. In addition to the red plaid coat, the dog wore a collar that sparkled with rhinestones. After the single bark, it had stayed perfectly still, unblinking in her arms. It looked like a child’s toy now, with wide glassy brown eyes and blow-dried fur.

Hunter was the first to step forward. “Hunter Osland. I’m one of Cleveland’s grandsons. And of course we don’t mind if you join us.”

“A pleasure to meet you,” she pulled off her white glove and gave his hand a graceful shake.

Then she turned to Jack and raised her finely sculpted eyebrows. Her face was porcelain-doll beautiful, with a tiny upturned nose, a delicate chin and wide-set, thick-lashed eyes.

“Jack Osland,” he said, his voice unexpectedly gruff as he reached for her hand.

“Mr. Osland,” she responded, closing her delicate fingers around his.

Jack was distracted by the feel of her cool skin, and her mesmerizing beauty. He barely heard Hunter’s voice.

“Call us Jack and Hunter. Please.”

She smiled into Jack’s eyes, as if all was right with the world. As if she wasn’t a shameless hussy hoping to get her hands on the family fortune. Quite the little actress this one.

“Jack, then,” she said.

The sound of his name somehow sensitized his skin. Her vaguely tropical scent surrounded him, and her blue-green gaze seemed to bore directly into his brain. For a split second, he empathized with his grandfather. But he ruthlessly shook off the feeling. Unlike Cleveland, he wasn’t falling for azure eyes, full lips and long legs on a woman who could barely string together a coherent sentence.

Not that Kristy appeared to be struggling with the English language. But her two predecessors sure had.

Gracie, Gramps’s first bimbo, thought the bottom line was caused by poor-fitting panties. She had designed jewelry so ugly it had to be melted down and sold for scrap. Moira had insisted on her own perfume label. R & D on that little venture had set the family back about a million bucks.

With Kristy, apparently it was fashion. And since Cleveland was the major shareholder in Osland International, and since Osland International owned the Sierra Sanchez chain of women’s fashion stores, she had a whole lot to gain from the impending union.

Jack, on the other hand, had a whole lot to lose. Reminding himself of that important fact helped him will his brain-waves back to normal.

“Welcome aboard, Kristy,” he said.

His voice was even as he released her hand, but his brain was scrambling for a way to neutralize her. In less than five hours they’d be in L.A. That gave him five hours to figure out a way to save his family several million dollars.

This trip was the opportunity of a lifetime for Kristy Mahoney. She was trying to play it cool, hoping Jack and Hunter hadn’t noticed the tremor in her voice and the slight shaking of her hands. It was a combination of nerves, adrenaline and way too much caffeine.

She’d been riding a high for a week, ever since she’d wrangled an invitation to a fashion-week after-party at Rockefeller Square and met L.A. clothing-store mogul Cleveland Osland. When he’d admired her self-designed gown, she was more than flattered. Then she’d been stunned when he’d asked to see her sketches and samples.

When he’d asked her to meet with his buying team in L.A., she’d begun pinching herself every hour on the hour, waiting for the illusion to vaporize. Any second now, she expected to wake up in her SoHo loft with Dee Dee curled up at her feet. She was sure she’d be tangled up in sweaty sheets, because this was better than any sex dream.

“Your coat, ma’am?” asked the steward.

Kristy switched Dee Dee from one arm to the other as she removed her hat and coat and her other glove. The man named Jack took in her straight black skirt and the snug red sweater, laced up at the front. Then he glanced disapprovingly at Dee Dee. Kristy felt her spine stiffen. Cleveland had claimed to be a dog fanatic, and Dee Dee hated to be left alone. Besides, she helped keep Kristy calm.

A year ago, Kristy had found the Pomeranian in a dank alley a few blocks from her loft. Cute little Dee Dee had popped out from behind a Dumpster, looking sweet, pathetic and small. Kristy hadn’t had the heart to leave her out in a gathering November storm. Nor did she have the heart to let her stay at the animal shelter when no one claimed her.

Now she subconsciously squeezed Dee Dee as the steward hung her coat in the compact closet and Hunter gestured to one of the thick white leather seats.

“Please,” he said.

“Thank you.” Kristy sat down and crossed her legs, settling Dee Dee on her lap. The little dog’s warm body helped chase away the butterflies in her abdomen.

“May I offer you a cocktail?” asked the steward as Jack took the seat opposite Kristy and Hunter sat down across the narrow aisle from Jack.

“Some fruit juice would be nice,” said Kristy. It was nearly five o’clock, but she wanted to stay sharp. With the time-zone change gaining them three hours, they were scheduled to land in California at seven.

“I was about to open a bottle of ninety-three Cristal,” Jack interjected. “We’re celebrating the opening of a new Sierra Sanchez store in France.”

Kristy hesitated. She didn’t want to be rude…

“I could make you a Mimosa,” offered the steward. “With fresh-squeezed orange juice?”

Kristy breathed a sigh of relief at the compromise. “That would be perfect. Thank you.”

“Perfect,” Jack echoed, obviously pleased as he leaned back in his seat.

He was wearing a Reese Gerhart suit, a Stolde shirt and a gray, diamond-patterned, Macklin Vanier tie. His studied, casual pose, along with the shock of dark hair that curled rakishly across his forehead, reminded her that she’d seen him mentioned in both Business Week and GQ in the past six months. Jack Osland—entrepreneur extraordinaire, heir apparent to Osland International, a man to see and to be seen with.

Beneath Dee Dee’s sleeping body, Kristy surreptitiously pinched herself once more. Last year he’d made the list of the top twenty hottest male executives in America. Though, from her current vantage point, it could easily have been a list of one.

The jet engines whined, and the aircraft jerked to rolling, turning sharply to make its way to the runway. While they waited their turn in the lineup, the steward served the drinks—champagne for Jack and Hunter, and the mimosa for Kristy.

Jack immediately raised his glass. “To successful ventures.”

Hunter coughed.

Kristy followed Jack’s lead, toasting then taking a sip of the tart, effervescent concoction.

“So, tell us about your business, Kristy,” said Jack, about three hours into the flight.

She placed her second mimosa on the burnished cherrywood table between them. Then she took a deep breath, organizing her well-rehearsed pitch. “We’re a fashion design company—”

“We?” asked Jack, cocking his head.

“Me,” Kristy admitted, slightly rattled by the swift interruption. “It’s a sole proprietorship.”

Jack nodded.

When he remained silent, she picked up the thread of her pitch. “A fashion design company specializing in high-end ladies wear, specifically evening gown—”

“And what was your bottom line last quarter?”

Kristy hesitated. She’d hoped to gloss over her order volume and income, along with the modest size of her company. Although she’d been fighting for years to break into the New York fashion establishment, she’d yet to secure a retail contract, and her private sales were a whole lot less than stellar.

“I’m looking forward to the opportunities Cleveland can offer,” she said, instead of answering directly.

“I’ll bet you are,” said Jack.

“Excuse my cousin,” said Hunter. “He doesn’t know when to stop talking business.”

“I’m just asking—”

“Do you like basketball, Kristy?” asked Hunter.

Kristy turned to him and blinked. “Basketball?”

He nodded, taking a sip of his champagne.

“I…uh…don’t know much about it.”

“Cleveland loves basketball,” Jack put in.

Kristy turned her attention back to Jack. “I’m afraid I don’t watch sports.”

“Hmm,” Jack nodded sagely, his brow furrowing.

“Is that a problem?” She glanced at Hunter and then Jack, trying to read their expressions. Was it like corporate golf? Was Osland family business conducted at a basketball court?

“Would you recommend…” she paused. “I mean, should I learn something about basketball?”

“I would,” said Jack.

“Jack,” said Hunter.

“Well, I would.”

Kristy took a big swallow of her mimosa. Okay. Basketball. She sure wished she’d known about this earlier. She could have taken in a game, watched some ESPN or read a sports magazine.

Then she had an idea. “I don’t suppose you two would share…”

Jack grinned. “Sure. He’s a Lakers fan. And I wouldn’t mention the Clippers if I was you.”

Hunter jumped in. “I have tickets to the Lakers Sonics game on Friday, if you’d like—”

“Bud Reynolds is his favorite player,” said Jack, shooting Hunter a glare. Then his more normal expression quickly returned as his attention shifted to Kristy. “The Budster is up for player of the year. He’s ten for thirteen on threes from the straight away.”

“And seventeen for thirty-five from downtown,” said Hunter. “You should really join me at—”

“Kristy doesn’t like basketball,” said Jack.

She fought a moment of panic. “I never said I didn’t—”

“She might change her mind,” Hunter put in.

“I could learn,” Kristy offered. If basketball truly was the golf game of the Osland corporate world, she was more than willing to give it a try.

Jack’s mouth thinned as he spoke to Hunter. “Dating Kristy is not the answer.”

Dating? She glanced from one man to the other. Dating? What had she missed?

“It’s nothing but a basketball game,” said Hunter.

“Drop it,” said Jack.

Then a voice interrupted from the plane’s intercom. “Mr. Osland?”

Jack pressed a button on his armrest. “Yes, Simon.”

“Just to let you know, we’re reading an indicator light up here.”

A muscle in Jack’s temple twitched, and everything inside Kristy went still.

“I’ll be right up,” he said.

“No need,” Simon responded with a static crackle through the small speaker. “I’d like to have air traffic control divert us to Las Vegas to check it out.”

Jack shot Hunter a glance.

Kristy tried to interpret his expression. Were they out of gas? Out of oil? Losing an engine?

He pushed the intercom button. “Your call, Simon.”

“Roger that, sir.” The intercom went silent, and Kristy’s throat turned paper-dry.

Neither of the men spoke.

“An indicator light?” she rasped.

“I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about,” said Jack.

Kristy waited, expecting him to say more.

“That’s it?” They were at thirty thousand feet, and something was wrong with the plane. She picked up her mimosa and took a healthy swallow.

“The jet is in perfect running order,” said Hunter.

Her voice rose. “Except for the indicator light.”

Her thoughts flashed to her sister. Sinclair had begged her to postpone the trip until after the holidays. But Kristy hadn’t wanted to risk losing Cleveland’s interest. So she’d insisted on rushing to California.

If only she’d listened. If only dreams of fame and fortune hadn’t clouded her brain.

Then she wouldn’t be here. She’d be home and safe, instead of facing…She stared up at Jack. “Can you at least ask him what the light was indicating?”

“Kristy—”

She nodded to the intercom button. It was her life at stake, too. “Will you ask him?”

Jack heaved an exaggerated sigh. “Trust the pilot. He’s a professional. And if it was serious, Simon wouldn’t be chatting about contacting air traffic control. He’d be declaring an emergency and taking us down.”

Kristy peered out her window at the last orange sun rays in a darkening sky. She didn’t see a fire, didn’t hear any metal twisting, and the aircraft wasn’t losing altitude or bouncing around. Then the steward appeared, looking calm and collected as he cleared away the drinks.

She supposed there would be a few more signs of panic if a fiery death was imminent.

“Relax,” said Jack.

“It’ll be fine,” said Hunter.

But both men were on alert.

Then something banged on the airframe. The plane lurched sideways, and the steward nearly fell over.

“Buckle up,” Jack commanded.

The man nodded, his face instantly pale. He slipped into the nearest seat and clipped on the belt.

There was relative silence for a few minutes. No more banging, and the plane stayed smooth, the engines purring normally.

“Ever been to Vegas?” Jack asked into the steady hum.

Kristy blinked at him.

“Ever been to Vegas, Kristy?”

She shook her head, stroking Dee Dee with a trembling hand. She wished now she’d left the little dog at home. At least then Dee Dee would be safe. Sinclair would have adopted her, Kristy was sure of that.

She blinked away a burning in her eyes. Sinclair. What if she never saw her sister again? Or her parents? What if her family was forced to watch the twisted, fiery wreckage of the jet on the evening news, knowing—

“Kristy?”

She glanced up to see Jack’s expression soften with sympathy. “Everything’s going to be just—”

The plane banged again, this time taking a sudden drop in altitude and leaving her stomach behind.

“Simon is the best in the business,” Jack bravely carried on.

“That’s reassuring, but it’s the plane that’s the problem,” Kristy reminded him.

“It’s just an indicator light.”

“Well, it is indicating something.”

Her fear morphed into anger. She knew it didn’t make sense to be mad at Jack. It wasn’t his fault they were all about to die. But he was the one arguing with her, and she couldn’t seem to bring herself to think logically.

The intercom crackled to life. “Mr. Osland?”

Jack was quick to respond. “Yes, Simon?”

“It’s the hydraulics on the right aileron. But we’re compensating. And we’re cleared to land. I don’t want anybody back there to panic.”

“We’re not panicking,” Jack responded.

“I’m panicking,” Kristy hissed.

“He says he’s compensating.”

“What else is he going to say? That we should write our wills on a cocktail napkin?”

Hunter crossed to the seat beside Kristy. He belted himself in then took her hand in him. “If it was a serious danger, he’d be telling us to assume the crash position.”

“Do we know the crash position?”

“Feet back, head down, hands behind your neck.” Jack demonstrated.

Kristy tugged her hand from Hunter’s and tried it, just in case, while the landing gear whined, and the wheels clunked into place.

Simon’s voice came over the speaker once again. “Relax, everybody. Make sure your seat belts are tight. I’m not expecting anything but a slightly bumpy landing.”

Kristy clasped Dee Dee to her chest, glancing out the window, trying desperately to quell the churning in her stomach.

She could see the outskirts of the city. The houses loomed large against the desert landscape. The strip rose up in the distance, glaringly brilliant and really quite beautiful from this angle. She’d give a lot to see the inside of a bright, clanking, smoky casino or even an Elvis chapel before she died.

“Kristy?”

“What?”

Jack reached for her hand across the table. “Look at me.”

She glanced up as his warm palm closed over hers. She wondered vaguely how his hand could be warm at a time like this. Hers felt like ice.

“What the dog’s name?” he asked softly.

“Dee Dee.”

“Dee Dee’s going to be okay,” he said.

His eyes locked onto hers, and his deep voice rumbled through her body. “You’re going to be okay. And I’m going to be okay. An hour from now, we’ll all be laughing about this over wine and grilled lobster on the Strip.”

Kristy didn’t really believe him, but he seemed to be waiting for an answer. So she gave the barest of nods, and he squeezed her hand in response.

“Just keep looking at me, Kristy. I swear it’ll be all right.”

She held his gaze, and she started to feel hope.

The runway rushed up to meet them. The plane lurched to one side. Red emergency lights flashed in her peripheral vision. But for some ridiculous reason, Kristy kept her faith in Jack.

Two

As the Gulfstream finally coasted to a halt at the far end of the runway, Jack quickly rose from his seat. There was no reason for anyone to be hurt, but he wanted to make sure.

True to Simon’s word, it had only been a bumpy landing, followed by a long stretch of deceleration. Even now, the emergency vehicles were struggling to catch up.

Still holding her hand, Jack went to Kristy first. “Okay?” he asked, peering into her eyes.

She gave him a series of swift nods, one hand stroking the little dog.

He smiled at her, let go of her hand and moved forward to where Leonardo was belted in. The man looked pale, but otherwise perfectly fine. Jack strode past the small closet and pulled open the flimsy cockpit door. “Simon?”

“All’s well,” Simon confirmed.

The copilot gave Jack a thumbs up.

There was a loud banging on the cabin door, and Jack quickly released the latch and lowered the staircase.

“Everybody okay?” shouted the fireman standing closest to the stairs. He was flanked by two others in their turnout gear. Behind the trio was a lights-flashing fire engine, an ambulance and two paramedics on the rain-spattered runway.

“We’re all fine,” said Jack as an airport security car pulled up, yellow lights adding to the show.

Simon appeared next to Jack’s shoulder.

“A hydraulic problem,” he told the emergency workers. “I’ll meet you inside to fill out the paperwork.”

“You need me for anything?” asked Jack.

Simon shook his head. “I’ll take care of it. But you’ll have a few hours to kill.”

Jack nodded then turned to find Hunter and Leonardo both on their feet. Leonardo was helping Kristy into her coat, balancing the little dog in his arms while he tried to be of assistance in the narrow aisle.

“We might as well go inside,” Jack said to them. “It’ll take some time to do the incident report and look at repairs.”

“Can I be of assistance?” asked Leonardo.

“Don’t worry about us,” said Jack. “Simon or I will call you when we know anything.”

“Thanks,” said Leonardo, handing the dog back to Kristy and giving it a pat on the head.

Jack gestured for Kristy to be first out of the aircraft, and one of the firemen came partway up the stairs to take her hand.

“I’m fine,” she protested.

“It’s slippery from the rain, ma’am. If you follow me to the car, security will take you to the terminal.”

Jack shrugged into his overcoat and followed them down the stairs. Hunter was right behind him, and the three hitched a ride in the back seat of the sedan to the main terminal at McCarran International.

As the glass doors of the terminal glided open, he breathed a sigh of relief. Everyone was safe, and the plane was intact. But, as soon as those facts were neatly filed away, his pragmatic brain began calculating the silver lining. At the very least, he’d bought himself three or four hours. Because, despite his connection with Kristy during the emergency landing, his mission hadn’t changed. And he now had some extra time to figure out how to stop her wedding to his grandfather.

The doors swooshed shut, and the noise and confusion of the main terminal engulfed them. They joined the crowd snaking its way past the luggage carousels and rental-car booths, and Jack fought an urge to put an arm around her shoulders and keep her close to his side. Ridiculous, he told himself. She’d had a bit of a scare, sure. But she was from New York City. This crowd certainly wasn’t going to rattle her.

He raised his voice so that Hunter and Kristy would hear him over the din. “I say we head for Bellagio’s.” He couldn’t see hanging around an airport for three or four hours. Not when Le Cirque was so close by.

“I’m going to grab a commercial flight,” said Hunter, slowing down and stepping out of the main pedestrian stream. The escalator next to him stretched up to the departures level. “I’ve got a golf date with Milo and Harrison in the morning,” he finished.

Jack glanced at Kristy, worried she might hop on a commercial plane, as well. But he quickly realized she wouldn’t want to pay full price for a same-day ticket.

“I guess it’s just you and me,” he put in, before it occurred to her to call Cleveland and ask for his credit-card number.

Kristy glanced around the crowded terminal. “You go ahead. I can wait here.”

Was she masochistic?

“My treat,” he clarified, in case money was stopping her. He would have paid for her dinner in any case. It was his plane. She was his guest.

She started to back away. “I’m sure you have plenty to do without me hanging around.”

“Like eat a steak and drink a martini?”

She smiled at that, and it was hard to imagine she was a gold-digging opportunist.

“Reports to read?” she asked. “Phone calls to return?”

It was nice of her to offer. Really it was. But didn’t she know enough to shut up and take the free dinner? Besides, he had no intention of letting her out of his sight.

“I’m honestly only planning to eat,” was his answer. And conspire against her, of course. But he didn’t think it was necessary to divulge that bit of information.

She gave him a look that said she didn’t believe him. “What about Dee Dee?”

“The hotel will take care of her. You won’t be the first celebrity to show up with a pet.”

“I’m not a celebrity.”

“Yeah, but they won’t know that. I’ll get us a really long limo, and I guarantee the concierge will find a solution.”

He could see she was still hesitating, so Jack brought out the big guns. “Do you really think my grandfather would ever forgive me if I abandoned you in an airport?”

Her eye twitched, and he knew he had her.

He knew he had her even before she opened her mouth.

“Okay,” she finally said with a nod. “We don’t want to upset your grandfather.”

“That’s right. We don’t.”

Hunter gestured to the up escalator with a jab of his thumb. “You two kids have fun. I’m off to find another ride.”

Kristy gave Hunter a brilliant smile and moved gracefully toward him, her hand outstretched. “It was a pleasure to meet you.”

Hunter reached for the hand, a goofy grin growing on his face. “Me, too. I’m sorry I have to leave you here.”

“Don’t be silly. You obviously have things to do. Me, I’m clear for the rest of the weekend.”

“Really?”

Jack could see Hunter rethinking his golf game with Milo and Harrison.

“If you want to come along,” Hunter said to Kristy. “We can probably catch something on United.”

Jack wasn’t about to let that happen. “Kristy’s not interested in being stuffed in a last-minute back seat of a commuter jet.”

“How do you know?” asked Hunter.

“Because she has a brain,” said Jack, shifting in front of Kristy, squaring his shoulders and giving his cousin a crystal-clear back off glare. How was he supposed to save the family fortune if Kristy was off flirting with Hunter?

Hunter shrugged his capitulation. “Catch you next week, then.”

“Yeah,” Jack returned. “Next week.”

With a wave, Hunter stepped onto the escalator.

Taking Kristy on a date. Of all the crazy, lame-ass plans. Did Hunter think he could dazzle her with his good looks and charm and make her forget all about Cleveland’s billion-dollar offer?

Kristy didn’t want a relationship. She wanted a sugar daddy. She wanted a besotted rich old man who would indulge her every whim.

Jack stilled.

Wait a minute.

What was he thinking?

Kristy didn’t want a besotted, rich old man. She simply wanted a besotted rich man. She’d probably take a young one just as quickly. In fact, she might prefer a young one.

He stole a sidelong glance to where she was cooing at Dee Dee.

They were stuck together in Vegas. The land of glitz and glamour and fantasy. Where better to fall head over heels for a rich young man? Where better to have a rich young man fall head over heels for you?

And Jack was a rich young man—at least he was comparatively young. When you put him up against Cleveland.

Cleveland. What better way to make sure his family’s reputation and fortune didn’t take another hit, he’d get Kristy to marry him instead. And keep their money out of her hands.

Of course, he’d have to work fast.

Simon would lie for him about the jet repair, buy him tonight, maybe part of tomorrow. But eventually Kristy would get tired of waiting. She’d bite the bullet and buy a ticket on a commercial airline.

Until then, however…

He offered his arm and gave her a genuine smile. “Ever tried the tasting menu at Le Cirque?”

She shook her head, hesitating then taking his arm.

“Then you’re in for a treat. Come on.” He gently urged her forward. “Let’s go find ourselves a really flashy limo.”

Fortunately, since Jack ordered the tasting menu, Kristy didn’t get a chance to look at it. If she had, she suspected the prices would have given her a heart attack. Everything about Le Cirque reeked of wealth and privilege.

The tables were covered in white linen, well-spaced, with comfortable, padded chairs. The service was impeccable, and the decor spectacular. Bold burgundy carpets covered the floor, while padded, striped chairs surrounded the tables and spotlights shone on recessed circus murals.

They started almost immediately with chilled cocktails, then she savored course after course of exotic delicacies complemented by fine merlots and chardonnays.

Afterward, Jack didn’t even glance at the bill before handing over his platinum card.

His cell phone rang.

“I’m sorry,” he said, reaching for his inside breast pocket.

Kristy shook her head. “Don’t worry about me.” She settled into the overstuffed chair, sighing as she gazed around the softly glowing room. The ceiling was draped with bright silk—yellow and orange and ivory fluttering like a tent dome around a central chandelier. It was dark outside, and the dancing lights of the fountains beyond the windows added to the intimacy of the restaurant.

“What time?” Jack asked into the phone.

Kristy took another sip from her wineglass, letting the tart, woodsy flavor ease over her tongue, as the room’s ambiance seeped in and relaxed her.

“If that’s the best you can do,” he said, catching Kristy’s gaze and giving her a smile that warmed her blood. “I understand. Okay.”

He flipped the phone shut.

“Everything okay?” she asked, truly not caring for the moment. As long as nobody had gone bankrupt or died, she was going to enjoy her stolen evening with a handsome, intelligent and interesting man.

Things like this simply didn’t happen to women like Kristy. Her last dinner out had been the bistro down the block. She and her date had split the bill. It hadn’t been expensive. But watching him calculate the charges, add the tip and count out change had definitely taken any romance out of the evening.

“Simon’s waiting for parts,” said Jack.

Well, that didn’t sound too dire. “What does that mean?”

“It means we’re stuck here for the night.”

Okay. That burst Kristy’s little bubble. Cash-flow alert. She’d planned on finding a small family-style motel outside of L.A. Her travel budget didn’t include Bellagio rates. Not even for one night.

“Don’t worry about it,” said Jack.

“About what?”

He reached for her hand, stroking his tapered fingers over her knuckles. “Whatever it is that made you frown. Don’t worry about it.”

“I have to worry about it.”

“Says who?”

“My accountant and my credit card company.”

He grinned. “Oh, that. Don’t worry. I won’t let you go bankrupt before morning.”

She frowned at him. “Dinner was great, but you’re not paying for my hotel room.”

“Why not?”

“Because I have self-respect.”

“You’re my guest.”

“I’m your fellow strandee.”

“It was my plane.”

“And you let me ride on it for free.”

Jack sighed, and she could feel him regrouping.

He opened his mouth.

“No,” she jumped in.

“You don’t even know what I was going to say.”

“Yes, I do.”

“No, you don’t.” He got to his feet. “Come on. I’m going to show you something fun.”

“You keep your platinum card right where it is.”

He grinned, his eyes glowing in the candlelight. “Cross my heart.”

She nodded. “Okay. That’s better.” She bunched her linen napkin on the table and rose with him. “So, what is it?”

He shook his head. “It’s a surprise. It won’t hurt a bit. But that’s all I’m telling you.”

“Will it be embarrassing?”

“Not in the least.”

“Will I hate myself in the morning?”

His gray gaze went smoky, sizzling into hers for a split second, clenching her stomach, tripping her heartbeat. “I certainly hope not,” he said.

“Jack—”

The sizzle evaporated. “Grab a sense of humor, Kristy. I’m not propositioning you”

She felt like a fool. “Sorry.”

He held out his hand, the dare clear in his smirk.

She took a deep breath. Then she told herself to chill and curled her fingers into his palm.

His hand was strong, warm and dry, just the way she remembered. There was something about the texture of his skin, or maybe it was the way his fingers wrapped confidently around hers. It was the way it had been on the plane. She felt safe in his hands, as though he was in control of the planet, and all she needed to do was hang on for the ride.

It was probably a lingering emotion from the turmoil of the airplane landing, but it felt nice all the same.

They made their way across the patterned carpet of the casino. Machines flashed and chimed on all sides, while muted lighting showed yellow through draped fabric valences. Kristy tucked in behind Jack as he naturally cleared a path in front of him while he strode confidently through the crowd.

Above the buzz of conversation, a woman whooped in delight, and applause broke out around one of the craps tables.

The throng thinned, and they approached the casino cage where a neatly uniformed woman greeted Jack with a smile.

“Fifty thousand,” said Jack, tossing his credit card on the counter.

Kristy turned to blink up at him like an owl. “That was a joke, right?”

He glanced down and gave her a wink and a mischievous grin.

“Seriously,” she prompted.

But he didn’t answer. Instead, he turned back to the clerk who handed him a receipt and a stack of bills.

Kristy focused on the money, trying to figure out if fifty thousand was casino lingo for some other amount. Maybe he’d meant fifty dollars or five hundred.

But those were thousand-dollar bills. And there were a lot of them. She’d never even seen a thousand-dollar bill.

Feeling panicky at the thought of him walking around with that much money, she pulled up on her toes and hissed in his ear. “This is nuts.”

He leaned down to whisper back. “How so?”

“You can’t blow all that.” She was practically hyperventilating just looking at it.

He smirked. “I’m not blowing it. They’ll give it back to me when I cash in the chips.”

Like that was a reasonable answer. “Only if you don’t lose it.”

He shook his head. “Have a little faith. I’m not going to lose it.”

“You can’t know that.”

He tucked the bills into his inside pocket. “Sure I can.”

She resisted an urge to sock him in the arm. “Do you have a gambling problem?” Was she an enabler in all this? Should she try to drag him out of the casino? Maybe call Hunter for help?

Jack grinned, turning to walk away from the cashier. “It’s not a problem at all.”

She moved up beside him. “Seriously, Jack. Should we leave?”

“I told you. This is going to be fun.” He stopped in the middle of the casino and took a look around. “Okay, what are you up for?”

“A drink,” she said, suddenly inspired. “We should go back to the lobby bar instead.”

“They’ll bring you free drinks at the table. Ever played roulette?”

He started to move again, and she scrambled to keep up. “No. Of course not. I don’t gamble.” Like she could afford to on her budget.

“Really?” he asked.

“Really.”

“That’s too bad.” He stopped in front of a green numbered table and a shiny roulette wheel.

“Hop up,” he said, putting the stack of bills down on the edge of the green felt.

She stared at the money, a sick feeling growing in the pit of her stomach. “No way.”

He pulled out one of the high chairs. “Don’t spoil the party.”

“Jack, really—” Then she realized they were attracting attention from the dealer and the other players, so she lifted her heel to the crossbar and jumped up into the chair.

“That a girl,” Jack murmured approvingly.

The dealer took his money and replaced it with a clear plastic tray of color-rimmed chips.

Jack took the seat next to her. “There you go. Now pick a number.”

She glared at him.

“Care for a drink?” a female voice said from behind her.

“Glenlivet,” said Jack. “One ice cube.” He looked at Kristy. “A Cosmopolitan?” That was the drink she’d had before dinner.

She considered saying no. But two minutes ago she’d claimed to want a drink. She didn’t want to look like a fool. So she nodded, and the woman jotted it down.

“Did you pick a number?” asked Jack.

“Twenty-seven,” she said, giving up the fight with an exasperated sigh.

He nodded at the table. “Well, put some chips on it.”

She picked up a single hundred-dollar chip and leaned over to the twenty-seven square.

“That’s it?” he asked with obvious disappointment.

“You might be sure you’re not going to lose,” she said, as the dealer spun the wheel. “But I’m not.”

“I never said you weren’t going to lose.”

“There you go.”

He sat back in his seat. “What I said was, I’m not going to lose. And that’s because I’m not going to play.”

The wheel stopped on thirty, and the dealer cleared away her chip.

“See what you made me do?”

“Pick another one,” he said, eyes dancing. “And this time live a little.”

“Is this voyeurism for gambling addicts?”

He laughed at that. “I thought you said you wanted a room?”

“What does this have to do with getting a room?”

“You’ll see.”

“And it was you who wanted a room. I’m happy to wait at the airport with Dee Dee.”

“All night?”

To save several hundred dollars? “Yes.”

The dealer tossed in the small white ball.

Jack nodded to the wheel. “You missed that one.”

She swiveled the chair to the side. “Can we leave now?”

“We’ve got drinks coming.”

The ball stopped, and a sequin-covered woman next to Kristy gave a cry of joy.

“Play a number,” said Jack.

“You’re insane.”

He lifted a stack of chips and placed them in her palm. “If you want to play it safe, take red or evens. Or, see that? If you put it on the line, you can cover two numbers.”

Kristy squinted at another man’s stack of chips sitting on the line halfway between two numbers. “Really?”

“Swear to God.”

Kristy had to admit, that seemed like a pretty good deal. She put a stack on the line between seventeen and twenty. She refused to count the chips to see how much she was gambling.

Jack placed his arm across the back of her chair and leaned in. “Now don’t let it rattle you if you lose. You’re going to win some, and you’re going to lose some. But we’ll be fine in the end.”

Kristy held her breath as she watched the white ball bounce around the wheel. It rattled to a stop on the seventeen.

She blinked, sure she must be hallucinating.

“You won,” said Jack.

“I did?”

“You want to let it ride?”

She watched the dealer add a stack of chips to her bet. “Ha. What are the odds of it hitting seventeen twice in a row?”

“Exactly the same as the odds of it hitting any other number.”

Kristy eyed him skeptically.

“Seriously,” he said.

That couldn’t be right. She reached out and moved her winnings to twenty-nine and thirty.

Then she reconsidered and cut the stack in half.

Jack sighed, leaning in to mumble in her ear. “We’ll be here all night at this rate.”

She ignored the warm puff of his breath on her skin. “I don’t want to lose it all at once.”

The dealer spun the wheel and tossed in the ball.

“There’s plenty more where that came from,” said Jack, tapping his finger on the plastic tray that held his chips.

“I can’t believe you’re so cavalier with your money.”

“I can’t believe you’re so cautious with my money.”

The ball bounced to a stop.

Kristy had lost.

“See?”

The waitress arrived with their drinks. Chatter ebbed and flowed around them as the sequined woman next to Kristy wriggled off her seat and slid to the floor.

A thirty-something man in a dark suit took her place.

He smiled a friendly greeting at Kristy. Jack reacted by leaning closer to her, closing the space between them.

She struggled not to grin at his posturing. They were about as far away as you could get from dating, yet some anthropological instinct had obviously kicked in.

“Make a bigger bet,” said Jack, the fabric of his suit brushing against her bare forearm.

“Fine,” she said, scooping a long round of chips and placing them on number four.

“Wow,” he breathed, and she shot him a worried look.

But he was grinning. “Just messin’ with you.”

“You’re a jerk. You know that?”

“Yeah,” he chuckled.

She lost again.

“I don’t like this game.” It didn’t matter that it wasn’t her money. She was stressing out over losing it anyway.

“You’re doing fine,” he said.

“Can we do something else?”

“One more time.”

She gave a hard sigh. “Fine.”

Following the lead of the man sitting next to her, she placed a smaller stack of chips on the cross between four numbers. Then she took a bracing swallow of her cosmo.

The ball clattered around the wheel, settling on twelve, one of Kristy’s numbers.

The dealer added a couple of chips to her stack.

“Low risk, low payoff,” said Jack. He grabbed two stacks of chips and set them on number twenty-two. “Incidentally, that’s also the way things work in real life.”

“I know,” said Kristy, watching in morbid fascination as the wheel spun around again.

“Do you?” he asked.

“Why do you think I’m going to L.A.?”

Astonishingly, with that much money riding, Jack turned away from the wheel to stare at her instead. “Is it?”

She nodded, not taking her gaze off the ball. “For the chance at a big payoff. I left my sister, my holiday shopping and my baking behind.”

He kept his gaze glued to her profile. “Well, if this works out, you’ll be able to do all the shopping you want.”

“I suppose that’s true.” Then her eyes widened and her stomach clenched with the thrill. “You won!”

Jack stared at her a split second longer. Then he glanced at the roulette wheel. “I guess I did.”

“Do it again,” she urged. Clearly he understood the game better than she did.

His shoulders relaxed. “It’s your turn.”

“You’re better.”

He split his bet between number eighteen and the red zone. Then he pushed a stack of chips onto the line between eight and nine.

“Wow,” said Kristy.

“What?”

“You must have a secret system.”

He shook his head. “You pick numbers. It’s completely random. Help me out here.”

Scooting forward in her chair, Kristy gamely pushed a couple more stacks onto the board.

“Now we’re talking,” said Jack.

“That’s a pretty rich bet,” said the man next to her.

She felt Jack still.

Then the man glanced past her to Jack. His expression sobered, and he turned his attention to the table.

The ball hit the wheel.

Kristy doubled her money on two, and her bet also paid out on black. Several spins later, with her Cosmo glass empty and a new player at her elbow, they were up several thousand dollars. A man in a navy suit and a red tie approached them.

He introduced himself as the casino manager and asked if they’d care for another drink.

Kristy was pretty much done with alcohol. Besides, it was getting late. She hoped she’d won enough to pay for a hotel room because, now that she was tired, an airport waiting area didn’t sound all that appealing.

To her surprise, the manager held out a key card to Jack. “Please accept the Ruby Suite with our compliments.”

Jack gave Kristy a sparkling-eyed look. “Interested in a suite?”

“Two bedrooms?” she asked. It occurred to her that this could be a setup. Jack had been a perfect gentleman so far—maybe too much of a gentleman to be trusted.

He raised an eyebrow in the manager’s direction.

Without missing a beat, the man pocketed the key and retrieved his cell phone.

“This is Raymond Jones. Can you bring me a key for the Diamond Suite?” He paused. “The roulette tables. Thank you.”

He flipped the phone shut. “Two bedrooms,” he said.

“And my dog?” Kristy asked.

“Not a problem,” said Raymond.

“Then, thank you,” she said with a nod and a smile. A free suite definitely solved her accommodation problem.

“Anything else we can do to be of service?” asked Raymond.

Jack glanced at Kristy. “I can’t think of anything? Can you?”

Kristy shook her head.

Another man appeared at Raymond’s elbow and provided a new room key.

Jack accepted it with a thank you, while Raymond gestured to the expanse of the casino. “Please. Enjoy the rest of the evening.”

“We will,” said Jack. “Thank you very much.”

As Raymond and the other man walked away, Kristy turned to Jack. “So, did you pay him to do that?”

“Nope.”

“Come on.”

“I didn’t have to pay him. The room’s free.”

“I don’t get it.”

“That’s what happens when you bet big.”

“They give you a free room?”

Jack placed his hand in the small of her back, gently steering her toward the cage.

There was something about that hand…

“If you’re losing,” he said. “They want you to stick around and keep doing it. And if you’re winning, they want you to stick around long enough to lose it back to them.”

“Is that what we’re going to do?”

“Nope. Not unless you want to.”

“I don’t want to lose.”

“Then I vote we cash out and enjoy our free room.”

A free room with Jack.

Correction, a free suite with Jack. Two rooms, really.

She glanced up at his handsome face, and her stomach fluttered at the thought of such an intimate setting with such a sexy man.

Two bedrooms, she reminded herself.

Still. It was a hotel suite. And they were in Vegas. And she’d be a bald-faced liar if she didn’t admit her mind was jumping to the possibilities.

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.”

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