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“Not God,” said Gramps. Then he paused. “Yeah, okay. God it is.”
Hunter chuckled and shook his head, sauntering over to the bar. “You know there are three huge vans out in the driveway?”
“I called earlier to express a few things over for Kristy,” said Jack.
“Ahh, the blushing bride,” said Hunter as he followed Jack’s lead and poured himself a brandy.
Jack gestured to the two men with his glass. “You two remember, for the holiday season, she is the blushing bride.”
Hunter held up his hands. “Hey, I’m not about to tell our moms what you did.”
Cleveland nodded. “And I’m not about to tell them why you did it.”
“Just so we’re clear,” said Jack. “I’ll announce an amicable divorce in January.”
“And Kristy’s going along with this because?” asked Hunter.
“Because of the three huge vans in the driveway,” replied Jack.
“See how easy it is?” asked Cleveland.
“Funny,” said Hunter. “She didn’t strike me as the mercenary type.”
“Everybody has their price,” Jack repeated.
Not that he held it against her. Kristy recognized a good thing when she saw it was all. And Jack could respect that. It wasn’t as if he was buying her a sports car or a five-carat diamond she could turn around and hawk. It was in everybody’s best interest for her to do well at the Breakout Designer Contest.
Cleveland rose from his chair. “So, now that the fun’s over, Pookie and I are off to bed.”
“You’ll remember about Kristy?” asked Jack.
“Yes, I’ll remember about Kristy,” Cleveland harrumphed. “You think I’m going senile?”
Jack looked at Hunter, and Hunter looked at Jack.
Cleveland shook a wrinkled finger in their direction. “Don’t you forget whose brain it was that built this company. An empty warehouse and a corner store. That’s what I started with.”
“And the family seat at the stock exchange,” Hunter pointed out.
“Wasn’t worth a dime in the thirties,” Cleveland countered, scratching Dee Dee on the head. “Insolent young pups,” he muttered. Then he left the room, his footsteps echoing down the hallway.
“He seem okay to you?” Hunter asked, folding himself into the armchair opposite Jack.
“Mostly,” replied Jack. He always thought his grandfather was absentminded only when it suited him. But Jack wondered how much of it was an act, and how much of it was a sign of a failing memory.
“He broke up with Nanette,” said Jack. “So, that’s a plus.”
“And you marrying Kristy?” Hunter asked with a self-satisfied grin. “That a plus, too?”
“That,” said Jack, swirling his brandy again, “is an inconvenience.”
“A gorgeous woman pretending to be your wife. Yeah, I’d call that an inconvenience, all right.”
“She’s not pretending,” Jack corrected. For better or worse, Kristy actually was his wife.
“So, you’ll be sleeping with her?” asked Hunter.
“In a manner of speaking.” Jack shifted in his chair.
Hunter gave a knowing chuckle. “Now that, cousin, is an inconvenience.”
Jack polished off his drink. “Speaking of which.” He rose to his feet. “I’d better make sure she can find the towels.”
“You poor, pathetic thing,” laughed Hunter.
“What?”
“It’s only ten-thirty.”
Jack refused to react. So it was early. So he was looking forward to climbing into bed with Kristy. So sue him.
CHAPTER EIGHT
IN JACK’S big bedroom, Kristy gave herself a mental pep talk. Sleeping here wasn’t going to be so bad. She could keep everything in perspective.
Sure, she was attracted to him. After all, he was a great-looking, sexy guy. But she was still annoyed with him for lying to her. And her annoyance would keep her from doing anything rash.
She eyed up the king-size bed. Then she checked out the love seat tucked in an alcove with a bay window that overlooked a pathway lined with winter-bare trees, each of them glowing with hundreds of white lights. In the distance, a giant evergreen rose above the garden, blinking with color, its crowning star golden against the black sky. The Oslands really went all out with Christmas decorations.
Back to the love seat. She could co-opt a pillow and blanket from Jack’s bed. The love seat was on the short side, but she could make do. And it would be better than sharing the bed.
She sat on the cushions and bounced up and down. Not bad. She leaned over to lie down, turning on her side, bending her knees in an effort to find a comfortable position.
Not perfect.
“You’ve got to be kidding,” came Jack’s voice from the doorway.
Kristy popped into a sitting position. “Just considering my options.”
He clicked the door shut behind him. “You are not sleeping on the couch.”
“Well, I’m not wild about sleeping in the bed.”
“We’re newlyweds.”
She stood. “I’ve got news for you, Jack. The honeymoon’s over.”
“Not as far as my mother is concerned. And she’ll be here any day.”
“Your mother won’t be in your bedroom.”
“But the staff will be in our bedroom. And I have no desire to explain why my bride is sleeping on the couch.”
“I’ll fold up the blankets every morning.”
“Not.”
“Jack—”
“Me, you, bed.” He punctuated his words by pointing with his index finger. “This is not optional.”
“Women usually respond well to that tone, do they?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never had to order a woman into my bed before.”
Kristy moved toward him, putting some swagger into her step. “Is that what you’re doing?”
“Yeah,” said Jack, hot eyes following her progress. “That’s what I’m doing.”
She stopped in front of him. “Well, good luck with that.”
“I’m not going to need luck.”
“No?”
He scooped her into his arms. Before she could do anything more than gasp in surprise, he marched across the room and deposited her on top of the duvet.
“No luck required,” he stated, staring down at her.
She propped herself on her elbows, trying to look affronted, even as a grin crept out. “You cheated.”
He grinned in return. “Who cares? I won.”
“And how much satisfaction is there in that if you cheated?”
He leaned down, bracing a hand on either side of her, bringing their faces close together. “Quite a bit, actually.”
Kristy could feel an awareness humming through her body. “I will escape,” she warned in a whisper.
He raised his eyebrows. “You think?”
“The minute you’re asleep.”
“Well, good luck with that,” he parroted.
“I’m not going to need luck,” she countered.
AN HOUR LATER, Kristy realized that what she really needed was a crowbar.
Jack’s arm was latched firmly around her waist, anchoring her, spoon-fashion, to his body. His breathing was deep and even, so she was pretty sure he’d fallen asleep. But his grip hadn’t slacked off one bit.
She was well covered, having passed over the filmy ivory and peach negligee Jack had secretly bought her in Las Vegas in favor of an oversized T-shirt. The shirt fell past her knees and was thicker than flannel. Still, Jack’s forearm was warm and intimate against her stomach.
She wasn’t uncomfortable. In fact, she could have easily fallen asleep. But it was a matter of principle now. She couldn’t let him win this particular war.
She wrapped her fingers around his thick wrist and pulled against his arm.
His response was to mutter in her ear and snuggle closer, drawing her buttocks tight against the cradle of his thighs, his hand slipping lower, cupping her hip bone.
She froze, willing her body to ignore the sexual signals he was sending out in his sleep.
But goose bumps rose on her skin, and a thick pulse started deep in her abdomen. She squirmed, trying to get away from the sensations. But that only made things worse. Her nightgown rode up to midthigh, and the friction of Jack’s hand through the fabric of her gown made the goose bumps tingle with desire.
She squirmed again, scrunching her eyes shut and biting down on her bottom lip. Desire throbbed freely now. Her toes curled and her muscles began to clench. Her nipples tightened as his breath fanned against the back of her neck.
She straightened her legs, but that brought the back of her thighs against his hot body. Skin on skin, inch after glorious inch. Her hands curled into fists. Oh, this was going to kill her.
His hand moved, and her hips flexed involuntarily backward as a gasp escaped from her lips.
He sucked in a tight breath, and she realized he was awake.
She stilled, expecting him to say something. She was embarrassed, but, more than that, she was completely aroused.
His body hardened against her.
He gave her a few moments to protest, but then his thumb drew a lazy circle around her navel. His fingertips were still snug against her hip. She knew she should say something, knew she should stop him. But cocooned by his warmth, with the Christmas lights twinkling through the big windows and his strong body enveloping her, she couldn’t bring herself to break the moment.
His lips touched the back of her neck. They parted, turning the brush into a kiss.
She really had to stop him.
If she didn’t stop him right this second …
Her fists curled tighter, nails biting into her palms.
His fingertips fanned their way down her thighs. They encountered bare skin. She held her breath as they trailed their way back up.
His kisses worked their way around her neck. He kissed her ear, her jawbone, her cheek, while his fingertips brushed her downy curls.
Then he drew another strangled breath. “For God’s sake, tell me no.”
She tried, but she couldn’t form the word.
He kissed the corner of her mouth.
She turned her head to meet him, angling her body, tipping her chin.
His gaze caught hers in the blinking red and green glow. He gently found her center, and her hips flexed in reaction.
