Debbi Rawlins – Her Christmas Temptation: The Billionaire Who Bought Christmas / What She Really Wants for Christmas / Baby, It's Cold Outside (страница 32)

They closed the box, but Kristy didn’t take her own advice. Instead of settling on a fabric for the Irene collection slacks, she gazed out the window at the delicate snow-flakes catching the bare branches of maple trees.

She saw the hot-air balloon again. It morphed into striped pants made of thin nylon in the same primary colors. She’d pair that with a cropped top of blue or red or … the lace! That was it. Thin out the stripes, make the top out of lace—flat cotton eyelet perhaps. She could even use a color, or maybe colored buttons down the front of the top.

Kristy surreptitiously flipped to a blank page in her sketch book. Multicolored buttons would match the colors in the pants. The lace would tie in with the frothy skirt. She put a few bold strokes across the pages, and she was off and running.

“Kristy?” Megan’s voice seemed a long way off, and Kristy realized a couple of hours had gone by. Her shoulders and hand were starting to cramp.

She looked up. “Yes?”

“We’re heading out now.”

Kristy nodded. “Of course. Thanks.”

“We can probably do a first fitting on the blue dress tomorrow. The Harold Agency said they’d send a couple of models.”

Kristy nodded again. “That’s great. And the green one?”

“We can cut the silk tomorrow,” said Isabella.

“Thanks, guys,” said Kristy.

“See you in the morning.” They waved and opened the door, nearly bumping into Hunter on their way out.

They greeted him, and he bade them goodbye, then closed the shop door after them.

“How are you holding up?” he asked, strolling over to Kristy.

She closed the sketch book of fantasy designer drawings like a guilty little secret and stood to stretch her shoulders. “Not bad.”

He nodded, glancing around. “Looks like you’re doing a lot of work.”

“That’s because I am.” In fact, it was double the work it should have been. But that was Kristy’s own fault. Her own, self-indulgent fault.

“You working late again tonight.”

“For a while. Did you need something?”

“Gramps asked if you’d—”

The shop door burst open, cutting off Hunter’s words.

Kristy blinked in astonishment at the image of her sister in a bright-green woolen coat with a matching beret.

She stood. “Sinclair? What on earth?”

Sinclair marched into the room, gesturing to Hunter with her thumb. “Is this the guy?”

“What are you doing here?”

Sinclair whipped off the beret, revealing her wild auburn hair. “Am I not your best friend? Your confidante? Your partner in crime?”

“Hold on,” said Hunter, drawing Sinclair’s attention, and her ire.

“And you,” she said to Hunter, marching forward. “You married my sister?”

The word married clanged in Kristy’s ears. “Wait a minute. How did you—”

“The old man in the house.” Sinclair kept her focus on Hunter. “Where did you meet her?”

“On my jet,” said Hunter.

“Hunter, don’t—”

“Money doesn’t give you carte blanche,” said Sinclair, pacing around him. “She has a family, people who love her. People who deserved to meet you, before—”

“Sinclair.”

“Before I kidnapped her and dragged her off to my lair?” asked Hunter.

“There’s no need to be sarcastic,” said Sinclair.

“And there’s no need to blitz in here like the Tasmanian Devil.”

“I want some answers.”

“Then shut up for a minute and listen.”

To Kristy’s surprise, Sinclair actually did.

“He’s not my husband,” said Kristy.

“Somebody looking for me?” drawled Jack from the doorway.

Sinclair spun to face him. She blinked from one man to the other.

“Jack, Hunter. This is my sister, Sinclair. Sinclair, this is my husband, Jack, and his cousin Hunter.”

“Mom told me you’d met a man.” Sinclair unbuttoned her long coat.

“I did.”

Sinclair eyed Jack up and down. “She didn’t tell me you’d married him.” She pulled a cell phone from the pocket and hit a speed-dial button.

Kristy jerked forward, visions of her mother on the other end of the line. “Who are you calling?”

“The airline,” said Sinclair. “I had a four-hour stopover. But clearly, I’ll be staying the night.”

“Is she always this bossy?” asked Hunter.

“Is he always this rude?” asked Sinclair.

“Pleasure to meet you,” said Jack, advancing with his hand out.

Sinclair shook, cradling the phone against her neck. “I have a few questions.”

“Me, too,” said Jack. “You know how to skate?”

Before Sinclair could answer him, her phone call connected, distracting her. She listened for a few seconds, then pushed a button.

“We’re skating on the pond tonight,” Jack explained to Kristy. “It’s a traditional thing. Mom would love to have you join us.”

“I should talk to Sinclair first.”

“She can talk to both of us,” said Jack.

Sinclair covered the mouthpiece. “I don’t really care who I talk to. As long as somebody starts talking.”

“Jack and I met in Vegas,” said Kristy. “It was a whirlwind courtship.”

“You … you got married in Vegas?”

“I did.”

“And this doesn’t warrant a phone call?”

“We were waiting—”

“For what?”