A Mistletoe Kiss with the Boss (6 page)

Kristen laughed. “It sounds fun.”

Considering Kristen's response approval of a sort and not wanting to miss the opportunity, Dean said, “Have your staff send me the restaurant name and time.”

Osmond slapped him on the back. “You bet.”

As he and his wife walked away, Dean turned to Kristen. “If you only answered that way to be polite, I can show up alone. It's not a big deal.”

But Kristen glanced behind her, watching Winslow and his wife mingle into the crowd. “He's pretty influential?”

“He is the definition of
influential
. If you look in the dictionary, his picture would be beside the word
influential
.”

“Then we should go.”

“Seriously? You don't mind staying in New York another day?”

She laughed lightly. “Tomorrow's Saturday. It's fine.” She frowned. “Except.” She looked up and into his eyes again. “Will I be able to wear the black pants and white blouse I flew over in?”

Regret surged through him that he'd put her in an uncomfortable position. Luckily, he could fix it. “We'll get you new clothes.”

“Stella?”

“No, this time I'll take you. We'll have breakfast, then go back to the boutique where you got this gown.”

“Okay.”

She was such a good sport that he almost felt guilty taking advantage of her. Except he needed her. And she
was
a good sport. “I swear tomorrow at three you'll be on your way to the airport, and in the air headed for Grennady by five.”

But the assurance that he'd get her home the next day didn't stop the nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Their deal wasn't balanced now, and he hated owing someone.

CHAPTER FIVE

T
HE
NEXT
MORNING
, Kristen woke, showered and dressed in her simple white blouse and black pants. She'd carefully hung them the day before so they weren't wrinkled, but this was day two of wearing the same clothes, and she had to wear these home. She might have to rinse out her blouse when she returned.

As she stepped into the sitting room of her suite, her hotel phone rang.

Confused, she picked it up and cautiously said, “Hello?”

“It's Dean. I'm in the hotel dining room. I've ordered coffee. Come down when you're ready.”

The sound of his voice made her heart light, but she squelched the silly feeling that had started the night before by reminding herself that she'd fallen desperately in love with Brad, a man who had also used her. She'd ended up hurt and disillusioned. Just because Dean was coming right out and telling her he was using her, it only made him marginally better than Brad. Or maybe not better. More like honest. Especially since the way he'd pulled away from her on the dance floor had all but proven she was safe with him. A man who didn't want to touch her didn't want to get involved with her.

And she shouldn't want to get involved with anybody, either. Especially not such a difficult man. She was about to embark on the journey of a lifetime. Beginning an international charity, something with the potential to change the world, would be all-consuming. She didn't have time for a romance until her schools were off the ground.

She took the elevator to the lobby, found the restaurant and walked to the table where Dean sat. He rose and her stomach fell to the floor.

Wearing jeans and a comfortable olive green sweater, he barely resembled the angry man she'd met the morning before in Paris. He looked young, approachable. And if the smile on his face was any indicator, he was very happy to see her.

The joyful feeling bubbled up in her again, the sense that there was nowhere she'd rather be than with him. Because it was true. He was so handsome in that sweater and jeans. And he looked happy...

How was she supposed to resist that?

He pulled out her chair. “I hope you slept well.”

“Since I'd napped all yesterday afternoon, I was glad to have had a few glasses of champagne to make me drowsy.”

A waiter walked over and poured Kristen a cup of coffee from the carafe already on the table.

Dean said, “I'll have the bacon and eggs breakfast.” He faced her with another smile. “Kristen?”

She could barely say, “I'll have the same.” Her heart did a crazy dance in her chest every time he smiled at her. She tried reminding herself of Brad, but it didn't help. With Dean's face a study in happiness and her attraction to him tapping on her shoulder, the giddy feeling rolling through her wouldn't let anything negative in.

As the waiter walked away, happy Dean faced her again. “I realized last night that your attending another event with me warrants another agreement.” He pulled a document from beside his plate. “This is a second agreement that takes the place of the one we signed yesterday. Instead of a hundred thousand dollars' worth of computers, it's now two hundred thousand.”

Her eyes bulged. “Two hundred thousand dollars' worth of computers?”

As she took the agreement from his hands, she realized
this
was why he was so happy. He wasn't smiling because of her. He wasn't happy to see her. He was happy that their deal wasn't lopsided. By giving her more computers, he was no longer accepting a favor. They were even.

All the crazy feelings rumbling around inside her stopped instantly.

She glanced up at him. “You don't like owing people, do you?”

His head tilted. “Because I'm continuing our arrangement?”

“Because you won't let me do you a favor.”

He shrugged. “This relates more to the ‘don't mix business with pleasure' rule.”

“Nope. I think we've entered new rule territory. You don't like anyone doing anything for you.”

He fiddled with his linen napkin. “Good business people keep things balanced. The revised agreement is simply a way to do that.”

“Sure it is.” She paused for a moment as the waiter brought their bacon and eggs, then said, “And what about the clothes you're buying me?” She caught his gaze. “And the bracelet you didn't take back last night. If you want everything even and balanced, then I'm going to have to pay you for the clothes. And God only knows what I'll owe you for the bracelet.”

He shook his head. “The clothes and bracelet are the cost of doing business.”

She scrunched her face. “What cost of doing business?”

“You are here at my request. You cannot wear the same clothes every day. Hence, it's my responsibility to clothe you.”

“You are a piece of work.”

He frowned. “Because I like to keep things balanced?”

“Whatever you call it. It's kind of weird. And don't think I'm not noticing that you always have to win arguments.”

“I win because I'm right.”

She picked up her fork and began eating, deciding she wasn't even going to try to debate that. But after the first delectable bite of toast, for some odd reason or another she pictured him as a child, a genius in an elementary school filled with ordinary kids, and she laughed.

“I'll bet that attitude worked out really well on the playground.”

He shook his head. “It didn't. That's how I met Jason. When things would turn ugly, he would race over and run interference before somebody decked me or before I hit someone. He was also smart enough to direct me to a few YouTube videos that taught me how to fight.” He smiled again. “I got pretty good.”

And how was she supposed to not laugh at that? “How long were you in public school?”

He chewed a bite of toast, obviously pondering that. “Every year until somebody finally figured out I might be a genius. At thirteen, I took a test that proved it and instantly got offers for scholarships for university. I spent one year at MIT and in the end decided that wasn't for me.”

He'd
discarded
the
Massachusetts Institute of Technology? “Seriously?”

“The thing was, I already knew everything I needed to know about computers. As a kid, I'd bought a few books, torn apart a few motherboards and I was up to speed. But I didn't know anything about business.” He shrugged. “So that's what I studied. I knew I wanted to work in this field, but not as a grunt. I wanted to own the company. So I needed to study how to run one.”

And he'd figured all this out at fourteen. “Smart.”

He laughed. “Exactly.”

She let that settle in for a second, her mind wrapping around the double meaning and not able to let it go. “Did you just make a joke?”

“I guess I did.”

And he seemed genuinely surprised. Which was equal parts of cute and breath-stealing. She'd seen him relaxing with her the night before. She'd noticed him staring at her as if he couldn't look away. He was every bit as attracted to her as she was to him. And he wasn't after money, or an introduction to the princess. If anything, he
didn't
want to meet her royal family. He needed her to pretend to be his girlfriend and if anything he was more than honest about it.

It was getting harder and harder to see him as someone like Brad. And harder and harder not to see how he relaxed around her, how he talked to her, how they clicked.

They finished their breakfast and walked outside into the sunny December morning, where his limo awaited. In a few minutes, they were back at the boutique, where Jennifer, the store manager from the day before, happily greeted them. Kristen hadn't seen the price of her gown yesterday afternoon, but she guessed that if Jennifer got a commission, it had been a hefty one.

“Good morning!”

Dean said, “Good morning. We're going to an important lunch in a few hours, but our trip was so unexpected that Kristen didn't have time to pack. So we'd like to see everything she'll require for an upscale lunch.”

Jennifer all but bowed. “Of course.”

Dean shoved his hands in the pockets of his black leather jacket. “I was thinking in terms of something like a suit.”

Kristen balked. “A suit? What am I? Seventy?”

“A suit is appropriate,” Dean said, glancing around at the various styles of clothes they offered.

“A sweater dress can be just as appropriate.”

“It's a business lunch,” Dean argued.

“Not really. It's a Christmas lunch with friends or a bunch of guys you hope to make your friends,” Kristen countered, deciding this was one argument he was not winning. “And besides, I'm not a part of your business.” She almost said, “I'm supposed to be your girlfriend,” but she caught the way Jennifer was looking at them, her wide eyes speaking of her curiosity. So, she smiled and said, “I'm your girlfriend.”

Dean's expression shifted from determined to confused.

But Jennifer seemed to love that tidbit. “This explains so much about yesterday,” she said enthusiastically. She faced Dean. “From the things she chose while she was with Stella, I know that you can trust her taste.” She turned to Kristen. “And I agree with you. The right sweater dress will be more than appropriate.”

She motioned to the dressing room. “Give me two seconds to pull my three favorites.”

Dean scowled.

But as Jennifer walked away, Kristen laughed. “Who would you rather do business with? Someone who cowers or someone who knows what she's doing?”

He sighed and brushed his hand in the direction of the curtained-off changing area. “Just go get ready to try on the dresses.”

She slipped into the mirrored room and removed her pants and shirt. Jennifer stepped in holding three sweater dresses.

“The red,” she said, hanging it on the first hook, “Because I think you'll look beautiful in it. Blue because it's a little more sedate for Grumpy Pants out there. And black because I know his type. He'll pick the black because he doesn't want anyone looking at you.”

Kristen's face flushed with color. “He's really not possessive.”

“Oh, honey, they're all possessive. But if you don't believe me. Start with the red, give him the heart attack he wants to have, move on to the blue and go to the black. He'll pick the black.”

Doing as she had been told, Kristen slipped into the red dress. The soft knit clung to her curves, but not obnoxiously. It just looked like a pretty dress.

When she stepped out of the dressing room, Dean's back was to her. She said, “Here's dress one,” and he turned around.

* * *

Seeing Kristen in the red dress, Dean swore his heart exploded. It nicely cruised her curves but not indecently. It was a pretty dress that complimented a gorgeous figure. And it came to her knees. There was nothing to be upset about.

But blonde, green-eyed Kristen was certainly heart-stopping in the striking red dress. Then he realized it wasn't the dress. It was Kristen. In anything other than black pants and a white shirt, she was going to be a knockout.

He tried to say something, but his tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth.

Jennifer laughed. “Let's try the blue one.”

She shooed Kristen into the curtained off room and in a few minutes Kristen returned in the blue knit dress.

“Wow.” Okay. He'd tried to stop that but couldn't. The blue dress somehow highlighted the pale green color of her eyes and made her look spectacular. “That's...” He cleared his throat. “Very pretty.”

Jennifer smiled. “Okay. On to dress three.”

This time, Kristen emerged in a black dress. It looked simple and elegant. Yes, it still accented the same perfect figure, but not quite so enthusiastically.

“I like this one.”

Jennifer laughed, but Kristen said, “I like the red!” Her eyes narrowed. “And you liked the red too.”

He sucked in a breath. He'd been struck speechless by the red. She'd have had to be blind not to see that. “I did.”

“Then why are we picking the black one?”

“Because I don't want Winslow or his friends to have a stroke.”

She sighed. “Okay. You know what? I'm going to buy the red one for myself.” She picked up the tag from the sleeve, glanced at the price and her mouth fell open. “Or not. I don't think my parents paid this much for our last cow.”

A laugh burst from Dean. “If you really want the red one, I'll buy the red one too. But I'm asking nicely for you to wear the black one to the lunch.”

“I can't let you buy the red one,” she mumbled, turning to walk into the dressing room again.

“Well, you're going to need something to fly home in. You can't wear those black pants and white shirt again.”

The curtain flew closed in a resounding swish. She was mad.

She was mad?

Why?

He approached the closed curtains and called out, “I'm happy to buy the red dress.”

“Just stop.” The order came from behind the curtain. “I have plenty of clothes at home. I don't need the red dress and before you get to harping about what I'm wearing home, I am not going to let you pay God knows what for a pair of blue jeans.”

Ignoring her, Dean motioned to Jennifer to get a pair of jeans, knowing she'd have Kristen's size from choosing the dresses that day and the gown the day before. Then he pointed at the sweaters.

When she returned, he whispered, “Add shoes or boots and socks...whatever else she's going to need to stay this extra day.”

Jennifer disappeared into the racks as Kristen walked out. Her chin high, she headed toward the cash register. “I do not want the red dress.”

He said, “Fine.”

She stopped, faced him. “You're losing an argument?”

“No. I'm simply not arguing over something stupid. I was happy to buy you the dress as a thank-you.”