And then she got it, she understood Cleveland’s motivation for inviting her to the family mansion. “I’m your revenge on Jack.”
“Nice little twist, isn’t it?”
“He was trying to protect you, you know.” Even as the words popped out, Kristy couldn’t believe she was defending the man. He’d manipulated, hurt and humiliated her for his own ends. He was a cold-hearted snake, nothing more.
“And what makes you think I’m not trying to help him?” asked Cleveland.
“Because there’s nothing about me being in Vermont that will help Jack.”
“Well then, what about becoming a successful fashion designer and winning this year at the Matte Fashion Show?”
Kristy paused. “And I should do everything in my power to make sure that happens, shouldn’t I?”
“If you have a single brain cell in your pretty head, then yes.”
“I do,” she said.
“Then we understand each other.”
She couldn’t help but smile in admiration. “Your marbles are fully intact, aren’t they?”
“That they are. But it suits me sometimes to let people think otherwise.” He gestured towards the glass doors leading to the street. “Shall we get that drink now?”
Kristy started walking. “You know what I think?”
“What do you think?”
“That Jack learned everything he knows from you.”
“Let’s hope you’re wrong about that.”
“SO I GUESS we got it wrong,” said Hunter, looking more amused than worried as he teed off on the first hole at Lost Links. He watched as the ball arced down the fairway, bouncing to rest just shy of the horseshoe-shaped sand trap and a small grove of oaks.
“We damn sure got it wrong,” said Jack, accepting the one wood from his caddy. His mood had been foul for two days now. “And I blame you for the screw-up.”
“Me?”
“It was your brilliant idea to date her.”
“I wanted to date her because she was hot, not in some Machiavellian attempt to thwart Gramps’s wedding.”
“Don’t knock Machiavelli.” Planning and strategy were the watchwords of every executive.
“I noticed you didn’t deny she was hot.”
“All right, she’s hot. But she was dating our grandfather.”
“No, she wasn’t.”
“Well, she could have been.” Jack pushed his tee into the turf then straightened. He’d gone over and over his weekend in Vegas, wondering why he’d never once questioned Kristy’s identity. Even with all the little inconsistencies in her behavior, he’d never once asked himself that pivotal question. He hated making mistakes.
“If she had been dating him,” he felt compelled to point out to Hunter. “It would have been a good plan.”
Hunter peered down the sunny fairway. “With a solid plan like that, it’s almost hard to believe anything went wrong.”
“Yeah,” Jack agreed as he lined up to tee off.
He thwacked the ball dead on, and it sailed over the treetops, bouncing into the center on the fairway only a few feet short of the green.
Hunter waited for Jack to hand over the club to his caddy. “So, explain to me why we’ll lose less money with you married to her instead of Gramps.”
“Because I had her sign a prenup. You think I’m stupid?”
“You really want me to answer that today?”
“Get stuffed.” Jack pulled off his white leather glove and turned to head down the fairway. He’d spend years living this one down.
Hunter fell into step beside him, the two caddies staying several paces behind. “Let me make sure I’m understanding this. In a haze of passion, on a lark, at the hotel chapel, she agrees to marry you, and you pull out a prenup. She didn’t find that odd?”
Jack was trying hard not to think about the hotel chapel, nor the lies he’d told her to get her there. “There were other things to sign. And she wasn’t paying all that much attention to the details.”
“Because you’re irresistible to women?”
Yeah, right. “It’s a curse.”
Hunter’s laughter rumbled across the quiet golf course. “My sympathies. So, what now?”
Jack shrugged. “Now we get divorced.”
“Just like that?”
“I suspect she’s called her lawyer already.”
“You don’t think she’s going to sue your ass?”
“Based on what? Showing poor judgment in Vegas? If that was grounds for action, our legal system would be gridlocked into the next century.” No, Jack was pretty sure he was safe on the financial front.
Hunter stopped next to his ball, sizing up the lay of the course and checking the direction of the wind rustling through the palm fronds. “So, that’s that?” he asked Jack, then glanced at his caddy with his brow raised.
“Six iron,” the young man suggested.
“Not exactly,” said Jack. “Gramps is still engaged to Nanette.”
“Well, you can’t marry them all,” said Hunter.
Jack’s marrying days were definitely over. “I wasn’t thinking about me.”
Hunter lined up his shot. “Look into my eyes,” he said matter of factly, with a swing and follow through. He went to stand directly in front of Jack. “Not with a gun to my head.”
“I’m sure she’s a knockout.”
“And I’m sure you’ve lost your mind.” Hunter handed the club back to his caddy, and they all started for the spot where Jack’s ball lay.
“You got a better plan?” asked Jack.
“I’ve got a thousand of them. And none of them involve me marrying anybody.”
“He marries Nanette, it’ll cost us.”
“There are more important things in life than money.”
As they made their way over the fine-trimmed grass, Jack pondered the relative value of money and emotional health. He’d never really thought about it before because money had always been paramount. But if his wakefulness the last two nights was anything to go by, money had some serious competition. He wished he’d put Kristy on a commercial plane the minute they hit Vegas.
He didn’t need the stress of worrying about how she was feeling, nor of his conflicted memories, nor of dwelling on the prediction of a long-ago gypsy. Which, by the way, was beginning to feel like a curse.
The curse of the midnight gypsy. It would make a good movie title. Hunter could be the hero. Jack the villain. Kristy would get rich, and the redheaded girl would be adored by fans around the world.
He lined up on the ball, chipping it up onto the green, less than ten feet from the hole.
“So, whatever happened to Vivian?”
Hunter glanced up sharply. “Huh?”
“She was the redhead, right?”
Hunter stared at