Blame It On Christmas

Damn the man. She had wanted to call the shots...to make him come plead his case in person.

Instead, he had cut the ground from beneath her feet. J.B. had walked into her shop because it was his idea, not because he was toeing some imaginary line or meeting a challenge she had thrown down.

Her temper sparked and simmered. “What do you want, J.B.? I’m busy.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “Cleaning a glass counter? Isn’t that above your pay grade, Ms. Tarleton?”

“It’s my shop. Everything that happens here is my business.”

Gina squeezed past Mazie. “Excuse me,” Gina muttered. “I need to check on our customers.”

Mazie should have introduced her redheaded friend to J.B. The two of them might have met at some point in the past, though it was unlikely. But Gina seemed bent on escaping the emotionally charged confrontation.

J.B. held out a red cellophane bag. “These are for you, Mazie. I remember Jonathan saying how much you liked them.”

She stared at the familiar logo. Then she frowned, sensing a trap. “You brought me pralines?”

“Yes, ma’am.” His arm was still extended, gift in hand.

It might as well have been a snake. “You realize the shop is half a block from here. I can buy my own pralines, J.B.”

His smile slipped. The blue irises went from calm to stormy. “A thank you might be nice. You weren’t spanked enough as a kid, were you? Spoiled only daughter...”

She caught her breath. The barb hit without warning. “You know that’s not true.”

Contrition skittered across his face, followed by regret. “Ah, damn, Mazie. I’m sorry. You always bring out the worst in me.” He grimaced and pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead. “The candy was a peace offering. Nothing sinister, I swear.”

She grabbed the bag of pralines and set it on the counter behind her. She and J.B. were standing at the far back of the store in front of a case of men’s signet rings. Hopefully, all of the current customers were shopping for themselves.

“Thank you for the candy.” She straightened her shoulders. “Is that all?”

J.B. stared at her, incredulous. “Of course that’s not all. Do you really think I wander around Charleston dropping off candy to random women?”

Mazie lifted one shoulder. “Who knows what you do?”

Watching J.B. rein in his temper was actually kind of fun. It helped restore her equilibrium. She enjoyed getting the upper hand.

After a few tense moments of silence, he sighed. “I’d like to show you one of my properties over on Queen Street. You could double your square footage immediately, and the storage areas are clean and dry. Plus, there’s a generously sized apartment upstairs if you ever decide to move out of Casa Tarleton.”

The prospect of having her own apartment was tempting, but she and Jonathan hadn’t been able to leave their father on his own. Stupid, really. He’d been a less-than-present parent, both emotionally and otherwise. Still, they felt responsible for him.

Over J.B.’s shoulder, Gina telegraphed her concern like a flamingo playing charades.

Mazie decided to play J.B.’s game. At least for a little while. What she really wanted was to make him think she was seriously considering his offer. And then shut him down. “Okay,” she said. “I suppose it couldn’t hurt to take a look.”

J.B.’s reaction to her quiet statement was equal parts pole-axed and suspicious. “When?”

“Now is good.”

“What about the shop?”

“They don’t need me.” It was true. Mazie was the owner and CEO. In addition to Gina, there were two full-time employees and three part-time ones, as well.

J.B. nodded brusquely. “Then let’s get out of here. I’m parked in a loading zone.”

“You go ahead. Text me the address. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. All I need to do is grab a coat and get my purse.”

He frowned. “I can wait.”

“I’d rather have my own car, J.B.”

His eyes narrowed. He folded his arms across his chest. “Why?”

“Because I do, that’s why. Are you afraid I won’t come? I said I would, and I will. Don’t make a big deal out of this.”

He ground his jaw. She could almost see the hot angry words trembling on his lips. But he said nothing.

“What?” she whispered, still very much aware that they had an audience.

J.B. shook his head, his expression bleak. “Nothing, Mazie. Nothing at all.” He reached in a pocket and extracted his cell phone, tapping out a text impatiently. “I sent you the address. I’ll see you shortly.”

J.B. should have been elated.

The first hurdle was behind him. He had finally convinced Mazie Tarleton to look at another location for her jewelry business. That was huge. And it was certainly more than his real estate agent had been able to accomplish in the last twelve weeks. Even so, his skin felt itchy. Being around Mazie was like juggling a grenade. Not only was she an unknown quantity, he was in danger of being sabotaged by his own uneasy attraction.

He was determined to keep his distance.

Nothing with Mazie was ever easy, so he paced the sidewalk in front of the empty property on Queen Street, praying she would show up, but fearing she wouldn’t.

When her cherry-red Mazda Miata turned the corner at the end of the street and headed in his direction, he felt a giant boulder roll from his shoulders. Thank the Lord. He was pretty sure Mazie wouldn’t have come today unless she was ready to take him up on his offer.

She parallel parked with impressive ease and climbed out, locking her snazzy vehicle with one click of her key fob. He saw her, more often than not, in casual clothes. But today, Mazie was wearing a black pencil skirt with an ivory silk blouse that made her look every inch the wealthy heiress she was.

Her legs were long, maybe her best feature. She walked with confidence. In deference to the breezy afternoon, she wore a thigh-length black trench coat. To J.B. she seemed like a woman who could conquer the world.

As he watched, she tucked her car keys into her coat pocket and joined him. Shielding her eyes with one hand, she stared upward. He followed suit. Far above them, etched in sandstone, were the numerals 1-8-2-2, the year this building had been erected.

He answered her unspoken question. “The most recent tenant was an insurance firm. The building has been sitting empty for three months. If you think it will serve your purposes, I’ll bring in an industrial cleaning crew, and we can get you moved with little to no interruption of your daily business.”

“I’d like to see inside.”

“Of course.”

He’d made sure there was nothing to throw up any red flags. No musty odors. No peeling paint. In truth, the building was a gem. He might have kept it for himself if he hadn’t so badly needed a carrot to entice Mazie.

For years he had tried to make up for his youthful mistakes. Becoming a respected member of the Charleston business community was important to him. The fact that he had to deal with Mazie and a very inconvenient attraction that wouldn’t die was a complication he didn’t need. He’d learned the hard way that sexual attraction could blind a man to the truth.

“Look at the tin ceiling,” he said. “This place used to be a bank. We’re standing where the customers would have come to speak to tellers.”

Mazie put her hands on her hips. Slowly she turned around, taking in every angle, occasionally pausing to use her smartphone to snap a picture. “It’s lovely,” she said.

The comment was grudging. He knew that much. But at least she was honest.

“Thanks. I was lucky to get it. Had to scare off a guy who wanted to use it for an indoor miniature golf range.”

“Surely you’re joking.”

“Not really. I’d like to think he’d never have been able to get the permits, but who knows?”

“You mentioned storage?”

“Ah, yes. There’s a finished basement below us, small but nice. And more of the same above. The best part for you, though? There’s a safe. We’ll have to bring in an expert to get it working again. But you should be able to secure your high ticket items overnight, and thus eliminate any concerns about theft when you’re not open.”

When he showed her the ten-foot-square safe—stepping aside for her to enter—she lifted an eyebrow. “Kind of overkill, don’t you think? My jewelry is small. I don’t need nearly this much room.”

He followed her in. “Not the way you do it now. But you’ve been removing every item and putting it all back each morning. If you use the shelves in this safe, you can carry entire trays in here at night and save yourself a ton of hassle.”

Mazie pursed her lips. “True.”

Her lips were red today, cherry red. It was impossible not to think about those lips wrapped around his—

“Tell me, J.B.,” she said, interrupting his heated train of thought. “Is a bank safe this old really secure?”

He swallowed against a dry throat. “Well, it hasn’t been used in some time but...”

Mazie pushed on the door. “It’s crazy heavy. I suppose it would make a good hurricane shelter, too.”

The door was weighted more efficiently than it seemed. Before J.B. could intervene, it slipped out of her grasp and slammed shut with a loud thunk.

The sudden pitch-black dark was disorienting.

Mazie’s voice was small. “Oops. Guess I should have asked if you have the keys.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he said. “They told me this thing isn’t operational.” He stepped forward cautiously. “Stand back. I’ll grab the handle.” That part was easy. Unfortunately, when he threw all his weight into it, nothing moved. “Damn.”

He heard a rustle as Mazie shifted closer. “Isn’t there a light?”

“Yeah.” Reaching blindly, he slid his hand along the wall until he found the switch. The fluorescent bulb flickered, but came on.

Mazie stared at him, eyes huge. “I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to close it.”

“I know you didn’t.” His heart raced. Aside from the uncomfortable situation, he didn’t want to get too close to Mazie. The two of them. In the dark. Very bad idea. “Don’t worry,” he said. “We’ll be fine.” He tried the handle a second time. Nothing budged. He pulled out his phone. “I’ll call somebody.”

He stared at the ominous words on the screen.

No service.

Of course there was no service. The vault was constructed of steel-reinforced concrete, designed to keep out intruders. And the building itself was of an era when walls were built several feet thick. The nearby coffee shop he frequented had terrible cell service because it also was housed in a historic structure.

“So you really don’t have keys?” Mazie gnawed her lower lip, her arms wrapped around her waist.

“I have keys to the building. Not the safe.”

“Someone will notice we’re missing,” she said. “Gina, anyway. She and I text twenty times a day. What about you? Did you tell anyone you were coming here?”

“I called your brother.”

Mazie frowned. “Jonathan? Why?”

J.B. grimaced. “Because he knew I was having a hard time convincing you to sell. I told him you had agreed to at least consider this Queen Street property as an alternative.”

“I see.” She stared at him. “How often do you and my brother talk about me?”

“Almost never. Why would we?”

Mazie shrugged. “Maybe Jonathan will want to know whether or not you convinced me.”

“If he calls, it will just go to voice mail. He’ll assume I’m busy and leave a message.”

“Well, that sucks.” She exhaled sharply and kicked the wall. “You realize that if we die here, I’m going to haunt you for eternity.”

“How can you haunt me if I’m dead, too?” He swiped a hand across his forehead, feeling the cold sweat. Her nonsense was a welcome distraction. He would focus on the woman in touching distance.

“Please don’t ruin my fantasy,” she said. “It’s all I’ve got at the moment.” She wrinkled her nose. “We don’t even have a chair.”

J.B. felt the walls move inward. He dragged in a lungful of air, but it was strangely devoid of oxygen. “Fine,” he stuttered. “Feel free to haunt me.”

Three

For the first time, Mazie noticed that J.B. seemed decidedly tense.

“Are you okay?” she asked, moving closer and putting a hand on his forehead.

She almost expected to find him burning up with fever, but he was cool as the proverbial cucumber. To her alarm, he didn’t move away from her touch or offer even a token protest, and he didn’t make some smart-ass remark.

“I’m fine,” he said.

“You’re definitely not fine.”

She got in front of him and put both hands on his face. “Tell me what’s wrong. You’re scaring me.”

His entire body was rigid.

He swallowed, the muscles in his throat rippling visibly. “I’m a tad claustrophobic. I might need you to hold me.”

Fat chance. Her heart stumbled at his teasing. And then she remembered. When J.B. was eight years old, he’d been playing in a junkyard with some friends and had accidentally gotten closed up in an old refrigerator during a game of hide-and-seek. He had nearly died.

The incident traumatized him, understandably so. His parents had hired a therapist who came weekly to their house for over a year, but some deep wounds were hard to shake.

She stroked his hair, telling herself she was being kind and not reveling in the chance to touch him. “We’re going to be okay. And I’m here, J.B. Take off your jacket. Let’s sit down.”

At first she wasn’t sure he even processed what she was saying. But after a moment, he nodded, removed his sport coat, and slid down the wall until he sat on his butt with his legs outstretched. He sighed deeply. “I’m not going to flake out on you,” he muttered.

“I never thought you would.” She joined him, but it was far less graceful. Her skirt was unforgiving. She shimmied it up her thighs and managed to sit down without exposing too much.

For an eternity, it seemed, they said nothing. J.B.’s hands rested on his thighs, fists clenched. He was breathing too fast.

Mazie was no shrink. But even she knew he needed to get his mind on something else besides their predicament. “How are your parents?” she asked.

J.B. snorted and shot her a sideways glance. “Really, Mazie? I’m having an embarrassingly public meltdown, and that’s the best you can do?”

“You’re not having a meltdown,” she said. “You’re fine.”

Maybe if she said it convincingly enough, he would believe her. They were sitting shoulder-to-shoulder, hip-to-hip with less than twelve inches separating them. It was the closest she had been to J.B. in forever. Close enough for her to catch an intoxicating whiff of his aftershave mixed with the entirely ordinary and yet exhilarating man smell of him.

He was big and strong and darkly masculine. Her stomach quivered. This was exactly why she normally kept her distance.

J.B. was dangerous.

When she glanced toward the ceiling, she saw tiny air vents up above. They were in no danger of suffocating. Even so, J.B.’s response was understandable. Her skin crawled, too, at the thought of being stuck here for hours.

J.B. was expending every ounce of concentration on not surrendering to the phobia. So any chitchat or small talk would have to be initiated by her. The trouble was, she knew J.B. too well, and not well enough.

Charleston wasn’t that big a place. Anytime there was a charity gala or a gallery showing or a theater opening, Charleston’s elite gathered. Over the years, Mazie had seen J.B. in formal wear on dozens of occasions, usually with a gorgeous woman on his arm. Not ever the same woman, but still...

Because he and Jonathan were best buds, she had also seen J.B. half-naked on the deck of a sailboat and at the basketball court and by the beach. If she really applied herself to the task, she could probably come up with a million and one times she had been in the same vicinity as J.B. and yet never exchanged two words with him.

That was her choice. And probably his. He had been inexplicably cruel to her at a vulnerable point in her life, and she had hated him ever since.

Now here they were. Stuck. Indefinitely.

The tile floor underneath her butt was cold and hard. She drew her knees up to her chest and circled them with her arms. J.B. was right beside her. It wasn’t like he was going to look up her skirt.

She sighed. “You doin’ okay, stud?” His shallow breathing was audible.

“Peachy.”

The growled word, laden with surly testosterone, made her grin. “Why have you never married again?”

The words flew from her lips like starlings disturbed by a chimney sweep. They swirled outward and upward and hung in the air. Oh, crap.

Her muscles were paralyzed. Out of the corner of her eye she saw J.B.’s head come up. He went perfectly still. Not looking at her. Gazing straight ahead. The seconds ticked by. A minute passed. Maybe two.

“My parents are well,” he said.

It took half a second for the subtext to process, and then she burst into laughter. “Very funny. Message received. The oh-so-mysterious J.B. Vaughan doesn’t talk about his private life.”

“Maybe I don’t have a private life,” he said. “Maybe I’m a workaholic who spends every waking hour trying to coax beautiful jewelry merchants into selling their property to me.”

With one carefully placed adjective, the dynamic in the room changed. J.B. added flirtation to the mix. Did he do it on purpose? Or was he so accustomed to schmoozing women that the word beautiful slipped out?

She pretended not to hear. “If you’re a workaholic at this age, you’ll be dead before you’re fifty. Why do you work so hard, J.B.? Didn’t you ever want to stop and smell the roses?”

“I tried it once. Roses have thorns.” He sucked in a breath of air. “Are you going to give me your property or not?”

“Did you lock me in here on purpose to make me say yes?”

“God, no. Even I’m not that desperate. Try your phone,” he said. “You use a different carrier. Maybe it makes a difference.”

She glanced at her cell. “Nope. Nada.”

J.B. groaned. “How long have we been in here?”

Mazie peered at her watch. “Twenty-two minutes.”

“Maybe your watch stopped.”

She reached out and squeezed his hand. “Think about something else. Do you have all your Christmas shopping done? What do your sisters want?” J.B.’s two siblings were both younger and female. That’s probably why he spent so much time hanging around the Tarleton house when he was growing up.

“They’re great,” he said. “Do we have to do this?”

“You’re the one who didn’t want to talk about anything serious.”

“Are those my only two choices?”

She hesitated half a beat. “We could talk about why you were such an ass to me when we were teenagers.”

J.B. cursed beneath his breath and leaped to his feet. “Maybe we shouldn’t talk at all.”

For the next five minutes, he paced the small space like a tiger in a cage. Mazie stayed where she was. His body language shouted louder than words that he was unraveling.

At last, he paused in front of the impregnable door and slammed it with his fist. He bowed his head, his shoulders taut.

“I can’t breathe,” he whispered.

The agony in those three words twisted her heart. J.B. was a proud, arrogant man. Having her witness his weakness would make his frustration and anger and helplessness worse.

Without overthinking it, she scooted to her feet and went to him. “Listen to me.” Fluorescent lighting was the most unflattering lighting in the world. It made both of them look like hell. His skin was sallow, cheekbones sharply etched. She took his face in her hands again. “Look at me. I want you to kiss me, J.B. Like you mean it. If you can’t breathe, I might as well join you. Do it, big guy. Make me breathless. I dare you.”

He was shaking, fine tremors that racked his body. But gradually, her words penetrated. “You want me to kiss you?”

“I do,” she said. “More than anything.” She touched her lips. “Right here. I haven’t been kissed in ages. Show me how J.B. Vaughan woos a woman.”

He blinked and frowned, as if sensing danger. “You’re not serious.”

She went up on her tiptoes and brushed her mouth over his. “Oh, yes I am. I’m so damn serious it ought to be against the law.” She slid her fingers into his silky hair, cupping his skull, massaging his neck. “Kiss me, J.B.”

If this worked, she was going to write a book about curing claustrophobia.

His hands landed on her shoulders, but she wasn’t entirely sure he knew what he was doing. There was still a glassy-eyed element to his gaze.

“Mazie?” The way he said her name made the hair on her nape stand up. She knew exactly the moment his arousal broke through the grip of the visceral fear.

This time, the shudder that racked him was entirely hedonistic.

She didn’t have to ask again for a kiss.

J.B. took control as if he had been kissing her always. His mouth settled over hers with a drugging sensuality that took the starch out of her knees and left her panting and helpless in his embrace.

Her arms linked around his neck. “This is nice.”

“Screw nice...”

His rough laugh curled her toes. No wonder she had kept her distance all these years. At some level she had always known this could happen. She wanted to kick off her shoes and drag him to the floor, but everything was dusty and cold and hard. Not a soft surface in sight.

Once upon a time she had fantasized often about kissing J.B. Vaughan. The reality far outstripped her imaginings.

He was confident and coaxing and sexy and sweet, and she wanted to give him everything he asked for without words.

Thank God there wasn’t a bed in sight. Otherwise, she might have done something really stupid.

His tongue stroked hers lazily. “I know what you’re doing, and I don’t even care. I should have kissed you years ago.”

“You did,” she reminded him.

“That didn’t count. We were kids.”

“Felt pretty grown-up to me.” In fact, the adult J.B. was reacting much as the teenage J.B. had. His erection pressed against her belly, making her feel hot and dizzy and very confused.

This wasn’t real. All she was doing was taking his mind off their incarceration.

He tugged her shirt loose and slid his hand up her back, unfastening her bra with one practiced flick of his fingers. Stroking her spine, he destroyed her bit by bit. “I always knew it would be like this,” he groaned.

“Like what?” The two words were a whisper, barely audible over the loud pounding of her heart.

“Wild. Spectacular. Incredibly good.” He put just enough space between them to let him cup her breasts in his hands. “Ah, Mazie.”

His hands were warm. When he thumbed her nipples, the rough caress sent fire streaking throughout her body.

“Wait,” she said. “My turn.” She tugged at his soft shirt and sighed when she uncovered his muscled rib cage and taut abdomen. He was smooth and hard and had just enough silky hair to be interesting. She stopped short of his belt buckle.

J.B. nibbled the side of her neck. “Have you ever had sex standing up?”

“Um, no.” Her brain was screaming at her to slow things down, but other parts of her body were having so much fun that sensible Mazie didn’t stand a chance. “Have you?”

“No. I think it’s one of those movie things that might not be so great in real life.” He paused, his chest heaving. “But I’m willing to give it a try.”

This was insane. They had gone from Mazie trying to distract J.B. from his claustrophobia to jumping each other’s bones at warp speed. Though she knew it was suicidal, she couldn’t seem to stop herself.

“Kiss me again,” she begged. Anything to keep his mind off doing something they both would surely regret.

He granted her wish and then some. First it was her breasts. He bent and tasted each one with murmurs of approval that did great things for her self-esteem. Then he moved up to her neck and her earlobes, and finally, her lips.