Blame It On Christmas (Southern Secrets Series Book 1)

by Janice Maynard

  Now it was December.

  “I’ll take the candy under advisement,” he said.

  Jonathan grimaced. “I’ll see what I can do,” he conceded. “But don’t count on any help from me. Sometimes if I make a suggestion, she does the exact opposite. It’s been that way since we were kids.”

  “Because she was always trying to keep up with you and Hartley, and you both treated her like a baby.”

  “I suppose we could have been nicer to her. It wasn’t easy growing up in our house, especially once Mom was gone. Poor Mazie didn’t have any female role models at all.”

  J.B. hesitated. “You know I would never do anything to hurt her business.”

  “Of course I know that. Don’t be an ass. Your wanting to buy her property makes perfect sense. I can’t help it if she’s being deliberately obstructive. God knows why.”

  J.B. knew why. Or at least he had a fairly good idea. One kiss had haunted him for years, no matter how hard he tried not to remember.

  “I’ll keep trying. Let me know if anything works on your end.”

  “I’ll give it my best shot. But don’t hold your breath.”

  Two

  Mazie loved Charleston during the holidays. The gracious old city was at her best in December. The sun was shining, the humidity occasionally dipped below 60 percent, and fragrant greenery adorned every balustrade and balcony in town. Tiny white lights. Red velvet bows. Even the horse-drawn carriages sported red-and-green-plaid finery.

  She’d be the first to admit that summer in South Carolina could be daunting. During July and August, tourists had been known to duck into her shop for no other reason than to escape the sweltering heat.

  She couldn’t blame them. Besides, it was the perfect opportunity to chat people up and perhaps sell them a gold charm bracelet. Or if they were on a tight budget, one of Gina’s silver bangles set with semiprecious stones.

  Summer was definitely high season. Summer brought an influx of cash. The foot traffic in All That Glitters was steady from Memorial Day until at least mid-October. After that it began to dwindle.

  Even so, Mazie loved the holiday season best of all.

  It was funny, really. Her own experience growing up had certainly never been a storybook affair. No kids in matching pajamas sipping cocoa while mom and dad read to them in front of the fire. Despite the Tarleton money, which provided a physically secure environment, her parents were difficult people.

  But she didn’t care. From Thanksgiving weekend until New Year’s Day, she basked in the season of goodwill.

  Unfortunately, J.B.’s sins were too heinous to include him on Santa’s good list. Mazie still wanted to find a way to make him suffer without putting her own business in danger.

  When the real estate agent called the following day with another offer from J.B., Mazie didn’t say no.

  Not immediately.

  Instead, she listened to the Realtor’s impassioned pitch. When the woman paused to catch her breath, Mazie responded in a well-modulated, exceptionally pleasant tone of voice. “Please,” she said politely, “tell Mr. Vaughan that if he is hell-bent on buying my property, perhaps he should come here and talk it over with me in person. Those are my terms.”

  Then once again, she hung up the phone.

  This time, Gina was polishing an enormous silver coffee service they kept in the front window.

  She hopped down from the stepladder and capped the jar of cleaner. “Well,” she said. “You didn’t hang up on her. I suppose that’s progress.”

  Mazie frowned at a smudge on one of the large glass cases. “I thought I was nauseatingly nice.”

  “Most people think being nice is a good thing.”

  “True. But not always. We’ll see what happens now. If J.B. wants this place, he’s going to have to show his face.”

  Gina blanched and made a chopping motion with her hand.

  Mazie frowned. “What’s wrong with you?”

  The other woman was so white her freckles stood out in relief. And her eyes bugged out of her head. She made a garbled noise.

  When Gina continued her impersonation of a block of salt, Mazie turned around to see what was prompting her friend’s odd behavior.

  A gaggle of middle-aged women had entered the shop together. The tiny bell over the door tinkled, signaling their presence.

  While Mazie and Gina were deep in conversation, J.B. Vaughan had slipped in amid the crowd of shoppers, topping the women by a good six inches.

  “I think she’s surprised to see me,” he said. His smile was crooked, his gaze wary. “Hello, Mazie. It’s been a while.”

  His voice rolled over her like warm honey. Why did he have to sound so damn sexy?

  The man looked like a dream. He was wearing expensive jeans and a pair of even more expensive Italian leather dress shoes. His broad shoulders were showcased in an unstructured, raw linen sport coat that hung open over a pristine white T-shirt. The shirt was just tight enough to draw attention to his rock-hard abdomen.

  Oh, lordy. She had demanded he come in person, but she hadn’t realized what she was asking for.

  She swallowed her shock and her confusion. “Hello, J.B.” A quick glance at her watch told her there was no way he could have gotten there so quickly. Unless he had already decided to challenge her refusal to sell face-to-face. “Have you talked to your real estate agent this morning?”

  J.B. frowned. “No. I just came from the gym. Is there a problem?”

  Mazie swallowed. “No. No problem.”

  At that precise moment, J.B.’s phone rang.

  Mazie would have bet a million dollars she knew who was on the other end of the line. Because she saw his expression change. A huge grin flashed across his face. The Realtor had just passed along Mazie’s message.

  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.

  “Than
k 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 fluorescen
t 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.