He was a chameleon, really.
In a business setting, she had seen him play the part of the successful entrepreneur, both charming and hard-dealing. But when J.B. and Jonathan headed out to North Carolina to camp in the mountains or took off on a weeklong cruise down the coast in J.B.’s sailboat, his tanned limbs and casual clothing made him look like a rugged outdoorsman.
She took one last quick peek before opening the door.
Tonight, in a classic black tuxedo and crisp white shirt, he was a heartbreaker. Mazie knew that side of him better than most.
* * *
J.B. was stunned to find that he was nervous as hell. When Mazie opened the door, his heart slugged hard in his chest. Her glorious chestnut hair spilled across her shoulders, thick and wavy. The green dress she wore showcased her slender figure. His fingers itched to stroke all that soft fabric.
But his sense of self-preservation sounded an alarm.
Instead of touching her, he cleared his throat and smiled. “You look stunning, Mazie. I’ve got the heat running in the car, in case you don’t want to bother with a wrap. It’s not really all that cold tonight. You could always throw a coat in the back seat for later.”
She had stepped back to allow him to enter. Now he stood in the foyer, wanting to sweep her up in his arms and kiss her senseless. Instead, he jammed his hands in his pockets and practiced self-control.
Mazie’s smile was guarded. “Thank you. I’ll do that.”
The current atmosphere could best be described as wary. The physical awareness between them was on a slow boil, but because he had hurt her once, she didn’t trust him. He’d have to work on that.
It took Mazie only a matter of moments to lock the door and set the alarm. When she was done, he put a hand beneath her elbow and steadied her as they descended the stairs. The minimal physical contact was enough to make his blood heat.
He helped her into the front seat before closing the door. Then he ran around to the driver’s side. As he had promised, the car was toasty warm.
Mazie buckled her seat belt and folded her hands in her lap, her spine straight. It wasn’t the posture of a woman prepared to enjoy an exciting evening. If anything, she seemed to be braced for unpleasant news.
“I don’t bite,” he said teasingly.
They exited the main gates, and he steered the car toward the Ravenel Bridge.
She shot him a sideways glance. “I’m not sure this was a good idea,” she said. “We have nothing in common.”
Her tone was prissy enough to annoy him. “It didn’t seem that way when you locked us in that bank vault.”
“That was an accident.”
“So you say.” He loved teasing her. “We have history, Mazie.”
“I’m surprised you’d want to bring that up.”
Bingo. Now he knew for sure what land mines lay in his path. She was pissed, even now, about him turning her down years ago.
“You’re still mad about that prom thing?”
“Don’t flatter yourself.” Her fingers made patterns in the velvet. “I got over my embarrassing crush pretty quickly after that night. You were an arrogant jerk. And unkind on top of that. But I learned from that experience.”
“Learned what?”
“Not to trust you.”
He flinched inwardly. There were extenuating circumstances, explanations that could clear his name, but he wasn’t the only person involved, and he didn’t want to cause a rift between her and Jonathan. Even now, J.B.’s behavior was risky. It was the reason he had kept his distance for years.
“I’d like to propose a truce,” he said lightly, his fingers clenched on the steering wheel. “What if we start over? A new relationship. A new beginning.” He told himself he needed her goodwill so she would sell him her property. Surely he wasn’t really considering something so much more unpredictable.
“Why would we do that?”
“It’s the season of peace and goodwill. Isn’t that enough?” He reached across the small distance separating them and touched her wrist. “This isn’t about me stealing your property, Mazie. I want it, yes. But we can do business another day. Tonight, I’m only interested in you.”
He hadn’t meant to be so honest, but her inability to accept him at face value was frustrating.
At the hotel, J.B. handed off his keys with a large tip, large enough to guarantee he’d get the car back with no dings or scratches.
The front door was only steps away. He glanced at his passenger. “Do you want to keep your coat?”
“No. I’m fine.”
The seat of the SUV was high. Mazie’s legs were long, but her dress was fitted. Without asking permission, he put his hands on her waist and lifted her down to the narrow red carpet that led to the entrance.
Overhead, a canvas awning protected them from nonexistent rain. Huge concrete urns on either side overflowed with holly and magnolia blossoms and burgundy satin ribbons.
Mazie’s face lit up, her reserve melting in the festive atmosphere. “This is lovely.” She actually squeezed his hand momentarily, leaving him to grin like a kid who’d just gotten a gold star for a perfect spelling test. Unfortunately, the moment was far too short.
He curled an arm around her waist and ushered her inside.
Étoile de Mer was old Charleston at her finest. Five years ago, the series of narrow buildings tucked away on a side street had been an aging inn past its prime with a different name. But new owners had completely renovated the connected eighteenth-century row houses.
The result was a chic, luxurious boutique hotel that catered to travelers with the means to splurge, whether that be millennials or baby boomers. The main floor of the hotel included a bar and lounge along with a five-star restaurant that was booked for six months in advance.
J.B. had called in a few favors, made a handful of promises and wrangled a prime reservation for seven o’clock.
Seeing the expression on Mazie’s face was worth every bit of hassle.
The host led them up a shallow flight of stairs to the mezzanine level. Their table was tucked inside a bay window overlooking the street.
Once they had ordered an appetizer and wine, J.B. leaned back in his chair and studied his companion. “Have you eaten here before?”
Mazie shook her head. “No. I do go out with friends often, but we generally pick something more casual. And my social life isn’t nonstop. Jonathan and I take turns looking after Dad when we want to be gone overnight.”
“He can’t be on his own?”
“Oh, he could be,” Mazie said. “But Jonathan and I are his emotional crutches. Once Hartley disappeared, I think Daddy gave up and started thinking like an old man.”
“Do you know where your brother is?”
Mazie shook her head, her expression bleak. “No. I don’t even know what happened. Jonathan won’t tell me. Do you know?”
J.B. shook his head. “Sorry. No idea. Jonathan and I are tight, but he hasn’t said much at all about Hartley.”
“Oh.” She sighed. “I was hoping you could clue me in. The whole thing is frightening. To be honest, it hurts. He and I were very close. I can’t believe he left without saying a word.” Mazie traced a pattern in the condensation on her water glass with her fingertip. “I used to be terribly jealous of your family,” she said. Her rueful sideways glance told him she wasn’t kidding.
“Really? Why?”
“The Vaughans are all so incredibly normal. I never had normal in my life. You’re lucky, J.B.”
The comment caught him off guard. “I suppose I am,” he said. The waiter interrupted the conversation, arriving to take their order. Mazie chose shrimp étouffée on a bed of fluffy rice. J.B. asked for the rare filet topped with a crabmeat garnish.
When they were alone again, he picked up the threads of the conversation. “What happens to
your father when you or Jonathan decide to get married?”
Mazie wrinkled her nose. “I don’t know that either of us has to worry about that. My dear brother doesn’t let himself get close to anyone, and I’m...” She trailed off, looking uncomfortable.
“You’re what?”
“Scared.” She tossed the word at him with an almost visible chip on her shoulder.
“Scared of what?”
“I don’t want to love someone so much that it blinds me or traps me. My parents are hardly a shining example of marital success. You know the statistics. You’ve lived them. No offense.”
He winced inwardly. Mazie had faced more than her share of abandonment. She must surely have been conflicted about her father sending her mother away, no matter the circumstances.
“I hear what you’re saying, but I’m not sure your argument holds water, though. I had the greatest example of marriage in the world, and still I got duped by a money hungry social climber who ruined my credit and cleaned out my bank accounts in the divorce.”
“Did your parents try to stop you?”
“Of course they did. Several friends weighed in, too, Jonathan included. But I was blinded by physical infatuation.” Wasn’t that what he risked now?
“Not too blind to see what you were getting out of the arrangement.”
Mazie’s humor soothed old wounds. “I was twenty-two years old and driven by my hormones. It wasn’t my finest hour.”
“To be honest, I was away at college most of that year, so I didn’t hear more than the occasional flurry of gossip. But I remember being very surprised.”
He cocked his head. “Why?”
“Because you were always so sure of what you wanted. At the risk of pumping up your already enormous ego, I couldn’t imagine any woman walking away from you after only a few months, even if you were difficult to live with. Maybe she had the money thing planned from the start.”
“If you’re trying to make me feel better, it’s not working.”
Her grin was impish. “Sorry. I’ve known you and hated you for too long to tiptoe around your feelings...always assuming you have feelings.” The smile told him she was making a joke at his expense. She wasn’t trying to impress him, that was for sure.
“I have feelings,” he said, deadpan. “I’m having a feeling right now.” He flirted deliberately, for nothing more than the sheer pleasure of watching her react.
Mazie didn’t seem to know what to make of him.
She concentrated on her food, most likely disconcerted by his deliberately intimate teasing. When at last she lifted her head and pinned him with an amber-eyed gaze, he knew in an instant that he had waded into deep water.
“Let me ask you something, J.B.,” she said.
He waved a hand. “Anything at all. I’m an open book.”
“If we hadn’t gotten locked in the bank vault and ended up in an extremely compromising position, would you ever have considered asking me out?”
His fork was halfway to his mouth. The bite of tender beef went untasted. Slowly, he set down the utensil, dabbed his lips with a snowy napkin and frowned. “I feel like this is one of those questions women throw out to trip a guy up.”
“It’s no trick. I’m merely asking—would we be sitting here right now if you didn’t have claustrophobia, and we didn’t use sex to take your mind off the fact that we were trapped? You’ve had a decade to ask me out on a date. Why now?”
* * *
Mazie watched J.B.’s face, zeroing in on every nuance of expression. She’d like to think her intuition could spot any dissembling on his part. Then again, the man was a practiced charmer. Girls had been throwing themselves at him since he was in middle school.
It was no wonder he was so confident he could acquire her property. He was accustomed to the dominoes always falling his way. The world cooperated with J.B. Inevitably.
While it was true that his youthful marriage had been a bad misstep, he had survived. He’d been humiliated and chastened and perhaps, at the time, even heartbroken. Still, it seemed unlikely he had suffered any lasting damage.
His silence in the aftermath of her question was ominous. Was he inventing a pretty story? Concocting a tale that would flatter her and woo her?
“J.B.?”
He shook his head. “You ask difficult questions, Mazie Tarleton. Maybe I wanted to be sure I was giving you a thoughtful response. Maybe I needed to comb through my own motives. Maybe I’m not even sure why I invited you to dinner. Or maybe I was afraid the truth would make you angry.”
She gaped at him, unprepared for this level of transparency. “So what did you come up with? Don’t keep me in suspense.”
While she waited, breathless, needing to hear what J.B. had to say, their waiter arrived with the main courses. Though the food looked and smelled amazing, Mazie wanted to banish the poor man to the kitchen. J.B. had been hovering on the verge of complete honesty. She wanted desperately to hear his response.
Instead, she had to be content with a seemingly endless parade of servers and sommeliers and even the manager who wanted to make sure every single thing about the dinner was to their liking.
By the time the two of them were finally alone again, the moment had passed.
Mazie sighed inwardly. An orchestra on the level below them had begun playing a medley of familiar Christmas songs. The restaurant buzzed with laughter and the clinking of crystal.
On any other occasion and with any other companion, Mazie would be basking in a haze of warm contentment.
Instead, she ate her meal automatically. All she could think about was the man sitting across from her. Why was he stalling?
He poured each of them another glass of wine, finished his steak and then stared at her.
“The answer is no,” he said. “I wouldn’t have. The reason I asked you out has everything to do with what happened in the bank vault.”
Eight
Mazie froze, sensing danger. J.B.’s eyes were dark...intense. More navy blue tonight than royal. And nothing about him suggested lighthearted teasing.
She swallowed, her throat suddenly as dry as sandpaper. “I see.”
He drank recklessly, the muscles in his throat rippling as he swallowed. Without warning, some line had been crossed, some barrier breached.
Gone was the good-natured, sophisticated businessman. The wealthy entrepreneur.
In his place was a primal male with flushed cheekbones, glittering sapphire eyes, and a big body that radiated warmth and raw masculinity.
In his right hand, he held a crystal goblet. His left hand moved restlessly on the white linen tablecloth. Against the pristine fabric, his tanned fingers drummed a rhythm only he could hear.
At last he stared at her moodily, his brows dark, his mood volatile. “Is that all you have to say?”
“I may have given you the wrong impression about me,” she whispered, conscious of people coming and going nearby.
“Or maybe you hide the real you from the world.”
“I’m not that kind of woman,” she said desperately. “It was the adrenaline or something.”
“Or something...” He laughed without humor. “You’re a sensual woman, Mazie. Sexy and beautiful and damned appealing in every way. We’ve been dancing around each other for years, always careful never to get too close. I’ve seen you move across a crowded room to avoid me. Why?”
“You’re imagining things,” she said, aghast that he had noticed. But of course he had. The man never missed anything. She’d been protecting herself, plain and simple. And he had known, damn him.
“No.” His rebuttal was flat. Certain. “I’m not imagining anything. You’ve kept the width of this city between us, but yesterday when I had my embarrassing meltdown, your compassion was stronger than your need to keep your distance. When we touched, it was gasoline on a fi
re.”
“Please don’t say things like that,” she begged. “It isn’t true.”
“You can deny it all you like, but I was there, Mazie. So yes...that’s why I asked you out. Even though I knew it was a bad idea. I couldn’t wait to touch you again.” He stood and tossed his napkin on the table. “Dance with me, sweet girl. Dessert will keep.”
His hand closed around her wrist. Gently, inexorably, he drew her to her feet.
Mazie trembled. It was impossible to meet his gaze. Not now. Not when her heart slammed against her ribs and her breasts ached for his touch.
He led her down the carpeted stairs and into the salon where a polished dance floor stretched from wall to wall. Overhead, a phalanx of miniature crystal chandeliers, draped in mistletoe and bows, cast a rainbow of shimmering light over the dancers.
The room wasn’t large. J.B. pulled her into his arms and held her tightly. They fell into the music as one, barely missing a note or a step. Some men hated dancing. J.B. moved as if he knew the music by heart.
She felt cosseted in his embrace, but at the same time shiveringly aware of the shark-infested waters that might lie ahead. Already her body responded to his caress. His heart beat a steady rhythm beneath her palm. His fingers were warm on the bare skin of her lower back. They didn’t speak.
Words weren’t necessary.
It wasn’t her imagination that other women sneaked peeks at the man who held her so carefully. His breath was warm at her temple. The scent of his crisply starched shirt teased her nostrils.
Her body warmed and melted into his. They were in a very public venue. Dancing was the only acceptable, legitimate reason for a man and woman to be so close.
One song segued into the next. Mazie knew every word, every chorus. For so many Christmases she had wondered about her future. For so many Christmases, she had told herself she despised J.B.
Now the whole world was changing.
She could have danced all night. Her feet barely noticed the pain in her toes, the strain in her calves. For a woman who spent her days in flats or athletic shoes, tonight’s escapade was a dose of reality.
Blame It On Christmas (Southern Secrets Series Book 1) Page 7
