Blame It On Christmas (Southern Secrets Series Book 1)

by Janice Maynard

  “Bed,” she begged. “Let’s get in your bed. The water is freezing.”

  J.B. couldn’t argue with that. He turned off the faucet and grabbed towels for both of them. “Your lips are blue,” he said. “Poor baby. I’ll have to warm them up.”

  She scrubbed her body with the dry towel and grabbed a robe off the back of the door. “Meet you on the mattress. Bring condoms.”

  He followed her, pausing only to rummage in a bathroom drawer. “Plural,” he teased. “I like how you think.”

  J.B.’s bed was a testament to fine linens and the ingenuity of an American mattress company. She climbed beneath the covers, tossed her damp towel on the floor and reveled in the unmistakable luxury of thousand-thread-count sheets. It figured that J.B. would have only the best in his bachelor paradise.

  Instead of joining her immediately, he stood with his hands on his hips and stared at her.

  Mazie clutched the covers to her chin. “I thought you’d be in more of a hurry.” The part of him that reared strong and proud against his flat belly seemed not inclined to wait.

  One masculine shoulder lifted and fell. “I’m enjoying the prelude,” he said, the words low and husky. “You look delicious in my bed.”

  “Like an apple waiting to be picked?”

  “Like a moment I want to paint and record for posterity.”

  The sappy romantic comment stunned her. Not because he said it jokingly, but because of the utter sincerity in his quiet words.

  “I want you here with me,” she begged. “Come warm me up.” His steady regard made her self-conscious.

  He dropped the towel wrapped around his hips. “I can do that.”

  When he joined her underneath the covers, something inside her sighed with contentment. Which was odd, because she was a long way from satisfied.

  She ran her hand down his flank. Questions trembled on her lips. Requests for reassurance. Demands about the future.

  What did J.B. want from her? Was any of this more than a lark for him?

  Swallowing her uncertainties was much harder than it should have been.

  “Thank you for the Christmas tree,” she said.

  He turned on his side and faced her, resting his head on his hand. This close she could see his thick eyelashes and the sparkles of gold in his blue irises.

  “I’m glad we skipped decorating for this instead,” he said.

  Despite her best efforts, her insecurity slipped out. “What is this, J.B.?”

  The faint frown on his face told her she had overstepped some invisible boundary. “Do we have to ask that question right now? Can’t we enjoy the moment?”

  She nodded slowly, swallowing her disappointment. “Of course we can.”

  Hurt bubbled in her chest, but she ignored it.

  J.B. wasn’t a forever kind of man. She had known that when she climbed into his bed. She would take this temporary affair and wallow in the magic of Christmas. Reality was something that could wait for the cold, bleak days of January.

  “Make love to me,” she whispered.

  Her words galvanized him. Bending over her, he suckled her breasts and slid a hand between her thighs. When he entered her with his finger, she cried out. Her body was taut with arousal.

  A lock of his hair fell over his forehead. His face was flushed. “I want you, Mazie Jane. Insanely, as it happens. Why do you think that is?”

  “Maybe you got tired of women who won’t stand up to you.”

  He choked out a laugh, as if her blunt honesty had surprised him. “You’re prickly and unpredictable. I’ve had easier women, that’s for sure.”

  When she reached for his erection, he batted her hand away. “Next time, love. I’m too primed for that.” He sheathed himself and moved on top of her, fitting the blunt head of his sex at her entrance. “Lift your arms,” he demanded. “Hold on to the headboard.”

  She obeyed automatically, clenching her fingers tightly around the wavy iron bars. Her eyelids fluttered shut.

  J.B. pushed inside her slowly. The feeling was indescribable. She heard a ragged curse, as if he, too, was surprised at the way their bodies fit together. Yin and yang. As old as time. As new and fragile and precious as a morning mist on the beach.

  “Open your eyes, sweet girl. Don’t hide from me.”

  She tried. The intimacy was painful. His features were taut, his expression impossible to read.

  But she, on the other hand, felt naked. Surely he could see everything she had hidden for so long. Her wrists weren’t immobilized. She could have touched him if she wanted.

  Still, she didn’t move. She held her breath, her body straining against his, her heart soaking up every tender, muttered endearment, every rough thrust, every unbelievably raw emotion.

  “J.B.,” she cried out, feeling the peak rush toward her.

  He buried his face in her hot neck. “Come for me, Mazie.”

  She wrapped her arms around him, arched her back and obeyed...

  Sixteen

  Mazie had never enjoyed sleeping with a man. Actually sleeping. But somehow, curling up with J.B. and letting drowsiness roll over her was the most wonderful feeling in the world.

  By the time she awoke the next morning, something had changed. Not in him, maybe, but in her. No matter how foolish or self-destructive, she had to admit the truth.

  She had fallen in love with J.B.

  There hadn’t been far to fall. Deep in a sixteen-year-old girl’s heart the memory of her feelings for him had lived on, just as strongly as the memory of her mother’s leaving home when she was twelve.

  Traumatic events, world-changing events, never really went away. A person just learned to bury them. She had covered her desire for J.B. with animosity, trying to pretend he was nothing to her. It had worked for a long time—years even. But no more.

  The covers were warm. J.B.’s big body was warm. He held her cradled in his arms, her head on his shoulder.

  What was she going to do? How far could she let herself be pulled into his orbit and still be able to break free?

  He stirred and gave her a sleepy smile. “Hey, there, gorgeous.”

  She cupped his stubbly chin. “Shouldn’t you be at work?”

  J.B. yawned and glanced at the digital clock on the bedside table. “I’ve got it covered.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Isn’t All That Glitters closed on Mondays?”

  She was surprised he had paid that much attention. “Yes.”

  He kissed her nose. “I wanted to spend the day with you. My partner is on call for any emergencies. It’s almost Christmas. Things are slow.”

  It bothered her that he hadn’t said a word about their long-standing feud or her property or his big project that included her. After his mother’s heart attack, he had backed off completely. Two weeks ago, his Realtor had been contacting Mazie every three or four days. Now, nothing.

  Was J.B. playing a game with her? Did he think she would cooperate if he wrapped her in romance and soft sheets?

  Once before, she had been positive he had feelings for her. When the teenage J.B. had exhibited arousal, she’d been naive enough to believe it was going to lead to something. To a relationship. To a future.

  He had disabused her of that notion cruelly.

  Was she courting heartbreak a second time? Was J.B. even capable of love? Did he want more than her body and her business?

  Was J.B. Vaughan her soul mate or her worst nightmare?

  She wanted to take this experience at face value. She wanted to live in the moment. Sadly, she had never been the kind of woman to enjoy sex for the sake of sex. Before this thing with J.B., she had been celibate for two years.

  “What did you have in mind?” she asked, snuggling closer.

  His eyes were heavy-lidded, his hair tousled. Without
his fancy suits and his billionaire persona, he looked far more dangerous.

  “I thought after breakfast we could decorate the tree,” he said. “Then take a shift at the hospital sitting with Mom.”

  “I like it.”

  “But first...” He reached for a foil packet on the nightstand and turned back to press a possessive kiss on her mouth. “I want to play.”

  After last night’s excess, this morning should have been lazy and indulgent. Instead, it was as if the world was ending and this was their last chance to find a mate.

  J.B. touched her everywhere, whispering her name, showering her with endearments and compliments. Her first climax hit sharp and hard and left her shaking. Before she could do more than gasp for breath, he was driving her up again...raking her nipples with sharp teeth, pressing kisses to her belly and below. Filling her with his powerful thrusts.

  When she came a second time, he was there with her, a muffled shout buried against her throat. She wrapped her legs around his waist and held him tightly, her eyes damp.

  They slept again.

  When she woke up the next time, her stomach was growling.

  “Feed me,” she begged, shaking his shoulder.

  J.B. rolled out of bed and padded to the bathroom, giving her a tantalizing view of his male beauty. “You’re so demanding.”

  She could hear his laughter, even after he closed the door.

  While J.B. was getting dressed, she took a quick shower, fetched her bag from the guest room, and pulled out fresh clothes. It sounded like the day would be casual, which suited her just fine. Mondays were usually lazy days, her one indulgence in a week that was typically crammed with work and looking after her father.

  She followed her nose to the kitchen and found J.B. knee deep in eggs and bacon.

  “Shall I make toast?” she asked, pausing to lean her cheek against his arm.

  He gave her a quick kiss. “Butter’s on the counter right behind me. There’s a loaf of bread in the pantry. Coffee’s ready if you want some.”

  The homey scene was entirely bogus. J.B. Vaughan was not a domesticated animal. Mazie didn’t even want to calculate the number of women who had wandered into this charming kitchen scene over the years.

  She knew this wasn’t the same place J.B. lived during his short marriage. That knowledge should have made her feel better. And it did...a tiny bit. Truthfully, she adored his carefully preserved row house.

  The copper-bottomed pots hanging over the island might be only for show, but as far as she could tell, J.B.’s kitchen was outfitted like a chef’s dream. Mazie liked to cook when she had the time. It wasn’t hard to imagine herself right here in the midst of preparing a big dinner for a group of friends.

  While J.B. scrambled and fried, she found a cookie sheet and decided to do the toast in the oven. When it was done, she joined him at the table and slid two pieces of perfectly browned sourdough onto each plate.

  A jar of homemade plum preserves she had found in the fridge was the finishing touch.

  J.B. devoured the meal as if he were starving.

  Truth be told, they had expended a great deal of energy since they ate shrimp the night before. And it was already midmorning.

  She reached across the table and removed a drop of jam from his chin. “How are you at putting Christmas lights on a tree?” She vowed to keep the day light and easy. No more personal questions that would make both of them uneasy.

  He finished the last bite of eggs and sat back in his chair. “Don’t know. I guess we’ll find out.”

  * * *

  J.B. was in trouble.

  And he knew it.

  Part of him wanted to get Mazie out of his house and out of his bed. It was beginning to feel as if she belonged here.

  That wasn’t possible.

  He liked her. A lot. Still, he had done the marriage thing, and he was really bad at it. So he needed to put a stop to this playing house gig.

  As the morning progressed, he watched her, searching for any sign that she thought this was leading to something bigger. Other than a single, logically female question last night, she hadn’t pressed for answers. Maybe because he had shut her down.

  He felt bad about that.

  By the time they finished the tree, his living room was a mess, but Mazie was glowing. She stood back and put her hands on her hips. “Look at it, J.B. It’s glorious.” She threw her arms around him in a big bear hug. “I can’t wait until it’s dark tonight, and we get the full effect.”

  Her enthusiasm was contagious. He felt a sense of pride that he had been able to give her something so simple and yet so profound. Mazie was a confident, happy, successful woman, but deep inside was that sad little girl who had lost her mother and had spent multiple Christmases on the edges of someone else’s celebrations.

  Damn Jonathan and Hartley for not noticing. Maybe they were too close to the situation, and maybe they had other interests. It was women who usually created the warmth of holidays, women who knew how to make an occasion memorable.

  But J.B. wished her family hadn’t dropped the ball where Mazie was concerned.

  He tugged her ponytail. “I can’t wait until dark either.”

  She headed for the stairs. “We need to leave for the hospital. You promised we’d be there at one.”

  He followed her a moment later, only to find that she had taken her overnight bag and all her things to the guest room to get ready.

  Why, damn it? And why wasn’t he glad? He felt like he was losing his grip. Nothing made sense.

  At the hospital, the news was not quite as upbeat as it had been. His mother was wan and listless. According the doctor, there was infection somewhere in her body. They were pumping her full of antibiotics.

  Only Leila was there.

  His sister stepped out into the hall to speak to them. “I’m not sure what happened overnight, but she was like this when I got here this morning. Dad is a wreck. I sent him home to sleep. Alana is with him.”

  J.B. hugged his sister. “You go, too. Mazie and I can be here as long as we need to be.”

  The afternoon crawled by. His mother alternated between resting and waking, barely speaking at all. Mazie sat beside her and rubbed her hand, the one that wasn’t encumbered with the IV.

  J.B. paced.

  At one point, when their patient was sleeping, he pulled Mazie to a far corner of the room. “I feel like we should be doing something.”

  She grimaced. “Hospitals are all about waiting. They must think the medicine will work eventually. She’s not getting worse.”

  He pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead. “I hate being helpless.”

  Mazie wrapped her arms around him. “Whatever happens, she knows how much you love her. That’s the important thing.”

  His blood chilled. Mazie was obliquely referencing what all of them had been thinking. Jane Vaughan might not pull through this. His heart pounded and his knees felt funny. He loved his mom.

  For the first time, he truly understood how Mazie must have suffered when her mom was taken away. It would have been like a death.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, his hands on her shoulders.

  “For what?”

  “For not realizing how much it has hurt you to have your mother several hundred miles away.”

  Mazie paled. “She doesn’t even know who I am.”

  “So you feel guilty if you don’t go and even sadder when you do? That’s the worst of it, isn’t it? You want to believe that it will be different every time you visit, but it never is.”

  She nodded slowly. Tears welled into her eyes and spilled onto her cheeks.

  He held her close, his heart expanding with an emotion that confused him. Being so close kindled a spark of sexual arousal, but it wasn’t only that. He wanted to protect her and make her happy and give her the f
amily she had always wanted. Holy hell. What was he thinking?

  Before he could make himself release her, Mazie slipped free of his arms. “Excuse me,” she muttered. “I’ll be back.”

  When he turned around, his mother’s eyes were open. “You love her, don’t you, son?”

  He started to deny it, but at the last moment remembered the faux engagement. “Of course I do, Mom.” He pulled up a chair beside the bed and studied the machines beeping softly. “How are you feeling?”

  She pursed her lips. “Tired. Glad to be alive.”

  “I don’t want you to fret. Can I go get you a hamburger? Medium rare with onions?”

  The little joke made his mother smile. “You would do it, wouldn’t you?”

  “If you asked me. I love you, Mama.”

  His heart was cracking inside his chest. Breaking wide open. Between his fear for his mother and his need for Mazie, he was turning into someone he didn’t recognize.

  His mother put her hand on his head, almost like a blessing. “You don’t have to worry about me, J.B. I’m going to live to see those grandbabies you promised me.”

  Guilt choked him. He couldn’t tell her the truth. Not now.

  Mazie returned at that moment, rescuing him from the need to deal with his mother’s loaded statement. His fiancée was pale, but she seemed calm. She had been to the hospital gift shop by the looks of it. In her hand, she carried a vase of pink sweetheart roses.

  “Alana told me these were your favorites.”

  His mother perked up visibly. “Oh, thank you, sweet girl. They’re beautiful. Set them right there where I can see them.”

  J.B. stood. “I’m gonna grab some coffee.” He was suffocating. He wanted Mazie here. Of course he did. But seeing her interact with his mother signaled an intimacy he was trying his damnedest to avoid.

  After that particular Monday, the days fell into a pattern. Christmas was barely over a week away. J.B. and Mazie both went to work every morning, but the evenings were for taking care of family, and later for making love beneath the beautiful, fragrant Christmas tree.