Blame It On Christmas. Janice Maynard

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.