Blame It On Christmas. Janice Maynard
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Название: Blame It On Christmas
Автор: Janice Maynard
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Контркультура
Серия: Mills & Boon Desire
isbn: 9781474077002
isbn:
“Or take away my reasons for living,” he groused comically.
Her father had married later in life, a man in his midforties taking a much younger bride. The story wasn’t so unusual. But in Gerald’s case, it had ended tragically. His bride and her parents had hidden from him the extent of her mental struggles, leaving Gerald to eventually raise his young family on his own.
Mazie and her brothers had each paid an invisible price that followed them into adulthood.
She ignored his mood. “I’ll speak to cook, and then I’m going to change clothes. I’ll be back down in half an hour or so.”
“And Jonathan?”
“He’s home tonight, I think.”
After a quick word with the woman who ran the kitchen like a drill sergeant, but with sublime culinary skills, Mazie ran upstairs and at last made it to the privacy of her bedroom. She stripped off her clothes, trying not to think about J.B.’s hands on her body.
His touch had opened her eyes to several disturbing truths, not the least of which was that she had carried a tendresse for him, an affection, that had never been stamped out.
She had spent a semester in France her senior year, only a few months after he had rejected her. The entire time she was abroad, she had imagined herself wandering the streets of Paris with J.B.
What a foolish, schoolgirl dream.
Yet now, when she stared in the mirror and saw her naked body, it was impossible to separate her former daydreams from the inescapable reality. She had allowed J.B. Vaughan to caress her breasts, to touch her intimately.
Had Jonathan not intruded to rescue them, would she have regrets?
Confusion curled her stomach. She wasn’t the kind of person who jumped into bed with a man. Especially not J.B.
Something had happened in the vault.
Yet however she replayed the sequence of events, J.B. didn’t come out the villain. Mazie had been the one to accidentally close the door and lock them in. Mazie had been the one to kiss J.B. Mazie had been the one who decided that a nod to her past infatuation would serve to distract J.B. from his claustrophobia.
Was it any wonder he had taken her invitation and run with it?
She stayed in the shower a long time, scrubbing and scrubbing again, trying to erase every vestige of his touch from her skin. She still wanted to hate him. He was still off-limits. And damn it, she still wanted to see him squirm.
Today had weakened her position in their face-off.
J.B. was a highly sexual man. When a woman gave him every indication she wanted sex, it was no wonder he had obliged.
Mazie had to live with the knowledge that she had done something extremely foolhardy. Self-destructive even.
Circumstances had saved her from the ultimate humiliation.
She didn’t have to face J.B. as an ex-lover. Thank God for that.
But the unseen damage was worse, perhaps.
Now she knew what it felt like to be in his arms, to hear him whisper her name in a ragged groan that sent shivers of raw pleasure down her spine. Tonight when she climbed into bed, she would remember his hands on her breasts, her bare body, her sex.
How could she think about anything else?
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