The Naughty List

by Donna Kauffman

  Officer Piner—Larry—had his notebook out. “If something wasn’t taken, then it seems like this was a personal attack against you.”

  Jonas forgot about Daniel and hurried to her side.

  “Does anyone have a grudge against you, Ms. Tate?” Larry asked.

  Her brows rose.

  “Did you fight with anyone recently?” Larry’s partner asked. He was a young guy with blond hair and ruddy cheeks.

  Christie’s gaze darted to Jonas. “There was an…incident the other night. Right after the office Christmas party.”

  Daniel pushed closer. “What kind of incident?”

  Her hand rose and caught the edge of her Christmas tree necklace. She pulled on the bottom of the tree, stretching the thin gold chain. Her gaze went back to Larry. “A situation with my ex became a bit heated.”

  “What?” Daniel demanded. “Was Charles causing trouble? I knew I should have fired—”

  “Does this Charles have a last name?” Larry interrupted.

  “Charles Crenshaw.” She dropped the necklace. It fell back into the lush cradle of her breasts. “But he wouldn’t do this. He’s an accountant, for goodness sake. He wouldn’t—”

  “Take a swing at a cop because he was jealous that you were with another man?” Jonas offered quietly. “I think you’re underestimating the accountant.”

  Her lips thinned.

  “I think so, too,” Larry murmured. “And I think we’re gonna be wanting to have a talk with Mr. Crenshaw.” He glanced at Daniel. “Is there any way he could have gained access to this building without being on the security camera downstairs?”

  Before Christie had arrived, Larry had gone with Jonas to view those tapes. And they hadn’t seen anyone. Only Jamie, the security guard. No one else had entered the building or left. Not until Daniel came by a little after seven.

  Daniel frowned. “The cameras rotate. I guess…if you knew the timing, you might be able to avoid ’em, but there’s still Jamie.”

  “Who didn’t see anyone.” Larry shut his notebook.

  “Maybe we’re looking at the time all wrong on this,” Jonas said quietly. They’d only gone back over the day’s footage. “Maybe the attack didn’t happen today. Maybe it happened after the party.”

  When everyone was leaving. Too much activity. Too many people.

  Sure, the computer would have made noise when it was smashed, but he’d seen for himself just how deserted this area of the building had been that night. All of the action had been in the common areas. No one would’ve even heard the crash.

  And there’d only been a few people left hanging around after Santa had finished all his deliveries.

  He slanted a hard glance at Daniel. “Why’d you come to her office?”

  “I wanted a printout on the projected development of Rover.”

  Right. Rover the Robot.

  “I thought I’d show the info to Dad tonight. Figured he’d get a kick out of it. He loves Christie’s designs.”

  Jonas nodded. “So if you hadn’t come by, no one would have even noticed the destruction until after Christmas.” What a hell of a present for Christie to return to. Maybe that was what the asshole wanted.

  “I’ll be needing Mr. Crenshaw’s address,” Larry said quietly.

  “And I’ll be coming with you to talk with the jerk.” Jonas shook his head. “I knew I should have let that dumbass spend a night in jail.”

  Christie shook her head. “Look, Charles might have been angry, but he wouldn’t do this. He backed off, remember? He knows things are over between us. Hell, he’s already seeing someone else. Vicki Jasper. They’ll probably get married one day and have little accounting babies.” She sucked in a deep breath. “He’s not the kind of guy who would destroy my office.”

  “Then who would?” Jonas asked, stepping close, catching her scent and wanting to touch her so badly that he ached. “Who else would do this? Who else would want to hurt you?”

  If she’d give him a name, he’d get busy tearing the bastard apart.

  Her gaze held his. “No one. I can’t think…no one.”

  But someone was out there. Someone who had a grudge against her. Someone who was going to pay.

  And Charles Crenshaw was at the top of his list.

  Jonas didn’t go back to her parents’ house with her. Her parents saved dinner for her and Daniel, had kept their guests waiting so they could all eat together.

  Her father was furious about her office, and he kept tossing out threats left and right. Her mother seemed worried, her voice quiet and concerned as she asked questions.

  And Daniel—well, he still seemed pissed.

  There was an extra seat at the table. An obviously empty seat. She’d asked her mother to make room for Jonas, and Clara had. Room that wasn’t needed.

  “Christie, dear, what happened to your friend?” her mom finally asked in her soft, southern drawl, just as they were beginning the second course. Maybe her mom was trying to take the focus off the vandalism. Maybe she was simply curious. Clara was known for her curiosity—ahem, nosiness—as much as for the slew of beauty pageant wins she’d racked up as a younger woman.

  Christie’s hold on her knife tightened. “Jonas is working on the investigation about the incident tonight.” Incident sounded nice and vague. She really didn’t want her aunts, uncles, and assorted cousins knowing that her office had been trashed, quite possibly by an ex-lover.

  “Jonas?” Her mother repeated and a smile stretched her lips. “Oh, well, he’ll get to the bottom of this and—”

  “No, mom.” A long sigh came from Daniel. “What Christie means is that Jonas can’t be here because he’s working the case.”

  “Such a shame,” her mother said, still obviously missing the point. “I invite him every year and he never—”

  “Jonas was my date,” Christie interrupted, figuring it would be best to just break in with the news.

  “Your date?” her mother repeated. Then her smile widened and her blue eyes gleamed. “Oh, finally, you’re picking an interesting man!”

  Yes, she was. Her gaze shifted to her father. She knew he’d heard everything.

  He stared back at her. “You know what you’re doing?”

  She nodded.

  He picked up his fork. “I always rather liked Jonas.”

  What?

  Her father aimed his fork at Daniel. “You like him, too, so don’t be glaring at me, boy.”

  “He’s dating Christie.”

  Her father glanced her way once more. “Then that makes him one lucky man.”

  Christie swallowed. “Thanks, Dad.”

  “I learned my lesson with you years ago, sweetheart.” A grin edged his mouth. “You weren’t ever really interested in that Benjamin, were you?”

  She shook her head.

  “Sometimes love can make a man do crazy things.” He dove into his plate, came back up, and said, “But my girl is damn smart, and if she’s chosen to be with Jonas, then that’s fine by me.”

  Daniel hung his head. “He is a lucky bastard.”

  She thought about Jonas’s past. No, he wasn’t lucky. She was the one who’d had all the luck.

  Daniel happened to look at her then. His eyes narrowed on her face. “Christie?”

  People talked around them. Her mother turned away, chatting with a cousin. Daniel scooted toward her. “You…know, don’t you?” he asked.

  She still hadn’t managed to take a bite of food. She let her fork drop. “Know what?” Jonas’s secrets were his. Not her place to tell them.

  “I’ll be damned.” Daniel’s eyes swept her face. “He told you.”

  No, I already knew.

  “As far as I know, he’s never told anyone but me,” he said.

  Her temper began to boil. It had really been one hell of a night. The break-in. The fight between Jonas and Daniel. Finding out her ex might be gunning for her. “He told you because he trusts you, Daniel. You’re friends, remember? Even if you’re acting
like a jerk, he still sees you as his friend.”

  His gaze held hers. “I’m sorry,” he said softly, slowly.

  “Don’t tell me,” she muttered. “Tell him.”

  The doorbell rang then. A long, echoing peal of sound, and Christie couldn’t help it—her heart started to race.

  Then a few moments later, Jonas walked into the room, and her heart nearly jumped out of her chest. His hair was swept back, and the leather coat stretched across his shoulders. He stopped when he saw the packed table. The spread of food. All those relatives.

  She stood up, shoving her chair back. “Jonas!” She couldn’t stop the wide smile that lifted her lips.

  He smiled back at her. A hesitant curl of his mouth that made the man look even sexier.

  Daniel rose, too. “Come on over here, man,” he called over the din of voices. “We’ve got you a seat waiting.” Daniel’s hand squeezed Christie’s shoulder.

  Her brother really could be a good man. He just sold himself short too much.

  Jonas came around the table, his steps a bit slow. The bulge of his weapon was gone. He’d been armed when he met her at Tate Toys. He’d been a cop then. Now, he was coming to dinner just as a man. Her date. Christie took his hand and pulled him down beside her.

  Just sex? Who was she kidding?

  “Glad to see you, Jonas,” her mother told him, flashing her dimpled smile.

  “Son, we’ve got plenty to eat,” her dad said, waving his hand over the table.

  Jonas blinked and shot her a questioning glance.

  She caught his hand beneath the table. “It’s Christmas,” she told him. “And you’ve been welcome here with my family for years.” But finally, finally, he’d come to celebrate with them.

  His fingers tightened around hers.

  She had to swallow the lump that rose in her throat. Daniel leaned forward and said bluntly, “Sorry for being a dick.”

  To which her mother immediately shouted, “Oh, Lord, language! Don’t let Grandma Addie hear that kind of talk!”

  “Too late!” came Addie’s ninety-three-year-old cackle, because she loved that kind of talk. Her husband of seventy years had been a sailor.

  When Daniel winced, Jonas laughed. His head tilted back, and a deep rumble of laughter shook his chest.

  Christie stared at him, speechless, lost. So lost—in him.

  Right then, she knew exactly what she wanted for the holidays. Not just sex. Not fleeting pleasure. Him.

  Too bad she couldn’t have what she wanted.

  Jonas followed her home. Kept her taillights in sight at all times. Kept her in his mind.

  They hadn’t been able to find the ex. Jonas had gone with the cops to Charles Crenshaw’s house, but he hadn’t been there. According to a neighbor, Crenshaw left town yesterday. An annual trip back to see his parents at Christmas.

  So the guy could have trashed the office Friday night, then—calm as you please—driven to Cincinnati to see his family.

  But Jonas didn’t like the whole damn situation, and until he got a better handle on just what the hell was happening, he planned to stay close to Christie. Not that staying close was any kind of hardship.

  She pulled into her driveway and the garage door began to open. He followed her, aware that the routine seemed way too comfortable and easy. Like I’m coming home.

  Bullshit, of course. Her place wasn’t his home. Not even close. His home was the barren apartment over on Bentley. The place that hadn’t even sported a Christmas tree until noon. He’d picked the thing up during lunch. He’d been worried Christie would come to his place and, well, hell, the woman loved Christmas. He’d needed the tree for her.

  He climbed out of his car and slammed the door. Christie waited for him by the doorway, a warm smile on her lips. The same smile she’d given him at her parents’ place, the smile that made him feel like he’d taken a punch in the gut.

  For that sweet curve of her lips, he’d gladly take a hit.

  He hurried to her, aware of the grind of the garage door as it lurched back down. His gloved fingers slid down her cheek. Her dress was driving him crazy.

  Christie laughed lightly and turned away. She unlocked the door and walked inside—

  Then she froze. The lights in the den and kitchen blazed cheerfully, but Christie wasn’t moving.

  “Christie?”

  “I turned that light off when I left.” Her hand pointed to the kitchen.

  Shit. He shoved her behind him. “Get in your car. Pull out onto the street. Lock the doors and stay there.” He took a step forward.

  Christie grabbed his hand. “What are you doing?”

  He had his phone out. “Calling for backup.” And checking the place out. He threw her a hard stare. “Go, Christie. Now.” He didn’t want her around any danger.

  Her delicate jaw tightened. “Be careful, Jonas.”

  “Always, baby.”

  She slipped outside, and he got ready to hunt.

  7

  Her house hadn’t been trashed. As far as she’d been able to tell in those brief moments before she fled, nothing had been taken, just like nothing had been taken from her office. But Christie knew someone had been inside her place. She always turned the kitchen light off when she left. Always.

  Someone had been there and turned it back on.

  She could tell by the way the uniforms on the scene were eyeing her that they didn’t necessarily believe her story.

  When Jonas came back to her side, she straightened away from her car, hugging the coat tightly to her. “Do you think it’s Charles? Is he really trying to—”

  “Charles is in Cincinnati.”

  “Since when?”

  “Nine a.m. I got a trooper who owes me a favor up there to check in on your ex. I didn’t think you wanted me to mention it at the party with all those people there, but”—Jonas shook his head—“Crenshaw’s not our guy.”

  Someone else out there wanted to scare her? Why?

  “I want you to come home with me tonight,” Jonas told her. “Let the uniforms keep searching here.”

  “Do you think they’ll find anything?” Someone had broken into my house. The goose bumps on her arms weren’t just from the cold. Fear had lodged inside her.

  His lips thinned. “Doubt it.”

  “Someone was here, Jonas.” She wasn’t crazy. She was more than a little obsessive compulsive, and she always turned out that kitchen light when she left.

  “I believe you, that’s why I want you with me. Until I find out what’s happening here, I want to make absolutely certain you’re safe.”

  She could be safe at her parents’. At Daniel’s. If she went with Jonas, she’d be getting a lot more than just safety.

  That was exactly what she wanted. “Okay, but can I get some clothes first?”

  His gaze raked her, hot in the cold air. “I’ll take care of that for you.”

  She licked wind-dry lips. “What’s happening, Jonas?” She didn’t mean between them. The situation between them was way out of control. “Why is someone doing this to me?”

  He opened the car door and ushered her inside. “I’m gonna find out, baby.”

  “This isn’t your case.” No dead bodies—thank God—no need for him to be here. “Daniel might have called you in before, but you don’t have to work this.”

  “You’ve involved.” His eyes glittered. “That means I’m involved, and I’m not backing off until I find out what’s happening.”

  Her hands tightened around the steering wheel. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.” Things had spiraled out of control. “It’s all gotten so complicated,” she whispered and caught the narrowing of his eyes.

  “Baby, sex is complicated.”

  With him, it was. Complicated and hot and wild and what she needed right then to banish the cold that snaked through her. In my house. Why?

  “Keep the vehicle running and stay warm. Harris over there”—he nodded to a cop standing near a patrol car—“
will keep an eye on you until I get back.”

  She grabbed his hand. “You really think I need someone to watch me every minute?”

  His stare bored into her. “I need him there.” The faint lines around his eyes seemed deeper. “It takes someone damn ballsy to walk right into your house. Whoever this dick is, he’s not getting close to you again.”

  This wasn’t the way her Christmas should have turned out. When she’d made her wish, she’d just wanted—

  He kissed her. She expected a hard, fierce kiss. Instead, it was the gentlest whisper of lips. “I’m the only one getting close to you.”

  Then he was gone.

  And she wanted him back. Close again. As close as she could get him.

  She’d never been to his apartment before. Christie wasn’t sure what she’d expected, but the relaxed feel of the place suited Jonas.

  She liked the overstuffed couch—the couch that faced the flat-screen TV. The overflowing bookshelf wasn’t a surprise. She’d known Jonas loved to read.

  But she didn’t expect the tree.

  A small Christmas tree, wilting a bit, stood in the corner of his den. Some gold garland—like the garland she’d seen at the station—had been tossed around the tree. No presents were under the tree. No tree skirt. No, um, water that she could tell. It wasn’t an artificial tree, so it really needed some water.

  Jonas came up behind her. “It’s a piece of shit, isn’t it?”

  Despite the tension that had been riding her, Christie found herself laughing. “No, I think it’s gorgeous.” She’d always been a Charlie Brown tree fan. “But, Jonas,” she turned in his arms, “you might want to consider watering it. If you want the tree to live until Christmas.”

  His cheeks stained a bit. “Figured I forgot something.” He shook his head. “I knew if I didn’t get a tree, you’d—”