Stealing Christmas

by W. Lynn Chantale

  He leaned over, his large hand holding down the curling papers. “This looks like my report from middle school. This wasn’t a huge secret. Anyone in my history class or with a library card could’ve found this.” He studied the pages, tears glistening in his eyes. “I can’t believe Granddad kept this all this time.”

  “He was very proud of you, Jake. Jerry must have told me a hundred times how much he was looking forward to seeing you for the holidays and working with you again.”

  “I was supposed to visit the bakery that weekend.” He sat on the stool next to her, lowering his head.

  She covered his hand with hers, but he made a tight fist. “He was excited about seeing you, that you were coming home,” she said. “I was in the office when you called him.” She squeezed his hand. “Jerry knew you loved him.”

  “I just wish I knew why he was at the bakery so late that night.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Jake shook his head. “It’s not your fault. You did exactly what he asked you to do.”

  She stared at the pages, hoping the answer would magically appear. “Why did you come back?”

  He tucked a tendril behind her ear. “I wasn’t happy with contracts and estate planning or taxes.” He met and held her gaze. “And I missed the bakery.”

  She searched his face, waiting for him to say more, a wave of disappointment washed over her when he didn’t. “Maybe we should call it a night.”

  “You’re right.” He stood drawing her to her feet. Their gazes collided.

  She stared into his eyes, lost is the misty orbs. He caressed her cheek before drifting his fingers through her hair. How many times had she admired him since he’d been back? Stepping closer, she savored the warmth of his body.

  Tingles zipped up her skin as his fingertips skimmed her arms. Attraction swirled and enveloped like a lazy fog. She pressed her palms to his chest. It would be so easy to give in to the magnetic pull between them. The clock chimed breaking the mood.

  He cleared his throat. “I’ll take the couch. Fresh sheets are on the bed and you have your own private bathroom.”

  “Thank you, Jake.”

  He slid his hands around her waist. “Anytime.”

  ****

  Sara stared at the popcorn ceiling. She should be asleep, but thoughts of Jake circled through her mind. Pulling the pillow from behind her head, she inhaled his clean woodsy scent. The whole room smelled like him. She stretched in his bed, with one thin wall separating them. She knew that his kisses tasted like warm promises, and when she was in his arms they were the only two people in the room. But what would it feel like if he made love to her? Would his hands knead her body like dough or would his touch be gentler? She rolled over. Would he even want to make love to her?

  ****

  Jake lay on the lumpy foldout. He had wanted to take Sara to dinner ever since he returned to Flint. She’d asked him why he came back. Yeah, his practice had flourished and prospered, but he had no one to share his success with, and his grandfather mentioning Sara every time he phoned didn’t help.

  Ah, Sara. A smile quirked his lips. How could he forget a woman like that? When she was around he envisioned hot, steamy nights and satin sheets. Most nights he lay awake wondering what her smooth chocolate skin tasted like or how he wanted to stroke every lush, curvy inch of her.

  But six years was a long time to keep a torch burning for anyone, and yet, when he saw her at the funeral seven weeks ago, it was as if he never left. At first he thought her attention was only because his grandfather had passed, but the more he worked with her, the more he realized he sensed attraction from her. Kissing her beneath the mistletoe confirmed his suspicions. She tasted as good as she looked, like sin and temptation. Now she slept in his bed...alone. He shifted on the mattress for the umpteenth time looking for the sweet spot before giving up. He wasn’t going to get any sleep, not with the lumpy mattress or his torturous thoughts.

  His grandfather’s murder and Sara’s mugging couldn’t be a coincidence. Even though those events were weeks apart. But tonight, first she’s attacked and then her house broken into. The similarities just didn’t make any sense, unless.... He threw the covers back, thankful for an excuse to get out of bed.

  He went to the counter finding the documents Sara brought with her and turned on the dim light over the counter. Just bright enough to read by. He skimmed the pages, looking for something he’d seen earlier in the margins. He flipped a page, the rustling paper loud in the silence. The day he discovered the vault in the basement had been a modern day treasure hunt at thirteen. Anything could have been inside those hundreds of safety deposit boxes.

  His grandfather even opened a few of them for his history paper. Jake hadn’t been disappointed. The owner of the boxes had long since passed and his grandfather had been shrewd enough to cover the legalities. The contents of the boxes were the property of the business and now his and Sara’s.

  He glanced at the digital clock on the stove. Since he was up he might as well check out the store.

  ****

  Sara heard movement in the next room and sat up. Maybe Jake would enjoy some company. She certainly wouldn’t mind talking to him. Anything to take her mind off being in his bed...without him.

  She walked to the door and pulled it open. He stood just on the other side, his fisted hand poised to knock.

  “You’re awake,” he said.

  “I am.”

  He lowered his eyes to her nightshirt, the thin material stretched tight across her breasts and stopped mid-thigh.

  “I, uh…” He snapped his gaze to her face. “I never knew you had such great legs.”

  Heat stole into her cheeks at the compliment and Sara tugged at the hem of her nightshirt. “Thanks. I should go put some clothes on.” She stepped back in the room, but he grabbed her hand. “Jake?”

  He drew her against him molding the soft curves of her breasts to his muscular chest. She gasped, desire puckered her nipples and pooled between her thighs. He ran his fingers through her hair before stroking her cheek. “I’ve dreamed of this since I came back, Sara.”

  She shivered when he ran his hands the length of her spine before drifting them over her hips.

  “Every day I find it harder and harder to work with you and not touch you the way I long to.”

  She ducked her head, stepped backward and ran into the arms circling her waist. He pressed a finger under her chin until she raised her head. She studied his luscious lips before staring into his smoldering gray eyes. “We can’t.”

  “Why not?” He gathered the material of her shirt, inching it up her thighs. Her heart raced.

  “We work together.” She had to stop his hands. Only a matter of moments before he realized she wasn’t wearing any panties.

  “We’re partners,” he lifted her shirt a little higher and she stepped closer, her lips parting in anticipation of his kiss. “Equal partners.” He captured her gaze, issuing a challenge, daring her to stop him. He tugged a little higher.

  Cool air raced across her hot skin adding to the delicious shivers whispering down her spine. Only a little more and he would know all her secrets, including how much she wanted him. He brought his mouth to hers and Sara forgot about her shirt. She rose on tiptoe pressing closer, until the rhythm of his heartbeat against her breast, until she breathed the very air he did. It would be so easy to give in. She wanted to explore every inch of his body. He trailed his fingers up her thigh sweeping them along her hip, the cotton no longer a barrier to his hand.

  Sara stepped back when air skittered across her most intimate parts. She tugged her shirt back in place, trying to regain her composure. Gazing in his eyes, she found the same heat staring back at her. A long moment passed before she drifted into his arms. He wasted no time kissing her. He nudged her back, stepping with her until they tumbled on the lumpy sofa bed in a tangle of limbs and lips.

  He lifted his head, peering into her eyes as his fingers danced across her thigh. “Are y
ou sure?”

  Was she sure? She stared into his eyes, catching a spark of something other than lust that gave her pause. Something that told her this encounter would be more than just a onetime fling. Was she ready for that? With a sigh, she shifted out from beneath him. Maybe not. “I think I should get dressed.” Even as the words left her mouth, her body raged in disappointment.

  Jake nodded. He sighed and rolled onto his back, dropping a forearm over his face.

  She sat up, the carpet soft beneath her toes. “I’m normally not this impulsive.” She dropped her head in her hands, tunneling her fingers through her hair until she tugged on the ends. “I’m sorry, Jake.” She tensed when he rested his hand on her shoulder.

  “Look at me.”

  She shook her head. “I can’t.”

  “Look at me, sweetheart.”

  The gentle endearment made her turn. No condemnation filled his eyes. In fact, Sara saw respect and another emotion that skittered away before she could decipher it.

  He drew her into his arms and held her. “At least one of us had the sense to put on the brakes.”

  She chuckled and moved closer, savoring his warmth. “I don’t know about that, but I think I should go put some clothes on to avoid further temptation.”

  “Whatever you wear, or don’t wear wouldn’t keep you from tempting me.”

  She sighed. “Just when I think things can’t get any better you say something like that.”

  He chuckled, drew her back down to his arms, and tugged the blankets over them. “I promise to keep my hands to myself, but I can’t sleep with you in the next room.”

  “Really?”

  He nodded, smoothing her hair back before resting his chin on her forehead. “Yes. Knowing you’re in the other room and not being able to touch you is torture.”

  She frowned. “This mattress is torture. I don’t see how you could sleep at all.”

  He laughed. “Shh. I’m not moving. I’m comfortable.”

  She snuggled closer and closed her eyes. “If I wake up sore, I’m blaming you.”

  “Fair deal. Now go to sleep.”

  Sara was almost asleep when Jake jerked and sprang to sitting. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “I know which boxes Granddad planned to open.”

  “How?” She sat up pushing her hair from her face.

  He kicked the covers back with his feet. “In my report. The boxes Granddad opened for me when I was a kid. That’s how he knew which ones to open each year.” Jake stood. “Get dressed. We’re going back to the bakery to find what’s in four of twelve.”

  Chapter Five

  An icy blanket of white covered the world. Undisturbed snow stretched along the road before them, glittering like diamonds in the pale moonlight. Sara swiveled her head toward the passenger side window. Only their tire tracks marred the perfection of the night. Jake handled the roads as if he were driving on dry pavement.

  “So what’s in the box?” She shifted in her seat.

  “In my paper I wrote about a man who placed a gift to his bride in one of the boxes. It was for her wedding and Christmas gift. The bride passed away before he could give her the present. He died of a broken heart and no one ever claimed his box.”

  “How tragic.”

  “Yeah. Whatever it is, it’s supposed to be priceless.”

  “I wonder what he intended to give her.”

  “Who knows? I only added the story to make my word count.”

  Jake touched the brakes and the car slid askew. Sara gripped the dash, tensing while he fought with the wheel. Finally the vehicle straightened and continued down the slick ice-covered road.

  She waited a beat. “You think Jerry was looking for the gift?”

  “I have no doubt. Probably wanted to show me the story about the bride’s gift was true,” Jake responded.

  “That’s why Jerry was at the bakery that night.”

  “Unfortunately, I think it was.”

  They parked in front of the shop. The streets were quiet and deserted. Sara looked around, shivering in the cold. The snow lay undisturbed, except for some cat and dog paw tracks. She closed her car door, surveying the winter wonderland as Jake walked to the front of the shop. The few vehicles still in the area sat beneath several inches of snow.

  He glanced back at her. Icy air clipped his words. “Who closed tonight?”

  “Tori and Marty. Why? Is something wrong?”

  “The cases still have pastries in them.” He pointed at the displays through the window, then at the wall. “Looks like one of the revolvers is missing.”

  A chill walked down her spine. She snapped her gaze to Jake. He pivoted and sprinted to the back of the building. Sara hurried after him and they rounded the corner together. Snow had long since filled in any lingering footprints.

  “You don’t think someone took the revolver do you?”

  Jake shrugged. “I just want to make sure no one is hurt and find out which of our valued employees is stealing from us.”

  She handed him her keys. “You think my Santa Stalker is one of them? They haven’t done anything. I mean, what motive would they have?”

  Jake slipped the key into the lock. “I don’t know, but what I do know is, we have missing antiques, a stolen revolver and my grandfather is dead.”

  The door squealed on its hinges and they entered the chilly bakery. A steady beep-beep-beep rang through the silence.

  “So you really think you can find where Jerry left off?”

  Jake punched his code into the keypad and the beeping went quiet. “Yes.” He flipped a nearby light switch. Dim light illuminated the room, leaving the rest of the shop shrouded in shadows. Jake shrugged out of his coat, then turned and helped Sara with hers. She winced when she stretched her left arm too far.

  “You okay?”

  She nodded. “Yeah. When the guy yanked my purse earlier, he about took my arm off.”

  He tugged back the collar of her shirt.

  “Hey!”

  A sheepish grin appeared and he dropped his hand to his side. “Just making sure. I can see a bruise.” He carefully touched a cold finger against the sore area near her collarbone, tracing a fingertip to where the spot disappeared in her shirt.

  Despite the tenderness, her pulse raced at the caress. She locked her eyes to his. “Are you trying to pick up where we left off?”

  Jake combed his hand through her hair, letting the curls flow through his fingers. Her breath hitched. “After we check the boxes,” he promised.

  He stepped away and headed for the basement. Sara followed him down the stairs. Neither of them bothered to turn on the lights until they reached the bottom. Cardamom, ginger, vanilla, and cinnamon dominated the cool air as they stepped off the last riser. Silver storage racks winked in the dim security light. Jake walked to the fuse box, flipped a switch, and the ancient fluorescent tubes hummed and flickered to life. She trailed him into the vault. The threadbare maroon-gold-and-green carpet muffled their footsteps. Jake retrieved a set of keys from a small locked box.

  He glanced around before walking to a wall of smaller boxes, and then bent to examine the row of larger ones near the bottom. He counted four from the corner and faced her. Excitement danced in his eyes. “This is it!”

  “Well, open it.” She held her breath, bouncing up and down.

  Jake wiggled the key back and forth before the lock turned and the door swung open. He slid the wide green box from its berth and set it on the only chair in the room. He glanced at her. “We’ll find out why Granddad was here that night.”

  She squeezed his shoulder. “I’m here for you.”

  Jake inhaled and patted her hand before turning back to the box. Sara held her breath as he lifted the lid. He plucked a wine-colored bag out of the box and worked the knot in the gold braided strings while Sara inspected the remaining contents. Scattered sepia-toned photos lay inside, along with some curled, yellowed papers. A sheet of stamps in protective plastic as well as some co
ins lay strewn across the bottom. But what drew her attention, was a plain business envelope, too modern to match anything else in the metal container. She’d just peeled back the flap when Jake gasped. She looked up and her jaw dropped.

  “Ohmigosh,” she exclaimed. “Is that real?”

  He offered her the jewelry, his hands trembling. “Wow!”

  She exchanged the envelope for the necklace. The diamond was exquisite, flashing and sparkling even in the shallow light. Jake emptied the contents from the envelope as she fingered the delicate platinum chain. A bell chimed in the distance.

  Sara glanced up.

  “Did you hear that?”

  Jake met her eyes. “Hear what?” He went back to the sheet of paper in his hand. “When did Marty start working here?”

  She walked to an antique silver mirror hanging on the wall, a find from a previous box opening, holding the necklace to her throat. “February, I think.” The diamond glowed like a fiery prism against her brown skin. “This piece is breathtaking.”

  Jake feasted on her reflection. “The diamond suits you.” He snapped his chin up, searching the ceiling. “Did you hear something?”

  “I thought I heard something a moment ago.”

  He stuffed the contents of the envelope in his pocket, glancing at her a second time. “That piece really does suit you.”

  With reluctance, Sara handed him the necklace. She bent to retrieve a photo from the floor, gave the faces a cursory glance and then brought it close for inspection. Recognition washed through her at the grainy figure captured on the film. The tattoo barely discernible on the outstretched arm as the fingers curled around a silver candlestick. “Ohmigosh!”

  “What?” he asked.

  She showed him the picture of the tattooed arm. The face was obscured by a hood.

  “We should go,” he urged, taking the picture from her. He shoved the container back in place, turned the lock and stood. “We need to get to the police. “This,” he waved the picture, “is why my grandfather was here that night.” Jake grabbed her hand. “As well as why you received those threatening letters.”

  They raced up the stairs. “Jerry never told me about any of this, Jake.”