Kissing Under The Mistletoe: The Sullivans (Contemporary Romance) (8 page)

Had Mary been affected by their kiss in the
same way?

And was there any way he could have felt that
much if she hadn’t felt it, too?

The first drops of rain came from out of
nowhere. Within seconds, they were falling hard and fast. Jack was
searching for an overhanging awning when he realized Mary was
staring up at the sky as the rain poured down on her. And there was
a big smile on her stunning face.

“I was eleven years old when
Singin’ in the Rain
made it to Italy,” she said as she
let go of his arm to reach for a lamppost and swing around it,
humming the title tune from the film. “It’s still one of my
favorite movies.”

Jack had seen Mary as a supermodel, he’d seen
her as a businesswoman, and now he saw her as she must have been as
a young girl. Full of wonder from something as simple as an
unexpected rainstorm, her long, dark hair wet and slicked back,
drops of water falling from her eyelashes to her cheeks, her full
lips catching drops of rain just moments before she licked them off
with the tip of her tongue.

Once upon a time he’d loved to play in the
rain, but over the years, as he’d focused more and more on his
invention—with only the occasional break for a fast car or a pretty
woman—he’d lost sight of those pleasures.

After everyone else ran for cover, Jack and
Mary were the only two people left on the sidewalk. It felt, for a
moment, as if the city was entirely theirs.

He reached out his hand for her again. “Dance
with me.”

She immediately turned into his arms as if
she’d been waiting for him to ask. They might not be Gene Kelly and
Debbie Reynolds, but neither of them cared as they danced. No other
woman had felt so right in his arms, and none had laughed with such
joy in them, either.

“No one has ever danced with me in the rain
before.” Mary had the same look of soft surprise in her eyes as she
had after their kiss under the mistletoe.

“‘This California dew is just a little
heavier than usual tonight.’”

“You’ve seen the movie?” She looked delighted
by the discovery that he knew it well enough to quote from the
scene right before Don Lockwood went out to sing and dance in the
rain.

“My mother was a big fan.” And, boy, was he
glad that she’d taken him to the theater as a ten-year-old boy and
made him watch it. In retrospect, the dance lessons hadn’t been a
bad idea, either.

Jack had meant it when he’d told her he was
going to try to respect Mary’s wishes to keep things professional
between them until they were done working together. But as they
stood together in the rain, kissing her again was inevitable. They
were both leaning in toward each other when the rain abruptly
stopped falling and dozens of people suddenly emerged from the
overhangs and bumped the two of them apart.

“I’m just around the corner.” Mary pointed to
a building a few yards away. When they got to the bottom step, she
immediately offered, “Why don’t you come in and warm up with a cup
of coffee?”

Jack badly wanted to spend more time with
her, but he couldn’t live with himself if he wasn’t completely
honest with her. “There’s nothing I’d like more, Mary. But you have
to know, I can’t stop thinking about that kiss in the bar…or how
much I want another one.”

He wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d
taken back her invitation at that point. Instead, her gaze dropped
to his lips, and he knew she was being just as honest when she
said, “Me, too.” Tearing her eyes from his mouth, she shook her
head. “Coffee. We’re just going to have coffee.” She softened the
blow with a smile, then led them up the stairs.

Both of them were wet from the rain, and he
had a sudden flash of making love with her in a warm rain, skin
slick from the heat of their bodies, her damp hand sliding into
his, that beautiful smile on her face as he kissed every inch of
her until she was begging for him to take her.

Jack was surprised to hear several young
female voices when Mary opened the door and stepped aside to let
him in. She explained in a low voice, “I’m an informal den mother
to several young models while they’re working in San Francisco.
It’s a very exciting and sometimes scary lifestyle to be thrown
into, especially for girls who may never have left home before now.
Basically, I promise their mothers that I’ll make sure they eat
enough, don’t date indiscriminately, and put on something warm when
they go out.”

He’d seen how much she’d loved holding the
toddler who had rushed onto the set the previous afternoon. With an
amused shake of her head, she picked up a stray scarf and hat
belonging to one of her modeling charges. She would, he thought
now, be an amazing mother one day. Loving but without holding on
too tightly. Strict but fair.

Jack’s brother Max had a toddler with another
on the way, but Jack had never thought about becoming a parent
himself. Not, he was stunned to realize, until this very
moment.

“Mary, you’re soaked!” Janeen was a beautiful
twenty-year-old blonde model with legs that went on forever. Her
eyes widened even further when she saw Jack standing behind Mary.
“Well, hello there.” The girl’s voice had immediately dropped into
a husky register as she slunk forward and thrust her hand into
Jack’s. “I’m Janeen.”

More than a little disgusted with herself for
feeling any jealousy at all where Jack and the girls were
concerned, Mary went to grab a couple of dry towels from the linen
closet while her housemates finished introducing themselves. By the
time she returned to the large, open-plan living and kitchen area,
they had Jack in a captive circle of their youth and beauty.

In her experience, even the nicest man
couldn’t resist three pretty girls fawning over him, so it wouldn’t
have been fair for Mary to expect Jack to not look at them with
some appreciation, at the very least. But when she said, “Why don’t
I trade you this towel for your coat?” and Yvette boldly stepped
forward to help him peel it off, Mary couldn’t see even one trace
of lust on his face for the stunning redhead. Only laughter when
the wet fabric caught on his watch clasp.

At least until he turned his gaze back to
Mary and took the towel she was offering. She’d also taken off her
jacket and was standing in front of him in her wet wrap dress. Just
that quickly, the desire in his eyes was back.

But only for
her.

“Jack is the engineer and inventor I was
telling you girls about last night,” Mary explained.

“Mary is
so
lucky to
get to work with you,” Susan said with a seductive toss of her
curly black hair.

“My partners and I are the lucky ones.” He
wiped his hair and face with the towel. In unison, the three young
models all sighed over his gorgeously rumpled good looks.

Well, Mary thought as she barely held back
her own sigh of appreciation, could she blame them? Jack really was
that gorgeous, especially with his button-down shirt and slacks
damp and clinging to his well-developed muscles. Clearly, he must
not spend all of his time working.

People always asked Mary about her life
because she was a celebrity, but she was just as interested in
theirs. Journalist, waitress, mother, photographer, bus driver—they
all had interesting stories to tell. What, she wondered, was the
rest of Jack’s story? She guessed he was close to his family from
what he’d told her at the diner, and she knew he was devoted to his
work. But neither of those things explained the slight air of
danger—and risk—that he wore so easily. He hadn’t been at all
intimidated by the bigwigs in the boardroom.

“If you need any other models for your
campaign,” Yvette offered with her most alluring smile, “you know
where to find us.”

Feeling as if she’d accidentally dropped Jack
straight into a shark tank, Mary stepped into the fray by gesturing
to the three sets of sparkly heels on the wood-planked floor.
“Looks like you have a big Friday night out planned?”

Janeen nodded, then looked back at Jack with
a hopeful expression. “It’s a new club Yvette heard about from the
photographer on her shoot today. You two should come with us.”

“I’m all danced out,” Jack said with a grin
for Mary that brought back every wonderful moment of their
impromptu dance in the rain. “But thank you.”

Mary watched Susan shoot the other girls a
pointed glance. When Janeen and Yvette didn’t immediately
understand, Susan did the world’s most obvious pantomime of Jack
and Mary being a couple that included a heart drawn in the air and
kissy motions with her lips.

“Oh,” Yvette said as she looked between them.
“Of course, you two don’t want to go dancing with us.”

Janeen chimed in with, “We should probably
let you two be alone now, shouldn’t we?”

What could Mary do but laugh as she turned on
the kitchen tap? “I’m making coffee if you want some before you
head out on the town.”

But the girls were now a blur as they
strapped on their shoes, grabbed their coats and sparkly purses and
headed for the door. “Thanks, Mary, but our dates have already been
waiting for us for a while.”

Dates?

Mary followed them to the front door and
caught them as they flitted down the front steps. “Be careful, and
call me if you need anything. It doesn’t matter how late, I’ll come
and bring you home.” Reminding herself that they were young, but
that each of them had a good head on her shoulders, she added, “And
have fun.”

A taxi immediately skidded to a stop for the
three long-legged beauties and they blew her kisses as they got
inside. “You, too!” Yvette called out before tucking her feet into
the cab and closing the door.

Jack was laying both of their jackets over
the radiator when Mary returned. She’d chosen the house not only
for its views, but because she loved how big and open the rooms
felt. Even with four people living in it, she never felt cramped.
In fact, on nights like this when the girls went out, rather than
appreciate the quiet, she often found herself counting the minutes
until they returned with their noise and laughter and
exuberance.

She’d made it sound to Jack as if she was
looking after them, but the truth was they looked after her,
too.

“Sorry about all of that. It can be a bit of
a circus around here sometimes, especially on Friday nights.”

Jack was the first man she’d invited inside
her house since moving in a month earlier. Seeing him looking so
right
in the midst of all the feminine
disarray sent her thoughts into a different kind of disarray. What
had she been doing before she’d rushed to see the girls off?
Thankfully, the half-filled boiler of her moka pot beside the sink
provided a clue.

Still feeling flustered as she went back to
filling the boiler and then setting it on low heat on the stovetop,
she decided to face the situation head-on. “I hope they didn’t make
you uncomfortable. Especially,” she added with a small laugh, “with
all their flirting.”

He laughed as he pulled up a seat at the bar.
“They were charming, although I can see that they could certainly
be a handful. I sometimes had trouble keeping a class of
engineering undergrads from rioting in the middle of a lecture when
I was a teaching assistant. My hat is off to you for taking on
three energetic young women.”

She was still amazed that he hadn’t drooled
over them the way men always did, especially when they’d been
practically throwing themselves into his big, strong arms.

“Oh, we’ve had a riot or two around here in
the past month,” Mary informed him as she inserted the funnel in
the boiler, then filled it with espresso beans she had ground that
morning. “Especially the night they were all fighting over the same
worthless guy. I ended up banning all social activities for the
rest of the week.” As she spoke she continued with the coffee
preparations by screwing on the top container and watching as the
coffee began to appear. “Of course, the girls are also a tremendous
amount of fun.” Seeing that half the coffee had brewed already, she
turned off the heat.

“I’ve never seen that kind of coffeepot. Is
it from Italy?”

She nodded. “It’s called a moka pot.” She
spelled out the word for him.

“Whenever you speak about Italy, your accent
comes through.” His eyes were warm as he said to her, “Tell me
about the country you were born in so I can hear it some more.”

She was a grown woman of thirty-two, not a
naive teenage girl anymore. So how did Jack manage to make her
blush so easily and so often?

“Much like the United States, Italy is a
place with many different colors and textures. The golden ruins of
Rome. The checkered Duomo of Florence. The canals and opulence of
Venice.”

“It sounds wonderful.”

“It is,” she agreed. “And if you’re not
careful,” she added with a laugh, “I’ll end up regaling you with
stories of Italy like a travel agent all night long.”

“I’d like that,” he said, and then,
“Especially if they're stories about your hometown.”

As always, just thinking about Rosciano sent
feelings of conflict moving through her. On the one hand, she loved
it like no other place on Earth.

On the other, it was where her heart had been
broken for the very first time by the person who had mattered most
to her.

“On warm summer evenings, the teenage girls
flirt with the boys out by the fountain in the middle of the
square.” She smiled as she told Jack, “Girls learn early in my town
how to walk in heels on cobblestone streets without tripping. And
once that flirting turns into something more, every couple in town
marries in our church. As a little girl I would watch the beautiful
women in their handmade wedding gowns. My mother made those gowns,
and I used to help her even though I wasn't nearly as good a
seamstress as she was.” Making herself focus on the other memories
that were coming at her one after the other, she told him, “I used
to love to watch the mustard grass bloom in the spring, the grapes
growing plump in the summer, the vineyards turning color in the
autumn. And Christmas was a time for celebration like none I’ve
ever seen anywhere else.”