Kissing Under The Mistletoe (The Sullivans #10)(69)

A beat before he reached her, she leaped on him, wrapping her arms and legs around him. He responded by lowering her to the soft carpet…and kissing her senseless.

An hour later, when the movers came, they were fully dressed again and giddy as two naughty children who had gotten away with sneaking into the cookie jar. Mary directed the placement of the furniture while Jack supervised the unpacking of his home office so that it very closely resembled the old garage he and his partners had worked out of for so long.

After the movers left, Mary and Jack walked hand in hand out through the French doors to the backyard. He gathered her against his chest. “One day, I’m going to build a tree house with our children in that big oak.”

She leaned her head against his shoulder as she looked up at the sky through the leaves. “And we can have Sunday lunch under the shade of the branches, just like my mother used to put on every weekend when I was a child.”

It no longer hurt to think about Italy, and Jack loved to hear her tell stories in Italian as he became more and more fluent in her native language. But though she’d loved rediscovering her childhood town during Christmas, she knew she was exactly where she was supposed to be.

Mary Sullivan was finally home.

February

Jack had been making Valentine’s Day plans for weeks. As soon as Mary woke, there would not only be dozens of roses waiting for her in every room of the house, but he’d also have a plate of piping-hot heart-shaped pancakes ready to serve to her in bed. They’d follow that up with a leisurely boat trip up the Bay into San Francisco, where they’d have dinner at a swanky restaurant and then close out the night dancing.

He was going to give her a perfect—and memorable—Valentine’s Day.

Jack was wrist deep in pancake batter when the phone rang. He quickly snatched it up before it could wake Mary. Five minutes later, he was cursing as he hung up. Somehow the roses he’d ordered had been delivered to the wrong house, and the woman who’d received them had been so overjoyed that her husband had begged the delivery guy to pretend he’d brought them to the right house. The florist promised to bring Mary’s roses soon…that was, if they could locate another supply of them.

A beat later, the rain that had been threatening all night long started coming down, along with a harsh wind. So much for the romantic boat ride. Neither of them would enjoy turning green around the gills.

Okay, so he’d make sure to serve her the best pancakes in the world, and then he’d improvise the rest.

Fifteen minutes and a dozen inedible pancakes later—why the heck wouldn’t the darned batter cooperate?—Mary walked into the kitchen.

Her eyes went wide at the unexpected—and enormous—mess. “Jack, if you were hungry, you could have woken me up to make you pancakes.”

“I was going to surprise you with breakfast in bed for Valentine’s Day.” He pulled one of the awful things from the frying pan and held it up.

His wife always took his breath away, but never more than when she was gazing at him with such love in her eyes.

“Oh, Jack, they’re shaped like hearts. That’s so sweet.”

Frustration at all of his grand plans giving way to disaster had him blurting out in full detail just how wrong the morning—and his plans for the rest of the day—had already gone.

Mary threw back her head and laughed. “What a spectacular mess.”

Though he was just starting to see the humor in it himself, he needed her to know the truth. “This was supposed to be the most romantic day of your life.”

Still laughing, she drew him close. “Roses and heart-shaped pancakes and boat rides are all wonderful, and I love the care and thought that you put into today, but do you want to know what I find really romantic?”

He could never think straight when she was in his arms, and it took all the focus he could muster up to answer, “Tell me, Angel.”

“First, there’s the way you bring me coffee in the morning.”

He reminded her, “It’s cold before you can even take your first sip because I can’t keep my hands off you long enough to let you drink it hot.”

“See what I mean? Very romantic,” she said as she nuzzled closer. “And then there’s the way you always give me the best seat at the movies and have them douse the popcorn with butter and salt because you know it’s my favorite guilty pleasure…apart from you.” She gently brushed his hair out of his eyes. “I love the way you always hold my hand when we go for a walk, and how you look at me like you can’t believe I’m yours. And then there’s the fact that every single day we’ve spent together has been the most romantic day of my life.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.” She went up on her tiptoes to kiss him, and a breath before her lips met his, she whispered, “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

March

Sales of the Pocket Planner had been spectacular during the Christmas holiday and had kept climbing from there. While the press was still interested in Mary and Jack’s fairy-tale love story, lately they’d been even more interested in what his next brilliant invention would be.

Mary loved watching his brain work as he focused intently in his office. Despite his heavy workload, he’d been a wonderfully devoted husband. Still, in the past two months she’d learned that a little seduction could be a very valuable way to help Jack’s synapses click back into gear when he got stuck on a problem.