Kissing Under The Mistletoe: The Sullivans (Contemporary Romance) (4 page)

“As soon as I decide,” she promised her
friend, “you’ll be one of the first to hear.”

As she moved back onto the set, she turned
her gaze to the side and saw an extremely handsome man who was
watching the shoot. He was wearing a suit, but his dark hair was a
little too long and his five-o’clock shadow looked as if it hadn’t
been touched for half a week, at least. His eyes were interested,
like those of so many others. But something about the way he was
looking at her was slightly different…as if he was looking deeper
than men usually did.

Oh my.

Mary had worked with the best-looking men in
the world, but none of them had ever made her feel this shock of
attraction. Especially not with just one look.

The suit, frankly, looked all wrong on him.
And not just because it needed better quality fabric in the hands
of a top-notch tailor. Something told her that well-worn jeans and
a favorite long-sleeved shirt would have accented the man’s rugged
sensuality much better.

“That’s perfect, Mary,” Gerry called out to
her. “Your look of longing is exactly right. Hold steady with it
while I get some shots from the other side.”

She’d been so lost in the beautiful
stranger’s eyes that she hadn’t realized Gerry had started shooting
again.

It wasn’t like her to be caught off guard
while working. She was known for her focus and stamina. And,
sometimes, if people were being disrespectful to her or the crew on
a shoot, her Italian temper would be revealed. Since she always
gave her best, she didn’t think it was too much to ask others to do
the same.

Longing.
That’s what
Gerry called this feeling inside her chest. And perhaps he was
right.

Mary had been a virgin when she left Italy at
nineteen and, with her mother’s voice continuing to ring loudly in
the back of her head, she’d been careful not to let anyone take
advantage of her innocence, either personally or professionally. At
twenty-one, she’d truly believed she was in love with her first
lover and that he felt the same about her. Too late, she’d realized
he was simply in love with her glossy image. He was always gone
before the morning light brought bed head and morning breath. Then,
when she’d been hit with an awful flu and he wouldn’t come anywhere
near her, she’d had to finally accept the truth that he only
appreciated her when she was the “perfect” version of Mary
Ferrer.

She’d been more careful with her next
boyfriend, and the one after that. She’d made certain they had
plenty of occasions to see the real her. And yet, as each
relationship progressed and then eventually fizzled, she couldn’t
help but feel that they had all expected so much more from her than
from other women. She wondered if she would ever be able to live up
to the idealized image men had of her from all her magazine and
newspaper photos.

But it was her last relationship that had
taught her the most. Romain Bollinger owned the finest watch
company in the world. She had been hired to promote his important
new line of Swiss watches, and though she’d always been careful not
to mix business with pleasure, he was persistent—and
charming—enough that she became his lover, as well. However, when
the ad men decided the next phase of advertising for the
ultra-important brand would be better served in the future by a
woman ten years Mary’s junior, Romain agreed with them by replacing
Mary not only in his ads…but in his bed, as well.

That’s when she learned that he had wanted
her not for herself, but for her value to his company, both in his
campaign and on his arm at parties. When her value disappeared, so
did any pretense of affection. She’d been determined to finish out
her contract, and that final week of photo shoots with Romain
hovering over her harshly critiquing every pose and expression had
been excruciating.

As she’d walked out of Romain’s Geneva
penthouse for the very last time after finding him in bed with her
young replacement, she’d sworn that she would never give up her
freedom for anything but true love.

Now thirty-two, and still nowhere close to
finding true love, Mary was all but certain her “freedom” would
last forever.

But as the stranger’s eyes remained locked on
hers while she held his gaze so that Gerry could get the shot he
wanted, a shiver went through her that had nothing to do with the
cool December air rushing over her skin.

Mistaking the reason for her shiver, Gerry
called out to one of the crew to turn up the portable heaters on
set.

For the next couple of hours, she continued
to pose. Strangers came and went all around Union Square, but the
beautiful stranger remained exactly where he was. Perhaps she
should have been wary from his interest, but he didn’t look
alarming in any way.

He simply looked like a man who was
interested in a woman.

Maybe,
she thought as
Gerry finished shooting his final roll of film and the gorgeous
stranger walked toward her,
today wouldn’t be an
end, but the beginning of something new and amazing.

As the sun set behind the buildings in Union
Square, the temperature immediately dropped by several degrees.
Normally, once they called a wrap, Mary would have rushed back to
her dressing room trailer to warm up with a cup of tea but, despite
her shivers, she headed toward the man to meet him as he walked
directly toward her.

Instead of simply holding out his hand and
introducing himself, he took off his jacket and draped it over her
shoulders. If another man had done this, it would have felt
presumptuous, but Mary sensed that he was genuinely concerned for
her having been out in the cold for so many hours.

His jacket, so big that it swamped her slim
frame, smelled like clean, warm male. She wanted to burrow deeper
into it, but instead she held it closed across her chest with one
chilled hand while holding the other out to him. “I’m Mary. Mary
Ferrer.”

“It’s been a pleasure watching you work,
Mary. I’m Jack Sullivan.”

Despite having stood outside in the cold for
the past several hours without any lights or portable heaters
nearby, when his fingers closed over hers, they were warm. Even in
her heels, she had to tilt her head to look up at his face and
figured he was at least three inches above six feet. His shoulders
were broad, his hips trim, and his hand over hers was large and
strong.

“Could I take you for a cup of coffee or
something to eat? You’ve been working so hard, I expect you’re
starved.” He grinned and said, “I know a place not far from here
that’s got the best cherry pie you’ve ever tasted.”

She couldn’t have contained her pleasure even
if she’d tried. “I love cherry pie.” She gestured at her dress and
heels. “I just need to get out of this outfit first and thank the
photographer and his crew.”

“Take your time. I’ll wait here.”

She started to take off his jacket, but he
put his hands over hers where she was holding the lapels. “Keep the
jacket. You can give it back to me once you've changed.”

Every time he touched her, she lost her
breath. And as she moved to where Gerry and his crew were packing
things up, her hands were still tingling from the brush of his
fingers over hers.

Making sure not to rush her goodbyes, Mary
hugged each member of the crew. “Thank you so much for making my
last shoot one of my very best.”

Hugs and kisses came from people she’d worked
with countless times over the past thirteen years. What she’d miss
most about modeling wasn’t seeing her face on magazine covers, but
not seeing the family of photographers and lighting technicians and
stylists she’d grown to love so much.

Gerry held her the longest. “I know you’re
ready to move on, Mary, but I’m going to keep holding out hope that
we’re going to do this again. Soon.”

Her eyes were damp when she finally stepped
into her trailer to strip out of the red velvet dress and put it
back on the soft hanger. By the time she’d slipped off the
beautiful heels and pulled on her jeans, along with a turtleneck
and a loose sweater that floated over her curves, excitement—and
heady anticipation—was moving through her.

Okay, so it was just coffee and pie with a
gorgeous man, but some of the greatest things started from
something small, didn’t they? And hadn’t the last big change in her
life—thirteen years ago—happened over a cup of coffee with
Randy?

Mary didn’t waste any more time checking her
appearance before opening the trailer door and walking back toward
Jack. She even liked the sound of his name.

Jack Sullivan.

His dark eyes were intense as he held her
gaze, and she felt every inch of her skin come alive.

“You’ve been standing in the cold for hours,”
she said as she held out his jacket. “You should really have this
back now.”

But instead of taking it, he asked, “Where’s
your coat?”

“It was surprisingly warm this morning when I
came on set and since I figured I’d be heading straight back home
in a taxi after the shoot, I didn’t bother to bring one.”

He took his jacket from her, but only to
slide it back over her shoulders again. “It looks better on
you.”

He put his hand on the small of her back, and
even through all of the fabric she could feel how warm he was.

They didn’t speak as they walked the couple
of short blocks to the diner, but it wasn’t an uncomfortable
silence. On the contrary, Mary couldn’t remember the last time
she’d felt so immediately at ease with someone. And yet, at the
same time, her skin felt just a little too sensitive, her lips
fuller and tingly, her breath coming faster, even though they were
on one of the rare flat streets in the hilly city.

When Jack held the door for her, Mary took
note of the small gesture with pleasure. She was all for women’s
liberation, especially considering she’d been earning her own way
for more than a decade, but she couldn’t see why it had to mean the
loss of common courtesy.

The gray-haired woman behind the counter
greeted Jack like an old friend and eyed Mary with obvious
interest. “Two pieces of cherry pie, warm, with big fat scoops of
ice cream on top?”

Mary smiled at the woman, who reminded her of
her mother’s friends back in Italy. Everything that needed to be
said could always be said with food. Warm pies, cold ices and fresh
baked bread all spoke loudly of love as well as words ever
could.

“That would be lovely, thank you,” she said
as she slid onto the shiny red seat in a corner booth. “And some
coffee, as well, please.”

“I’ll take some java, too, Betty.” Jack
waited until Mary had taken off his jacket before saying, “I’ve
never seen a model at work before. It was fascinating.”

Long ago she’d learned how to accept a
compliment graciously, something she thought was at least as
important as knowing how to take constructive criticism. “Thank
you. Gerry, the photographer, is wonderful to work with. He makes
the process as easy as possible for all of us.”

Betty brought over their slices of pie, the
ice cream already melting down the edges of the thick crust and
warm cherries. But it was the coffee that Mary went for first to
warm her cold hands. She held on to it for a moment and enjoyed the
heat against her palms before taking a sip.

“How long have you been modeling?”

At the beginning of her career, fame had been
tremendously fun and heady for a young girl from a small Italian
village. As the years went by, however, it had become more and more
invasive. And surprisingly lonely, even with people constantly
around her. It was rare that she met anyone who didn’t know who she
was.

“Ever since I left Italy when I was
nineteen.” She didn’t see a point in hiding her age, so she added,
“That was thirteen years ago.”

His eyebrows raised in surprise. “We’re the
same age.” He gave her one of his devastating grins that made her
heart beat faster. “The years are another thing you wear better
than I do.”

“If you ask me,” she murmured, “they look
pretty good on you, too.”

Mary couldn’t remember the last time she’d
flirted with a man. She was always so careful not to lead anyone
on, just in case he thought she was feeling something she wasn’t.
But the attraction that had simmered between the two of them in
Union Square was heating up with every moment they spent
together.

“Where in Italy?”

“A little town nobody has ever heard of
called Rosciano.”

“I imagine your life over the past thirteen
years has been very different from how you grew up.”

“Well, I had hoped it would be.” Feeling that
had come out wrong, she clarified, “I had a great childhood, but I
desperately wanted to see more of the world. San Francisco is one
of my favorite places, which is why I’ve decided to stay for a
while. This city certainly isn’t small, but it still reminds me of
my old town in a lot of ways. The hills. The water nearby. How
friendly the people are.”

Mary had been interviewed dozens of times
over the years, by some of the best journalists in the business.
But none of them had ever looked at her with such honest interest.
Because even when they’d been friendly with each other, she’d only
been a job to them. Mary had worked so much during her adult years
that she’d always met the men she dated on the job.

She was extremely glad that Jack had nothing
whatsoever to do with her career. It made her feel even more
convinced that something might actually be possible with him. She
wasn’t a product for him. She wasn’t connected to his bottom
line.

She was simply a woman getting to know
him.

“Did your brothers or sisters leave the
country, too?”

“Unlike most Italian families, I was an only
child. My mother—” She paused and tried not to betray the emotion
that always came over her when she spoke of her mother, but she
could already hear the little bit of an Italian accent that always
slipped into her voice when she spoke of home and her childhood.
“She always longed for more children, but her prayers weren’t
answered.”