Under the Mistletoe

Under the Mistletoe

Jill Shalvis

NEW YORK   BOSTON

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Table of Contents

An Excerpt from
It Had To Be You

An Excerpt from
The Sweetest Thing

Also by Jill Shalvis

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Copyright Page

All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher is unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained by contacting the publisher at [email protected]. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

To my readers, happy holidays!

Contents

Title Page
Welcome
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
About The Author
Also by Jill Shalvis
A Preview of “It Had to Be You”
A Preview of “The Sweetest Thing”
Don’t miss Jill Shalvis’s bestselling Lucky Harbor series.
Newsletters
Copyright

Chapter 1

H
olding on to her hat, Mia ran along the streets on her killer four-inch red heels, her matching red skirt ruffling in the breeze. Late. She was late.

It was the story of her life.

“Hey, Mrs. Claus!” a construction worker yelled. “I need some holiday spirit! Come on, mama, bring it over here!”

This was accompanied by the hoots and hollers of the guy’s coworkers.

Mia flipped them off and kept running in tune to their raucous laughter. She might not be New York born or bred, but she’d learned to fit in just fine.

“Wow, are you real?” a little kid asked in marvel a block later, taking in her costume. “Is Santa real?”

“Yes!” she told him, and kept running.

Except if there’d really been a Santa Claus, she’d have happily crawled onto his lap and whispered her greatest wish—to be picked. For her softball team, for her internship, for a relationship, it didn’t matter. Getting picked meant everything to her, but somehow, she always ended up doing the picking.

Finally, she skidded into the restaurant and stopped to catch her breath, smoothing down her Mrs. Claus outfit. She had a change of clothes in her bag; she just needed to get to the ladies’ room. Whirling to do just that, she plowed right into a warm, hard body.

Nick.

Her first reaction was embarrassment at her costume. Granted, she’d just made two hundred bucks serving drinks at a corporate Christmas party, but she’d hoped to get into her cute little black dress before Nick caught sight of her.

And then there was her second reaction, which was
wow
, because he looked heart-stoppingly great tonight.

“You’re thinking so hard your hair’s smoking,” he said, his voice low and sexy. Teasing.

Mia reached out to touch her hair, but Nick caught her hand in his and smiled. “Like the look,” he said. “Is it for me?”

“No!” But she smiled back at him because it was impossible not to react to Nick. “I have my date night LBD in my bag.
That’s
for you.”

He took her hands and spread them out at her sides, studying the skimpy Mrs. Claus costume. “Mmm, I’m happy to settle for this.” His sun-kissed hair was the same color as the aged whiskey in the bottle on the bar behind him, and matched his eyes as well. He’d come right from work. His tie was loosened, his shirt sleeves shoved up past his deliciously corded forearms. His yummy build came from daily runs and long summers working as a manual laborer for tuition money.

But it wasn’t his looks that stopped Mia’s heart.

“Love that smile,” he murmured.

That.
It was that way he had of making her feel like the prettiest woman in the world. She had it bad for him, and knew it.

The hostess seated them before she could change. Each table held a flickering candle and a sprig of mistletoe. Nick picked the mistletoe up, held it over Mia’s head, and then leaned in for a kiss. He squeezed her hand, his callused thumb slowly gliding over her palm. She’d never considered her palm a particularly sensual spot before, but his touch altered her breathing and made her shiver.

Or maybe that was just him.

His eyes darkened as he pulled back. “Hmm,” he said, his voice like sex on a stick. “I definitely want to know what you’re thinking now.”

“It’s you,” she blurted out. “You have the most amazing eyes.”

He brought her hand up to his mouth and nipped the pad of her thumb. “And just think, my eyes aren’t even my best part.”

She laughed. “And as I’ve seen all your parts, I’m in a position of authority to verify this as fact.”

“Maybe you should re-verify later. Just to make sure,” he said, flashing her a panty-melting grin.

Mia knew she could get lost in him.
Had
gotten lost in him. But she didn’t want to get distracted by his sexiness, not tonight. She’d come here with a plan. She was giving him his Christmas present early, which was a flight to her aunt Chloe’s Christmas Eve wedding. It would mean flying across the country on a whim and meeting the people who meant the most to her.

Nick was good with whims, and she was excited at the prospect of spending the holiday with him. But she held back, waiting, because this was a beautiful, expensive restaurant that they’d talked about but had never been to. It was intimate, and exquisitely decorated for the holidays, and she hoped that maybe Nick had a surprise of his own up his sleeve.

They’d been dating for six months, through her graduating NYU with a BA in psychology and Nick working his very fine butt off studying and passing the bar exam. Mia had gotten into graduate school and was currently halfway through her first year, and Nick was working around the clock to make a name for himself and reduce his monumental college debt—which was currently rivaling the size of the national deficit. So his restaurant choice had to mean something.

Was tonight the night he’d finally use the L-word?

Her heart picked up at the thought because
that
would be a most
excellent
Christmas present. But whatever his plans, Nick seemed in no hurry. He ordered appetizers, teased her about what she might have on beneath the Mrs. Claus outfit, and coaxed the details of her day out of her.

They ordered wine, and he touched his glass to hers, his eyes warm. “To a night like last night…,” he said silkily.

Last night had involved the secluded, deserted—and thankfully enclosed—rooftop patio of his five-story walk-up, where he’d loosened her inhibitions with slow, steady hands and an incredibly talented mouth, until she’d begged him to take her.

He’d acquiesced, twice. Just the memory made her go damp. “It’s supposed to rain tonight,” she said, her voice all Marilyn Monroe whispery, giving her away.

His smile was as slow and steady as his hands, and bad-boy wicked. He didn’t care about the rain.

“You’re wearing your new clothes,” she pointed out. “You’ll ruin them.”

He shrugged. After a lifetime of not having money, he never seemed to put much importance into possessions. In fact, he’d applied to work at a nonprofit law office providing restorative justice across the country. He wanted to try to save the kids who’d made some bad choices and needed help. If he got the job, he’d be traveling far and wide, and she’d lose him. She’d known this.

She’d fallen for him anyway.

Helplessly.

The question was still the same—had
he fallen as well
? They’d both been given up at birth, but Mia had been adopted by a wonderful couple who’d become mom and dad to her. Nick hadn’t been as lucky, and didn’t feel the same need for ties that she did. He was a lone wolf.

She, on the other hand, had been born to be part of a pack.

Nick leaned in close and kissed her just beneath her ear. “Have you ever had sex in the rain, Mia?”

Her breath caught, and there was a lot more tingling in places that had no business tingling in a restaurant. “Is sex all you think about?”

“No. But I think about it a lot. With you.” He flicked her earlobe with his tongue, and somehow all the bones in her body liquefied.

“Are guys really that much of a slave to their libido?” she managed.

“It’s the testosterone. A guy’d follow his girl all the way to Siberia if he thought it might get him laid. Barefoot. Uphill in the snow, both ways.”

She laughed, and he smiled. “Love the sound of your laugh,” he said. “You don’t do it enough.”