by Bella Andre
Jack’s thoughts were brought back to the present as his gaze was caught by movement at the entrance to the church, where the little girl from across the street was waving at him from the doorway. As their flower girl, she stood proudly in a pretty white dress with a heaping basket of poinsettia flower petals in her sturdy little hands.
Again and again throughout the week, Jack had caught himself dreaming of the children he and Mary would have. Her mother had made him a photo album of Mary’s childhood photos, from birth until she’d left to pursue modeling, and he could so clearly see himself lifting a little girl in his arms who looked just like her mother.
Everyone in the church was dressed in their best clothes, with holly decorating the ends of every pew. He knew the children must be counting down the hours until Christmas Eve and when they could open the packages under their Christmas trees. But, considering all the excitement, they were an extremely well-behaved bunch.
Just then, Jack’s brother Ethan walked in through the side door with a huge grin on his face. Jack had called his family to let them know about the wedding, and though he hadn’t expected any of them to be able to make it to Italy on such short notice, as luck would have it, Ethan had already been in London and promised to make the trip to Italy to support Jack at his wedding. True to form, Jack thought with a matching grin, Ethan had squeaked in just under the wire.
Mendelssohn’s “Wedding March” rang out loudly from the organ high above the pews, and Jack instantly turned his focus back to the front doors of the church.
The flower girl skipped down the aisle tossing petals from her basket, and then everyone gasped with awe as Mary appeared on her father’s arm.
Everyone and everything but Mary and the soul-deep love he felt for her fell away. Wonder wove through him as she slowly came up the petal-strewn aisle on her father’s arm.
She was impossibly beautiful in her wedding dress, a dark-haired angel in lace and silk. Even through her veil, he could see all the love she felt in her eyes as she smiled at him, her joy a living thing. She was wearing a crown made of bright green leaves and berries, and as he worked to recover his senses, it took him a few beats longer than it should have to realize it was a crown of mistletoe.
I love you, Angel. I’ll always love you.
He knew he didn’t need to say the words aloud for her to hear them pass from his heart to hers.
At the final pew, Mary’s father pressed a kiss to her cheek, but she never took her eyes from Jack’s. Moving down the few steps that separated them, Jack held out a hand for his bride, and when she took it, instead of drawing her up to where the priest was waiting for them, he couldn’t stop himself from lifting her hand to his lips.
A moment later her arms were around his neck, and her mouth was soft against his in a promise of love that had nothing to do with priests or wedding gowns. They’d come so far, from their first kiss under the mistletoe when they were two strangers drawn to each other, to this beautiful day when they would make vows of forever.
Everyone was waiting to hear those vows, but Jack decided they could wait a little while longer as he pulled her flush against him and deepened the kiss. When they finally drew back from each other with bright eyes and flushed faces to take their places before the priest, the crowd was quite happily scandalized.
As Jack held both her hands in his, the priest led them through the traditional ceremony that they had learned during the past few days of matrimonio classes when the priest had prepared them for their marriage and the vows they would make to each other. Jack drank in every breath, every tremble, every flush of heat across Mary’s soft skin.
Taking the simple gold wedding band from the intricately stitched pillow the priest held in his hands, Jack slid it onto Mary’s ring finger. “Tu sei tutto per me, la luce dei miei occhi, sei mia per sempre.” She was his entire world, the heart of his heart.
When two tears slid down her cheeks and he gently reached out to wipe them away, she pressed her face to his palm in a gesture of boundless trust.
“All my life I dreamed of adventure, and I thought all of my dreams had already come true,” Mary said softly as she slid the gold band she’d had made for him onto his ring finger. “But then I found you and realized you were the dream I had been waiting for all my life. Ti amo dal profondo del cuore e non vedo l’ora di cominciare quest’avventura con te, amore mio.” Everyone in the church sighed as they heard her tell him that she loved him with all of her heart and soul…and that she couldn’t wait to take this adventure with him.
They were already kissing to seal their vows by the time the priest declared them husband and wife, and as applause rang through the centuries-old church, Jack knew that theirs was a love that would transcend time.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Mary and Jack’s wedding reception was a glorious blur of music and laughter and hugs and dancing and bites of cake…and dozens upon dozens of stolen kisses from her new husband that made her lips tingle and her heart race with joy. Throughout the celebration, Jack almost never let go of Mary’s hand, and as the sun fell lower in the sky, his gaze grew more heated and full of love every time she looked in wonder at the man who had just become her husband.
Jack was beyond gorgeous in his dark suit and tie, and Mary couldn’t blame every woman at her wedding—even the married ones—from drinking him in with clear appreciation. He’d remembered to shave this morning, but his jaw was already covered with a dark shadow.
When she’d seen him waiting for her at the altar, her legs had nearly given out on her, and she’d had to cling to her father’s arm for support. A moment later, she’d wanted to pick up her skirts and run to him so that she could throw herself into his arms.
Now, as they stood surrounded by everyone in her hometown, and he moved his hand to the small of her back to lightly stroke across the curve of her hips through her wedding dress, she wanted badly to tangle her hands in his hair and yank his tie off and kiss him until they were both breathless.
Mary Sullivan. Love had given her not only a new name…but a new future, as well. Sullivans were determined and focused, loving and supportive. It was exactly right that she should embark on her new future as a Sullivan, and that the children they hoped to have in the near future would grow up knowing they were loved and supported, no matter what.
Mary had been very glad that Jack’s brother Ethan had been able to come to support Jack as they’d made their vows, even if he was an irrepressible flirt who would leave more than one broken heart behind in Italy when he headed back to London the following day. After a lifetime as an only child, she couldn’t believe how blessed she was now to have a sister and four brothers, and she couldn’t wait to finally meet his parents as their newest daughter-in-law.
With Jack’s hand in hers and the love of the friends she’d grown up with in every smile and hug and handshake, Mary worked to push away her impatience to be alone with him. This celebration was extremely important to her mother and father. Surely she could continue to smile and chat with everyone for another few hours without counting down every single second until she could be alone with Jack again.
Taking a deep breath, she made certain her smile remained firmly in place as one of her old friends from school began to walk toward them. But before her friend was even halfway across the reception hall, Jack lifted Mary into his arms.
Only by sheer force of will did she stop herself from laughing out loud. Her husband—oh, wasn’t that a beautiful word?—didn’t stop to speak with anyone, didn’t say any more thank-you’s or nice-to-meet-you’s, just carried her through the reception hall, out the front door and down the steps to the cobblestone street below.
“I was hoping you’d run out of patience soon,” she confessed as he practically ran down the street toward the small inn where they’d be spending their first night together as husband and wife. Holding on even tighter to him, she buried her face in the crook of his neck. He smelled like spice and heat and the man she could
n’t live without.
During the ceremony, she’d loved how sweet and gentle he’d been. Tonight, she loved his demanding passion as he slid the old key into the lock and roughly opened the door, kicking it shut behind them.
Despite the need she could feel rumbling through every inch of her husband, he lowered her feet to the ground with infinite care. Every inch of her body that pressed against his ached for more.
“This is the most beautiful dress I’ve ever seen,” he told her in a voice made raw with emotion. “The only reason I’m not going to rip it off you tonight is so that our daughter can wear it one day.”
“I’ve gotten much better with a needle and thread this week. I can stitch it back together.”
His eyes flared with heat, but instead of tearing the fabric from her in one swift move, he gently turned her in his arms so that her back was to him. The brush of his fingertips across her spine and shoulders as he lifted her dark hair away from the long row of small pearl buttons made her shiver.
He slid one of the buttons free. “Beautiful.” Another two came loose, and he leaned forward to press his lips to the small patch of skin he’d just bared. “Sei bellissima.”
Mary’s breath stuttered in her chest as he worked his way down the row of buttons with steady hands that also teased and caressed. How, she wondered, was she ever going to make it through his wedding night seduction in one piece?
Finally—finally!—he slid the bodice of her dress off over her shoulders, and his large, strong hands stroked her muscles, cherishing every inch of her skin.
Needing more, needing everything, Mary shifted her torso and arms so that the dress slipped all the way down to her waist. Groaning against the curve of her neck, Jack’s hands immediately slid around to cup her breasts. Arching her head against his shoulder, she turned her face so that their mouths could meet in a heated kiss. Her breasts felt heavy and sensitive against his fingertips until—thank God—he was turning her in his arms again with his hands on her hips and dropping his head to her chest to take first one peak, and then the other, into his mouth. Wild, sweet love poured from husband to wife and wife to husband as she arched closer.
Even as his lips worked magic over her breasts, his deft fingertips made short work of the rest of the pearl buttons at her hips, and moments later the beautiful silk and lace wedding gown was pooled at her feet.
“Were you—” He ran his hands over her bare hips and then the delicate white garters that held up her silk stockings. He was clearly stunned—and extremely aroused—at the realization that she hadn’t been wearing any panties beneath her wedding dress. “You didn’t—”
Though they wouldn’t be opening their gifts for each other until the following day, Mary had wanted to give herself to Jack as an early present. “Merry Christmas.”
He dragged her hard against him at the same moment that he crushed his mouth to hers. And then they were falling back onto the bed, and his mouth and hands were seemingly everywhere at once.
Loving words spilled from their lips in a mixture of English and Italian.
“I adore you.”
“Ti amo.”
“You’re mine.”
They’d shared their first kiss under the mistletoe. Wearing only the tiara of mistletoe leaves and berries, Mary reached for Jack and drew him tightly against her as they came together for the first time as husband and wife.
* * *
When she woke cradled in his arms hours later, there was a small wrapped box on her pillow. Outside the curtains, moonlight streamed in over them, and the cold winter breeze rustled the leaves on the lemon and orange trees in the courtyard beyond their private suite.
Jack shifted them so that the pillows were behind her as he handed her the box. “You gave me your gift earlier, now it’s time for me to give you mine.” When she tore at the paper, he laughed and said, “So I was right—that is how you open presents.”
Mary lifted the top from the box and, when she saw his gift, the tears she’d barely managed to hold at bay all day finally spilled down her cheeks. Lifting the delicate Christmas ornament out of the box, she marveled at the workmanship and artistry that had gone into creating the porcelain angel.
“That day in the diner, when you called me Angel for the first time—” She looked up at him through the tears that clung to her eyelashes. “I was already yours.”
“And I was yours.”
The clock in the square struck midnight as they reached for each other again to start the first new day as husband and wife with heat, passion…and unconditional love.
A love that would last forever.
Epilogue
January
Mary laughed out loud as Jack swung her up into his strong arms on the sidewalk in front of their new home in Palo Alto, a suburb thirty minutes south of the city and five minutes to his new office building in the heart of Silicon Valley. She wound her arms around his neck and marveled, for what had to be the thousandth time, that he was really hers.
“Our new neighbors are probably looking out from behind their curtains wondering about the crazy new couple on the block.”
“Crazy in love,” he said, before really giving the neighbors something to talk about by kissing her passionately.
Breathless by the time he lifted his mouth from hers, it took her a few moments to realize he was carrying her up the front walk. He took the key from her and unlocked the door.
“Ready to move in, Mrs. Sullivan?”
Lord, how she loved him…and it thrilled her to pieces every time she realized she was now a Sullivan, too.
This time she was the one kissing him in full sight of the neighborhood before replying, “Take me home, Jack.”
Her heart filled with joy as he carried her over the threshold and into the living room. Slowly, he put her down, making sure her curves slid against his hard muscles in as many places as possible.
“When are the movers coming?” she asked in a voice made husky with the need that just grew stronger every day they were together.
“In an hour.”
She was already pulling his shirt up as she said, “That’s plenty of time to christen our house properly.”
Jack’s hands got just as busy stripping off her clothes and they were both nearly naked when he remembered to lock the front door and draw the drapes. As he moved back across the room to her, yet again, Mary was struck by his incredible male beauty. Every time she saw his broad shoulders, rippling abdominal muscles and long, strong legs, she lost a little more of her self-control.
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.”