They were both breathless when they finally pulled apart. He was hot and hard against her, and it would have been so easy, so good, just to open herself up to him and take him inside. But when he asked, “What else am I thinking?” she knew it would be even better to hold out just a little while longer, until anticipation hit its breaking point.

“You’re wondering what it would feel like if you ran your tongue over the swell of my breasts—” she lightly swept her fingertip over her skin “—from here to here.”

On a growl of assent, he lowered his head to her chest. The warm, wet slide of his tongue across her very sensitive flesh sent thrill bumps running over her skin, and she clutched at his shoulders, trying to bring him even closer. But instead of just licking across her breasts once, he followed the same path back and forth, one time after the next, until she was nearly delirious with need.

“Jack.”

He lifted his head to gaze down at her, his pupils dilated with his own need. “If you can guess my next move right, I’ll give you a special prize.”

Her brain felt fuzzy now, her limbs heavy with desire. Somehow she managed to reply, “I like prizes.” Her hands trembled as, feeling naughtier than ever, she slid them beneath her breasts and cupped them. “You’re thinking of using more than your tongue now, but it’s driving you crazy trying to decide where to taste first.”

“You really must have ESP,” he murmured as he covered her hands with his. And then his tongue was laving an incredibly sensual figure eight around her nipples, coming closer to them with each seductive trip. When he blew lightly over the tightly puckered, damp skin, she couldn’t remember ever feeling this aroused before.

When his lips closed over her nipples. Mary barely remembered in time to tamp down on her moan of pleasure as he used the pads of his thumbs to caress the soft flesh in his hands at the same time.

Teetering on the edge of release already, she gasped, “Is that my prize?”

“No,” he said as he moved down her body to lay one kiss after another onto her overheated skin. “This is.”

His mouth was warm and hungry as he lowered himself between her legs. At the same time that the sensuality of what they were doing together rocked through her, he found her hands with his and slid their fingers together.

If she’d been close to coming apart before, it was the love that he gave her even during the naughtiest sex that sent her hurtling over the edge. Her lungs burned as she tried to gasp in air; her skin was slick with sweat, and her heart was racing as if she’d just sprinted from one end of town to the other.

The intensity of the final San Francisco photo shoot with Jack, combined with the anguish of her father’s phone call, the long red-eye flight to Italy, and then the emotional reunion with her mother and her trip into town, should have left her limp and exhausted. But instead of her climax using up the last of her energy, Mary suddenly felt stronger than she’d ever been.

Tugging on Jack’s hands, she pulled him back up her body, then rolled them over so that he was the one beneath her. Mirroring the kisses he’d given her, she started at his mouth, then moved from his face to his chest, then down lower still, mirroring the way he’d been loving her minutes earlier.

“Angel.”

She ran her tongue over him and his fingers clenched hers as she took, tasted, gave. She loved knowing how close she brought him to the edge, that she could make him lose control with every press of her lips against his hard heat.

But as he effortlessly dragged her back up to spin them again so that his heavy weight was over her once more, she knew the time for teasing, for ratcheting up anticipation to even higher heights, was long past.

She gasped as he slid into her, then lost her breath entirely as she arched to take him deeper. Her name was on his lips, a caressing whisper across her overheated skin in the moonlight that was streaming in through the window.

Her climax spiraled into his, and feeling safe and comforted and cherished with Jack’s hands in hers and his loving eyes dark and intense as he gazed down at her, Mary drank in the perfect beauty of knowing she’d finally come home.

Not just to Rosciano and to her family…but to the most wonderful man in the world.

The first times they’d made love, he’d been her secret lover, then boyfriend. Now, he was her fiancé. In just a few days, she thought in wonder as she put his hands over her heart, he’d be her husband.

She’d been Mary Ferrer for thirty-two years.

She couldn’t wait to be Mary Sullivan for all the rest.

A long while later, just as the first rays of morning light were starting to sneak in through the bedroom window, she slid from beneath Jack’s strong arms, tied her robe on and tiptoed back down the hall to her bedroom. A naughty—and well-pleasured—smile remained on her face all morning as she dived headfirst into putting on the Christmas wedding her mother had always dreamed of.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Mary’s first memories were of sitting on the floor at her mother’s feet, surrounded by what seemed like acres of lace and silk as Lucia transformed them into dreams come true. Her friends had always fantasized about the day Mary’s brilliant seamstress mother would make them their wedding dresses, and before Mary had left Italy, she’d had the pleasure of watching her closest girlfriends walk down the aisle in the beautiful gowns her mother had so lovingly made for them by hand.

At long last, it was her turn.

With her arm around her mother’s waist to keep her steady, Mary walked slowly into the bride’s dressing room in the back corner of the church. Her father had brought over the beautiful wedding dress earlier and had hung it from a strong hook in the middle of the stone wall.

“Sit, Mama.” Mary helped settle her mother into the most comfortable chair, still concerned that she was too weak from her illness to be expending so much energy.

Lucia should have spent the days before the wedding resting, but despite how many times Mary tried to pry the needle and thread from her fingers, she’d never succeeded at getting her to stop. Mary didn’t have her mother’s incredible skill, but she was proficient enough to work on the gown’s lining which no one would see. Together, the two of them had sat by a blazing fire in the living room and worked on her wedding dress, made from combined pieces of her mother’s wedding dress and new fabric to create a style that would be Mary’s alone.

They filled up the hours with stories from the past thirteen years of each other’s lives. Her mother asked her about the various celebrities she’d met, and Mary made sure not to leave out one single glittering detail. Likewise, her mother left no stone unturned in their town, and as old friends and neighbors she’d grown up with came by one after the other to visit, she was amazed by how easy it was to rekindle those relationships, as if she’d only been gone thirteen weeks instead of thirteen years.

And, of course, everyone adored Jack. As Mary and her mother had worked on her dress, Jack and her father had worked on Jack’s Italian language skills. She’d known her fiancé was a brilliant man, but that didn’t make her any less surprised two days later when she walked into the living room and realized he was actually having a conversation in Italian with the little four-year-old girl from across the street who had been sent over with her mama’s panettone, a classic Italian Christmas cake. For a moment, Mary wondered if jet lag had finally gotten a hold of her brain.

Jack’s use of her native language was still halting, of course, and he had to ask the girl to repeat herself a half-dozen times, but from moment to moment the man she loved continued to astound her. The little girl watched with big eyes as Mary moved to his side and kissed him right then and there in the middle of the living room with the cake in his hands and the midday sun streaming in through the window.

That night, when she snuck into his bedroom, she taught him the romantic, sexy phrases her father had left out of his schooling. And as Mary and Jack loved each other, Italian and English endearments fell from their lips in a seamless blend of cultures and backgrounds.

She didn’t realize she was standing and staring at her wedding dress until her mother gently said, “It’s time to put your dress on now, cara.”

Mary could no longer imagine her life without Jack in it, and yet up until this week, past hurts and fears had kept her from being absolutely certain that she could give her entire heart to him. She’d told him that night in his garage full of computers and circuits that she was still waiting for the cracks in her heart to heal, but he’d done so much more than just heal her broken heart.

He’d given her his heart, too.

Joy coursed through her as she undressed and folded the clothes she’d worn to the church in a neat pile. She reached for the beautiful dress she and her mother had made together, and carefully slid it over her head and shoulders. Her mother rose to help her with the dozens of tiny pearl buttons that ran down the length of her spine.

After helping her mother to sit back down, Mary moved in front of the full-length mirror. She’d modeled wedding gowns many times during her career, but they’d only been costumes she’d worn for the camera.

As she gazed at herself in the dress in which she’d promise forever to Jack, Mary finally understood why women spent so much time and money and energy on their wedding gowns.

One day in the future, would her own daughter wear this dress?

As if her mother had read her mind, Lucia said, “You’re a beautiful bride, and you will be an amazing mother.”

“I hope so.” Both she and Jack had agreed they wanted a large family, one full of laughter and love. She could see their family already, little boys full of boundless energy and mischief, little girls that wrapped everyone around their fingers with big eyes and laughter.

Her hands trembling with emotion, Mary reached for her veil, but her mother said, “Not yet. Bring me that box first.”

Mary had wondered if the medium-size box tied up in red-and-gold ribbon had been a wedding gift dropped off here instead of at the reception hall where they’d be later. Now she realized it was a gift from her parents.

Just as she had so many times as a little girl, it was natural for her to sink to her knees in front of her mother as she put the box in her lap.

“Your Jack told me about your first kiss.”

Mary felt her face flush at the potent memory of Jack’s lips against hers in the San Francisco bar, beneath the mistletoe. “From the first moment we met, even though I was frightened by what I felt for him, I think I already knew I would love him. But when he kissed me…”

Her mother’s lips curved up into a soft smile. “When I met your father, he was eighteen and so sure of himself. I was a headstrong fifteen-year-old who couldn’t wait to have a dozen men fall at my feet. It was Christmas Eve, and when we ran into each other in front of the fountain, the kiss he gave me was the best Christmas present I’d ever had.” Lucia put her hand on Mary’s cheek. “Your first kiss with your true love is something you will cherish forever. Your father and I were hoping you would want to wear this for your wedding.”

As Mary carefully removed the top from the box, she truly had no idea what she’d find inside, only that it was meant to remind both her and Jack of their very special first kiss.

What she found atop a layer of red velvet was a beautifully made tiara of mistletoe, the plump white berries woven around bright green leaves in an intricate pattern.

With steady hands, her mother lifted the tiara from the velvet and placed it on Mary’s head. “Today, when your true love kisses you under the mistletoe, it will be forever.”

“I love you, Mama.”

Her mother held her close. “I love you, cara.”

* * *

Jack stood at the front of the beautifully decorated church, his heart pounding hard and fast with anticipation as he looked out at the large crowd. Mary’s hometown had not only welcomed her back with open arms, but they’d thrown their arms around him, as well.