Mary’s heart hammered and the stem of her glass slipped beneath her suddenly clammy fingers. Jack had said he wanted to kiss her, but she’d made it perfectly clear that he’d have to wait until the campaign had wrapped.

But, she asked herself now, what harm could there be in one teeny-tiny little kiss under the mistletoe in a downtown bar in front of his friends?

And wouldn’t it almost be stranger if they didn’t share a playful smooch?

“In that case,” she said slowly as she shifted in her seat to face Jack, “hopefully it will be good luck if we do.”

Any other man would have already claimed his kiss, or at least pressured her to give him one. But Jack wasn’t like any other man. Because, despite the obvious desire she could read in his eyes, he said, “Mary, you don’t have to—”

Oh, but she did.

She leaned closer, but before she could press her lips to his, his mouth found hers.

Their kiss was gentle and sweeter than any she’d shared in recent memory, little more than a split-second brush of mouth against mouth. But, oh, from the sparks that lit off all through her system, it was much, much more than one simple kiss under the mistletoe. Jack’s lips tasted like champagne and she wanted to reach up to thread her fingers through his dark hair and pull him closer so that she could get an even better taste.

Stunned by her strong feelings for a man she’d met less than twenty-four hours ago, Mary instinctively pulled back. In the span of one short kiss, she’d forgotten not only that his partners were sitting at the table with them but that they were in the middle of a crowded bar. As a public figure, she’d long ago learned to be aware of her behavior in public, especially as her fame had grown larger and larger. Over the years she would often find her name and picture in the papers after a night out.

More than a little worried that she was going to do something to embarrass herself soon, she scooted off her seat. “Thank you for the champagne.” She tried to smile at everyone as though everything was fine, but her lips were still tingling from the sweet pressure of Jack’s mouth against hers. “I’m sorry to have to leave already, but I’ll be in touch with the photographer’s information and location for Monday’s shoot by Sunday night at the very latest.”

Larry and Howie were loose enough from the drink now that they gave her one-armed hugs goodbye. Layla also hugged her and whispered, “Thank you again for saving the boys. I don’t know what they would have done without you.”

Jack had gotten up from his seat, too, but instead of saying goodbye, he said, “I’ll take you home.”

Mary was having enough trouble controlling herself around him in a crowded bar. She could only imagine how little self-control she’d be able to muster up if they went to a more private location. Besides, at this point she desperately needed a cool and breezy walk back to her place to help clear her mind, a walk that was long enough for her to systematically rewind through each of the reasons why getting involved with Jack now—when their promotional campaign had barely begun—was a bad idea.

“You should stay to celebrate, Jack.”

But he was already slipping her jacket on over her shoulders. “I’ll call you both tomorrow morning to coordinate our schedules for next week,” he told Larry and Howie as he reached for his coat. After kissing Layla on the cheek, he put his hand on the small of Mary’s back and walked to the entrance with her.

Despite his presence behind her, she felt unsteady in her heels for the first time since being a teenager on her first catwalk. Not because of the champagne, which she’d barely sipped, but because Jack’s nearness affected her so powerfully.

Out on the curb he started to hail a cab, but Mary put her hand on his arm. “I’d much rather walk, if you don’t mind.”

He covered her hand with his to keep them connected. “Which way?”

She nodded in the direction of the Bay. “Nob Hill.”

“That’s a half-dozen blocks.” He looked down at the heels on her boots. “You can walk that far in those?”

It had been a long time since she’d been with someone who didn’t know the ins and outs of her world. Despite all of her warnings to herself to stop being charmed by every little thing Jack said and did, she found it really refreshing.

“When I’m working, I spend all day in heels, most higher than these. The first few months,” she admitted, “I would hobble home at night from a shoot or runway show and soak my feet in an ice bath.” And cry for her mother, who she knew would have called her crazy for sticking with a career that tore her feet to shreds like that. “Eventually, I got used to the pain.” From the shoes, anyway.

“Well, if they do start to hurt, you should know I give a mean piggyback ride,” he said with an adorable grin. “At least, according to my little nephew Ian.”

Sexy she could deal with. Kind and intelligent certainly upped the ante and tested her mettle in a serious way.

But adorable?

How was she supposed to resist adorable?

Just then, a teenage girl waiting for the traffic light to change asked her for an autograph. Mary signed it, and after they’d crossed the street, Jack said, “If I had known you were this famous, I’m not sure I’d have gotten up the nerve to talk to you yesterday.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You don’t strike me as a man who lets nerves or doubts rule him.”

“I never have before,” he said, “but you’re making me feel a lot of things I’ve never felt before.”

Mary was used to men who practically rented out an orchestral hall and filled it from floor to ceiling with roses to set the stage for declaring themselves to her. Jack, on the other hand, simply said the most shockingly delicious things without any fanfare at all.

“Does it ever bother you to have people constantly looking at you? The way they all want to talk to you and ask for autographs?”

“Ninety-nine percent of the strangers who approach me for an autograph are lovely, polite people. Honestly, the only thing that bothers me about any of it is that I haven’t done anything extraordinary enough for them to be so starstruck.”

The sidewalk was crowded, but Jack didn’t seem to care as he turned her to face him in the middle of it. “You were born with incredible blue eyes. Your mouth drives a guy crazy just looking at it. And you have a figure that Michelangelo could have spent a lifetime trying to set into stone and never done justice to it. But I’ve seen how hard you work during photo shoots and I’ve just heard you come up with a half-dozen fantastic ideas for the ads we’re going to shoot together. I’m certain that there are plenty of beautiful women who couldn’t do what you do anywhere near as well, or make it seem as effortless.”

“I know I’m good at my job,” she agreed, “but I’m not a doctor curing cancer. I’m not an activist changing history. I’m not a mother with children who need me, either.” She’d rarely voiced these doubts aloud, but for some reason, with Jack she couldn’t stop them all from pouring out.

He reached over to gently stroke his fingers across her cheek, the heat of his touch in sharp contrast to the coolness of her skin. “You make people happy, Mary, and that’s an extraordinary thing.”

Jack’s words warmed her, just as his touch—and his kiss—had. So when they began to walk again and a damp wind whipped up around them, she let herself hold his arm a little more tightly and move just a little bit closer, too.

* * *

Jack had never had any problems with the opposite sex. Girls and then women had always seemed to like his looks, and he’d never been nervous or fumbling around them. But with Mary?

He could barely think a straight thought…especially after that kiss under the mistletoe.

The kiss had been two sets of lips barely touching. They hadn’t even held hands. And yet, she’d completely knocked his socks off to the point where his heart was still pounding hard and his veins were still buzzing with desire as they walked down the crowded street.

Had Mary been affected by their kiss in the same way?

And was there any way he could have felt that much if she hadn’t felt it, too?

The first drops of rain came from out of nowhere. Within seconds, they were falling hard and fast. Jack was searching for an overhanging awning when he realized Mary was staring up at the sky as the rain poured down on her. And there was a big smile on her stunning face.

“I was eleven years old when Singin’ in the Rain made it to Italy,” she said as she let go of his arm to reach for a lamppost and swing around it, humming the title tune from the film. “It’s still one of my favorite movies.”

Jack had seen Mary as a supermodel, he’d seen her as a businesswoman, and now he saw her as she must have been as a young girl. Full of wonder from something as simple as an unexpected rainstorm, her long, dark hair wet and slicked back, drops of water falling from her eyelashes to her cheeks, her full lips catching drops of rain just moments before she licked them off with the tip of her tongue.

Once upon a time he’d loved to play in the rain, but over the years, as he’d focused more and more on his invention—with only the occasional break for a fast car or a pretty woman—he’d lost sight of those pleasures.

After everyone else ran for cover, Jack and Mary were the only two people left on the sidewalk. It felt, for a moment, as if the city was entirely theirs.

He reached out his hand for her again. “Dance with me.”

She immediately turned into his arms as if she’d been waiting for him to ask. They might not be Gene Kelly and Debbie Reynolds, but neither of them cared as they danced. No other woman had felt so right in his arms, and none had laughed with such joy in them, either.

“No one has ever danced with me in the rain before.” Mary had the same look of soft surprise in her eyes as she had after their kiss under the mistletoe.

“‘This California dew is just a little heavier than usual tonight.’”

“You’ve seen the movie?” She looked delighted by the discovery that he knew it well enough to quote from the scene right before Don Lockwood went out to sing and dance in the rain.

“My mother was a big fan.” And, boy, was he glad that she’d taken him to the theater as a ten-year-old boy and made him watch it. In retrospect, the dance lessons hadn’t been a bad idea, either.

Jack had meant it when he’d told her he was going to try to respect Mary’s wishes to keep things professional between them until they were done working together. But as they stood together in the rain, kissing her again was inevitable. They were both leaning in toward each other when the rain abruptly stopped falling and dozens of people suddenly emerged from the overhangs and bumped the two of them apart.

“I’m just around the corner.” Mary pointed to a building a few yards away. When they got to the bottom step, she immediately offered, “Why don’t you come in and warm up with a cup of coffee?”

Jack badly wanted to spend more time with her, but he couldn’t live with himself if he wasn’t completely honest with her. “There’s nothing I’d like more, Mary. But you have to know, I can’t stop thinking about that kiss in the bar…or how much I want another one.”

He wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d taken back her invitation at that point. Instead, her gaze dropped to his lips, and he knew she was being just as honest when she said, “Me, too.” Tearing her eyes from his mouth, she shook her head. “Coffee. We’re just going to have coffee.” She softened the blow with a smile, then led them up the stairs.

Both of them were wet from the rain, and he had a sudden flash of making love with her in a warm rain, skin slick from the heat of their bodies, her damp hand sliding into his, that beautiful smile on her face as he kissed every inch of her until she was begging for him to take her.