Free Do You Believe in Santa? by Sierra Donovan Page B

a finger along the rows of shelves as she talked. “Contemporary dramas. Thrillers. Romantic comedies. Musicals . . .” She passed her hand in front of the door on the right. “And the very top shelf—comfort food. My all-time favorites. Those aren’t broken up by category. And nothing’s alphabetized.”
    â€œI’m surprised at you.”
    â€œOkay, so how are yours organized at home?”
    â€œEasy. They’re a mess.”
    She laughed and stood up to go and make the coffee.
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    A movie collection, Jake decided, was a window to the soul.
    He started with that top shelf. Casablanca, of course. He was pleased to find To Kill a Mockingbird there too. Breakfast at Tiffany’s and The Princess Bride were obvious, female-friendly favorites. But there were a few surprises.
    â€œThe Godfather is comfort food?” he called out to the kitchen.
    â€œOnly the first one. But the other two have to go with it, because I didn’t want to separate them.”
    â€œYou’re a regular Library of Congress.” He stood and joined Mandy in the kitchen.
    It didn’t look like she’d made any progress on the coffee yet. As he entered, she was transferring glasses from the sink to the dishwasher. She closed the dishwasher quickly.
    â€œSomething’s fishy,” he said.
    She turned with a start. “What?”
    â€œI don’t see any Christmas movies.”
    She grinned. “There wasn’t room. I’ve got a whole separate box for those. They’re put away with the Christmas decorations.”
    Jake folded his arms. “How many?”
    She inclined her head, considering. “About forty. But that’s because I’m selective. Did you pick anything out?”
    â€œHelp me narrow it down. I can’t handle the responsibility.”
    â€œYou saw the favorites shelf.”
    â€œThat’s a pretty broad selection. What are you in the mood for?”
    â€œWell . . .” She opened a cabinet and brought out a can of coffee. “Ghost might be my all-time favorite, but I’m not sure if you’d care for it. I’ve been trying to get Mrs. Swanson to watch it for years. She can’t get past the basic idea. She thinks, if it couldn’t happen, what’s the point in watching it?”
    â€œThat rules out a lot of movies. Especially if you count Pretty Woman.”
    She started judiciously measuring coffee into the filter basket of the coffeemaker. As she brought out another scoop of grounds, she eyed the size of the mound that crowned over the top of the scoop, then shook it to level it a little more before she dropped it into the filter.
    So painstaking . . . and so irresistible.
    Jake stepped behind her and spoke just above her ear. “Ghost is fine with me,” he said. “Believe it or not, I’ve never seen it. Something about Demi Moore being haunted by her husband?”
    He smoothed her hair back, tucking it behind her ear. A delicate gold pine tree earring dangled from her earlobe. It shimmered when his fingers brushed it.
    Mandy measured out another scoop of coffee, not so precisely this time. “I can’t concentrate if you do that.”
    â€œThat’s the idea.” He moved his lips downward and kissed her ear. She gave a little shudder that triggered a matching shudder of his own. She relaxed against him. He closed his eyes and buried his face against the side of her neck, drinking in the scent of whatever it was she wore, that delicious hint of spice. For several exquisite moments, he didn’t move, just standing there with her, hearing her breathe.
    Then she stepped away and carried the coffee carafe to the sink to fill it with water.
    â€œSeriously, though,” she said. “Have you ever wondered what you’d do in a situation like that?”
    He was crushed that she’d kept her train of thought. He’d certainly lost his. “Like what?”
    â€œIf