Bottom Line: Callaghan Brothers, Book 8 by Abbie Zanders Page B

soaked in a tub of jasmine and almond oils to soften her skin all over. 
    By twelve thirty, she was as ready as she was ever going to be.
    She only hoped it would be enough. 
    At exactly twelve fifty-five, the doorbell chimed.  Mary nearly tripped as she beat feet to the door (she had forced herself to remain in the kitchen rather than sit in the bow window waiting lest she seemed too eager or too desperate), pausing only long enough to take a deep breath and calm her rattled nerves before opening the door.
    “You came.” 
    * * *
    “Y ou doubted me,” he smiled back at her, both hands weighted down with large bags of take-out.  It was probably a good thing, too, because his first impulse was to grab her and give her a proper kiss.  As it was, he would save that for later. 
    “You might want to put these in the oven,” he said apologetically.  “I’m afraid they might have gotten cold.”
    Hell, he knew they were cold.  That’s what happened when you arrived for a date two hours early and then spend the time driving around aimlessly so you didn’t appear quite so anxious.
    “No problem,” she said, taking the bags so Aidan could hang up his coat.  “I’ll put them on warm, then we can eat a bit later, if that’s okay.”
    “Perfect,” he said, but he wasn’t talking about the food.  Mary looked absolutely radiant, and damn, did she smell good.
    Aidan played with every one of the seasonal novelty toys before dutifully removing the batteries for storage.  Mary seemed to find this amusing, telling him that his eyes lit up like a little boy’s when he laughed.  That was okay.  He’d go to far greater lengths to get her to keep smiling and looking at him like that.
    She also appreciated his height, teasing that with him around to remove the higher decorations, she hadn’t even had to get out the step ladder.  The fact that it took so little to please her awed him. 
    He asked about each of the ornaments as they were carefully removed and individually wrapped before being placed into boxes.  They were nothing like those that adorned the professionally decorated Christmas trees he’d had growing up.  Nearly every one was unique and had a meaning or a memory associated with it, and Aidan was very interested in learning more about Mary.
    A perfect example was the set of thirty-two dated Swarovski crystal snowflakes.  Mary explained that her mother bought her one every year as a birthday present, shyly revealing that her birthday just happened to fall on Christmas Day, and that was the reasoning behind her name... Mary Christine.
    Along with each snowflake, there was another ornament for each year, one that symbolized something of significance at that time.  Like the ceramic, glazed ice skate that came from the first time her dad had taken her ice skating, or the gold-plated silver note from the year of her first piano recital.  Each was a token reminder of the milestones in her life.  Some were big, some not-so-big, but all provided Aidan with insight into the woman that had so captured his interest.
    She spoke fondly of each as she wrapped them in soft cotton, with only a few exceptions. Five, if he counted correctly.  Ornaments that she quietly packed away herself without a word.
    It didn’t take a genius to figure out that whatever memories were associated with those were painful ones, memories she was not ready to share with him yet.  He couldn’t fault her for that, not after she had shared so much with him, and especially not when he hadn’t been nearly as forthcoming. 
    His conscience gnawed at him, but he pushed it back, rationalizing that he wasn’t withholding anything bad.  With Mary, he could simply be himself.  He was loathe to do or say anything that might change that. 

Chapter Seven
 
    T aking down her Christmas decorations was something Mary dreaded each year.  Normally, it took an entire weekend and was a rather depressing process.  Not so with Aidan helping.  He