A Bride by Christmas Read online

“But—”

  “Therefore, Luke, I never intend to fall in love and marry. I’m not going to have my dreams shattered and my heart broken. I’m not. So I create fairy-tale-perfect weddings for others to…to satisfy my romantic soul. But I’m beginning to wonder if Roses and Wishes is a dumb thing to be doing because it just emphasizes over and over what I’ll never have.”

  “But you’re planning the wedding of your dreams for Precious and Clyde,” Luke said.

  “Yes, and it’s probably foolish, but I’m giving it to myself like a gift to cherish before I make a decision about whether I want to continue as a wedding coordinator.”

  Luke got to his feet and began to pace—as well as he could in the limited space. He dragged a restless hand through his hair and narrowed his eyes in deep concentration. He finally stopped in front of Maggie’s rocking chair, planted his hands on the arms and leaned down, speaking close to her lips as she stared at him in wide-eyed surprise.

  “No,” he said.

  “No…what?” she said, aware, so very aware, that his lips were mere inches from hers.

  “No, I won’t accept this,” he said. “So, okay, your family seems to have had more than your share of divorces, but there is no such thing as an honest-to-goodness jinx, Maggie.”

  “That’s what my sister’s second husband said—at first.”

  “Maggie, you’re an intelligent woman,” Luke said, his voice rising. “How can you buy into this malarkey?”

  “Facts are facts,” she said, matching his volume. “We checked as far back as we possibly could, hoping, praying, we’d find even one couple that stayed together on our family tree. There wasn’t one. Not one, Luke. The jinx is real and I won’t allow myself to think I could be the one to break it, make it disappear, because it’s here to stay. That’s the way it is and there’s nothing I can do about it.”

  “It’s impossible,” he said none too quietly. “A jinx is a superstition, a…a… Damn it, this is the most frustrating conversation I’ve ever had in my entire life.”

  “Well, excuse me all the way to Sunday,” Maggie yelled, “but the truth is the truth.”

  ‘Oh? Well, try this truth on for size, lady,” Luke hollered.

  He released his white-knuckle hold on the arms of the rocking chair, gripped Maggie’s shoulders, hauled her to her feet…and kissed her.

  Maggie stiffened in shock, but as Luke’s kiss gentled and he dropped his hands from her shoulders to wrap his arms around her and bring her close to his body, she nestled against him. Her arms floated upward to encircle his neck, her fingertips inching into his thick ebony hair.

  The kiss was hot. It was desire, not lust, with unnamed emotions intertwining with the want and need. The kiss was powerful enough to push aside for that tick of time the existence of the Jenkins Jinx and allow them to savor the taste, the feel, the very essence of each other. The kiss was theirs.

  Luke broke away first to draw a much-needed breath but didn’t release his hold on Maggie. She gazed up at him, a dreamy expression on her face, her lips moist and slightly parted, beckoning.

  “Ah, Maggie,” Luke said, his voice gritty with passion. “I want to make love with you so damn much. From the moment I first saw you I… Do you want me, Maggie? Do you want to make love with me?”

  “Yes, I do,” she whispered. “But—”

  “Forget the jinx thing for now. We’ll tackle that later…later…yes. All I can concentrate on now is you, me, what we’ll share. But, Maggie, I would never take advantage of you, pressure you, attempt to seduce you into doing something you’ll regret.” He paused. “I guess what I’m saying is, it’s your decision.”

  Oh, Maggie thought foggily. How could she decide when she couldn’t even think clearly? Okay, okay, she was getting a grip now, ignoring the fact that she was still being held in Luke’s strong arms, still molded to his aroused body, still…thinking. Yes, she was thinking.

  And she wanted him.

  She wanted to make love with him because she cared for him so very much and he cared for her, she knew he did.

  And because when he realized that the Jenkins Jinx was true, he would chalk her up as being a very weird, creepy woman and keep her at a safe distance from him.

  And because she intended to give herself this intimate joining with Luke St. John so she’d have a precious memory to make up for all she would never have because of the Jenkins Jinx.

  “Maggie?”

  “Make love with me, Luke,” she said softly, looking directly into his dark eyes. “I won’t be sorry. I’ll have no regrets, I promise. We have no future together. None. The jinx is real and I’ve accepted that. Nothing you can say or do will change my mind about it. But now? Right now? I want—I desire you. So, please, make love with me.”

  With a groan that rumbled from deep in his chest, Luke captured Maggie’s mouth once again in a searing kiss. She returned the kiss in total abandon, holding nothing back, giving as much as she was receiving.

  Luke lifted his head, then swung Maggie up into his arms. She pointed in the direction of her bedroom and he carried her there with long, purposeful strides.

  He set her on her feet next to the double bed, absently registering that the room was femininity personified, just like Maggie, with a bedspread patterned with pale pink roses and a matching skirt on a small round table that held a clock and a telephone. The curtains were pink and the dresser was white wicker.

  Maggie swept back the spread and blankets to reveal sheets with tiny pink rosebuds, then turned to face Luke again.

  “I’m very nervous,” she said. “I really don’t have the kind of experience that I’m certain you’re accustomed to and I—”

  “Shh,” he said, placing one fingertip gently on her lips. “We’re going to be wonderful together, Maggie.”

  And they were.

  With sudden confidence that came from a place she couldn’t fathom, Maggie nodded, and as Luke shed his clothes, she removed her own. They stood naked before each other, rejoicing in what they saw, what would be theirs, given willingly.

  He lifted her into his arms again, settled her in the center of the bed, then followed her down, his mouth melting over hers.

  It was ecstasy. They kissed, caressed, discovered each other’s mysteries with awe and wonder. Where hands traveled, lips followed, igniting the heat of their desire into leaping flames that threatened to consume them both.

  Luke left her only long enough to roll on protection, then returned to her outstretched arms. When they could bear no more, he moved over her and into her with a thrust that filled her and brought a gasp of pure pleasure from her lips.

  The rocking rhythm began, then increased in tempo until it was wild and earthy, wondrous, synchronized to perfection as though they had been lovers forever.

  They soared. Higher. Closer. Calling to the other, clinging fast, then bursting upon the place they sought only seconds apart.

  “Luke!”

  “Oh, Maggie. My Maggie.”

  They drifted slowly back, then Luke mustered his last ounce of energy to move off her and tuck her close to his side, his lips resting lightly on her moist forehead. She rested one hand on the dark curls on his broad chest, feeling his heart settle into a quieter, steady beat.

  “Thank you,” Luke said quietly.

  “And I thank you,” Maggie whispered, “for the beautiful memories to keep.”

  Maggie’s lashes drifted down and she slept, content, sated, a soft smile on her lips. Luke held her, sifting his fingers through her silky strawberry-blond curls.

  God, how he loved this woman, he thought, feeling a foreign ache tighten his throat. She had given of herself so freely, so honestly, to him. Him. She cared deeply for him, he knew that, might even be falling in love with him just as he was already deeply in love with her.

  He couldn’t lose her. No, the mere thought of it was more than he could bear. He knew the name of the enemy now—the Jenkins Jinx. That he believed it to be crazy, borderline nuts, m
eant nothing because Maggie was convinced it was true and planned to never marry to protect her heart from being shattered.

  The battle lines were drawn. He was literally fighting for his life, his future happiness, his forever. And he would be the victor, for himself, for Maggie, for what they would have together until death parted them and beyond.

  He would win. Somehow. He had to.

  “I love you, Maggie Jenkins,” he whispered, tightening his hold on her. “You are my life. My wife. Mine.”

  A little over an hour later Maggie stirred and opened her eyes, only to blink against the bright sunlight streaming through the window.

  Luke, she thought, as the mist of sleep lifted.

  She turned her head on the pillow to see the empty expanse of bed next to her, then heard the sound of the shower running. She stretched leisurely, then pulled the sheet to beneath her chin, clutching it with both hands.

  She’d made love with Luke, she thought, and it had been glorious, beyond her wildest fantasies. Did she regret what she had done? Was she sorry? No. Never.

  Her life was not like other women’s, with dreams of a husband, babies, hearth and home. To have experienced something as wondrous as she just had with a magnificent man like Luke St. John was more than she’d ever expected to receive, to possess as hers, to tuck away in the treasure chest in her heart.

  Was this dangerous? she asked herself. Well, no, not if she stayed alert, kept a tight control over her emotions and the truth of her reality front and center. She could handle this. She would have this time with Luke. And when Precious and Clyde were married, that would be the end of Maggie Jenkins and Luke St. John. She knew that, understood that. Yes, she could handle this.

  Luke came into the bedroom fully dressed, his hair damp from the shower. He sat on the edge of the bed and smiled at Maggie.

  “Have a nice nap?”

  “Lovely, thank you,” she said, matching his smile.

  “You’re very pretty when you’re sleeping, very peaceful.” He paused. “I’d better get going. You’ll let me know when you have some appointments to see honeymoon suites at various hotels?”

  “Yes, of course. I’ll call you.”

  “Good.” He nodded. “Maggie, you don’t have any regrets about what happened here, do you?”

  “No, no, Luke, not at all. It was wonderful and I…No regrets. We both understand that this is temporary, what we’re sharing, because my life is what it is—jinxed. I know you’re not quite believing that yet, but it’s true, trust me, and I’ll never allow myself to think otherwise. That would be so foolish on my part and it isn’t going to happen.”

  “Mmm.” Luke frowned. “And no one in the entire history of your family has figured out a way to break the spell, the jinx?”

  “No.”

  “Mmm.” Luke stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Would you categorize the jinx as a superstition of sorts?”

  “I… Well, not exactly, because it’s true.”

  “But if you had to group it with something,” he said, “a jinx would fall into the arena of superstitions for a lack of a better place to put it. Right?”

  “I suppose so. I never thought about it like that.” Maggie looked at him questioningly. “Why?”

  “I’m just trying to be certain that I fully understand the Jenkins Jinx, what it is.”

  “It’s my reality,” Maggie said firmly. “Ask any member of my family and they’ll verify what I’m saying. It’s sad but true.”

  “Yeah.” Luke leaned over and dropped a quick kiss on Maggie’s lips. “I’ll be waiting to hear from you about viewing the suites. Eager to hear from you. You’ll contact me soon?”

  “Yes, sir,” she said, smiling at him warmly.

  Luke drew one thumb lightly over her lips, which she felt to the very tip of her toes, then he got to his feet and left the room.

  “’Bye,” Maggie whispered, then sighed in delicious contentment.

  After a frustrating stop-and-start drive across town in the surging Phoenix traffic Luke entered the plush offices of St. John and St. John, Attorneys at Law.

  “Good afternoon, Mr. St. John,” the receptionist said.

  “Mmm,” Luke said absently as he strode down the hall.

  The attractive young woman turned in her chair and watched him go, deciding he was definitely a man with something heavy on his mind.

  Luke stopped at the desk of his secretary, a plump woman in her fifties, who looked up at him with a rather confused expression.

  “I thought you said when you called that you weren’t coming in this afternoon,” she said.

  “I need some data, Betty,” he said. “Extensive research.”

  Betty picked up a pen and slid a steno pad in front of her.

  “Okay,” she said. “What can I do for you, Luke? What am I researching?”

  “Superstitions.”

  “I beg your pardon? Superstitions? About what? Is this pertaining to a case you have on the docket?”

  “Not exactly,” he said, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Let’s just say it’s the most important project I’ve ever undertaken and let it go at that, shall we? Start with superstitions regarding brides, weddings, things like that, then go further into superstitions in general.”

  “Brides? You mean, like it’s bad luck for the groom to see the bride in her wedding dress before she walks down the aisle?”

  “Exactly.” He shook his head. “Who comes up with this junk?”

  Betty shrugged. “I have no idea, but that business about the dress has been around for as long as I can remember, and I’m borderline ancient.” She tapped the pen against the pad of paper. “Okay. I get the drift of what you want about brides and what have you. Then I go to other things like not walking under a ladder or letting a black cat cross your path?”

  “Right.”

  “When do you need this interesting info?”

  “Yesterday,” he said, then went on into his office.

  Late that night Luke was stretched out on the sofa in his living room reading yet again the thick stack of papers that Betty had given him on superstitions.

  He frowned in disbelief at some of them and couldn’t help but laugh aloud at others. But for the most part he was digesting everything he read with serious intent.

  He’d memorize as many of these wacky things as he could, he’d decided, then keep the papers close at hand for ready reference on others.

  Luke reached over and set the papers on the coffee table fronting the sofa, then laced his fingers beneath his head where it rested on a puffy throw pillow.

  The Plan was in effect, he mused, insofar as Maggie believed she was coordinating a wedding for cousin Clyde and his Precious.

  However, now he knew Maggie’s secret about the Jenkins Jinx, further genius-level action was definitely called for, an extension of The Plan. Through brilliant lawyer-type persuasion he’d gotten Maggie to agree that the jinx was a superstition. She’d done so rather reluctantly, but he’d take what he could get.

  His mission, then, was to cleverly and carefully expose Maggie to superstition after superstition, casually pointing out that, son of a gun, nothing horrible had happened because they’d—they’d what?—walked under a ladder, for example. He’d stack up the evidence piece by piece, inching closer and closer to the Jenkins Jinx and the miraculous fact that Maggie was obviously the one who was going to break its hold on the family because she was immune to the consequences of superstitions.

  Man, he was so sharp sometimes, it just blew his mind. This was shining-star thinking, damn it. It wouldn’t be easy, that was for sure, would take planning and coordination and… He needed help. It was too big, too important to tackle alone.

  Luke sat up and swung his feet to the floor.

  His father, he thought. Mason St. John knew about The Plan and understood the need for it, although he did have some reservations about the consequences of duping Maggie. His dad was the perfect person to help with this new addition to
the program.

  Luke glanced at his watch and swore under his breath as he saw it was too late to call his father.

  But first thing in the morning, he thought, he’d corner his dad and they’d map things out. Ah, yeah, this was good, very good. It was the next step in the battle that would eventually win the war.

  Luke settled back on the sofa and smiled up at the ceiling.

  Yes, there was going to be a Christmas wedding, all right. But Precious and Clyde—who were becoming strangely real to him—would have to make their own arrangements to tie the knot.

  The wedding that was being put together at this very moment would unite Maggie Jenkins and Luke St. John in holy matrimony forever, declare them to be wife and husband, soul mates, partners in life and parents of the little miracles that would be the result of their exquisite lovemaking.

  His Christmas bride, Luke thought. His Maggie.

  Eight

  Maggie spent the next two days tackling the stack of paperwork in her office at Roses and Wishes. It was her least favorite part of owning the business, and she often daydreamed about what it would be like to be successful enough to have a secretary.

  Not only would the tedious paperwork be taken care of, but Roses and Wishes could remain open while Maggie was off and running to tend to the multitude of details, details, details needed to coordinate the perfect wedding.

  But, she mused as she scrutinized another bill for Ginger and Robert’s extravaganza, the budget didn’t allow for such luxury as a secretary. And besides, she wasn’t all that sure she intended to continue with this career choice she’d been so excited about at the onset.

  Maggie sighed and read the bill once more, realizing that yet again she hadn’t comprehended what was on the invoice. Why? Because her mind kept drifting off and settling on the exquisite lovemaking she’d enjoyed with Luke.

  She should have had her desk cleared in one day but, no, not this time. Here it was late in the afternoon of the second day and she was still glued to her chair because her flighty brain wouldn’t behave itself.

  Maggie flipped the paper in the air, watched it settle on the pile she had yet to even look at, then plunked her elbow on the desktop and rested her chin in her palm.