Читать книгу A Ring For Christmas - Joan Elliott Pickart, Cathy Gillen Thacker - Страница 9

He could hear the wedding march, Luke thought. He could. A part of him knew that was impossible, yet it was there quite clearly, the wondrous music filling the church to overflowing.

And in the distance, walking in measured steps on the arm of Ginger’s father, was Maggie, his bride. His. She was lovely, just exquisite. His heart was thundering at the mere sight of her as she came closer and closer and…

Maggie and Mr. Barrington stopped in front of the priest.

“I will ask at this point,” Reverend Mason said, “who gives this woman in marriage. And you, Mr. Barrington, will reply ‘Her mother and I,’ then you’ll take your daughter’s hand and place it in Robert’s.”

“Her mother and I,” Mr. Barrington boomed, then grasped Maggie’s hand.

Without realizing he had moved, Luke stepped forward and extended his hand to receive Maggie’s. As Mr. Barrington placed Maggie’s hand in Luke’s, their eyes met and time stopped.

Dear heaven, Maggie thought, unable to tear her gaze from the mesmerizing depths of Luke’s eyes. Luke’s hand was so strong yet so gentle as it wrapped around hers. And the heat. Good grief, the heat from his hand was traveling up her arm, across her breasts, then swirling and churning throughout her, causing a flush she could feel staining her cheeks.

She had to get her hand back. And she would. In a minute.

And she had to quit, just stop, looking into Luke’s eyes. And she would. In a minute.

“We are gathered here,” Reverend Mason said, “to unite this man and this woman in holy matrimony.”

Yes, Luke thought, that was exactly why they were there. This man, him, and this woman, Maggie, were about to be united in holy matrimony, become husband and wife until death parted them.

He had never in his entire life felt like this. He was consumed with a soothing warmth of peace that was somehow combined with the coiling heat of desire. The chill within him that he now knew had been loneliness was gone, pushed into oblivion, never to return because Maggie was here. He’d waited an eternity for this, for her, to find his soul mate, and she was here at long last. Maggie.

Oh, man, this was nuts, he thought, unable to stop a smile from forming on his lips. He was an attorney who dealt in facts, absolutes, things being either black or white, proven data, and…Yet he had suddenly been flung—there was no other word for it—flung helterskelter into a strange new world that embraced the romantic notion of love at first sight.

Oh, yeah, this was crazy. And wonderful. And hard to believe, but he did believe it with his entire being—heart, mind, body and soul.

Maggie Jenkins had come, she had seen, she had conquered. By doing nothing more than being, she had stolen his heart for all time, and he didn’t want it back. Not ever. He loved her. It was as simple and as complicated as that. It was exciting and terrifying at the same time. It couldn’t, shouldn’t, be true, but yet it was.

He was in forever love with Maggie.

“After you have lit the single candle from the ones that will be burning next to it,” Reverend Mason was saying, “blow out the others and place them back in the holders. The single burning candle will represent your union, becoming one entity.”

Yes, Luke thought firmly.

Yes, Maggie thought dreamily. Wasn’t that just the sweetest thing?

Reverend Mason’s word became a buzz, like a multitude of bees in the background, as Maggie and Luke continued to look directly into each other’s eyes. Then suddenly what the priest said was loud and clear.

“You may kiss the bride.”

Luke framed Maggie’s face in his hands, looked at her intently for a long, heart-stopping moment, then slowly, so slowly, lowered his head and captured her lips in a kiss that was so tender, so reverent, so…theirs, that tears filled Maggie’s eyes. She savored the taste, the feel, the very essence of Luke, yearning for the kiss to never end.

Reverend Mason cleared his throat. “Yes, well, that’s fine. Thank you, Luke, Maggie, for playing out your roles so convincingly.”

Luke raised his head and both he and Maggie stared at the priest as though they had never seen him before in their lives.

“I, um…” Reverend Mason continued, “I will then introduce Mr. and Mrs. Robert St. John to the congregation, the organ music will burst forth and the recessional will take place. Any questions?”

Ginger jumped to her feet. “No, no questions. It’s going to be so beautiful. I can hardly wait until tomorrow night. Thank you so much, Reverend Mason. We’re off to the restaurant now for the rehearsal dinner. I do hope you and your wife will join us as planned.”

“We’d be delighted,” he said, sliding one more glance at Luke and Maggie, who were still staring at him with rather stunned expressions on their faces.

Maggie shook her head slightly to escape from the eerie spell that seemed to have transported her to a faraway place. She stepped back from Luke, averting her eyes, then spun around and forced another big smile onto her lips. Lips that still held the taste of Luke, the feel of Luke, tingled from the kiss shared with Luke.

“Ginger,” Maggie said, “I’ll come to the restaurant to make certain that everything is as it should be, then I’m going to scoot on home.”

“But you’re supposed to have dinner with us, Maggie,” Ginger said, pouting prettily.

“I had a late lunch,” Maggie said. “I couldn’t eat a bite. Really.”

“Don’t be silly, my dear,” Mr. Barrington said. “We all know how hard you’ve worked all these months to make this event perfect for our Ginger. I insist that you join us for dinner, even if you don’t eat much. Good. That’s settled. Me? I’m starving. Let’s get going.”

“But—” Maggie said.

“Come along, Mrs. St. John,” Luke said, encircling her shoulders with his arm.

“What?” Maggie said, staring up at him with wide eyes. “Who?”

“Oh, sorry,” Luke said, smiling. “I’m still in my role, I guess. You and I did get married a few minutes ago, you know. Maggie St. John. It has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

“Ginger St. John has a nice ring to it,” she said. “That’s who I was pretending to be, remember? I’m Maggie Jenkins and that’s who I intend to remain.”

“Ah,” Luke said, nodding.

“And what does ‘ah’ mean?” she said.

“Only that none of us have crystal balls to see into the future, Maggie Jenkins,” he said. “Who knows what might happen? Shall we go?”

Without speaking further, Maggie grabbed the box that had held the satin bows, then marched down the aisle, snatching her purse from the last pew as she went.

Outside the summer sky was a black velvet canopy sprinkled with twinkling diamondlike stars and a silvery moon, all of which went unnoticed by Maggie as she stomped to her ten-year-old van and slid behind the wheel.

As she took her place in the line of vehicles headed to the restaurant she drew a deep, shuddering breath.

Don’t think, she ordered herself. Don’t dwell on what took place in that church. Don’t relive that kiss, or see again the smoldering passion in Luke’s eyes or feel the tenderness of his hands on her flushed face or acknowledge the desire that had swept through her. Do not do that, Maggie Jenkins. Okay. Fine. She wouldn’t. She would not.

But, darn it, what had happened back there? She had never in her life experienced anything so…so…whatever that had been. It was as though everyone had disappeared, leaving only her and Luke in a wondrous place that was theirs alone. The bride. The groom. The kiss. The undefinable something that in its intensity took desire beyond description. Luke.

Maggie sighed. It was a dreamy, wistful, womanly sigh that caused a soft smile to form on her lips. In the next instant she smacked the steering wheel with the palm of her hand.

“Cut it out, Maggie Jenkins,” she yelled. “Just stop it right now. You are acting so ridiculous, it’s a crime.”

It was amazing, she mentally rushed on, how asinine a person could behave, think, feel, when they were totally exhausted. That, of course, was the explanation for what had happened. Overreaction due to overfatigue. It was all so simple now that she calmed down and thought about it like a rational human being.

At least no one had been aware of how silly she’d behaved while performing in her role of the bride. Well, Reverend Mason had given her and Luke a rather inquisitive look, but everyone else had been oblivious to the nonsense between them.

Well, that was probably not even accurate. Luke had been doing a stand-in thing for his brother, nothing more. She was the one who had gotten all wiggy and weird, not him. Luke had just been pretending to be Robert and seeing her as Ginger. End of story.

Maggie flicked on her blinker and followed the cars into the parking lot of the restaurant.

She’d nibble a bit of dinner, she thought, then be on her way home to bed as quickly as was socially acceptable. Everything was fine. Just fine. She was erasing what had happened from her beleaguered mind. So there.

As the chattering group entered the restaurant, Robert pulled Luke to one side and spoke to his older brother in a quiet voice.

“Luke, my man,” Robert said, “care to explain what was going on between you and Maggie during that rehearsal?”

“What do you mean?” Luke said. “We were just playing out the roles Ginger assigned us, that’s all.”

“Yeah, right,” Robert said with a snort. “From where I was sitting, it didn’t look like ‘let’s pretend.’ No way. You’ve been acting very strange ever since you met Maggie, Luke.”

“Robert, Robert, Robert,” Luke said, shaking his head. “You’ve got a typical case of prewedding jitters, not thinking clearly, seeing things that aren’t there, the whole nine yards. You’d better get it together or you’re liable to pass out at the altar tomorrow night. Trust me. I’ve been in a great many wedding parties over the years and I’ve seen your symptoms time and again.”

“Really?” Robert said, pressing a fingertip on his chest. “Now that you mention it, my heart is beating really fast.”

“That’s one of the signs,” Luke said, nodding. “I’m telling you, little brother, you’ve got to calm down. Ginger will never forgive you if you spoil this shindig by falling flat on your face before you can say ‘I do.’”

“You’re right,” Robert said. “Okay. Deep breath. In. Out. I’m cool. I’m fine.”

“Robert,” Ginger said, coming back to where the brothers were standing. “They’re waiting to seat us. Is something wrong?”

“Robert was just very emotionally moved by the rehearsal at the church,” Luke said. “But all is well now. You’re marrying a very romantic man here, Ginger.”

“Ohhh, you are so sweet,” Ginger said, giving Robert a quick kiss on the lips. “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too, sugar,” Robert said.

And unbelievable as it was, Luke thought, he loved Maggie Jenkins. This was definitely a fantastic life-changing night.

The restaurant where the dinner was being held was a five-star establishment, and Maggie had reserved a private dining room for the wedding party.

“Oh,” she said softly when she entered the room.

Everything looked wonderful. The staff had really gone all out, per her instructions. The chandeliers were dimmed to create a rosy hue over the room. The crystal glasses gleamed and the sterling silverware sparkled. Wafer-thin china finger bowls sat by each place setting, and yellow rose petals were scattered whimsically down the center of the table that was covered in a pristine white cloth with lace edging.

Nodding in approval at the lovely and oh-so-romantic atmosphere, Maggie hung back with the intention of claiming a seat close to the door so she could make her early exit without creating a fuss. Just as she was about to sit down, Luke took her arm.

“Whoa,” he said. “The pretend bride and groom are supposed to sit close to the real bride and groom at this dinner. It’s part of the superstition.”

“It is not,” Maggie said, frowning.

“It certainly is,” Luke said indignantly. “You wouldn’t want to upset Ginger, would you? I mean, hey, anyone who spends hours sorting through yogurt-covered almonds to get the proper colors for the nut cups certainly wouldn’t do anything to blow it in the home stretch.”

“Well, Roses and Wishes does aim to please.”

“My point exactly,” Luke said, propelling Maggie toward the middle of the table. “Which is why you and I are going to sit close to the bride and groom before Ginger flips out.”

“But I don’t intend to stay long and I—”

“Here we are,” Luke said, pulling out a chair. “Right across from the happy couple.”

“Mmm,” Maggie said, shooting a glare in Luke’s direction, then plunking down in the chair.

Waitresses appeared, wineglasses were filled. Soups, then salads came and went. Then huge plates of roast beef, baked potatoes and artfully arranged asparagus were set in front of the diners.

Maggie stifled yet another yawn and stared down at the meal.

“Eat,” Luke whispered in her ear.

“I’m too tired to eat.”

“If you don’t eat, Ginger will think something has gone wrong with the wedding plans and you’re upset,” Luke said, “which will cause her to—” he shuddered “—I don’t even want to think about it.”

Maggie sighed and picked up her fork.

The conversations around the table were lively with laughter erupting from one end of the table, then later the other. Everyone was having a wonderful time.

And Maggie was falling asleep.

The four sips of wine she’d consumed were her final undoing, and she was suddenly unable to keep her eyes open. Just as she began to slide off the front of her chair, Luke flung his arm around her and hauled her back up. Maggie blinked and shook her head slightly.

“That was a great story, Maggie,” Luke said, his arm still holding her upright. “Really funny. Ah, here comes the waitress with some coffee. Would you care for some? Yes, you would.”

“Yes, I would,” Maggie mumbled.

“I want to hear the funny story,” Ginger said. “Share with us, Maggie.”

“Um…” Maggie said, a blank expression on her face.

“Right,” Luke said. “Well, you see, Maggie coordinated a wedding where the bride and groom wanted to be married on horseback. That included the minister sitting on a huge stallion, you understand. The stallion was a horny beast, and just as the minister was to pronounce the couple officially wed, the stallion caught the scent of a mare in an adjoining pasture and took off—bam!—just whisked that minister away in a trail of dust.”

Everyone erupted in appropriate laughter, then continued on with their own conversations.

“That was the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard,” Maggie said to Luke under her breath.

“I thought it was pretty good considering I was winging it,” Luke said, smiling at her.

“Would you please remove your arm from my person before someone wonders why it is there?”

“Just as soon as you get a few jolts of caffeine in you, my bride,” Luke said.

“I am not your bride,” Maggie said through clenched teeth. “Your arm is disturbing me.”

“Oh?”

“What I mean is,” she said, “it’s heavy. Your arm. And warm. Much too warm. The air-conditioning is on, but there are a great many people in this room and…much too warm. Hot.”

“You’re hot?” Luke said, an expression of pure innocence on his face. “Because I have my arm around you? Because I’m very close to you and you’re very close to me? Isn’t that interesting?”

The waitress filled Maggie’s coffee cup, then Luke’s, then moved on down the table. Maggie leaned forward to grasp her cup, aware that Luke’s arm seemed to be permanently attached to her body. She took a sip of coffee, blew on the remainder to cool it, then drained the cup.

“All better,” she said. “I’m wide awake, ready to rock and roll. You may have your arm back now, Luke.” That strong, masculine and oh-so-hot arm. “Thank you for your assistance.”

“Glad to help,” Luke said slowly, very slowly removing his arm. He paused. “So tell me, Maggie, why is it that someone whose focus is on producing picture-perfect weddings doesn’t want a wedding of her own? Someone mentioned that you don’t intend to marry. I’m curious as to why.”

“It’s a long story,” Maggie said, running one fingertip around the rim of her coffee cup.

“I’m listening.”

“I’d rather not discuss it.” Maggie pushed her chair back and got to her feet. “Thank you for a lovely dinner,” she said to Ginger and Robert. “I’ll see everyone at the church tomorrow night. ‘Bye for now.”

“Hey, wait a minute,” Luke said, getting quickly to his feet. “I think it would be best if I drove you home. You might fall asleep at the wheel.”

“Oh, no, I’m perfectly fine now that I’ve had that coffee. Ta ta.”

As Maggie hurried from the room with a chorus of goodbyes following her out the door, Luke slouched back in his chair, a frown knitting his brows.

“Damn coffee,” he said, looking at Maggie’s empty cup.

“What’s wrong with the coffee?” Ginger said, peering into her own cup.

“It’s fine, honey,” Robert said, then slid a grin at Luke. “It perks up sleepy people that other people wish hadn’t gotten perked.”

“Pardon me?” Ginger said.

“Nothing,” Robert said, chuckling. “It’s a guy thing between me and Luke. You know Luke, Ginger. He was the groom tonight and Maggie was the bride. Don’t you think they made a smashing couple?”

“We’re going to discuss smashing in regard to your nose if you don’t shut up,” Luke said.

Robert burst into laughter. Ginger looked totally confused. Mrs. St. John told her sons to behave themselves, and Luke got to his feet and said he was leaving.

“Great meal,” he said. “In fact, the entire evening was very special. Definitely memorable.”

“Do tell,” Robert said, still beaming.

Luke made an imaginary gun out of his thumb and forefinger and shot his brother, who laughed so hard he got the hiccups.

Roses and Wishes took up the first floor of an older Victorian house that Maggie rented in an area of Phoenix that had been rezoned for businesses. Maggie lived upstairs, having furnished one of the bedrooms as a small living room.

The kitchen was on the main floor, as well as a powder room. The original living room was the reception area where albums with pictures of weddings were displayed and comfortable chairs grouped for discussing forthcoming ceremonies. The dining room was Maggie’s office.

Maggie’s favorite feature of the entire place was the enormous old-fashioned claw-foot bathtub in the upstairs bathroom that allowed her to indulge in long, leisurely soaks with soothing warm water up to her chin.

An hour after leaving the restaurant, having battled the traffic to get home, Maggie sank gratefully into the beckoning bubbles in the tub, rested her head on a spongy pillow on the rim and closed her eyes.

Good grief, she thought, what a night this had been. It had been awful, just awful. Luke St. John was a menace. Yes, that was a great word. A menace. A very dangerous, sensuous member of the male species who was a…a menace to her state of mind and did funny little weird things to her body. Her libido or some such thing. Her womanliness in general. He had nudged awake desire within her that she had worked very hard to put to sleep, to tuck away and ignore. Definitely a menace.

No wonder he had women crawling out of the wood-work trying to get his attention. He had an unexplainable something that pushed sexual buttons in women that they didn’t even know they possessed.

Well, she was wise to him now. Granted, part of her overreaction to Luke St. John was due to her exhaustion, but she had a sneaky feeling that even well-rested she might be susceptible to his whatever-it-was.

So. Tomorrow night at the wedding and the reception following she was going to make very certain that she kept her distance from Mr. St. John.

There would be no more gazing into his incredible eyes. No more strong, hot arms encircling her. And heaven forbid, no more kisses shared that caused her to have naughty images of tearing his clothes off and ravishing his body right there in front of Reverend Mason.

There. It was settled. She had her plan. She’d stay away from Luke tomorrow night, the wedding would take place without a hitch and she’d never see him again.

Maggie opened her eyes and frowned.

Never see Luke again? Never? Ever? No, of course she wouldn’t. He was a member of the jet-set money crowd, and she was among those who hoped they could make next month’s rent. There was simply no way that their paths would cross again.

Why was that depressing?

“Oh, stop it,” she said aloud, then closed her eyes again.

That was a thought from the tired part of her brain that the coffee hadn’t reached. She was now blanking her mind, relaxing in her wonderful bathtub, preparing to sleep away the hours of the night and awake rejuvenated and back to normal with no lingering images or wanton thoughts of Luke St. John.

“Mmm,” Maggie said, feeling the misty fog of sleep begin to dim her senses. “Mmm.”

Maggie began to slide slowly lower in the tub. Then lower and lower…until she disappeared beneath the frothy bubbles.

She shot upward, sputtering as she swallowed a mouthful of suds, the wild motions causing water to splash out of the tub and onto the floor.

Her hair was covered in bubbles, which made her look like a frosted cake and, she knew, would result in a sticky mess that would have to be properly shampooed. The floor would have to be mopped, her towel that she’d placed next to the tub was soaked and…

And Maggie burst into tears.

She cried because she’d scared herself to death by sinking under the water and because the bubbles tasted terrible and now her stomach was upset. She cried because she was too tired to shampoo her hair and mop the floor and deal with a soggy towel and…

She cried because no matter how hard she tried she couldn’t forget what it had been like to be kissed by Luke St. John and she didn’t know how to deal with all the new and foreign feelings she’d experienced.

She cried because after tomorrow night she’d never see Luke again, which she knew, she knew, was for the best, but sometimes the best was really stinky and just so sad.

She cried because…because, darn it anyway, she felt like it.

So Maggie cried until she had no more tears to shed and the water in the tub was cold and her hair had dried and was a gummy disaster sticking up in weird spiky things and her sinuses were clogged, causing a roaring headache.

Maggie sniffled as she got out of the tub, picked up the soggy towel and threw it in the water. She marched into her bedroom and crawled beneath the sheets.

And during the night spent on damp linens and a gooey pillow, she dreamed of Luke St. John.