A Ring For Christmas: A Bride by Christmas / Christmas Lullaby / Mistletoe Manoeuvres
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“No worse than drowning in the bathtub because you wore the wrong color,” Maggie said drily. “Luke, what is with this sudden preoccupation with superstitions?”
“It’s not sudden,” he said. Oh, man, his nose was going to grow. “I’ve always been superstitious, but don’t talk about it much because people have a tendency to scoff.”
“Scoff?”
“Yes, definitely scoff. But, you see, Maggie, I’ve been doing a great deal of thinking about what you told me about the Jenkins Jinx. My first reaction was to tell you that it was nonsense. I scoffed. And I apologize to you for doing that. Jinxes, superstitions, wives’ tales all have merit. I want you to know that I respect your belief in the Jenkins Jinx.”
“You do? I mean, you’re not going to attempt to talk me out of it? Tell me it’s a bunch of baloney? Try to convince me that I could be a bride, get married, just like anyone else?”
“Nope.”
“Oh.”
Well, that was good, she thought. Wasn’t it? Sure. Then why did she suddenly feel so sad, gloomy and depressed? Luke’s acceptance of the Jenkins Jinx meant he was as fully prepared to walk away as she was after Precious and Clyde’s wedding. No fuss, no muss. That was…great. But her stomach hurt. And her heart hurt. Her heart actually hurt. Damn it, what was the matter with her?
“Luke, my boy,” a deep voice boomed, snapping Maggie back to attention.
“Well, Dad, my, my, what are you doing here?” Luke said, looking up at his father where he stood next to the table.
“Your mother got hungry for pizza so I called in an order and came to pick it up. This place has the best pizza in Phoenix, you know.”
“Yes, I certainly know that and you’re fortunate to live only a few blocks away,” Luke said. “You remember Maggie.”
“Certainly,” Mason St. John said. “Delightful to see you again, my dear.”
“My pleasure,” Maggie said.
“Luke, I’m just beside myself,” Mason said.
“Oh? Why is that, pray tell?” Luke said.
Pray tell? Maggie thought. For some dumb reason Luke and his father sounded like they were reading words from a script and not doing a very good job of it. No, that was silly. So what, pray tell, was Mr. St. John beside himself about?
“I lost my acorn,” Mason said.
Huh? Maggie thought, frowning slightly.
“Oh, no, anything but that, Father.”
“I know, I know,” Mason said, resting one hand on his heart. “I didn’t tell your mother I was driving over here without my acorn. She’d be worried sick.”
“For good reason,” Luke said. “But fear not, because I always carry two.” He leaned back so he could slide his hand into the front pocket of his jeans. “There you go, sir. One acorn.”
Mason curled his fingers around the acorn Luke had placed in his hand, then slid the little nut into his pocket. He clamped one hand on Luke’s shoulder.
“Bless you, son. Enjoy your pizza. Good night, Maggie. Farewell, Luke.”
As Mason hurried away, the waitress appeared at the table and set a pitcher of soda in the center along with two glasses. Luke thanked the young girl, then filled the glasses. Maggie leaned forward, staring at Luke intently as she waited for an explanation about the bizarre interchange regarding the acorn. Luke glanced around.
“Sure is getting crowded in here, isn’t it? That’s understandable, though, when you consider that they serve—”
“The best pizza in Phoenix,” Maggie finished for him. “Would you care to explain what just happened here?”
“The waitress delivered our soda,” Luke said, smiling. “Hey, they just called number eleven. We’re getting closer. Man, I’m starved.”
“Luke,” Maggie said, smacking the table with the palm of her hand. Luke cringed. “What was that whole weird thing with your father about the acorn?”
“Oh, that,” Luke said. “Did they just call number twelve?”
“Luke,” Maggie said, narrowing her eyes and drumming the fingers of one hand on the top of the table. “The acorn. Now.”
“You bet,” he said, nodding. “Well, it’s very simple. It’s good luck to carry an acorn on one’s person. We St. Johns have toted acorns around for years. Years and years. Never go anywhere without our acorns, by golly. So you can see why my father was so upset about having lost his and not wishing my poor mother to know. But—” he grinned “—I saved his bacon because I always have two. Insurance, you know what I mean?”
Maggie leaned back in the booth and crossed her arms over her chest. “That’s stupid,” she said.
“It certainly is not,” Luke said indignantly. “One could become jinxed, experience endless lousy luck if one didn’t carry one’s acorn, Maggie. Remind me to find an acorn for you.” He paused. “Yo. They just called thirteen. That’s us. I’ll be back in a flash.”
“But…” Maggie said, pointing one finger in the air, then realizing that Luke was long gone.
All the St. Johns were superstition freaks? she thought incredulously. They were intelligent, highly educated people, lawyers and what have you, for heaven’s sake, but they flipped out if they lost their acorn? How weird was that?
Luke interrupted Maggie’s racing thoughts by setting a huge, fragrant pizza in the center of the table, then sitting down again and rubbing his hands together.
“Now that looks delicious,” he said, smiling. “Dig in and enjoy.”
“I will, but…Luke, about this acorn thing. Your father didn’t say he’d experienced any bad luck or mishaps or whatever while his acorn was missing. Correct?”
Luke nodded as he chewed a big bite of the hot pizza.
“So,” Maggie continued, “doesn’t that suggest that there is nothing to the superstition surrounding the acorn? That it is just that—a superstition, which is fun and cute but…isn’t grounded in reality?”
Luke stared into space. “You’ve got a point there. When I was a kid I left my acorn in the pocket of my jeans and my mom washed them, turned the acorn into a mushy mess. It was quite a while before I could find another one because it was the wrong time of year. Nothing bad happened to me except that I flunked a spelling test, which was my fault because I didn’t study for it.”
Maggie picked up a slice of pizza and smiled, obviously pleased with herself. “See?” She took a bite of her dinner.
“I’ll give this some serious thought,” Luke said. Oh, this was going great, even better than he had hoped for. “Wait a minute here.”
“Hmm?” Maggie said, her mouth full of pizza.
“I bet you didn’t know that if you say goodbye to a friend on a bridge you’ll never see each other again. Well, when I was fifteen I had this buddy. We did everything together, were really close. One summer we were riding our bikes and said goodbye at the end of the day on a bridge. I never saw him again. How do you like that?”
“Why didn’t you ever see him again?” Maggie said.
“Because of the bridge thing, Maggie.” Luke paused. “Well, not entirely, I guess. His dad was a creep, physically abused his mom and…She took off in the middle of the night with my buddy and disappeared.
“I figured it was because of the parting on the bridge, but now that I really think about it…Well, hell, so much for the bridge belief.” He shook his head. “Amazing. All these years I was convinced…mmm.”
Maggie smiled sweetly. “This pizza is delicious. Thank you for bringing me here.”
“Sure, no problem,” Luke said, frowning. “This is rather unsettling. The acorn. The bridge. I don’t really have any concrete data to…Just goes to show ya, doesn’t it? Things aren’t always what they seem to be. Ready for some more soda?”
“No, I’m fine,” Maggie said. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, Luke. You got caught up in the theories about the acorn and the bridge, have believed them for so long you haven’t questioned their validity in years. I think you’re being very noble—there’s a good word—to accept that the superstitions about them aren’t real, aren’t true.”
“You’re right,” he said, “and I have you to thank for showing me how ridiculous I was for buying into those tales.” He deserved an Academy Award for this performance, he really did. “Let’s just concentrate on the pizza now. This has been a pretty heavy topic for my weary brain. Enough for one night.”
“Okay. Do you want to discuss Precious and Clyde’s wedding?”
Luke smiled. “Maggie, I’d love to discuss the wedding. You have no idea how much it means to me.”
“Well, the church is reserved for December twenty-third,” Maggie said, her voice ringing with excitement. “And I got the ballroom at the Majestic Palms Hotel sewn up for the reception.”
“The Majestic Palms,” Luke said, nodding in approval. “Classy. Very nice.”
“I have an appointment next week to meet with the chef to plan the buffet dinner at the reception. I still have oodles to do—you know, decide on the color of the tablecloths, the centerpieces, start shopping around for the exact shade of material I want for the bridesmaids’ dresses and, of course, there’s the wedding dress itself.”
“Yep.”
“What about the invitations, Luke? Do you think Precious and Clyde would prefer traditional ones that say the name of the parents or a more modern version where the couple themselves are inviting everyone to share their special event?”
Uh-oh, Luke thought, then took a big bite of pizza to give himself time to consider his answer. The invitations couldn’t be ordered with Precious and Clyde’s names on them. They didn’t even exist. Think, St. John.
“Um…why don’t you hold off on the invitations for now,” he said finally. “I should run that by Precious and Clyde just in case they have an idea as to what will make the mothers happy.”
“Okay. Would you ask them how they feel about tiny holly berries edging the invitations? I thought that would be so festive for a Christmas wedding.”
“I’m sure that part will be fine. There certainly are a lot of things to tend to for a picture-perfect wedding, aren’t there?”
“It takes months,” Maggie said, laughing, “and then—blink—the ceremony is over in about fifteen minutes.” She frowned in the next instant. “And in our family the marriage lasts about that long, too.”
Change the subject, Luke thought frantically. He didn’t want Maggie centering on the Jenkins Jinx, not tonight. Her beautiful eyes sparkled when she talked about the plans for the wedding, and the expression on her face was pure joy.
Not only that, he needed more superstitions for her to dismiss, to attempt to talk him out of believing, if he was to build a solid foundation for his case.
No, the Jenkins Jinx was definitely off-limits this evening.
“You know,” he said, “you’ve never seen my apartment. I was just thinking that I have some mint-chocolate-chip ice cream in my freezer. Would you like to go there for dessert?”
Maggie leaned toward him. “Mint-chocolate-chip?”
“That’s the one.”
“Two scoops?”
“Three scoops,” he said, holding up that many fingers.
“I have no willpower when it comes to mint-chocolate-chip ice cream,” Maggie said. “Oh, my, three scoops.”
“I thought you might like that flavor,” Luke said, appearing extremely pleased with himself. “See how well I’m getting to know you, Maggie? It boggles the mind.”
It terrifies the mind, Maggie thought. They were becoming so connected, bonded, on the same wavelength and…Never mind. She wasn’t going to get all in a dither about it.
She was about to have three scoops of mint-chocolate-chip ice cream. Ah, yes, life was good.
Chapter Nine
“My goodness,” Maggie said, taking in Luke’s enormous living room. “This is incredible, just beautiful. I’ve never been in a penthouse apartment before. The view is fabulous. I’d probably lose track of time and just sit for hours gazing out those windows at the city lights. You must look forward to coming home each day after work, Luke.”
Not anymore, Luke thought as he stared at the awed expression on Maggie’s face. Now it was just a whole lot of empty space waiting for Maggie to fill it to overflowing with her sunshine, laughter and…well, by just being Maggie.
“Ready for that ice cream?” he said.
“Sure. Can I see the kitchen?”
Luke laughed. “Follow me. It’s fun to experience this place through fresh eyes.”
Maggie gushed on and on about the fantastic kitchen as Luke scooped out the ice cream. As he picked up the bowls to carry them to the table, he dropped one of the spoons.
“Darn,” he said.
“I’ll get it,” Maggie said, retrieving the spoon from the floor and rinsing it under the faucet.
They settled onto chairs opposite each other at the round oak table and Maggie took several mouthfuls of the dessert before she realized that Luke was staring into space.
“What’s wrong?” she said.
“I was just wondering what child was going to come visit me and I’m coming up blank.”
“I beg your pardon?” Maggie said, obviously confused.
“When you drop a spoon it means a child will visit. A fork brings a woman to your door, and a knife indicates the visitor will be a man.”
“Is that a fact,” Maggie said drily.
“Yep.”
“Mmm,” Maggie said, frowning at him.
“It’s true,” Luke said, leaning toward her. “I dropped a knife last month and—bingo—Robert popped in for no reason other than he was in the neighborhood.”
“Robert is your brother. It makes perfect sense that he’d like to see you. It has nothing to do with the knife you dropped, Luke.”
“Oh, yeah? Well, another time it was a fork, and you’d better believe I shoved all the dirty dishes in the dishwasher before the knock came at the door. And there she was, my mother, bringing me some brownies she’d baked.” He paused. “I wonder what little kid…Are Girl Scouts selling cookies now or something?”
“Halt,” Maggie said, raising one hand. “Has Robert ever come by unannounced before?”
“Well…yes.”
“And is your mother in the habit of bringing you homemade baked goods?”
“Yes, but—”
“I rest my case. Your fumble-fingers with the silverware was just a coincidence, nothing more. Another one of those superstitions you should forget about.”
“Think so?”
“Know so.” Maggie took another spoonful of ice cream. “Mmm. This is delicious. You’d better start on yours before it melts.”
“You’re really punching holes in my superstitions, you know,” Luke said, then started in on his dessert.
“They can control your life if you’re not careful,” Maggie said.
Luke laughed. “Not all of them. There’s one just for women. If she goes out in public and her slip shows, it means her father loves her more than her mother does.”
“No, Luke, it means that either her slip is too long or her dress is too short.”
“What you’re saying makes sense, I guess. Then again…hmm. I’ll have to think about this.” He paused. “Enough about superstitions. I’m going to go put some music on. I’ll be right back.”
A few moments later Maggie stiffened in her chair as the sound of lilting music reached her.
Oh, God, she thought, that was one of the waltzes she and Luke had danced to at Ginger and Robert’s wedding. The beautiful song evoked special memories she intended to keep for all time. Did Luke remember why that particular tune was so meaningful or was it just a coincidence that he had put it on? No, men didn’t get caught up in things like that. Music was music.
Luke came back into the kitchen and stood next to Maggie’s chair.
“Recognize that waltz?” he said quietly. “We danced to it at Robert and Ginger’s wedding. I asked the band leader what it was and went out and bought it so I could play it when you came here.”
“Really?” Maggie said, a warmth suffusing her and creating a flush on her cheeks. “You did that? Of course I remember it, Luke, but to think that you went to all this trouble to…I don’t know what to say.”
He extended one hand toward her. “Say you’ll dance with me.”
From a seemingly faraway dreamy place, Maggie watched her hand float up to grasp Luke’s, then she was on her feet and in his embrace. He held her close, moving with the music as he glided them out of the kitchen and into the living room, which was filled with the melody from speakers mounted high on the wall in each corner of the large room.
Maggie nestled her head on Luke’s shoulder as they danced, drinking in the feel of him, his aroma, the strength of his body. Around the room they went, so gracefully, so perfectly in step.
It was so romantic that tears burned at the back of Maggie’s eyes and desire consumed her, making it impossible to think clearly. She could only feel and savor and wish for the music to never end.
But it did finish, and they stopped in front of the tall windows where the lights of the city spread out in all directions like a fairyland. Another song started, but they didn’t move, just held fast to each other. Then Luke shifted enough so he could tilt Maggie’s chin up with one gentle fingertip, lowered his head and kissed her.
The kiss was so soft and tender, so exactly right to mark the finish of the memory-filled waltz, that two tears spilled onto Maggie’s cheeks. Luke deepened the kiss and she gave herself to him, swept away by the moment and the music and…Luke.
Then he slowly, so slowly, lowered her to the plush carpet. He stretched out next to her, bracing his weight on one forearm as he drew a thumb over her tears.
“You’re so beautiful,” he said, his voice husky. “I’ve actually daydreamed about this, about seeing you here in my home, right here in front of these windows with the world spread out before us as though it belongs only to us. Ah, Maggie, I…” Love you with all that I am, all I will ever be, for eternity. “I…want to make love to you so much, so very much.”
“Yes,” she whispered.
He kissed her, then they parted long enough to shed their clothes and reached for each other once again. An urgency engulfed them, a need so great it was indescribable.
With hands never still, they caressed.
With lips seeking more, they kissed.
With passion soaring to unbelievable heights, they waited until they could bear it no longer.
Then they joined, meshed into one entity that made it impossible to decipher where the body soft and feminine and the one so very masculine ended and began.
The music had stopped, but they could hear their special waltz as they rocked in gentle rhythm to the exquisite song that belonged to them alone. The tension built within them, tightening, spiraling, taking them higher, up and away, until they burst into the heavens with the lights of their world beyond the windows showing them the way.
It was ecstasy. It was nearly shattering in its splendor, an explosion of sensations like none before. They drifted, savoring, murmuring the name of the other, until they returned to rest on the lush carpet that cradled them.
Luke moved off Maggie, then shifted her so her back was to his front and they could gaze out at the lights. He buried his face in her fragrant hair for a long moment, then tucked her head beneath his chin.
Maggie drew a shuddering breath, then smothered a sob that threatened to escape from her throat.
Dear God, she thought, she loved him. She was in love with Luke St. John. There was no denying it, nowhere to hide from the truth of it, nowhere to run. She loved him. He was all, everything and more that she’d fantasized about finding in a man, the one who would steal her heart for all time if things were different. If she was a normal woman, not plagued by the Jenkins Jinx. She loved him, but she couldn’t have him, and it was just so incredibly sad.
But for now? she thought, blinking back unwelcomed tears. He was hers. Until Precious and Clyde’s wedding, Luke was hers. She would cherish every moment she had with him and ignore the ticking of the clock that would signal their goodbye.
“What we just shared was…” Luke said, then stopped speaking for a second. “No, I don’t have the words.”
“I don’t either,” Maggie said softly, “but I know that it was…I’ll never forget this night, Luke.”
“I won’t either.” He paused, then chuckled. “I think our ice cream has melted.”
Maggie smiled. “I think my bones have melted.”
Time lost meaning as they lay together in sated, comfortable silence, then Maggie finally sighed.
“I’m about to fall asleep,” she said. “I’d better get home, Luke.”
“Ah, Maggie, stay. Please,” he said. “We’ll sleep with our heads on the same pillow in my bed and have breakfast together in the morning.”
“I don’t think…”
“Please?”
Why not? Maggie thought. In for a penny, in for a pound, or however that saying went. She was hopelessly, irrevocably in love with this man. The damage was done, the heartbreak guaranteed when all of this ended. Why not share everything she could with Luke while it was possible?
“Yes,” she said. “Yes, I’ll stay.”
“Thank you,” Luke said, then shifted away from her, rolled to his feet and extended one hand to her. “Come on. I promise my bed is softer than this floor.”
Maggie placed her hand in his and allowed him to draw her up into an embrace where his mouth melted over hers in a searing kiss. On legs that weren’t quite steady she walked by his side to the large master bedroom that was decorated in gray and burgundy. Luke turned on a lamp on the nightstand, then flipped back the blankets to reveal burgundy sheets.
“Oh, wait,” he said. “Make note of which side of the bed you get in on because you have to leave on the same side in the morning or you’ll have bad luck.”
“Here we go again,” Maggie said, rolling her eyes. “Another St. John superstition.”
“Well,” he said, shrugging, “at least I have a variety to offer. You’re zoned in on the Jenkins Jinx and that’s it.”
Maggie looked up at him and frowned. “Which has generations of proof that validates it.”
“That may be true, but you’ve managed to punch holes in all the superstitions I’ve presented so far, shown me that there’s room for doubt. The same may hold true for your jinx.”
“No,” Maggie said, taking a step backward. “I’m not going to even entertain the idea that the jinx can be broken. I’ve seen the heartache suffered by those who thought they could do exactly that. No.”
“Okay,” Luke said, raising both hands in a gesture of peace. “Forget I said that. I didn’t mean to upset you on this incredibly perfect night.” He swept one arm in the direction of the bed. “Madam?”
Maggie settled onto the bed with a sigh of pleasure.
“Oh, this is heavenly,” she said.
“I’m going to go turn out the lights in the other rooms and dump the soupy ice cream,” Luke said. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
“‘Kay,” she said, then yawned.
Luke chuckled, then strode from the room. When he returned, Maggie was sound asleep. He slipped carefully into the bed next to her, then propped up on one forearm to watch her sleep.
So lovely, he thought. Maggie was here with him, where she belonged. If only there was a golden ring on her finger symbolizing her being his wife, his partner in life.
He was winning little victories each time she made it clear that the newest superstition he’d declared was foolish, should be dismissed as nonsense. Each of those incidents gave him ammunition to demolish the Jenkins Jinx. He was definitely making progress. Wasn’t he? Oh, man, he just had to be.
But Maggie was so…so fierce about the jinx, was determined not to fall prey to the belief that she could be the one to prove it untrue, to break the long cycle of disastrous marriages in the Jenkins family. No, she had said. No.
And little victories meant nothing if he didn’t win the final battle. He couldn’t bear that thought. He’d just keep on as he was, chipping away at that wall of Maggie’s. He was going to conquer the demon that held her so tight.
He was going to marry Maggie Jenkins. She loved him, he believed that with every fiber of his being. And heaven knew that he loved her. That love would grow, become stronger, unbeatable, smash the jinx into dust to be blown into oblivion.