A Ring For Christmas

Will a kiss under the mistletoe end in a happy-ever-after?

A Ring for Christmas

Three exhilarating Christmas romances from three beloved Mills & Boon authors!

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About the Author

JOAN ELLIOTT PICKART is the author of over eighty novels. When she isn’t writing, she enjoys watching football, knitting, reading, gardening and attending craft shows on the town square. Joan has three all-grown-up daughters and a fantastic little grandson.

In September of 1995 Joan travelled to China to adopt her fourth daughter, Autumn. Joan and Autumn have settled into their cosy cottage in a charming small town in the high pine country of Arizona.

For all the lovely ladies at Willow Wind

Chapter One

Luke St. John walked slowly up the wide steps leading to the porch, and the carved wooden doors of the large Episcopal church. He stopped at the doors, marveling at their intricate craftsmanship.

It really was a majestic structure, he thought, and he could understand why his brother and Ginger had chosen to be married here tomorrow. The event had been many months in the planning, and Robert had confided that Ginger had changed her mind about colors and endless other details so many times the wedding coordinator must be ready to strangle his bride-to-be.

Luke smiled as he opened one of the doors and entered the vestibule.

Ginger Barrington, he mused, was an endearing yet rather ditzy young woman who had been given a blank check by her father to have the wedding of her dreams. The last he’d heard, Ginger had chosen seven bridesmaids for the don’t-worry-about-the-cost event.

Whatever. The people in the Barrington-St. John social circle were accustomed to these kinds of extravaganzas. What was important was that Ginger and Robert were deeply in love—and they were, they really were.

Strange, Luke thought. He’d actually felt a twinge of envy on more than one occasion as he’d watched the relationship between Robert and Ginger develop. He’d been startled each time he’d registered that green-around-the-edges feeling. He dated independent career women and that suited him just fine. But then again…

Luke shook his head to halt his jumbled thoughts and glanced at his watch.

He was early for the rehearsal, he knew, but a business meeting on this side of town had ended sooner than expected. There wasn’t time to go home, nor any point in returning to the office, so he’d come here with the idea of sitting in the quiet church and relaxing until the others arrived.

Luke crossed the vestibule, entered the large sanctuary, then walked down the aisle past about a dozen pews to finally settle onto one. He swept his gaze over the high ceiling and exquisite stained-glass windows, nodding again in approval.

His attention was caught by a side door opening close to the altar. A woman entered carrying a cardboard box. His gaze was riveted on her as she crossed to the center aisle and placed the box on the first pew, immediately removing a large yellow satin bow.

Luke felt a sudden pain in his chest and drew a sharp breath as he realized he hadn’t breathed since the woman had appeared. He leaned forward, resting his arms on the rail in front of him, and drank in the sight of her, missing no detail.

She was so beautiful, Luke thought rather hazily. No, that wasn’t the word he wanted. Beautiful was what the career women he dated strove for, which resulted in cookie-cutter perfection in clothes, hair and makeup that varied little from one to the next.

No, this woman, who was now attaching the satin bow to the side of the first pew was…pretty. Yes, that was the word. Pretty in a wholesome, breath-of-fresh-air way that was knocking him for a loop. She was sunshine on a cloudy day, real, what-you-see-is-what-you-get real, and he’d bet ten bucks she wasn’t wearing any makeup at all.

Her strawberry-blond hair tumbled to her shoulders in what he was convinced were natural curls, and even from this distance he could see that her eyes were big and brown. Fawn eyes. Pretty, pretty eyes. She was wearing a simple pale pink sundress that suited her to perfection.

Whew, Luke thought. He’d felt it, a funny little hitch in the much-needed breath he’d taken and the increased tempo of his heart. Nothing like this had ever happened to him before. Nothing. This woman had definitely made a strange and totally unfamiliar impact on him.

Luke continued to watch as the woman attached a mint-green bow to the second pew, then matching ones on the other side of the aisle, making it subtly clear that those four rows were reserved for the families of the bride and groom.

She might, he guessed, be the wedding coordinator whom Ginger had driven to the brink of insanity. She appeared very young for such a lofty title, was maybe twenty-four or twenty-five. So, okay, at thirty-two he wasn’t too old for her. Good. That was good.

But…a wedding coordinator? Why did a person decide to become one of those? Because their own wedding had been so wonderful they wanted to share the bliss of an error-free event with others? No. No way. She was not married. That was not acceptable. She was a wedding coordinator because she was a romantic, old-fashioned woman who adored weddings and was very good at taking care of a zillion details at the same time. Yes. That was much better.

He had to meet this woman, Luke thought with a sense of urgency. He had to hear her voice, look deep into those incredible brown eyes of hers. He had to connect with her before she disappeared from his life as quickly as she’d appeared. He had to…Man, he had to get a grip. He didn’t know what was happening to him, but it was a tad scary, that was for sure.

The sound of voices on the porch reached Luke and he got to his feet and stepped into the aisle just as the woman turned toward him. She gasped in shock that he was standing there and took a step backward.

“I’m sorry,” he said, walking forward. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I arrived early and I was just sitting here quietly and…” He stopped in front of her, gazed into her eyes and totally forgot what he was going to say.

“I…” the woman said, still looking directly into his eyes. “I’m…” Whoever I am. Heavens, those eyes, those eyes were dark, fathomless pools that a woman could just drown in and not even struggle to escape. And that voice. So masculine and rumbly and yet…it seemed to stroke her like soft, sensuous velvet, causing her skin to tingle and…

He was tall, had wide shoulders, long legs, roughhewn features and thick, glorious black hair. He looked like someone straight out of central casting.

“You’re…who?” Luke said, leaning slightly toward her.

“Who what?” she said, then blinked. “Oh! Yes, of course. I’m Maggie Jenkins, the wedding coordinator. I own Roses and Wishes, which is gaining a fine reputation for coordinating weddings, because that’s what I do. I…coordinate…weddings. I’m also babbling, so forget all that. I’m a tad exhausted at the moment, you see. And you are?”

Enchanted, Luke thought, smiling. Maggie Jenkins. Maggie. He liked her name. It suited her, it really did. Oh, yes, hello, Maggie Jenkins, who was not wearing a wedding ring, thank goodness.

“Luke St. John,” he said. “The brother of the nervous groom and the best man for this gala event.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Maggie said, tearing her gaze from Luke’s. “I believe the others have arrived. I’d better go greet everyone and get this rehearsal going so we stay on schedule, because dinner’s booked at the restaurant afterward. Excuse me.”

Luke turned to watch her hurry down the aisle as the large group of people appeared. He didn’t move to join the others. Not yet. He just stood there drinking in the sight of Maggie.

Maggie stifled a yawn of fatigue as she plastered a plastic smile on her tired face and stopped in front of the chattering wedding party.

Was that heat she felt on her back? she thought suddenly. Was Luke St. John staring at her with those…those eyes? Maggie, stop it. She had made a complete idiot of herself with Luke, had overreacted to his masculine magnetism only because she was so tired she couldn’t think straight. Once rested, she would view Luke St. John as a very handsome man but big macho deal.

“Hello, everyone,” Maggie said brightly.

“Oh, Maggie,” Ginger said, beaming, “isn’t this exciting? Tomorrow is the big day. I can hardly believe it’s finally here.”

You’re not the only one, Maggie thought, smiling and nodding at the petite blonde who boasted a golden tan and was wearing a royal-blue raw silk jumpsuit.

“Did I check with you to see if you’d found someone to supply only pale yellow and mint-green yogurt-covered almonds for the nut cups at the reception?” Ginger said, frowning.

“Yes, you did,” Maggie said. “And, yes, I did. Well, sort of. I had to order extra nuts, then pick out the two colors we needed.” Which took until after two o’clock this morning. “I was going to ask you what you wanted me to do with the almonds we didn’t use.”

“Whatever,” Ginger said, waving one hand in the air. “Where’s my sweetie? Oh, Robert, there you are, honey. Do you realize we’ll soon be winging our way to Greece? We’ll have a whole month to—What’s wrong? You don’t look like a happy groom.”

The handsome young man in his midtwenties, who was wearing slacks and a dress shirt open at the neck, slid one arm across Ginger’s shoulders.

“My brother isn’t here yet,” he said. “We can’t have a rehearsal without the best man.”

“I’m right here,” Luke said, striding toward the group.

“I’m going to go tell Reverend Mason we’re ready to begin the rehearsal,” Maggie said quickly. “He’s in his office and told me to come get him when we were all set.”

“Maggie, hon, wait a sec,” an attractive young woman said. “I’ve lost two pounds since the final fitting of my bridesmaid dress. Do you think it could be nipped in a bit before the ceremony tomorrow night?”

Over my dead body, Maggie thought. Don’t even think about it…hon.

“That won’t be necessary…Tiffy, isn’t it?” Maggie said, her voice dripping with sweetness. “That’s the beauty of that style of gown. There’s room for a fluctuation of a few pounds here and there. I promise that you have nothing to worry about.”

Nicely done, Luke thought, swallowing a burst of laughter. Maggie had handled the spoiled and pampered Tiffy like a pro. She was really something, this Maggie Jenkins.

“Look on the bright side, Tiffy,” one of the other bridesmaids said. “You can eat your little heart out at the wedding reception—and at the rehearsal dinner tonight, for that matter. You know Ginger and Mrs. Barrington picked goodies to die for. Eat and enjoy.”

“Well, there is that, Melissa Ann,” Tiffy said thoughtfully, then wandered away.

Bless you, Melissa Ann, Maggie thought wearily.

“And don’t forget all those delicious green and yellow yogurt-covered almonds,” Luke said, finally indulging in a chuckle. He paused. “Maggie, did you really have to sort through tons of those things to get the two colors?”

“No detail is too small for Roses and Wishes,” Maggie said, not looking in Luke’s direction.

As Maggie rushed away to get the priest, Luke turned to watch her go, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Luke?” Robert said.

“Hmm?” he said, still staring after Maggie.

“What’s the matter with you?” Robert said. “You’re standing here with your back to everyone. Could you be a little more sociable, for Pete’s sake?”

Luke snapped his head around to look at his brother. “Yes, certainly. Sorry.” He paused. “I must say, Robert, that I’m impressed with the job Maggie Jenkins has done for you and Ginger. Maggie is quite young to have her own business. It’s interesting, too, that she’s a wedding coordinator who isn’t married.” Didn’t hurt to double-check on that. “Don’t you think? You know, someone who didn’t have a fabulous wedding of their own?”

Robert shrugged.

“I asked Maggie about that,” Ginger said, joining the brothers and slipping her arm through Robert’s. “She pointed out that not all pediatricians have children. Maggie loves the challenge of planning a perfect wedding down to the smallest detail. She just doesn’t want one of her own. She told me that. She never intends to get married.”

Luke frowned. “Why not?”

“Well, gracious, Luke,” Ginger said, wrinkling her nose, “it wouldn’t have been polite to ask that. I swear, men should be required to take the same social-graces classes that all of us women do.” She shifted her attention to Robert. “Sweetie, what if people don’t like yo-gurt-covered almonds? Do you think I should ask Maggie to change what’s in the nut cups before tomorrow night?”

“No,” Luke said quickly. “Did you notice the shadows under Maggie’s eyes, Ginger? She’s obviously exhausted, and I’m sure you learned in your social-graces classes that you should be aware of the needs of those around you.

“Besides, I’ve attended more gala events than you due to the simple fact that I’m older than you are. I assure you that my vast experience has shown me that most people are very fond of yogurt-covered almonds.”

“Really?” Ginger said, beaming.

“Guaranteed,” Luke said. “So don’t even entertain the idea of asking Maggie to stay up all night redoing the nut cups.”

“Well, if you say so, Luke,” Ginger said. “I won’t…Oh, there’s Maggie with Reverend Mason. I’d best go say hi.”

Ginger hustled up the aisle and Robert stared at his older brother.

“You’re suddenly an expert on the popularity of almonds?” Robert said incredulously. “Where did that come from? And you’re aware that Maggie is exhausted? What did she do? Say, ‘Hi, I’m Maggie and I’m wiped out’?”

“I’m an attorney, Robert,” Luke said. “A good lawyer learns to observe people for subtle little nuances that can be extremely important in the outcome of a given case.”

“That is such a bunch of crock,” Robert said with a hoot of laughter.

“Yeah, well…” Luke frowned. “Forget it.”

“You sure sound—what word do I want?—protective. Yes, that’s it, protective of Ms. Maggie, big brother. What gives?”

“Nothing ‘gives.’ Look, just concentrate on marrying Ginger.” Luke paused. “You know, Robert, I’m rather…envious of what you and Ginger have together. I’ve watched you two over the past months, seen you fall deeply in love, make plans for a future together. It’s good and I’m really happy for you both. Yep, I admit I’m a little bit jealous.”

“You? Envious of me?” Robert said, splaying one hand on his chest. “I find that a tad hard to believe. You have women beating down your door. You’ve always gone for the type who just wants to have fun but not settle down. There are seven bridesmaids over there who fit that bill. Just take your pick.”

Luke watched Maggie approach with the priest and Ginger.

“Things change,” he said quietly.

Reverend Mason greeted everyone and explained that they would walk through the basics of the wedding ceremony so everything would go smoothly the next evening.

“Right,” he said finally. “Ginger, if you’ll stand at the back of the church with your father and be ready to come down the aisle after your bridesmaids and…”

“Oh, no,” Ginger said, shaking her head. “No, no, no, I can’t do that.”

“Why not?” Robert said frantically. “You’re not changing your mind about marrying me, are you?”

“Don’t be silly, sweetie,” Ginger said, kissing him on the cheek. “But you know how it’s bad luck for the groom to see the bride on their wedding day before the ceremony? Well, it’s also bad luck for the bride and groom to act out those roles at the rehearsal. Didn’t you know that?”

“Can’t say that I did,” Robert said, drawing a deep breath of relief. “So now what?”

“You and I will sit and watch very carefully,” Ginger continued, “so we’ll know what we’re to do tomorrow night.”

“Watch who?” Robert said. “We’re the bride and groom, remember?”

“We use stand-ins for the rehearsal, silly,” Ginger said. “Let’s see. Okay. Your father will be the best man and pretend he has the ring, and Luke will be the groom. And…” She glanced around. “Yes, of course. Maggie, you’ll be the bride.”

“Got it,” Luke said.

“I don’t think that’s a great idea,” Maggie said, feeling the color drain from her face. “No. Bad plan. Bad, bad. I need to…Yes, I need to stay at the back of the church and control the spacing of the bridesmaids starting down the aisle.”

“What is the spacing?” Luke said pleasantly.

“Three pews apart, but…”

“Have you got that, ladies?” Luke said, looking at Ginger’s girlfriends.

Seven heads bobbed up and down.

“Done,” Luke said. “That leaves you free to be way behind them with Ginger’s dad ready to be…the bride, Maggie. And I’ll be the groom.”

“Excellent,” Reverend Mason said. “Let’s take our places, please. The groomsmen need to be up front with our stand-in best man and groom. Mothers, take your places, please. Ginger and Robert, sit where you can observe and hear me clearly.”

“But—” Maggie pointed one finger in the air.

“See you soon, future wife,” Luke said, smiling at Maggie.

“But—”

“Come along…Ginger,” Mr. Barrington said, chuckling as he tucked Maggie’s hand in the crook of his arm. “This reminds me of a baseball game. Instead of a designated hitter, you’re the designated bride.”

She didn’t want to be a bride, Maggie thought miserably as Ginger’s father led her to the back of the church. Well, she did, but it would never happen. She wouldn’t allow it to happen because…No, she was not a bride. Not a real one or a pretend one or a designated one. Not a bride. Not now, not ever.

And to make matters even worse, the stand-in groom was Luke St. John, a man who had made her forget her own name. Good grief, she wanted to go home. Right now.

Everyone except Maggie was chattering and laughing as they took their places, then silence fell as Reverend Mason raised one hand for quiet. He stood at the front of the church with Luke next to him, then the other men in a straight row alongside.

“The organ music you picked for the procession has now begun,” the priest said, smiling. “Pretend you hear it. We’re ready for the bridesmaids to come forward. What was it? Oh, yes, three pews apart, my dears.”

As Tiffy started off, Ginger’s father bent down to whisper to Maggie.

“I hope Ginger looks happier tomorrow night than you do at the moment,” he said. “I think this is rather fun, don’t you, Maggie?”

“That’s not quite the word I would pick, sir,” she said, attempting and failing to produce a smile.

“But your groom is Luke St. John,” Mr. Barrington said. “He’s considered quite a catch in this town. You have to get into your role and realize you’re the envy of a multitude of women in Phoenix. Will that thought make you smile?”

“Not really,” Maggie said gloomily.

“Well, fake it. My daughter is so superstitious about all this nonsense that she’ll probably pitch a fit if you look like you’re about to have a root canal. You can be Ginger marrying Robert or Maggie marrying Luke. Take your pick, but remember this is a wedding, not a funeral. Smile.”

Maggie nodded jerkily and plastered such a wide smile on her face that her cheeks hurt.

“Now you look like someone just stepped on your foot,” Mr. Barrington said.

“Don’t get picky,” Maggie said, glaring at him while keeping her plastic smile in place. “This is the best I can do.”

“For a wedding coordinator,” Mr. Barrington said, “you have a strange attitude about being a bride. Fascinating.”

No, try terrifying, Maggie thought. Try never going to happen. Try…she wanted to go home.

“Now the actual wedding march begins,” Reverend Mason said in the distance. “Give the congregation time to rise and turn in your direction and…now…here comes the lovely bride.”

Chapter Two

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.