Yule Be Mine

by Charlene Teglia

  "It's my new hobby. Luke-watching. I think I should get some binoculars so I can do it better. Luke, you're absolutely beautiful,” she informed him seriously.

  He blinked at that. “I'm what?"

  "Beautiful.” Jordan got up to run appreciative hands over his shirt, smoothing it down and finishing the buttons. Then she slipped her arms around his waist and leaned against his solid bulk.

  His arms wrapped around her and tugged her closer. “You think so, huh?"

  Jordan nodded silently.

  Luke slipped his hands around her waist and easily lifted her to eye level. “And you are exquisite,” he answered, just as seriously. “Fragile and perfect. Like precious porcelain.” He cradled her gently and brushed his lips against hers in a tender salute. “I can't believe I don't break you with my big clumsy hands."

  She smiled sweetly. “I love your big clumsy hands. They're very careful hands. I noticed that about you right away."

  He frowned. “You did not. You promised not to lie anymore, Jordan,” he reminded her.

  "This isn't a lie,” Jordan answered indignantly. “I can prove it. You were holding a coffee cup and it was too small for your hands. You had a spoon and sugar and you never even spilled a drop when you stirred. I can never do that—I leave splashes on the saucer and the table. But not you."

  Now that she mentioned it, he remembered the cafe and how he'd waited for her, wondering who she'd be and why he wouldn't be able to miss her. “You noticed all that?"

  She smiled and curled against him happily. “I noticed all kinds of things. I noticed what great buns you have, too, but I didn't tell you because I didn't want you to be shocked that your own fiancée would notice such a thing."

  He digested that piece of information. It went down well. “I'm very glad my fiancée notices such things. In the future, I hope she mentions them, too."

  Jordan stirred at that. “There is one thing I do have to mention."

  "What's that?"

  She looped her arms around his neck and met his eyes directly. “You thought I ran out on you, didn't you?"

  He returned her level gaze. “Yes."

  She held his gaze for a minute longer, then nodded. “Don't do it again. I told you before—I won't run out on you, even if we have a huge fight. Especially if we have a fight. A Christian never runs from a fight,” she stated self-righteously.

  A slow, unwilling smile tugged at his lips at that. “Never? What if the Christian meets a lion?"

  She winked saucily at him. “Lion taming, of course. Give me a lion and I'll make it roar and purr and follow me like a pussycat."

  "Grr. Roar.” Luke nuzzled her neck and her delighted laughter at his playfulness rang in the office, echoing off the walls. “Come on, lion tamer. We're going home."

  "About time. Oh, I almost forgot. I made you a snow angel,” she murmured as she nipped his earlobe. “And I wrote Jordan loves Luke in huge letters on your lawn. Now all the neighbors know."

  "They do, huh?” He gave her a wry look.

  "Yes. You're mine, and all the neighbor women had better beware.” Jordan gave him a naughty smile and looked terribly pleased with herself.

  "I'm sure they wouldn't dare tangle with a wild Christian,” Luke teased. Then, cautiously, “You didn't make another, ah, snow sculpture, did you, Jordan?"

  She just laughed. “You'll have to find out for yourself, Luke."

  Epilogue

  Theodore, Randall, Lawrence and Gary stood shoulder to shoulder and eyed the newest addition to the Foster family gallery in silence.

  Against a western sunset backdrop, a black horse galloped, with straining muscles and tendons, in a rocking motion that a keen observer could almost feel. Aboard the magnificent stallion, a bold outlaw rider all in black, six-guns tied down, held a beautiful captive before him in the saddle.

  Closer inspection revealed the outlaw's captive to be a small blond woman with short, punk hair in a flowing nineteenth-century gown, with a neckline cut down nearly to the desert tundra and revealing copious amounts of cleavage.

  Even closer inspection revealed a lustful look on the rider's face, clearly visible beneath the brim of a black hat, as he eyed the most fascinating scenery in the picture. The man was easily identifiable as their new brother-to-be.

  The captive was busy stealing the rider's gun while he gaped down the front of her gown, mischief clearly sparkling in her gray eyes. It was a perfect portrait of Jordan.

  "She's not wearing a bra,” Gary muttered.

  "She looks cold,” Randall offered.

  Lawrence just laughed.

  Theodore said softly, “She looks happy."

  The four men were silent for a minute. She did look happy; there was no denying that. At long last they were done with the job they'd started fourteen years before. Jordan was grown up, educated, healthy ... and now happy.

  They'd finally got her paired off and settled down with a man who'd keep her tied to earth. Even in the fantasy portrait, she was solid and grounded now. She wouldn't slip out of their grasp and leave them, the way their parents had slipped away. If she did, they felt reasonably certain that the man in black would go after her and drag her back.

  The brothers exchanged sober looks and nodded as one. Jordan was Luke's problem now.

  * * * *

  Luke's problem was lying under the raided Christmas tree in a bed of fir needles, wrapping paper and ribbon, looking up at the lights.

  "Jordan?” Luke prodded her foot with his.

  "What?” Her voice was slightly muffled by the tree.

  "What are you doing down there?"

  "Looking at the lights. It's beautiful, Luke. You should see."

  Her soft, dreamy answer made him smile. He lowered his large frame to the floor and poked his head under the spreading fir branches to join her.

  "Lie on your back, it's more comfortable,” Jordan instructed, patting the spot beside her. He complied and took her hand in his.

  She was right, as usual. It was beautiful. The white lights reflected off of red, green and gold glass ornaments and created a sparkling display in the soft evergreen.

  With Jordan, he saw everything with new eyes. To her the world was beautiful and full of wonder and she'd shown him how to see it that way, too.

  She'd made him go caroling, and to his surprise, he'd enjoyed it, walking with her in the new snow that reflected the starlight and moonlight and made the night brilliant. A night of wonder and miracles, like the night he'd stood with her watching snow fall like sparkly silver fairy dust and he'd felt love pierce his heart for the first time.

  They'd gone to the tree farm to select an appropriate masterpiece for their first Christmas together. She'd driven him insane with her insistence on the perfect tree, but she'd been right about that, too. She had found the perfect tree, perfectly shaped, beautifully full, exactly the right height for his living room. Then, like a snow-covered winter sprite, she'd danced around it until he acquiesced and cut it to her specifications.

  She'd shown him the Church Street Marketplace holiday window displays, a sight he walked past year after year but never stopped to examine with a child's sense of wonder until now. Jordan had dragged him on a tour of every single display, applauding the innovative or touching while sneering at the blatantly commercial.

  Thinking of shopping led to thinking of his Christmas present. Luke turned and tugged her into his embrace to kiss her. “Did I say thank you for my present?” he asked against her lips.

  She'd given him a tin star for his black hat and a pair of very sexy black leather cowboy boots. He'd given her the matching earrings to her engagement ring with the threat to make her wear them if she misbehaved. He had a feeling she'd be wearing them often. And while he'd definitely thought about it, he'd known better than to buy her a truckload of bras.

  "Hmm. Let me think. I don't think mushy looks count, so ... no.” Jordan teased him playfully as she displayed charming dimples that never failed to tempt him.


  He slid a hand along her hip and cupped her against his sudden arousal. “Let me thank you properly,” he murmured suggestively. Then he kissed her in fierce abandon and growled with contentment.

  Jordan nibbled his lips until the growl became a definite purr. “Ha. Tamed you again. Christian ten, lion zero,” she smirked.

  She had a feeling, though, that he loved being tamed. The feeling was confirmed when he smoothed back her shock of spiky white-blond hair and kissed her again, softly. “I love you, Jordan."

  "I love you, Luke,” she whispered back, happiness glowing in her impish features.

  "Merry Christmas, Snow Queen,” he murmured as his lips claimed hers again.

  She was disgraceful, disreputable, deceptive and double-dealing. She was a wicked fairy who haunted his days and nights. She was the best Christmas present he'd ever had.

  She'd buried the lonely past and given him the bright promise of a love-filled future. And some day, Luke vowed, he'd finally get the best of her in a quarrel.

  But even if he didn't, he would be forever thankful that his Jordan insisted on happy endings.

  "Luke?"

  "Yes?"

  "I have this fantasy about you and me. On a tropical island. In the sand. Want me to tell you about it?"

  Luke laughed. “I do."

  She did.

  He gave her a stern look. “Jordan, I'm not that kind of man."

  "After the wedding, Luke,” Jordan promised, with a sweetly innocent smile. A smile that meant trouble.

  Luke could hardly wait.

  The End

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