A Bride by Christmas

by Joan Elliott Pickart

  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.

  Three

  Unable to sleep after the events of the unsettling evening, Luke gave up and left his bed, pulling on a lightweight robe. He wandered through his penthouse apartment, finally stopping by a wall of windows to look out over the city lights that shone into infinity.

  Thoughts tumbled through his mind one after another, and he pressed the heels of his hands to his throbbing temples for a moment in a futile attempt to halt the onslaught.

  Maggie, he thought, crossing his arms over his chest. She was all and everything he had ever hoped to find in a woman. He had only known her for a handful of hours, yet he knew she was the one, his life’s partner.

  Half of him wanted to shout the fantastic news from the rooftops, tell the world that he was in love, had found the woman of his heart.

  Another section of his being was terrified that Maggie would never come to feel the same way about him, that she would slip away from him like sand falling from the palm of his hand.

  Maggie, for reasons she refused to share so far, never intended to marry. That was not good, not good at all. The mystifying question was why. Had she been terribly hurt by a man in the past? Oh, he’d take the guy apart. He’d…Whoa, he would just waste mental energy going off in that direction.

  Maybe Maggie was so focused on her career she saw no room for a man in her life. No, that didn’t work for him. He’d dated a multitude of women with that mind-set and they were all popped out of the same mold. Maggie wasn’t like them, not even close. She didn’t have the brittle edginess, that step-over-the-bodies-to-get-to-the-top mentality he was so tired of dealing with.

  Maggie was so down to earth, so…real. She’d started a business that made dreams come true for brides, made their weddings a special, memory-making event in their lives.

  Ginger and Robert’s day was going to be perfect because Maggie had seen to every detail, including sorting through a mountain of yogurt-covered almonds to select Ginger’s choice of colors.

  Yes, Maggie knew how to make dreams come true, yet she didn’t want any of those spectacular weddings to be hers, didn’t want to be the bride who would see her groom waiting eagerly for her at the altar as she made her way down the aisle.

  Why?

  It was as though Maggie had built tall, strong walls around her heart, and his greatest fear was that he wouldn’t be able to break through them, get a chance to capture her heart as she had his.

  The flicker of hope he had, Luke mused as he continued to stare out the window, was that he’d felt Maggie respond to his kiss during the rehearsal, had seen the desire in her big brown eyes directed toward him. Him.

  That kiss had been the beginning of the chipping away of that barrier surrounding Maggie. It was a start, a positive one, but he had a long, long way to go.

  His first impulse was to ask Maggie out, wine and dine and court her, but a cold knot in his gut told him she’d turn him down flat if he invited her to join him for a night on the town. She’d been upset, really flustered by her reaction to the kiss they’d shared and had beat a hasty retreat from the rehearsal dinner as quickly as she could.

  No, the traditional program of flowers, candy and romantic dinners wasn’t going to work because he just somehow knew he wasn’t going to get a chance to put those things in motion.

  He needed a new and innovative plan, Luke thought, narrowing his eyes. And he’d better come up with it very quickly. He’d see Maggie at the wedding and reception, but beyond that he envisioned her being set on automatic “no” if he attempted to get her to go out with him.

  Ah, Maggie, why? he thought dismally. What secret something held her in an iron fist that made her determined to never fall in love, never marry, never be the bride in one of her meticulously planned weddings?

  He didn’t know the answer to that tormenting question. Nor did he know the answer to how he was going to see Maggie again after Robert and Ginger’s wedding. And he didn’t know the answer to how he would face a cold and empty future without her.

  Well, the first order of business, he thought, heading back toward his bedroom, was to get some sleep. He was about to begin the greatest battle of his life and he intended to win. Somehow. He would be the victor. Somehow. He would crumble Maggie’s walls into dust and share her sunshine world with her for all time. Somehow.

  Late the next morning Maggie entered the small house where her mother lived and presented her with a lumpy plastic bag.

  “What’s this, sweetheart?” Martha Jenkins said, holding the bag at eye level.

  “Almonds,” Maggie said, sitting down at the kitchen table. “Yogurt-covered almonds in every shade of the rainbow except yellow and mint-green.”

  Martha laughed as she sat opposite Maggie and opened the bag. Martha was a rather attractive woman, although not one that would turn heads when she walked into a room. Her brown hair was streaked with gray, which she felt no need to hide, and she had given up long ago trying to lose the twenty pounds that had crept up on her over the years.

  “Just what my pudgy person doesn’t need,” she said. “But, what the heck, I’ll eat every one of them. Are these left over from something you did for the big wedding tonight?” She popped two of the nuts into her mouth.

  Maggie nodded. “Nut cups. Nut cups, you understand, that only boast yellow and mint-green yogurt-covered almonds, to please my picky bride.” She paused. “No, that’s not fair. Ginger is very sweet. She just had trouble making up her mind about things for a stretch of time there. But when you think about it, she has every right to have things perfect for her special event.”

  “That’s true,” Martha said, then sighed. “But that doesn’t guarantee a happy marriage, does it? The bubble bursts and that’s that, as evidenced by the fact that I divorced your father when you were ten. Off he went, never to be seen or heard from again.” She ate four more almonds. “These are yummy.”

  “I think Ginger and Robert are going to be a forever couple, Mom,” Magg
ie said. “If you could see them together… Oh, never mind.”

  “Maggie, honey, I worry so about you,” Martha said. “Why on earth did you become a wedding coordinator when there are so many other things you could have done? Why torture yourself creating those beautiful events for other people when—”

  “When I know I can never get married myself?” Maggie finished for her.

  “Yes,” Martha said, patting her daughter’s hand. “Exactly.”

  A sudden and vivid image of Luke flashed through Maggie’s mind and a shiver coursed through her.

  “Maybe you’re right,” she said quietly. “Maybe launching Roses and Wishes was a terrible mistake. I’ve been fine for the past year with all the preparations being for other people, but…” She stopped and shook her head.

  “Is there something different about this wedding that’s upsetting you?” Martha said, frowning.

  “No, not really,” Maggie said quickly, forcing a smile to appear on her lips. “It’s just the largest wedding I’ve done, and after so many months I think I’m just registering a sense of loss, sort of hating to say goodbye to all those people.

  “I’m hoping, of course, that my reputation will soar because of Ginger and Robert’s event and I’ll get to do some ritzier weddings. I guess that’s what I want. Oh, ignore me. I’m in a strange mood. Eat another almond, Mom. Yogurt is good for a person.”

  “Nuts are fattening,” Martha said, laughing.

  “How are things at the store?”

  “Same old, same old,” Martha said with a shrug. “I manage the children’s clothing department by rote now, I’ve been doing it for so long. I don’t love it, I don’t hate it, I just do it. Keeps this roof over my head. I really can’t complain, sweetheart. I made my way up the ladder from a salesclerk to the manager and I’m proud of that.”

  “You should be,” Maggie said, nodding. “I’m proud of you, too.”

  “I’ll just keep plugging along until I retire. Since I just turned fifty, I have a ways to go, though.” Martha paused. “Do you feel that type of settled in with Roses and Wishes? Do you see yourself running your business for many years to come?”