Joan Pickart – A Ring For Christmas: A Bride by Christmas / Christmas Lullaby / Mistletoe Manoeuvres (страница 3)

“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.

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.