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What she did not do was think.
Upon waking that morning she’d made a firm vow that she would not dwell on the subject of Luke St. John. Not relive the kiss at the altar during the rehearsal or the dances they’d shared.
No remembrances would be allowed of the heated sensations that had consumed her when Luke’s lips had captured hers and while she had been held so tightly in his arms during the dreamy waltzes.
She’d shoo away any images that threatened to creep into her mental vision of Luke’s deep brown eyes, his thick beckoning-to-her-fingers hair, his wide shoulders and those incredible strong but gentle hands of his.
Through the entire day she concentrated on her chores and kept busy, busy, busy, becoming extremely proud of herself for her restraint and self-control.
Luke and the success of the Barrington-St. John wedding were now old news, done, finished, kaput, and her thoughts were directed toward the start of the fresh week at Roses and Wishes. She focused on the hope that new business from all those cards she’d seen tucked away at the reception would cause the phone to ring off the hook.
She mentally patted herself on the back for doing such a stellar job of keeping her vow. The day had gone exactly as she’d planned.
But then she ran out of things to do.
She had spit-shined the kitchen after dinner, taken a leisurely bubble bath in her super-duper tub, then settled onto the sofa in an old-fashioned, pale pink, soft cotton granny nightgown that was perfect for the warm summer night.
Glancing at the little clock on the end table, she frowned when she saw that it was only a few minutes after eight o’clock. She was tired from her nonstop day but not sleepy enough to go to bed.
“Television,” she said, snatching up the remote.
She channel surfed three times, sighed, then turned off the TV realizing there was just nothing on that she wanted to watch.
“Read a book,” she said, grabbing a paperback novel on the coffee table.
After reading the same page four times and having no idea what it said, she plunked the book back onto the table and glared at it.
She wiggled into a more comfortable position on the rather lumpy sofa, crossed her arms over her breasts and stared into space.
And thought of Luke St. John.
“This is dumb, dumb, dumb,” she said with a cluck of self-disgust.
Well, she thought, maybe not. Perhaps she was approaching this all wrong. Granted, she’d kept Luke at bay during the hours of the day, but she couldn’t continue such a frenzied schedule or she’d collapse into an exhausted heap on the floor.
So. New idea. She would indulge in dwelling on all that had transpired between her and Luke, would allow images of his masculine magnificence to consume her mind, would invite the womanly sensual sensations to once again swirl and churn and burn within her. Then she’d wrap all those things up like a precious treasure and tuck them away in a secret chamber of her heart and be done with them for all time. The end.
“Very good,” she said with a decisive nod. “Go for it, Maggie.”
And she did.
And spent a long night tossing and turning in her bed, alternating between hot waves of overpowering desire and the chill of loneliness.
Late the next morning Maggie sat in the office of Roses and Wishes and stared gloomily at the telephone, which had not rung once since she’d come downstairs.
Well, that was fine, she rationalized. It didn’t mean she wasn’t going to garner any new business from the success of the Barrington-St. John wedding. She was being much too impatient, that’s all. Brides-to-be had to come back to earth from cloud nine and start thinking about what kind of wedding they wished to have. They’d mentally sift and sort, mull it over, then eventually call Roses and Wishes to set things in motion. Sure.
Maggie left the office and went into the reception area, where she straightened albums that didn’t need straightening, dusted what wasn’t dusty. She switched two easy chairs to opposite sides of the love seat, then put them back where they’d been.
With a sigh she trudged back into the office, sank onto the chair behind the desk and, for lack of anything better to do, doodled on a legal pad and munched on yogurt-covered almonds.
She was tired, she mused, and that was Luke St. John’s fault. She’d given him several hours of her evening last night, but she’d certainly not invited him into her bed and the dreams she’d had when she’d finally managed to doze off. Pushy, rude man. He’d refused to stay beyond her bedroom door as ordered, darn it.
The bell over the front door jingled, indicating someone had entered the house, and Maggie jumped to her feet, nearly tipping over the chair in the process.
She told herself to get a professional grip, for heaven’s sake, took a steadying breath as she smoothed her pale blue top over the waistband of her white slacks and actually managed to walk to the main area in a fairly slow, ladylike manner.
Then stopped dead and forgot to breathe.
“Hello, Maggie,” Luke St. John said from where he stood just inside the door.
This was absurd, Maggie thought, taking a gulp of much-needed air. Luke wasn’t really standing there looking incredibly gorgeous in jeans and an open-necked gray dress shirt. She’d conjured up his image from the wanton section of her brain that insisted on reliving all the sensationally sensuous…This was ridiculous.
“Maggie?” Luke closed the distance between them and frowned. “Hello?”
“You’re not here,” she said, flapping one hand in the air. “Poof. You’re gone.” She paused, waited, then tentatively pressed one fingertip to Luke’s imaginary chest, which was definitely hard as a rock. Her eyes widened as she stared up at him. “Oh, my gosh, you really are here. Why are you here?”
Luke folded his arms across his chest and stared down at the floor, his shoulders shaking with muffled laughter.
Oh, man, he thought, how he loved this woman. She was obviously jangled by his unexpected arrival at Roses and Wishes, and that was good news. Great news. If he hadn’t had an impact on Maggie, she wouldn’t give a damn if he suddenly popped into her place of business.
She was flustered and didn’t know how to hide it, and that was so endearing. Maggie was genuine and honest. He wanted to take her into his arms and…
“Mr. St. John?” Maggie said, planting her hands on her hips. “May I help you?”
“I’m beyond help,” he said, meeting her gaze with merriment dancing in his brown eyes.
“Pardon me?”
“Never mind.” Luke forced a serious expression onto his face. “Yes, you may assist me, Ms. Jenkins. I am in desperate need of your expertise.”
This was it, he thought, feeling a sudden trickle of sweat run down his chest. He was putting The Plan into motion. And it would work. It had to work.
“My expertise?” Maggie said, cocking her head slightly to one side. “About what?”
“Weddings. I am responsible for planning a wedding, every detail, beginning to end. No expense spared.”
Dear heaven, no, Maggie thought, feeling the color drain from her face. Luke St. John was getting married. How could he do such a thing? He hadn’t even brought a date to his brother’s wedding, for crying out loud. And crying out loud was what she was about to do, because she could feel the tears stinging at the back of her eyes and…
“Are you all right?” Luke said, frowning. “You’re very pale all of a sudden. Why don’t we sit down on this nice love seat you have?”
“I’ll sit on the love seat,” she said, shooting him a dark look, “and you sit on that easy chair.”
Luke raised both hands palms out. “No problem. Whatever makes you comfortable.”
Once seated, Maggie directed her attention to an invisible piece of lint on one of her knees.
“I must say, Luke,” she said, wishing her voice sounded steadier than the quivering little noise she was hearing, “that I’m surprised by your announcement. I mean, you didn’t have a…a companion with you at Ginger and Robert’s wedding or…
“What did you do? Put all your women’s names in a hat, pull one out and decide to marry her because your brother is obviously so happy, so what the heck, why not?” She paused. “Sorry. That was rude. Very rude.” She cleared her throat. “So. You wish to hire me—Roses and Wishes—to coordinate your wedding. I appreciate your confidence. It is a bit unusual that you’re tending to this and not your bride-to-be, as it’s traditional that the woman…Forget that. To each his own. How many people are you going to invite?”
Luke propped one ankle on his other knee and smiled pleasantly. “A lot.”
“Could you be a tad more specific?”
“Not at the moment. Just go with a lot for now.”
“And when do you plan to have this life-changing event?” Maggie said, looking over at him.
“The sooner the better,” he said. “But I’m not exactly sure at this point in time.”
“I see.” Maggie frowned. “No, I don’t. Call me stupid, but this isn’t making one bit of sense. You want me to coordinate a wedding for a lot, number unknown, of guests, and it’s to be held the sooner the better, but you don’t have a clue as to when.”
Luke nodded. “That’s it in a nutshell.”
A rather hysterical giggle escaped from Maggie’s lips. “Do you know anything for certain? Like, for example, who the bride is?”
“Oh, yes, ma’am,” he said. “That is etched in stone.”
“How nice,” she said miserably. “What I mean is…I’m not sure what I mean. This is very confusing.”
“It is?” Luke said, an expression of pure innocence on his face. “I need a wedding planned, you’re a wedding planner—coordinator, whatever.” He shrugged. “Seems to me I’ve come to the right place, especially after seeing what a dynamite job you did for Ginger and Robert.”
“But Ginger knew what she wanted and when she wanted it,” Maggie said, throwing up her hands. “Well, sort of. She did change her mind about a ton of things, but generally speaking, she knew. You know—three hundred, give or take, guests, a summer wedding, seven bridesmaids, yogurt-covered almonds in the nut cups, details like that.”
“Oh,” Luke said, nodding. “Well, I don’t know any of that stuff. Except forget the almonds. I don’t like almonds, yogurt-covered or otherwise.”
“Oh, well, with that data I’m ready to roll,” Maggie said, throwing up her hands again. “No almonds in the nut cups.” She shook her head. “This is insane.”
“Tell me this, Maggie,” Luke said, leaning toward her. “How long does it take to put on a production like Ginger and Robert’s shindig?”
“At least six months,” she said, “and that’s going full speed ahead.”
“Really? That long? Grim, very grim. Well, if that’s the best you can do…Okay, let’s aim for a Christmas wedding. How’s that?”
Sure, Maggie thought, feeling the threat of tears again. Merry Christmas to Maggie Jenkins. She could watch Luke St. John get married. Hooray.
Darn it, what difference did it make? Why was she falling apart because Luke suddenly realized he was in love with one of the high-society women he dated and wanted to get married and live happily ever after? It had nothing to do with her beyond being a real coup for Roses and Wishes.
So why did she feel so sad?
Why did she want to crawl into bed and cry for a week?
Forget it, just forget it. She wasn’t talking to herself about this anymore because she was being absolutely, positively ridiculous.
“Maggie?” Luke said. “Does that work for you? A Christmas wedding?”
“Yes,” she said softly as she looked at a spot in space a couple of inches above Luke’s head. “A Christmas wedding will be just fine, very beautiful and…special. Definitely a Christmas to remember forever.”
Chapter Five
Luke nodded and rubbed his hands together. “Actually this schedule will work out perfectly. A holiday wedding. That’s really romantic, don’t you think?”
“What? Uh, yes, very romantic,” Maggie said with a rather wistful sigh as she shifted her gaze to the opposite wall. “It’s a magical time of year as it is. And to be getting married then, too? Goodness, that’s over the top or however you want to put it.”
“Yep.” Luke paused and looked at Maggie intently. “I’ll tell…them…the good news.”
Maggie snapped her head around to stare at Luke. “Them? Them who?” She paused. “You mean the families?”
“Nooo,” Luke said slowly. “I was referring to the bride and groom.”
“Pardon me?” she said, obviously confused.
“Oh,” Luke said, snapping his fingers, “I didn’t make myself clear on this at all, did I? I do apologize, Maggie. The wedding we’re discussing is for my cousin and his fiancée.”
“What?” Maggie blinked. “You mean you’re not…What?”
“Let me start at the top,” Luke said, lacing his fingers on his chest. “My cousin…Clyde…”
Jeez, what a name, he thought, inwardly groaning. He should have given thought to the identity of these people before he got here. The bride, the bride. What was the bride’s name?
He looked frantically around the room, his gaze falling on the cover of a thick photograph album imprinted with the words Precious Memories in gold.
“…and the love of his life…Precious,” he went on, “are in London working for the State Department.”
“Clyde and Precious?” Maggie said, raising her eyebrows.
“Yep, good ol’ cousin Clyde. Anyway, they decided they’d best get married here in Phoenix to keep the families from murdering them. However, they agreed to stay on in their positions as long as possible to train their replacements before returning to the States.
“They did stipulate to their boss, though, that they definitely wanted to be back home for the holidays. So, you see, a wedding at that time of year keeps everybody happy. Are you happy, Maggie?”
“I’m ecstatic,” she said, smiling. Because Luke wasn’t getting married. He wasn’t. Thank goodness, because…Because why? She didn’t know, but there was no denying that the dark cloud that had settled over her was gone, poof, just disappeared, because Luke wasn’t talking about his wedding. “Ecstatic because…Yes, because this is wonderful news for…for Roses and Wishes.”
“Of course,” Luke said, nodding. “Now let me make something very clear. Precious is a rather unusual young woman. She’d much prefer to just go to City Hall in her jeans and marry her beloved Clyde, but the mothers would freak and Clyde and Precious would never hear the end of it.
“So when I spoke with them on the phone yesterday I suggested that they hire you to arrange the whole shebang and all they have to do is show up. They’re thrilled. Precious said she’d go along with any decisions you make. Clyde? Hey, guys don’t care about this kind of stuff. It’s a woman thing.”
“You mean I get to plan the whole wedding, make it the way I want it to be and…What about the mothers? The mothers will never let me do that. They’ll want to step in and put this production together.”
“No way,” Luke said. “They’re as different as day and night, those mothers. My aunt and Precious’s mom together are a war waiting to happen. They’re not going to know a thing about it.
“They’ll get an invitation in the mail, just like everyone else who is invited. They’ll pout for a while, I suppose, but then they’ll jump right into fast-forward and start thinking about becoming grandmothers, and all will be well.”
“This is crazy,” Maggie said, shaking her head.
“No, this is exactly the way it should be done.” Luke leaned forward, only inches from Maggie as he looked directly into her eyes. “You pretend this is your dream wedding, Maggie. Make the decisions based on what you would want if you were getting married.”
“Oh…my…gracious,” Maggie whispered.
