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.
