impossible,” he said none too quietly. “A jinx is a superstition, a…a…Damn it, this is the most frustrating conversation I’ve ever had in my entire life.”
“Well, excuse me all the way to Sunday,” Maggie yelled, “but the truth is the truth.”
‘Oh? Well, try this truth on for size, lady,” Luke hollered.
He released his white-knuckle hold on the arms of the rocking chair, gripped Maggie’s shoulders, hauled her to her feet…and kissed her.
Maggie stiffened in shock, but as Luke’s kiss gentled and he dropped his hands from her shoulders to wrap his arms around her and bring her close to his body, she nestled against him. Her arms floated upward to encircle his neck, her fingertips inching into his thick ebony hair.
The kiss was hot. It was desire, not lust, with unnamed emotions intertwining with the want and need. The kiss was powerful enough to push aside for that tick of time the existence of the Jenkins Jinx and allow them to savor the taste, the feel, the very essence of each other. The kiss was theirs.
Luke broke away first to draw a much-needed breath but didn’t release his hold on Maggie. She gazed up at him, a dreamy expression on her face, her lips moist and slightly parted, beckoning.
“Ah, Maggie,” Luke said, his voice gritty with passion. “I want to make love with you so damn much. From the moment I first saw you I…Do you want me, Maggie? Do you want to make love with me?”
“Yes, I do,” she whispered. “But—”
“Forget the jinx thing for now. We’ll tackle that later…later…yes. All I can concentrate on now is you, me, what we’ll share. But, Maggie, I would never take advantage of you, pressure you, attempt to seduce you into doing something you’ll regret.” He paused. “I guess what I’m saying is, it’s your decision.”
Oh, Maggie thought foggily. How could she decide when she couldn’t even think clearly? Okay, okay, she was getting a grip now, ignoring the fact that she was still being held in Luke’s strong arms, still molded to his aroused body, still…thinking. Yes, she was thinking.
And she wanted him.
She wanted to make love with him because she cared for him so very much and he cared for her, she knew he did.
And because when he realized that the Jenkins Jinx was true, he would chalk her up as being a very weird, creepy woman and keep her at a safe distance from him.
And because she intended to give herself this intimate joining with Luke St. John so she’d have a precious memory to make up for all she would never have because of the Jenkins Jinx.
“Maggie?”
“Make love with me, Luke,” she said softly, looking directly into his dark eyes. “I won’t be sorry. I’ll have no regrets, I promise. We have no future together. None. The jinx is real and I’ve accepted that. Nothing you can say or do will change my mind about it. But now? Right now? I want—I desire you. So, please, make love with me.”
With a groan that rumbled from deep in his chest, Luke captured Maggie’s mouth once again in a searing kiss. She returned the kiss in total abandon, holding nothing back, giving as much as she was receiving.
Luke lifted his head, then swung Maggie up into his arms. She pointed in the direction of her bedroom and he carried her there with long, purposeful strides.
He set her on her feet next to the double bed, absently registering that the room was femininity personified, just like Maggie, with a bedspread patterned with pale pink roses and a matching skirt on a small round table that held a clock and a telephone. The curtains were pink and the dresser was white wicker.
Maggie swept back the spread and blankets to reveal sheets with tiny pink rosebuds, then turned to face Luke again.
“I’m very nervous,” she said. “I really don’t have the kind of experience that I’m certain you’re accustomed to and I—”
“Shh,” he said, placing one fingertip gently on her lips. “We’re going to be wonderful together, Maggie.”
And they were.
With sudden confidence that came from a place she couldn’t fathom, Maggie nodded, and as Luke shed his clothes, she removed her own. They stood naked before each other, rejoicing in what they saw, what would be theirs, given willingly.
He lifted her into his arms again, settled her in the center of the bed, then followed her down, his mouth melting over hers.
It was ecstasy. They kissed, caressed, discovered each other’s mysteries with awe and wonder. Where hands traveled, lips followed, igniting the heat of their desire into leaping flames that threatened to consume them both.
Luke left her only long enough to roll on protection, then returned to her outstretched arms. When they could bear no more, he moved over her and into her with a thrust that filled her and brought a gasp of pure pleasure from her lips.
The rocking rhythm began, then increased in tempo until it was wild and earthy, wondrous, synchronized to perfection as though they had been lovers forever.
They soared. Higher. Closer. Calling to the other, clinging fast, then bursting upon the place they sought only seconds apart.
“Luke!”
“Oh, Maggie. My Maggie.”
They drifted slowly back, then Luke mustered his last ounce of energy to move off her and tuck her close to his side, his lips resting lightly on her moist forehead. She rested one hand on the dark curls on his broad chest, feeling his heart settle into a quieter, steady beat.
“Thank you,” Luke said quietly.
“And I thank you,” Maggie whispered, “for the beautiful memories to keep.”
Maggie’s lashes drifted down and she slept, content, sated, a soft smile on her lips. Luke held her, sifting his fingers through her silky strawberry-blond curls.
God, how he loved this woman, he thought, feeling a foreign ache tighten his throat. She had given of herself so freely, so honestly, to him. Him. She cared deeply for him, he knew that, might even be falling in love with him just as he was already deeply in love with her.
He couldn’t lose her. No, the mere thought of it was more than he could bear. He knew the name of the enemy now—the Jenkins Jinx. That he believed it to be crazy, borderline nuts, meant nothing because Maggie was convinced it was true and planned to never marry to protect her heart from being shattered.
The battle lines were drawn. He was literally fighting for his life, his future happiness, his forever. And he would be the victor, for himself, for Maggie, for what they would have together until death parted them and beyond.
He would win. Somehow. He had to.
“I love you, Maggie Jenkins,” he whispered, tightening his hold on her. “You are my life. My wife. Mine.”
A little over an hour later Maggie stirred and opened her eyes, only to blink against the bright sunlight streaming through the window.
Luke,
