leisurely, then pulled the sheet to beneath her chin, clutching it with both hands.
She’d made love with Luke, she thought, and it had been glorious, beyond her wildest fantasies. Did she regret what she had done? Was she sorry? No. Never.
Her life was not like other women’s, with dreams of a husband, babies, hearth and home. To have experienced something as wondrous as she just had with a magnificent man like Luke St. John was more than she’d ever expected to receive, to possess as hers, to tuck away in the treasure chest in her heart.
Was this dangerous? she asked herself. Well, no, not if she stayed alert, kept a tight control over her emotions and the truth of her reality front and center. She could handle this. She would have this time with Luke. And when Precious and Clyde were married, that would be the end of Maggie Jenkins and Luke St. John. She knew that, understood that. Yes, she could handle this.
Luke came into the bedroom fully dressed, his hair damp from the shower. He sat on the edge of the bed and smiled at Maggie.
“Have a nice nap?”
“Lovely, thank you,” she said, matching his smile.
“You’re very pretty when you’re sleeping, very peaceful.” He paused. “I’d better get going. You’ll let me know when you have some appointments to see honeymoon suites at various hotels?”
“Yes, of course. I’ll call you.”
“Good.” He nodded. “Maggie, you don’t have any regrets about what happened here, do you?”
“No, no, Luke, not at all. It was wonderful and I…No regrets. We both understand that this is temporary, what we’re sharing, because my life is what it is—jinxed. I know you’re not quite believing that yet, but it’s true, trust me, and I’ll never allow myself to think otherwise. That would be so foolish on my part and it isn’t going to happen.”
“Mmm.” Luke frowned. “And no one in the entire history of your family has figured out a way to break the spell, the jinx?”
“No.”
“Mmm.” Luke stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Would you categorize the jinx as a superstition of sorts?”
“I…Well, not exactly, because it’s true.”
“But if you had to group it with something,” he said, “a jinx would fall into the arena of superstitions for a lack of a better place to put it. Right?”
“I suppose so. I never thought about it like that.” Maggie looked at him questioningly. “Why?”
“I’m just trying to be certain that I fully understand the Jenkins Jinx, what it is.”
“It’s my reality,” Maggie said firmly. “Ask any member of my family and they’ll verify what I’m saying. It’s sad but true.”
“Yeah.” Luke leaned over and dropped a quick kiss on Maggie’s lips. “I’ll be waiting to hear from you about viewing the suites. Eager to hear from you. You’ll contact me soon?”
“Yes, sir,” she said, smiling at him warmly.
Luke drew one thumb lightly over her lips, which she felt to the very tip of her toes, then he got to his feet and left the room.
“‘Bye,” Maggie whispered, then sighed in delicious contentment.
After a frustrating stop-and-start drive across town in the surging Phoenix traffic Luke entered the plush offices of St. John and St. John, Attorneys at Law.
“Good afternoon, Mr. St. John,” the receptionist said.
“Mmm,” Luke said absently as he strode down the hall.
The attractive young woman turned in her chair and watched him go, deciding he was definitely a man with something heavy on his mind.
Luke stopped at the desk of his secretary, a plump woman in her fifties, who looked up at him with a rather confused expression.
“I thought you said when you called that you weren’t coming in this afternoon,” she said.
“I need some data, Betty,” he said. “Extensive research.”
Betty picked up a pen and slid a steno pad in front of her.
“Okay,” she said. “What can I do for you, Luke? What am I researching?”
“Superstitions.”
“I beg your pardon? Superstitions? About what? Is this pertaining to a case you have on the docket?”
“Not exactly,” he said, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Let’s just say it’s the most important project I’ve ever undertaken and let it go at that, shall we? Start with superstitions regarding brides, weddings, things like that, then go further into superstitions in general.”
“Brides? You mean, like it’s bad luck for the groom to see the bride in her wedding dress before she walks down the aisle?”
“Exactly.” He shook his head. “Who comes up with this junk?”
Betty shrugged. “I have no idea, but that business about the dress has been around for as long as I can remember, and I’m borderline ancient.” She tapped the pen against the pad of paper. “Okay. I get the drift of what you want about brides and what have you. Then I go to other things like not walking under a ladder or letting a black cat cross your path?”
“Right.”
“When do you need this interesting info?”
“Yesterday,” he said, then went on into his office.
Late that night Luke was stretched out on the sofa in his living room reading yet again the thick stack of papers that Betty had given him on superstitions.
He frowned in disbelief at some of them and couldn’t help but laugh aloud at others. But for the most part he was digesting everything he read with serious intent.
He’d memorize as many of these wacky things as he could, he’d decided, then keep the papers close at hand for ready reference on others.
Luke reached over and set the papers on the coffee table fronting the sofa, then laced his fingers beneath his head where it rested on a puffy throw pillow.
The Plan was in effect, he mused, insofar as Maggie believed she was coordinating a wedding for cousin Clyde and his Precious.
However, now he knew Maggie’s secret about the Jenkins Jinx, further genius-level action was definitely called for, an extension of The Plan. Through brilliant lawyer-type persuasion he’d gotten Maggie to agree that the jinx was a superstition. She’d done so rather reluctantly, but he’d take what he could get.
His mission, then, was to cleverly and carefully expose Maggie to superstition after superstition, casually pointing out that, son of a gun, nothing horrible had happened because they’d—they’d what?—walked under a ladder, for example. He’d stack up the evidence piece by piece, inching
