you talking about?”
Luke propped his elbows on the arms of the chair and tented his fingers.
“There are certain cultures,” he said, “which believe the color blue represents the ocean, the sea. They also think that Thursday is the unluckiest day of the week. Therefore, to tempt fate by wearing that color on a Thursday, you’re destined to have an accident in water, maybe even drown.”
“That’s the silliest thing I’ve ever heard,” Maggie said, rolling her eyes heavenward.
“Not to the people who believe it.”
“Which probably number about three. For heaven’s sake, Luke, the wrong color on the wrong day and you’re deader than a doornail? That’s a nonsense-to-the-max superstition.”
Luke shrugged with a rather nondescript expression on his face.
“Besides, I took a long bath in my wonderful tub this morning and lived to tell about it,” she said, lifting her chin. “So there.”
“No kidding? Well, maybe that superstition is garbage after all,” he said thoughtfully. “It was so off-the-wall that I was leaning toward believing it. I mean, there must be enough evidence to substantiate it in the first place.”
Maggie leaned toward him. “That tie of yours that I just wrinkled is blue, sort of sea-blue. Did you shower this morning?”
“Yes, I did.”
“I rest my case. That superstition is nonsense.”
Gotcha, Luke thought smugly. Score one for Luke St. John.
“So back to why you’re here,” Maggie said.
“Well, it’s not because I’m bugging you about the honeymoon suites,” Luke said. “One of my clients had a bit of an emergency and I had to put on my big-boy-lawyer clothes and meet with him for a long, boring lunch close to here. I just dropped in to say hello and to tell you that I missed you.” He attempted once again to smooth his crumpled tie. “And to get my tie killed, I guess.”
“I’d offer to replace it, but I don’t think I could afford to do that on my budget. How much did it cost?”
“A hundred and fifty dollars.”
“For a tie?” she said, nearly shrieking. “That’s absurd.”
“It’s imported silk from Italy.”
“Could I interest you in installment payments?”
Luke laughed. “Tell you what. You agree to have dinner with me tonight and we’ll call it even.”
“Well…”
“I’m in the mood for pizza, if that suits you, so dress very casually. But don’t wear blue. Okay?”
“Pizza sounds great but, Luke, you’ve got to forget about that superstition because it really is nuts.”
“I’ll try,” he said, rising with a dramatic sigh. “I’ll pick you up at eight o’clock. I’ll let you get back to work now. See you later.”
“But…” Maggie said as Luke strode from the room. She smiled as she heard the front door of Roses and Wishes close behind him. “Eight o’clock will be just fine.”
She picked up an invoice, then stared into space.
She’d really gotten carried away with her mental fantasy, she mused. Goodness, she’d gone all the way to being Luke’s wife and having a slew of his babies. Well, that was all right…except, of course, for the embarrassing tie episode.
It didn’t matter how much daydreaming she did because she knew, really knew, that all this was temporary. She could indulge in anything she wanted to with Luke St. John because once Precious and Clyde were married that would be that. No more Luke in her life. In the meantime? She was free to go for it because she had total command over her emotions. Everything was dandy.
That night Luke drove past several well-known pizza restaurants to the far side of Phoenix.
“You must really like the pizza here,” Maggie said, as they settled into a red vinyl booth. “You certainly were willing to drive a long way to reach this place.”
“Best pizza in Phoenix,” Luke said, glancing at his watch. “I’ll go up and place our order. What would you like on yours?”
“Anything and everything except the little fishes,” she said, smiling.
“Got it,” he said, sliding out of the booth. “Soda?”
“Perfect.”
A few minutes later Luke returned to sit across from Maggie and set a slip of paper on the table.
“I’m glad this is Thursday and not Friday,” he said. “We have the number thirteen. Thirteen on a Friday is bad news, you know.” He looked at his watch again.
“No worse than drowning in the bathtub because you wore the wrong color,” Maggie said drily. “Luke, what is with this sudden preoccupation with superstitions?”
“It’s not sudden,” he said. Oh, man, his nose was going to grow. “I’ve always been superstitious, but don’t talk about it much because people have a tendency to scoff.”
“Scoff?”
“Yes, definitely scoff. But, you see, Maggie, I’ve been doing a great deal of thinking about what you told me about the Jenkins Jinx. My first reaction was to tell you that it was nonsense. I scoffed. And I apologize to you for doing that. Jinxes, superstitions, wives’ tales all have merit. I want you to know that I respect your belief in the Jenkins Jinx.”
“You do? I mean, you’re not going to attempt to talk me out of it? Tell me it’s a bunch of baloney? Try to convince me that I could be a bride, get married, just like anyone else?”
“Nope.”
“Oh.”
Well, that was good, she thought. Wasn’t it? Sure. Then why did she suddenly feel so sad, gloomy and depressed? Luke’s acceptance of the Jenkins Jinx meant he was as fully prepared to walk away as she was after Precious and Clyde’s wedding. No fuss, no muss. That was…great. But her stomach hurt. And her heart hurt. Her heart actually hurt. Damn it, what was the matter with her?
“Luke, my boy,” a deep voice boomed, snapping Maggie back to attention.
“Well, Dad, my, my, what are you doing here?” Luke said, looking up at his father where he stood next to the table.
“Your mother got hungry for pizza so I called in an order and came to pick it up. This place has the best pizza in Phoenix, you know.”
“Yes, I certainly know that and you’re fortunate to live only a few blocks away,” Luke said. “You remember Maggie.”
“Certainly,” Mason St. John said. “Delightful to see you again, my dear.”
