A Ring For Christmas. Joan Elliott Pickart

of what you and Ginger have together. I’ve watched you two over the past months, seen you fall deeply in love, make plans for a future together. It’s good and I’m really happy for you both. Yep, I admit I’m a little bit jealous.”

      “You? Envious of me?” Robert said, splaying one hand on his chest. “I find that a tad hard to believe. You have women beating down your door. You’ve always gone for the type who just wants to have fun but not settle down. There are seven bridesmaids over there who fit that bill. Just take your pick.”

      Luke watched Maggie approach with the priest and Ginger.

      “Things change,” he said quietly.

      Reverend Mason greeted everyone and explained that they would walk through the basics of the wedding ceremony so everything would go smoothly the next evening.

      “Right,” he said finally. “Ginger, if you’ll stand at the back of the church with your father and be ready to come down the aisle after your bridesmaids and…”

      “Oh, no,” Ginger said, shaking her head. “No, no, no, I can’t do that.”

      “Why not?” Robert said frantically. “You’re not changing your mind about marrying me, are you?”

      “Don’t be silly, sweetie,” Ginger said, kissing him on the cheek. “But you know how it’s bad luck for the groom to see the bride on their wedding day before the ceremony? Well, it’s also bad luck for the bride and groom to act out those roles at the rehearsal. Didn’t you know that?”

      “Can’t say that I did,” Robert said, drawing a deep breath of relief. “So now what?”

      “You and I will sit and watch very carefully,” Ginger continued, “so we’ll know what we’re to do tomorrow night.”

      “Watch who?” Robert said. “We’re the bride and groom, remember?”

      “We use stand-ins for the rehearsal, silly,” Ginger said. “Let’s see. Okay. Your father will be the best man and pretend he has the ring, and Luke will be the groom. And…” She glanced around. “Yes, of course. Maggie, you’ll be the bride.”

      “Got it,” Luke said.

      “I don’t think that’s a great idea,” Maggie said, feeling the color drain from her face. “No. Bad plan. Bad, bad. I need to…Yes, I need to stay at the back of the church and control the spacing of the bridesmaids starting down the aisle.”

      “What is the spacing?” Luke said pleasantly.

      “Three pews apart, but…”

      “Have you got that, ladies?” Luke said, looking at Ginger’s girlfriends.

      Seven heads bobbed up and down.

      “Done,” Luke said. “That leaves you free to be way behind them with Ginger’s dad ready to be…the bride, Maggie. And I’ll be the groom.”

      “Excellent,” Reverend Mason said. “Let’s take our places, please. The groomsmen need to be up front with our stand-in best man and groom. Mothers, take your places, please. Ginger and Robert, sit where you can observe and hear me clearly.”

      “But—” Maggie pointed one finger in the air.

      “See you soon, future wife,” Luke said, smiling at Maggie.

      “But—”

      “Come along…Ginger,” Mr. Barrington said, chuckling as he tucked Maggie’s hand in the crook of his arm. “This reminds me of a baseball game. Instead of a designated hitter, you’re the designated bride.”

      She didn’t want to be a bride, Maggie thought miserably as Ginger’s father led her to the back of the church. Well, she did, but it would never happen. She wouldn’t allow it to happen because…No, she was not a bride. Not a real one or a pretend one or a designated one. Not a bride. Not now, not ever.

      And to make matters even worse, the stand-in groom was Luke St. John, a man who had made her forget her own name. Good grief, she wanted to go home. Right now.

      Everyone except Maggie was chattering and laughing as they took their places, then silence fell as Reverend Mason raised one hand for quiet. He stood at the front of the church with Luke next to him, then the other men in a straight row alongside.

      “The organ music you picked for the procession has now begun,” the priest said, smiling. “Pretend you hear it. We’re ready for the bridesmaids to come forward. What was it? Oh, yes, three pews apart, my dears.”

      As Tiffy started off, Ginger’s father bent down to whisper to Maggie.

      “I hope Ginger looks happier tomorrow night than you do at the moment,” he said. “I think this is rather fun, don’t you, Maggie?”

      “That’s not quite the word I would pick, sir,” she said, attempting and failing to produce a smile.

      “But your groom is Luke St. John,” Mr. Barrington said. “He’s considered quite a catch in this town. You have to get into your role and realize you’re the envy of a multitude of women in Phoenix. Will that thought make you smile?”

      “Not really,” Maggie said gloomily.

      “Well, fake it. My daughter is so superstitious about all this nonsense that she’ll probably pitch a fit if you look like you’re about to have a root canal. You can be Ginger marrying Robert or Maggie marrying Luke. Take your pick, but remember this is a wedding, not a funeral. Smile.”

      Maggie nodded jerkily and plastered such a wide smile on her face that her cheeks hurt.

      “Now you look like someone just stepped on your foot,” Mr. Barrington said.

      “Don’t get picky,” Maggie said, glaring at him while keeping her plastic smile in place. “This is the best I can do.”

      “For a wedding coordinator,” Mr. Barrington said, “you have a strange attitude about being a bride. Fascinating.”

      No, try terrifying, Maggie thought. Try never going to happen. Try…she wanted to go home.

      “Now the actual wedding march begins,” Reverend Mason said in the distance. “Give the congregation time to rise and turn in your direction and…now…here comes the lovely bride.”

      Chapter Two

      He could hear the wedding march, Luke thought. He could. A part of him knew that was impossible, yet it was there quite clearly, the wondrous music filling the church to overflowing.

      And in the distance, walking in measured steps on the arm of Ginger’s father, was Maggie, his bride. His. She was lovely, just exquisite. His heart was thundering at the mere sight of her as she came closer and closer and…

      Maggie and Mr. Barrington stopped in front of the priest.

      “I will ask at this point,” Reverend Mason said, “who gives this woman in marriage. And you, Mr. Barrington, will reply ‘Her mother and I,’ then you’ll take your daughter’s hand and place it in Robert’s.”

      “Her mother and I,” Mr. Barrington boomed, then grasped Maggie’s hand.

      Without realizing he had moved, Luke stepped forward and extended his hand to receive Maggie’s. As Mr. Barrington placed Maggie’s hand in Luke’s, their eyes met and time stopped.

      Dear heaven, Maggie thought, unable to tear her gaze from the mesmerizing depths of Luke’s eyes. Luke’s hand was so strong yet so gentle as it wrapped around hers. And the heat. Good grief, the heat from his hand was traveling up her arm, across her breasts, then swirling and churning throughout her, causing a flush she could feel staining her cheeks.

      She had to get her hand back. And she would. In a minute.

      And she had to quit, just stop, looking into Luke’s eyes. And