A Ring For Christmas. Joan Elliott Pickart

‘let’s pretend.’ No way. You’ve been acting very strange ever since you met Maggie, Luke.”

      “Robert, Robert, Robert,” Luke said, shaking his head. “You’ve got a typical case of prewedding jitters, not thinking clearly, seeing things that aren’t there, the whole nine yards. You’d better get it together or you’re liable to pass out at the altar tomorrow night. Trust me. I’ve been in a great many wedding parties over the years and I’ve seen your symptoms time and again.”

      “Really?” Robert said, pressing a fingertip on his chest. “Now that you mention it, my heart is beating really fast.”

      “That’s one of the signs,” Luke said, nodding. “I’m telling you, little brother, you’ve got to calm down. Ginger will never forgive you if you spoil this shindig by falling flat on your face before you can say ‘I do.’”

      “You’re right,” Robert said. “Okay. Deep breath. In. Out. I’m cool. I’m fine.”

      “Robert,” Ginger said, coming back to where the brothers were standing. “They’re waiting to seat us. Is something wrong?”

      “Robert was just very emotionally moved by the rehearsal at the church,” Luke said. “But all is well now. You’re marrying a very romantic man here, Ginger.”

      “Ohhh, you are so sweet,” Ginger said, giving Robert a quick kiss on the lips. “I love you so much.”

      “I love you, too, sugar,” Robert said.

      And unbelievable as it was, Luke thought, he loved Maggie Jenkins. This was definitely a fantastic life-changing night.

      The restaurant where the dinner was being held was a five-star establishment, and Maggie had reserved a private dining room for the wedding party.

      “Oh,” she said softly when she entered the room.

      Everything looked wonderful. The staff had really gone all out, per her instructions. The chandeliers were dimmed to create a rosy hue over the room. The crystal glasses gleamed and the sterling silverware sparkled. Wafer-thin china finger bowls sat by each place setting, and yellow rose petals were scattered whimsically down the center of the table that was covered in a pristine white cloth with lace edging.

      Nodding in approval at the lovely and oh-so-romantic atmosphere, Maggie hung back with the intention of claiming a seat close to the door so she could make her early exit without creating a fuss. Just as she was about to sit down, Luke took her arm.

      “Whoa,” he said. “The pretend bride and groom are supposed to sit close to the real bride and groom at this dinner. It’s part of the superstition.”

      “It is not,” Maggie said, frowning.

      “It certainly is,” Luke said indignantly. “You wouldn’t want to upset Ginger, would you? I mean, hey, anyone who spends hours sorting through yogurt-covered almonds to get the proper colors for the nut cups certainly wouldn’t do anything to blow it in the home stretch.”

      “Well, Roses and Wishes does aim to please.”

      “My point exactly,” Luke said, propelling Maggie toward the middle of the table. “Which is why you and I are going to sit close to the bride and groom before Ginger flips out.”

      “But I don’t intend to stay long and I—”

      “Here we are,” Luke said, pulling out a chair. “Right across from the happy couple.”

      “Mmm,” Maggie said, shooting a glare in Luke’s direction, then plunking down in the chair.

      Waitresses appeared, wineglasses were filled. Soups, then salads came and went. Then huge plates of roast beef, baked potatoes and artfully arranged asparagus were set in front of the diners.

      Maggie stifled yet another yawn and stared down at the meal.

      “Eat,” Luke whispered in 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,