Joan Pickart - A Ring For Christmas

He extended one hand toward her. “Say you’ll dance with me.”

From a seemingly faraway dreamy place, Maggie watched her hand float up to grasp Luke’s, then she was on her feet and in his embrace. He held her close, moving with the music as he glided them out of the kitchen and into the living room, which was filled with the melody from speakers mounted high on the wall in each corner of the large room.

Maggie nestled her head on Luke’s shoulder as they danced, drinking in the feel of him, his aroma, the strength of his body. Around the room they went, so gracefully, so perfectly in step.

It was so romantic that tears burned at the back of Maggie’s eyes and desire consumed her, making it impossible to think clearly. She could only feel and savor and wish for the music to never end.

But it did finish, and they stopped in front of the tall windows where the lights of the city spread out in all directions like a fairyland. Another song started, but they didn’t move, just held fast to each other. Then Luke shifted enough so he could tilt Maggie’s chin up with one gentle fingertip, lowered his head and kissed her.

The kiss was so soft and tender, so exactly right to mark the finish of the memory-filled waltz, that two tears spilled onto Maggie’s cheeks. Luke deepened the kiss and she gave herself to him, swept away by the moment and the music and…Luke.

Then he slowly, so slowly, lowered her to the plush carpet. He stretched out next to her, bracing his weight on one forearm as he drew a thumb over her tears.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said, his voice husky. “I’ve actually daydreamed about this, about seeing you here in my home, right here in front of these windows with the world spread out before us as though it belongs only to us. Ah, Maggie, I…” Love you with all that I am, all I will ever be, for eternity. “I…want to make love to you so much, so very much.”

“Yes,” she whispered.

He kissed her, then they parted long enough to shed their clothes and reached for each other once again. An urgency engulfed them, a need so great it was indescribable.

With hands never still, they caressed.

With lips seeking more, they kissed.

With passion soaring to unbelievable heights, they waited until they could bear it no longer.

Then they joined, meshed into one entity that made it impossible to decipher where the body soft and feminine and the one so very masculine ended and began.

The music had stopped, but they could hear their special waltz as they rocked in gentle rhythm to the exquisite song that belonged to them alone. The tension built within them, tightening, spiraling, taking them higher, up and away, until they burst into the heavens with the lights of their world beyond the windows showing them the way.

It was ecstasy. It was nearly shattering in its splendor, an explosion of sensations like none before. They drifted, savoring, murmuring the name of the other, until they returned to rest on the lush carpet that cradled them.

Luke moved off Maggie, then shifted her so her back was to his front and they could gaze out at the lights. He buried his face in her fragrant hair for a long moment, then tucked her head beneath his chin.

Maggie drew a shuddering breath, then smothered a sob that threatened to escape from her throat.

Dear God, she thought, she loved him. She was in love with Luke St. John. There was no denying it, nowhere to hide from the truth of it, nowhere to run. She loved him. He was all, everything and more that she’d fantasized about finding in a man, the one who would steal her heart for all time if things were different. If she was a normal woman, not plagued by the Jenkins Jinx. She loved him, but she couldn’t have him, and it was just so incredibly sad.

But for now? she thought, blinking back unwelcomed tears. He was hers. Until Precious and Clyde’s wedding, Luke was hers. She would cherish every moment she had with him and ignore the ticking of the clock that would signal their goodbye.

“What we just shared was…” Luke said, then stopped speaking for a second. “No, I don’t have the words.”

“I don’t either,” Maggie said softly, “but I know that it was…I’ll never forget this night, Luke.”

“I won’t either.” He paused, then chuckled. “I think our ice cream has melted.”

Maggie smiled. “I think my bones have melted.”

Time lost meaning as they lay together in sated, comfortable silence, then Maggie finally sighed.

“I’m about to fall asleep,” she said. “I’d better get home, Luke.”

“Ah, Maggie, stay. Please,” he said. “We’ll sleep with our heads on the same pillow in my bed and have breakfast together in the morning.”

“I don’t think…”

“Please?”

Why not? Maggie thought. In for a penny, in for a pound, or however that saying went. She was hopelessly, irrevocably in love with this man. The damage was done, the heartbreak guaranteed when all of this ended. Why not share everything she could with Luke while it was possible?

“Yes,” she said. “Yes, I’ll stay.”

“Thank you,” Luke said, then shifted away from her, rolled to his feet and extended one hand to her. “Come on. I promise my bed is softer than this floor.”

Maggie placed her hand in his and allowed him to draw her up into an embrace where his mouth melted over hers in a searing kiss. On legs that weren’t quite steady she walked by his side to the large master bedroom that was decorated in gray and burgundy. Luke turned on a lamp on the nightstand, then flipped back the blankets to reveal burgundy sheets.

“Oh, wait,” he said. “Make note of which side of the bed you get in on because you have to leave on the same side in the morning or you’ll have bad luck.”

“Here we go again,” Maggie said, rolling her eyes. “Another St. John superstition.”

“Well,” he said, shrugging, “at least I have a variety to offer. You’re zoned in on the Jenkins Jinx and that’s it.”

Maggie looked up at him and frowned. “Which has generations of proof that validates it.”

“That may be true, but you’ve managed to punch holes in all the superstitions I’ve presented so far, shown me that there’s room for doubt. The same may hold true for your jinx.”

“No,” Maggie said, taking a step backward. “I’m not going to even entertain the idea that the jinx can be broken. I’ve seen the heartache suffered by those who thought they could do exactly that. No.”

“Okay,” Luke said, raising both hands in a gesture of peace. “Forget I said that. I didn’t mean to upset you on this incredibly perfect night.” He swept one arm in the direction of the bed. “Madam?”

Maggie settled onto the bed with a sigh of pleasure.

“Oh, this is heavenly,” she said.

“I’m going to go turn out the lights in the other rooms and dump the soupy ice cream,” Luke said. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“‘Kay,” she said, then yawned.

Luke chuckled, then strode from the room. When he returned, Maggie was sound asleep. He slipped carefully into the bed next to her, then propped up on one forearm to watch her sleep.

So lovely, he thought. Maggie was here with him, where she belonged. If only there was a golden ring on her finger symbolizing her being his wife, his partner in life.

He was winning little victories each time she made it clear that the newest superstition he’d declared was foolish, should be dismissed as nonsense. Each of those incidents gave him ammunition to demolish the Jenkins Jinx. He was definitely making progress. Wasn’t he? Oh, man, he just had to be.

But Maggie was so…so fierce about the jinx, was determined not to fall prey to the belief that she could be the one to prove it untrue, to break the long cycle of disastrous marriages in the Jenkins family. No, she had said. No.