Excerpt of A Bride by Christmas by Joan Elliott Pickart

Luke St. John walked slowly up the wide steps leading to the porch, and the carved wooden doors of the large Episcopal church. He stopped at the doors, marveling at their intricate craftsmanship.

It really was a majestic structure, he thought, and he could understand why his brother and Ginger had chosen to be married here tomorrow. The event had been many months in the planning, and Robert had confided that Ginger had changed her mind about colors and endless other details so many times the wedding coordinator must be ready to strangle his bride-to-be.

Luke smiled as he opened one of the doors and entered the vestibule.

Ginger Barrington, he mused, was an endearing yet rather ditzy young woman who had been given a blank check by her father to have the wedding of her dreams. The last he'd heard, Ginger had chosen seven bridesmaids for the don't- worry-about-the-cost event.

Whatever. The people in the Barrington-St. John social circle were accustomed to these kinds of extravaganzas. What was important was that Ginger and Robert were deeply in love — and they were, they really were.

Strange, Luke thought. He'd actually felt a twinge of envy on more than one occasion as he'd watched the relationship between Robert and Ginger develop. He'd been startled each time he'd registered that green-around-the-edges feeling. He dated independent career women and that suited him just fine. But then again...

Luke shook his head to halt his jumbled thoughts and glanced at his watch.

He was early for the rehearsal, he knew, but a business meeting on this side of town had ended sooner than expected. There wasn't time to go home, nor any point in returning to the office, so he'd come here with the idea of sitting in the quiet church and relaxing until the others arrived.

Luke crossed the vestibule, entered the large sanctuary, then walked down the aisle past about a dozen pews to finally settle onto one. He swept his gaze over the high ceiling and exquisite stained-glass windows, nodding again in approval.

His attention was caught by a side door opening close to the altar. A woman entered carrying a cardboard box. His gaze was riveted on her as she crossed to the center aisle and placed the box on the first pew, immediately removing a large yellow satin bow.

Luke felt a sudden pain in his chest and drew a sharp breath as he realized he hadn't breathed since the woman had appeared. He leaned forward, resting his arms on the rail in front of him, and drank in the sight of her, missing no detail.

She was so beautiful, Luke thought rather hazily. No, that wasn't the word he wanted. Beautiful was what the career women he dated strove for, which resulted in cookie-cutter perfection in clothes, hair and makeup that varied little from one to the next.

No, this woman, who was now attaching the satin bow to the side of the first pew was...pretty. Yes, that was the word. Pretty in a wholesome, breath-of-fresh-air way that was knocking him for a loop. She was sunshine on a cloudy day, real, what-you-see-is-what-you-get real, and he'd bet ten bucks she wasn't wearing any makeup at all.

Her strawberry-blond hair tumbled to her shoulders in what he was convinced were natural curls, and even from this distance he could see that her eyes were big and brown. Fawn eyes. Pretty, pretty eyes. She was wearing a simple pale pink sundress that suited her to perfection.

Whew, Luke thought. He'd felt it, a funny little hitch in the much-needed breath he'd taken and the increased tempo of his heart. Nothing like this had ever happened to him before. Nothing. This woman had definitely made a strange and totally unfamiliar impact on him.

Luke continued to watch as the woman attached a mint-green bow to the second pew, then matching ones on the other side of the aisle, making it subtly clear that those four rows were reserved for the families of the bride and groom.

She might, he guessed, be the wedding coordinator whom Ginger had driven to the brink of insanity. She appeared very young for such a lofty title, was maybe twenty-four or twenty-five. So, okay, at thirty-two he wasn't too old for her. Good. That was good.

But...a wedding coordinator? Why did a person decide to become one of those? Because their own wedding had been so wonderful they wanted to share the bliss of an error-free event with others? No. No way. She was not married. That was not acceptable. She was a wedding coordinator because she was a romantic, old-fashioned woman who adored weddings and was very good at taking care of a zillion details at the same time. Yes. That was much better.

He had to meet this woman, Luke thought with a sense of urgency. He had to hear her voice, look deep into those incredible brown eyes of hers. He had to connect with her before she disappeared from his life as quickly as she'd appeared. He had to... Man, he had to get a grip. He didn't know what was happening to him, but it was a tad scary, that was for sure.

The sound of voices on the porch reached Luke and he got to his feet and stepped into the aisle just as the woman turned toward him. She gasped in shock that he was standing there and took a step backward. "I'm sorry," he said, walking forward. "I didn't mean to startle you. I arrived early and I was just sitting here quietly and..." He stopped in front of her, gazed into her eyes and totally forgot what he was going to say.

"I..." the woman said, still looking directly into his eyes. "I'm..." Whoever I am. Heavens, those eyes, those eyes were dark, fathomless pools that a woman could just drown in and not even struggle to escape. And that voice. So masculine and rumbly and yet...it seemed to stroke her like soft, sensuous velvet, causing her skin to tingle and...

He was tall, had wide shoulders, long legs, rough-hewn features and thick, glorious black hair. He looked like someone straight out of central casting.

"You're...who?" Luke said, leaning slightly toward her.

"Who what?" she said, then blinked. "Oh! Yes, of course. I'm Maggie Jenkins, the wedding coordinator. I own Roses and Wishes, which is gaining a fine reputation for coordinating weddings, because that's what I do. I...coordinate...weddings. I'm also babbling, so forget all that. I'm a tad exhausted at the moment, you see. And you are?"

Enchanted, Luke thought, smiling. Maggie Jenkins. Maggie. He liked her name. It suited her, it really did. Oh, yes, hello, Maggie Jenkins, who was not wearing a wedding ring, thank goodness.

"Luke St. John," he said. "The brother of the nervous groom and the best man for this gala event."

"Pleased to meet you," Maggie said, tearing her gaze from Luke's. "I believe the others have arrived. I'd better go greet everyone and get this rehearsal going so we stay on schedule, because dinner's booked at the restaurant afterward. Excuse me."

Luke turned to watch her hurry down the aisle as the large group of people appeared. He didn't move to join the others. Not yet. He just stood there drinking in the sight of Maggie.

Maggie stifled a yawn of fatigue as she plastered a plastic smile on her tired face and stopped in front of the chattering wedding party.

Was that heat she felt on her back? she thought suddenly. Was Luke St. John staring at her with those...those eyes? Maggie, stop it. She had made a complete idiot of herself with Luke, had overreacted to his masculine magnetism only because she was so tired she couldn't think straight. Once rested, she would view Luke St. John as a very handsome man but big macho deal.

"Hello, everyone," Maggie said brightly.

"Oh, Maggie," Ginger said, beaming, "isn't this exciting? Tomorrow is the big day. I can hardly believe it's finally here."

You're not the only one, Maggie thought, smiling and nodding at the petite blonde who boasted a golden tan and was wearing a royal-blue raw silk jumpsuit.

"Did I check with you to see if you'd found someone to supply only pale yellow and mint-green yogurt-covered almonds for the nut cups at the reception?" Ginger said, frowning.

"Yes, you did," Maggie said. "And, yes, I did. Well, sort of. I had to order extra nuts, then pick out the two colors we needed." Which took until after two o'clock this morning. "I was going to ask you what you wanted me to do with the almonds we didn't use."

"Whatever," Ginger said, waving one hand in the air.

"Where's my sweetie? Oh, Robert, there you are, honey. Do you realize we'll soon be winging our way to Greece? We'll have a whole month to — What's wrong? You don't look like a happy groom."

The handsome young man in his midtwenties, who was wearing slacks and a dress shirt open at the neck, slid one arm across Ginger's shoulders.

"My brother isn't here yet," he said. "We can't have a rehearsal without the best man."

"I'm right here," Luke said, striding toward the group.

"I'm going to go tell Reverend Mason we're ready to begin the rehearsal," Maggie said quickly. "He's in his office and told me to come get him when we were all set."

"Maggie, hon, wait a sec," an attractive young woman said. "I've lost two pounds since the final fitting of my bridesmaid dress. Do you think it could be nipped in a bit before the ceremony tomorrow night?"

Over my dead body, Maggie thought. Don't even think about it...hon.

"That won't be necessary...Tiffy, isn't it?" Maggie said, her voice dripping with sweetness. "That's the beauty of that style of gown. There's room for a fluctuation of a few pounds here and there. I promise that you have nothing to worry about."

Nicely done, Luke thought, swallowing a burst of laughter. Maggie had handled the spoiled and pampered Tiffy like a pro. She was really something, this Maggie Jenkins.