Yule Be Mine Read online

  Luke didn't think the minx cried often—unless she was in danger of not getting her way. Then he had no doubt that she could turn on a stream of tears to compete with Niagara Falls, complete with charming little hiccups. She'd be one of those women who didn't look blotchy in a fit of tears. No, Jordan crying would be a sight of feminine distress that would cut to the heart of any right-thinking male.

  Then Jordan would twist her victim around her little finger as she accepted a hankie and dabbed at the crystal drops sparkling like dew on her pink cheeks and adding luminescence to her gray eyes. He could almost see it. In fact, he made a mental note to keep a handkerchief on hand for the day she tried that stunt on him.

  He wasn't an easy man to fool. She'd done it once, but she wouldn't do it twice. He was onto her little bag of fairy tricks.

  "Why do you do it?” Luke inquired as he directed her to his sedan.

  She gave him a look of startled innocence that he probably would have fallen for a day earlier. “Do what?"

  "You not only had my mother believing you were my fiancée, you had her so fooled with your helpless act that she jumped on me for upsetting you.” Come to think of it, his mother wasn't easy to pull one over on, either. He'd never managed to get away with it as a child.

  She looked hurt. “I was doing what I agreed to do. Under very difficult circumstances, I might add. I was supposed to have three more days to prepare. I had to just wing it."

  Luke was beginning to suspect she did it because she couldn't help herself. Perhaps his temporary faux fiancée was a compulsive liar.

  As if reading his thoughts, she sighed and threw her hands up. “All right, you want to know why? I'll tell you why. Four big brothers, that's why. How else am I supposed to compete? Look at me, Luke. Do you really think I can negotiate from an equal position with four hulking brutes? No, of course I can't. I'm reduced to humiliating myself by pleading helplessness."

  Her dejection at being forced to play a demeaning role looked entirely convincing. So much so that Luke was forced to reconsider his harsh judgment of her. He had to concede that he didn't know what it was like to be in her small shoes. He used his size to intimidate his competition. Could he really blame her for using hers to gain sympathy? It seemed uncomfortably hypocritical put that way.

  And she was correct. She'd done it for his benefit, and he wasn't exactly showering her with gratitude. Luke mentally added another carat to the ring they were shopping for.

  He patted her hand comfortingly. “Well, whatever your reasons, you do it very well. You won't have any problem meeting the rest of my family."

  She brightened at his praise. “I did do a good job, didn't I? The stage lost a real star when I went into the greeting card business instead. Hollywood, eat your heart out!"

  Her moods changed faster than her ever-shifting appearance. Whatever else the coming holidays had in store, Luke was smugly confident that boredom was one problem he wouldn't be struggling with.

  Jordan was deceitful, infuriating, and always one step ahead on her nimble feet, but she wasn't sugary, grasping or dull. Besides, Luke thought he was one man she'd find it hard to dance her way around. Not only was he on to her tricks, he had her using them for his benefit.

  Yes, he had an advantage over all the other poor males she'd had at her mercy. In fact, he wondered how she'd failed to deal with the divorce attorney, the dentist and the undertaker, considering her talents.

  He decided to ask.

  For an answer, he got a disgusted look.

  "I know how to turn on the charm, Luke, but not how to drive away the un-suitables. Think about it. If I charmed them into wanting to do anything I asked, they'd hardly agree when I asked them to leave, now would they?” Jordan asked reasonably. “No, they wouldn't. Just the opposite, in fact. They'd be certain that deep down inside my frivolous head lurked an undying devotion to the big lunks. I know—because I was foolish enough to try it with Norton."

  "Norton?"

  "The insurance broker. I didn't mention Norton? Maybe my subconscious was trying to block out the horror.” Jordan shuddered. “Anyway, Luke, trust me—being charming and helpless makes a man like Norton believe that I will eventually break down and marry him because I'm too fluff-headed to know my own mind. He still shows up from time to time to laugh in my face when I tell him to go away. It's enough to make a woman of steel crack wide open."

  Luke laughed at her melodramatic expression of despair. “Well, as of now, Norton will have to take you seriously. He'll find himself dealing with me if he doesn't,” he assured her. “Now let's go pick out an appropriate rock."

  Jordan gave him a look that would have melted granite. “My hero. I'll gladly leave Norton in your big and capable hands."

  Her playful act didn't diminish the warm feeling Luke got from her words. He knew she was sincere. He really was acting the hero on her behalf. And Jordan feeling grateful was enough to make a man want to slay dragons, much less buy a diamond ring.

  Chapter Four

  Thanksgiving Day found Jordan pacing in a circle, chanting names. There were so many of them. And so many tricky little details. Fortunately, she could probably fluff a few without giving anything away. She figured any real fiancée would be nervous and prone to forget things when meeting the whole family for the first time. Still, she wanted to keep it straight as much as humanly possible.

  She held the three-by-five card that contained her notes behind her back as she tried to remember Luke's parents’ names. Margaret and ... and ... Jordan sighed and took a peek at the card. That brought the rock into view.

  Honestly. It was a wonder she could lift her hand at all—it was that big. She did have to admit that it was beautiful, though. Luke had good taste. His real fiancée wouldn't have any complaints on that score. The lovely pear shape of the huge diamond was set off by an unusual platinum setting, an antique style that Luke had insisted on.

  Jordan had to wonder why he'd even pretended to consult her. The man truly was high-handed, and in a big way. He'd hauled her around in search of the Hope Diamond, evidently, seemingly dissatisfied with everything they looked at. When she'd questioned his fussiness, he'd insisted that none of the rings so far measured up to the high standard his fiancée deserved.

  Thinking about that, Jordan had to laugh. She sincerely hoped he knew better by now than to expect any kind of high standard out of her. That their shopping expedition had ended in a rip-roaring fight instead of the traditional sort of romantic moment should put any silly ideas like that clearly out of his mind.

  Then she put the ring out of her thoughts and continued to pace and chant. “Aaron, younger brother, wife Tess. No children. Cassie, younger sister, husband Mitch, baby daughter Audrey. Wendy, oldest sister, husband Tom, son Keith, four, and Tommy Jr., six. Parents, Margaret and ... Ben! Yes!"

  * * * *

  Luke knocked, but nobody answered. A disturbing sensation settled somewhere around his vitals. Had she changed her mind? Run away? Left him for another single man?

  Luke frowned, remembering she hadn't seemed all that pleased with the ring. He'd thought it was perfect, as unique and exquisite as she was—although certainly not comparable in size. But instead of the feminine admiration and gratitude he'd imagined, she'd protested and pouted. He'd ended by shoving it on her finger and shouting that she'd wear it and he didn't want to hear one more word.

  Yelling at her in public was a big mistake. He'd regretted it instantly. Especially when every single shopper in the jeweler's had turned to glare at him as if he were a child-beater. A woman in a somber business suit had handed Jordan a card and announced loudly that she was a divorce attorney. Luke reflected morosely that at least Jordan had an aversion to lawyers. That was something, anyway.

  He hadn't known it when he'd acquired her, but gaining a fiancée was nothing compared to keeping one. He'd imagined his troubles were over. He should have known better. A miniature tornado of trouble named Jordan had moved into his life instead.
/>   And he was finding that, surprisingly, he liked her brand of trouble. The idea kept crossing his mind that maybe Marlow was onto something and that maybe Jordan would make an interesting permanent addition to his world.

  After knocking again and waiting a few minutes, Luke decided that she was being perverse and trying to avoid him. He tried the knob, and it turned in his hand. Stepping in, he closed the door behind himself and looked for signs of life.

  The sound of a muttering feminine voice drew his attention. Following it, Luke turned a corner and stopped at the sight of her.

  She was dressed in fitted black slacks and a white blouse that made her look like a pilgrim. She even had black shoes with square buckles. A smile tugged at his mouth. That kind of flair for costume was pure Jordan.

  She was moving in a fairy circle, chanting softly. For a moment, there was something so fey and other-worldly about her he was almost afraid to speak for fear of frightening her away. Then she stopped and swore loudly, shattering the illusion, and Luke laughed out loud.

  Jordan spun around and saw her fake fiancé watching her in open amusement. A brilliant smile lit her pale features.

  "Hi Luke!” She waved her cheat-sheet at him. “Just practicing. I've got the immediate family down cold, but don't be surprised if I mess up on some of the aunts and uncles. How about you? Are you ready?"

  He studied her for a minute. “Ready as I'll ever be. I wasn't sure you were here. You didn't answer the door."

  "Oh. I don't always hear when I'm concentrating on something. Sorry.” Her airy explanation delivered, she turned to search for her shoulder bag. She turned back to find Luke still looking at her with a sort of watchful, serious expression. He reminded her of Randall when she forgot to show up for dinner. “What's wrong?"

  He hesitated before answering carefully, “I thought you might still be upset with me."

  "What about? Oh, the ring thing.” Jordan grinned, then laughed. “Luke, come on, you call that a fight?” She shook her head, humor twinkling in her gray eyes. “What will you do when we have a real argument?"

  He didn't seem to know how to take that.

  Jordan gave him an exasperated look and linked her arm through his. “I hope you don't come from a family that never raises their voices, or you're going to think you've stepped into a madhouse when you meet my brothers. For the record, I'm not upset with you, but if I was, the cloisonné lily you sent me would have gone a long way towards smoothing things over."

  "It would?"

  "It would,” Jordan assured him in a conspiratorial whisper.

  He smiled and Jordan felt as good as if she'd gotten a smile from Randall on a bad day. He'd actually thought she'd run out on him over a little disagreement? Amazing.

  "You know, Luke, I think I should tell you that in order to get me to back out on our holiday deal, you would have to prove yourself worse company than Seymour. Even shouting at the top of your voice and forcing oversized diamonds on me, you've got Seymour beat, hands down."

  He gave her a look of blatant disbelief.

  She had to laugh. “What, are you fishing for compliments? All right, big guy, you got it.” She stood on her tiptoes, clutched his lapels, swooned and sighed. “Oh, Luke, I find you irresistible. Especially when you shout. I find it so ... manly.” She fluttered pale lashes at him. “I adore a shouting man. It's so exciting."

  He plucked her off her feet effortlessly, spanning her small waist with his big hands and lifting her to eye level. “Minx. Behave yourself."

  Jordan couldn't resist cooing, “Or what? You'll make me wear the matching earrings?"

  Laughter shook Luke's shoulders and nearly made him drop her. “Worse,” he threatened. “I'll get the Foster family jewels out and make you wear those, too."

  She gave him a look of feigned terror. “No! Not the family jewels! Have mercy on me, please."

  He pretended to consider her case. “Well, all right. I'll let you off this time. But next time I won't be so forgiving."

  She gave him a look of sweet innocence. “I'll behave. I promise."

  "You'll behave like you always do,” he answered knowingly. “I think I should have a talk with your brothers about the lack of discipline they raised you with. You're incorrigible."

  He set her back on her feet and she groaned at his last threat. “Oh, please. Don't say anything like that, you'll get Gary started. He wanted to send me away to Catholic school."

  Luke started to laugh again. “Why? Does he hate nuns?"

  Jordan shot him a nasty look that didn't discourage his laughter in the least.

  When he sobered enough to talk, Luke added, “It's nice to know one of your brothers knew what you were up to."

  Jordan grinned. “Well, actually he didn't—not in the way you mean. He wanted to keep me away from all the deadly sins. For some reason he thought I might be too frail to resist temptation."

  Luke nodded. “Yes, I can see his point. But I'm afraid sending you to a convent wouldn't do any good. You'd find a way to get into trouble there, too. Drink too much communion wine and pass out on the altar at the very least."

  Jordan sniffed in injured pride. “I would not.” Then she added, “Pass out in the confessional, maybe, but never on the altar. Tacky."

  Luke shook his head sadly. “You see? There's no keeping you from a life of wickedness. Get your coat, wicked one, we've got family to snow."

  As she got her cape and threw it over her shoulders, Jordan replied saucily, “You'll be thanking me a thousand times for my wicked ways before the year is over. All the snow in Vermont doesn't compare to the amount I can produce for our mutual benefit."

  "Yes, I've seen you in action. You are the undisputed Snow Queen,” Luke agreed as he guided her towards the door.

  The drive to Gary's house didn't take long. Jordan quizzed Luke on the way, but once they stepped through the door into the reigning pandemonium, he shot her a horrified look. “Who are all these people?"

  Jordan tried to view the usual three-ring circus from the perspective of an outsider. She supposed it could be a little overwhelming. The teenagers were banging their heads in the den to whatever was the latest grunge rock CD. The younger children were running up and down halls yelling, and she spotted Theodore's youngest, Amy, sitting on the floor in tears over a lost toy.

  She gave Luke an encouraging smile. “Don't worry. You'll get used to it."

  He didn't look convinced.

  Jordan swung Amy up into her arms and gasped, “Good grief, you weigh a ton. I can't take it. Oooff!” She pretended to stagger and collapse under the crushing load, sinking to the floor with Amy on her stomach. The toddler forgot about the toy and started to laugh.

  Jordan gave Luke a grin of victory. “They're so easy to distract at this age. I love it."

  Luke grinned back at her. “You look like you're about the same age, sitting on the floor like that.” He reached down to collect the child and lifted Jordan back up. When he straightened, he found himself face to face with three men who matched him for height and width and he barely resisted the urge to push Jordan protectively behind his back. Instead he kept a firm hold on her hand.

  The three strangers looked him over and it slowly dawned on him that they must be her brothers. Still, he didn't back down from his protective stance. They were the ones who'd driven her to concoct this wild scheme in the first place. Instead of a nice guy like Luke, she could have ended up with a dangerous nut in her panicked flight from their matrimonial mismatches.

  Jordan looked from her brothers to Luke. Oh boy. It looked like there was going to be a showdown at sundown. Luke really did look like a gun-slinging cowboy about to draw. And the brothers were just as bad. She felt like the lone cat in the middle of a gang of dogs. Any minute now war was going to break out.

  She glared at Gary, Randall and Theodore in turn. Just her luck—the one brother who could be relied on for comic relief was conspicuously absent. “Behave! All of you!” Jordan yelled at the top of h
er lungs. Then she turned to Luke. “You, too. If there was any more testosterone flowing here, I'd be drowning."

  He had the grace to look slightly abashed, but she could tell he still wasn't about to back down first. She sighed gustily. Just as well. If he had, her brothers wouldn't respect him in the morning. It was up to her to smooth this over.

  Jordan gestured at Luke to set the toddler down. When he did, she kept hold of his hand as she marched up to Gary to stand toe to toe with him. “He's mine and I'm keeping him!” she shouted at full volume, defiance in every line of her small body.

  That was too much for Luke. He easily lifted her off her feet to dangle her above the floor. “You are?"

  "Yes.” She grinned back at him, not in the least perturbed at the unsubtle suggestion that she wasn't the one in charge. “Luke, I want you to meet my brothers. Most of them, anyway. One is missing. This is Gary, Randall and Theodore.” Jordan pointed to each as she named them. “Guys, this is Luke Foster. My fiancé.” She handled the introductions with the smooth dignity of a society matron, instead of an impish pixie being held two feet off the floor.

  "Glad to meet you,” Luke murmured blandly, as if he wasn't toying with their sister before their very eyes. He could tell they didn't like it. Too bad. She was his now. He ignored the fact that it was only temporary.

  Two of them continued to look suspicious, but the middle one relaxed and held out a hand. “Luke Foster? Of Solid Solutions? I'm Randall Christian. Nice to meet you."

  Luke continued to hold Jordan easily with one hand and shook Randall's hand with the other. “Yes, that's my company. You're a CPA, isn't that right? I remember Jordan mentioning it."

  Jordan gave a peremptory “ahem” for attention.

  He turned to her in response. “Yes?"

  "Put me down."

  "Only if you admit I'm keeping you, not the other way around,” he agreed willingly.

  She waved a tiny fist. “I admit nothing! A Christian never says die!"