Tempted In Texas

Gwen bounced into the room. “Alec, look!”

Alec’s mouth went dry. He swallowed, or tried to. “You look tasty….” He trailed off with a gesture. “I mean, tasteful.”

“Well, tasteful wasn’t quite the look I was going for, but with this V-neck, I figured the ‘Wonder Bra’ would be overkill.” Gwen pushed her arms together and manufactured an impressive cleavage. “I don’t know—what do you think? To cleave, or not to cleave?”

Think? She expected him to think? “Uhhh…”

“Yeah, you’re right.” She released her breasts and gestured to her skirt. “So how about the skirt?”

With difficulty, Alec transferred his gaze to the black skirt she was wearing. It was just a skirt, not particularly short or tight…except that it did cling ever so nicely. He peered closer. Was it see-through, or was he just imagining her legs? The more he stared, the better it looked. The better she looked.

He was in such trouble.

Dear Reader,

Secret man-magnets? Why not? You and I both know they’re out there. Some women have them—and some women don’t. That can be the only possible explanation why there are so many fabulous—yet dateless—women out there. Not that the dating women aren’t fabulous, too, but this book wasn’t written for them. No, this book is for the single woman—a woman like Gwen, who comes into possession of a skirt that brings men to their knees…and discovers she can’t fit into it! But her mother can…. So, she pretends it doesn’t matter because she’s given up on men, even though she’s awfully tempted by the perfect man who’d only need the slightest nudge to notice her. And wouldn’t the skirt come in handy? Only, her mother’s already wearing it…and attracting all the men! Don’t you hate when that happens?

Whether you’re dating or not, I hope you enjoy the further adventures of the SINGLE IN THE CITY women you first met in Cara Summer’s Moonstruck in Manhattan. And don’t miss the skirt’s next challenge in Kristin Gabriel’s Seduced in Seattle, available next month.

Enjoy,

Heather MacAllister

P.S. Stop by www.HeatherMacAllister.com for more SINGLE IN THE CITY news!

Tempted in Texas

Heather MacAllister

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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To Shirley Rose Kraus and Kay LaBauve Parnell with Alpha Gam love

Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Epilogue

Prologue

“THAT SAPPY LOOK is back on your face.” Gwen Kempner spoke through her teeth in order to maintain her bridesmaid’s smile—fake, but definitely not sappy. It’s not that she wasn’t happy for the bride; it’s that her happiness was grounded in a thorough knowledge of male-female relationships.

Unsuccessful ones, as it happened. Therefore, she felt no mawkish sentimentality when it came to weddings and happily ever afters. Or even happily ever afters without weddings.

Kate, her best friend and fellow bridesmaid, sighed dreamily. “Just look at her, Gwen.”

Gwen dutifully looked toward Chelsea, her other best friend, who had an equally sappy look on her face as she gazed adoringly at Zach, her new husband. Gwen decided she could spot Chelsea a sappy look or two—after all, she was the bride.

“She looks so beautiful,” Kate cooed.

Oh, no. Kate was going over to the dark side. Gwen shot her a sharp look.

“Now, Kate, we’ve talked about this. Brides look that way because they develop a special immunity to reality. They have to in order to justify the hideous cost of a dress they’ll only wear once. It wears off after they pay the ‘heirlooming’ bill from the dry cleaners.”

“But she looks so happy, Gwen. Maybe—”

“Be strong and repeat after me… I do not need a man to be happy.”

“I don’t know—did you check out the best man?”

“Of course I did. Then I imagined making beer runs for the best man and all his ex-jock friends who spend every weekend during football season reliving past glories in front of a big-screen TV he’s squeezed into my living room—and I get over it.”

“You miss the big-screen TV. Admit it.”

Kate was referring to Gwen’s last serious relationship in which she’d had to move out of her apartment in order to break up because her ex refused to move his TV, exercise equipment and stereo. She’d even abandoned her couch, which had sustained severe nacho cheese damage. Since she’d moved out on a Super Bowl Sunday he hadn’t noticed until the next day.

Kate clutched her arm. “Look! She’s going to throw the bouquet!”

“Thanks for the warning.” Gwen edged backward into the crowd of poor, deluded females who surrounded them.

“Oh, no, you don’t!” Kate pulled her back to the front.

Gwen stumbled forward at the precise moment Chelsea threw the bouquet. Kate, the traitor, dropped her arm to grab for it, and Gwen fell to her knees.

The bouquet sailed over her head. There was a squeal followed by a very unladylike scuffle.

Gwen picked herself up in time to meet Chelsea’s eyes.

And froze. In her hands, Chelsea held something far more deadly than a mere bridal bouquet.

“Not the skirt!”

Chelsea hefted the black fabric and before Gwen realized she was about to throw, flung it, Frisbee-style, right toward her.

Gwen automatically held up her arms to fend off the skirt and it caught on her hand, then draped itself over her head, clinging as though glued.

“No!”

“Gwen, you’ve caught the skirt, you lucky thing.” Kate’s voice sounded behind her as Gwen snatched the skirt off her head. “And here I was going for the bouquet.”

“Wanna trade?”

“Sure, but we can’t. You know the rules.”

“Rules? There are no rules.”

“Yes, there are. You caught it, you wear it. If you don’t, it’s like breaking a chain letter or something.”

“Kate, we’re talking about a skirt.”

“And not just any skirt.”

“Yes! That’s exactly what it is—just a skirt.”

“If you can refer to a skirt that has been responsible for two women finding the men of their dreams as ‘just a skirt,’ then okay. Me, I’m a believer.”

Gwen groaned. “Not the magical power thing. Torrie just made that up. Come on, Kate.”

An unnatural quiet had descended on the group of single women who’d gathered to try to catch the bouquet. They were avidly soaking up every word.

“Is that it? The skirt Torrie said came from the island? Can I touch it?” one asked.

Someone else must have asked Kate to explain, because she immediately launched into the tale Torrie, their friend from school, had told everyone about how the women of an island spun a fabric made from a special thread. The fabric when given to a young woman of marriageable age, was guaranteed to attract her one true love. The crowd breathed a collective “oooh.”

“Yeah—I read about it in a magazine,” someone said.

What was the matter with them?

“Ladies!” Gwen snapped her fingers. “We’re in the twenty-first century here!”

They ignored her in favor of Kate, who was actually encouraging them. “…and it’s being passed from bride to bride.”

Calculating eyes turned to Gwen. “So go put it on,” someone suggested.

“Yeah. Quit wasting time,” someone else said to agreeing murmurs.

“Use the bride’s dressing room.” Kate had a look in her eyes that Gwen had never seen before. “Don’t make me wait too long for my turn.”

“Stop.”

Everyone looked toward a thirtyish woman. “If that thing’s a man magnet, then you will all understand if I remove my fiancé from the scene?”

“I don’t believe this,” Gwen murmured, but nobody heard her. They were too busy gathering their own significant others and spiriting them away from Gwen’s new irresistibility.

“Come on, Gwen.” Kate was urging her toward the changing room. “I hear the band’s booked for another hour and Chelsea’s cute cousin isn’t married.”

“Kate!” Gwen stared. “Look, I don’t want this thing. You take it.” She wadded up the fabric and tried to fling it toward her friend.

“Ow!” Her hands and arm stung. Startled, she looked down, expecting to see a red rash or something. Nothing showed, but the painful tingle continued.

“What’s the matter?” Kate asked.

“I don’t know. Maybe I’m allergic to slinky fabric. Either that or a spider or some equally disgusting creature has stung me.”

“Oh, ick!” Kate backed away.

Gwen shook out the skirt. As she did so, the subdued light caught the fabric, giving it a rich luster.

Fingering it, she noted the thick, sumptuous feel. The fabric was quality stuff. She held it up to herself and the length hovered near her knees. Not too short and not dowdily long, either.

She didn’t have so many clothes that she could just fling away a classy, basic, black skirt.

“Maybe I’ll keep it after all,” she said to Kate.

But Kate and the other guests were flowing toward the door of the penthouse, passing by two little girls who held baskets of pastel froth.

Treating the skirt with more respect, Gwen folded it and draped it over her arm. The burning and tingling had completely stopped and the skirt swayed against her arm in a sensuous ripple—almost a caress.

How weird was that?

Weird enough to give her the creeps.

Hurrying to catch up with Kate, Gwen stopped and took a net bag of birdseed to throw at Chelsea and Zach, thinking that people sure threw a lot of stuff at weddings.

Once everyone made it down to the building lobby, Kate gestured for Gwen to come stand right beside the getaway car. Bad move, because they got hit with as much birdseed as Chelsea did.

Chelsea got into the car, dragging her dress in after her. Laughing, she waved goodbye. “Just think—the next time we get together, it’ll be for Gwen’s wedding!”

Gwen tacked on her bridesmaid smile and waved. If that’s what they thought, then the three of them wouldn’t be together again for a long, long time.

1

“LET ME GET THIS STRAIGHT—the bride threw you a skirt that has special man-attracting powers?”

Gwen hefted her suitcase into the trunk of her friend’s car. “That she claims has special man-attracting powers. And not just any man, but supposedly your one, true love. There’ve even been articles written about it. Isn’t that a hoot?” she prompted when Laurie didn’t roll her eyes or fall over laughing.

“I think it’s sweet.”

Sweet? Gwen had felt the need to talk to a rational, nonwedding-infected female. Laurie VanCamp, a friend from work who was giving her a ride home from the airport, was just the person. Or so Gwen had thought.

But Laurie wasn’t scoffing the way she was supposed to. “Tell me the whole story again.”

So Gwen did as they left Houston’s Bush Airport, merged onto the freeway and headed for Gwen’s apartment in the Galleria area. By the time Laurie matched speed with the other cars barreling down the freeway, Gwen was sorry she’d told her anything.

“What’s the skirt look like?” Laurie asked.

“Black, slinky but classy, knee-length—nothing special.”

“Has it been road-tested?”

“Sort of.”

“Has it or hasn’t it?”

Sheesh. “Yeah, I suppose.”

“Well, does it work?” Laurie was taking this whole thing way too seriously.

“How should I know?” Gwen snapped.

“How many of the women found their husbands while wearing it?” Laurie asked with exaggerated patience.

Gwen sighed. “Both of them,” she admitted.

Laurie shot her a startled look, then trained her eyes back on the highway. “And your problem with this skirt is…?”

“Aside from not believing a word of the story? I don’t want a man.”

“Right.”

“Really! Men take too much time and energy. And they’re unreliable. I mean, look—you had to come get me at the airport because the guy changing the oil in my car didn’t have it ready when he said he would.”

“The last Sunday in December is prime football playoff season, not to mention all the college bowl games. What do you expect?”

“I expect him to do what he said he would! I should have known better, but the fact that he’s my neighbor made me forget he’s a man.”

“He’s doing you a favor—give him a break.”

“I’m paying him. And why are you making excuses for him? I was stranded at the airport and he’d had three days to change the oil. You shouldn’t have had to mess up your Sunday afternoon just so he could watch football.” She shook her head. “I don’t need the aggravation. Men are like a really time-consuming hobby that’s become more trouble than it’s worth. I’ll be better off concentrating on my career.”

“Like the world needs more caffeine.”

“Hey! You work at Kwik Koffee, too!”

“Yes, but if you’re giving up men, it should be for something noble like finding a cure for cancer or heart disease or becoming an astronaut or something.”

“You see? You see? You just proved my point. More women would have those careers if they didn’t have to spend their time catering to men.”

“So find a man who isn’t a jerk like Eric.”

Like that was so easy. “I didn’t know Eric was a jerk when we started going out.” She gritted her teeth to keep from listing all his jerkish traits for about the eleven millionth time.

“And you’re still letting him yank your chain. Gwen, honey, it’s time to move on.”

“I have. By—my—self. Seriously. I’m through with men. Don’t need ’em.”

“Sure you do.” Laurie gave her an infuriating smile.

“Why? I’ve got a job, a nice apartment, a pair of Jimmy Choo shoes and a vibrator—why do I need a man?”

Laurie snickered. “Uh…companionship?”

“I’ll make a note to myself to get a dog—they’re not as much trouble.”

“Okay, then…” Laurie drew herself up, physically preparing to deliver the coup de grâce to the conversation. “Children.” She sat back and waited for Gwen’s reaction.

“They take longer to housebreak than dogs. And men.”

“Such cynicism does not become you.” Laurie signaled and took the Westheimer exit off the 610 loop.

“Sure it does. I’ve practiced a world-weary expression that makes me look attractively sophisticated.” Gwen demonstrated.

Stopping at the traffic light gave Laurie time to study her. “You’ll get wrinkles.”

“That’s what Botox injections are for.”

Laurie looked disgusted—an expression that Gwen couldn’t help noticing would give her frown lines. She decided not to mention it.

“So you’re not going to wear the skirt.”

The skirt again. “Oh, I’ll wear it. I’m just not going to go manhunting in it.”

“I can’t believe you’re being so selfish. You said your friend, Kate, has to catch it after you, if she’s still single. But after her, it’ll be a free-for-all grab and I want an invitation to that wedding.”

“You’re that desperate for a man?”

“As I understand it, the skirt attracts lots of men before true love wins out. What fun.” Laurie sighed.

What had happened to the independent, competent, take-no-prisoners Laurie she worked with? “Our fore-mothers would be appalled to hear this conversation. Your mother would be appalled to hear this conversation. What about all the struggling, protesting and fighting for equal rights, and burning bras—”

“Like that did anything but give them sagging boobs.”

“—so their daughters—we—could have a choice in how we live our lives?”

Laurie shrugged and turned into Gwen’s apartment complex. “So I’m choosing to live it with a man.”

“And I’m choosing not to.”

Laurie slid a look at her. “You’ve done a real good job of getting the word out, because I haven’t noticed that many men around that you could choose not to have a life with.”

Gwen bristled. “Then you haven’t been looking.”

“Really? When was the last time a man asked you for a date?”

“Well, I—”

“Not business-related, just you and an eligible man—meaning he’s single, uninvolved, straight and looking.”

“Looking for what?”

“Involvement at some level.”

“Does superficial involvement count?” Gwen asked cynically.

“In your case, yes. So when?”

Gwen smiled in triumph. “Remember Paddy O’Brien’s cousin?”

“The Paddy O’Brien who owns the Shamrock pub?”

Gwen nodded. “When his cousin was visiting from Ireland over St. Patrick’s Day, Paddy set us up for the green beer party.”

Laurie was silent a moment. “You can’t get much more superficial than that.”

“Hey!”

“Even allowing for blind dates—”

“It wasn’t a blind date. He was working the bar when we stopped in earlier that week. Remember those Irish coffees?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Is that all you can say? You had three.”

“And haven’t had another since.” Laurie managed to find a parking space across the alley drive from Gwen’s apartment. She parked, then leveled a look at her. “You’re counting hanging around a guy during a green beer party as a date?”

“Sure am.”

“But he didn’t take you anywhere, spend any money on you and you certainly weren’t alone, not to mention the possibility that he might have had an Irish colleen stashed away in the motherland, which I guess really doesn’t matter because you never saw him again.”

Gwen sighed. “No muss, no fuss. Perfect, wasn’t he?”

“But Gwen…how can you not want to date anybody?”

“Because dating leads to relationships.”

“You wish.”

“No, I don’t wish. My life is just fine the way it is, thank you very much. And you should be encouraging me. I’ve recognized the pattern of my mistakes and I’m trying to break the cycle.”

“But breaking the cycle doesn’t mean giving up all men—just the wrong ones.”

Gwen threw up her hands. “But I can’t seem to figure out how to avoid the wrong ones until it’s too late!”

“Isn’t that what the skirt’s for?”

Gwen rolled her eyes. “Forget the skirt.”

“I don’t want to forget the skirt. Things have changed since the last time you swam a few laps in the dating pool.”

“Men have stopped being self-centered?”

“That’s an attractive self-confidence.”

“Do they still act like they’re at an all-you-want sex buffet?”

“More and more are into à la carte.”

“From the same menu? For ever and ever?”

“You just came back from a wedding!”

“And most important—will they share dessert?”

Laurie gave her a puzzled look. “I’ve lost the analogy.”

Gwen wasn’t surprised. “Relationships require give and take and I got tired of being the one doing all the giving. I keep promising myself that each time will be different and then…” She shrugged. “So no more men.”

“Okay, fine. Just wear the skirt until some guy asks you out, then pass it on to another deserving woman before you reject him.”

“It’s supposed to be thrown at a wedding, remember? Kate has to have it next.”

Laurie grinned. “And I’d be happy to take it to her. Let me see it before you go.”

“Whatever.”

They both got out of the car and Gwen shrugged out of her coat, grateful for the mild Texas weather after frigid New York. Laurie opened the trunk and Gwen unzipped her suitcase. The skirt was right on top.

Laurie reached for the folded skirt and shook it out. “It’s just a black skirt,” she said with disappointment. “I wonder why men are attracted to it.” She eyed Gwen speculatively. “Wear it to my New Year’s Eve party. We’ll test it then.”

“I didn’t know you were having a New Year’s Eve party.”

“Neither did I. I feel strangely compelled.”

“Give me that.” Gwen snatched the skirt away and put it back into her suitcase.

“I’m still having the party.”

“Everyone’s already got plans.”

“Do you have plans?” Laurie asked.

“Well, I usually go over to my parents’…stop looking at me like that!” Gwen dragged her suitcase out of Laurie’s car.

“How am I supposed to look at you? It sounds so pathetic!”

“It’s not! They have an open house—and an open bar, the good stuff. It’s not a jug wine-and-chips kind of thing. And they serve real champagne at midnight,” she added with a touch of desperation when Laurie continued to look at her with deepening pity. “And it can’t hurt my career to network with their friends.”

Laurie squinted into the distance. “Their friends could have sons.” She nodded. “Could be good. I’ll come, too.”

“You’re not invited!”

“Why not?”

“What about your party?”

She waved her hand. “Everyone will already have plans.”

“You aren’t going to find any men there—at least not men our age. They’re my parents’ friends.”

“I can’t be your parents’ friend?”

Her mother had breezily suggested Gwen bring “somebody.” Gwen knew she had meant somebody male, somebody to deflect the annual marital status grilling. She eyed Laurie. Bringing a female might be even better. Definitely better. There would never again be any of those “When are you…?” questions.

“Okay,” she said.

“Great! Can I bring anything?”

“No. It’s catered. Oh, and I always sleep over, so pack your jammies.”

“Ooo, not jammies. What if someone sees me?”

Laurie was blond, young and in good shape. Very good shape. She’d blow out the men’s pacemakers. “Bring a robe.”

“No, no, no, no, no. You misunderstood. I might want to be seen.”

“I understood all right. It’s flannel and opaque or you don’t go.”

Laurie threw out her lower lip in a pout. “That’s not very festive.”

“It’s a New Year’s Eve party at my parents’ place. You aren’t supposed to be festive!”

Laurie raised an eyebrow.

“Not festive in that way,” Gwen said.

“You mean in a prepared-for-serendipity way?”

“I mean in a going-after-middle-aged-married-men way.”

“You should talk. You’re the one who’s going to be wearing the skirt. You’ll see. And so will their wives. But don’t worry. I’ll be there to watch your back.”

Gwen shuddered at the thought. “We’ll talk about it tomorrow,” she said noncommittally and began wheeling her suitcase over to the covered parking. “Thanks for the ride.” She turned to wave at Laurie and nearly smacked her in the face because she was right behind her. “What are you doing?”

Laurie discreetly pointed to Gwen’s charcoal gray Japanese import. “Are those legs supposed to be under your car?”

Gwen had already seen the cutoff clad legs of her neighbor sticking out from beneath her car. He’d driven over the curb so that the front wheels were lifted off the ground. From the angle they now stood, she could see under the car to the slice of well-muscled midriff that was also exposed. She heaved a deep breath in irritation. “Yeah.”

Laurie audibly swallowed. “You don’t need the skirt. Give it to me right now.”

Clearly, Laurie wasn’t going anywhere without an introduction. Even though Gwen had given up men, she still didn’t want to see her neighbor’s reaction to Laurie in hunting mode. She had a nice little nonrelationship thing going with him and Laurie could really screw it up.