Heather Macallister - Tempted In Texas

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.

“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.