Heather Macallister - Tempted In Texas

“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.”