Heather Macallister - Tempted In Texas

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

Before you start reading, why not sign up?

Thank you for downloading this Mills & Boon book. If you want to hear about exclusive discounts, special offers and competitions, sign up to our email newsletter today!

SIGN ME UP!

Or simply visit

signup.millsandboon.co.uk

Mills & Boon emails are completely free to receive and you can unsubscribe at any time via the link in any email we send you.

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

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

“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.