on>
This wasn’t a date, Josh tried to convince himself
This was…well, this was just letting a friend crash on the sofa, that’s what it was. Carrying two bottles of beer, he rounded the corner from the kitchen and the full force of Sam’s presence hit him.
At that moment Samantha Baldwin was everything he’d ever wanted, or would ever want in a woman, want being the operative word.
Sam’s chest rose and fell gently, and Josh realized he’d been staring at her—staring at her chest actually—for more than a few minutes. There was only so much chest-staring a woman would allow—and Josh knew from personal experience that it wasn’t very much—before she objected. He swallowed. Sam wasn’t objecting. Why wasn’t she? She should object, dammit!
Josh met Sam’s eyes, which were regarding him above a mouth curved in a Mona Lisa smile. Her hands slowly smoothed their way down her thighs, drawing his gaze. She was wearing a black skirt that outlined her legs as though they were immortalized in bronze.
She looked like a World War II pinup photo.
She looked good. Too good.
And suddenly Josh knew he was going to be very, very bad….
Dear Reader,
The skirt is back! When you last saw the mysterious, “man-magnet” skirt, it was flying through the air at the end of Kristin Gabriel’s Seduced in Seattle. However, Kristin, Cara Summers and I had so much fun writing this series, we decided someone should catch the skirt. And we also decided to give the next set of SINGLE IN THE CITY stories a twist….
For this installment, we decided to have all three stories happen at the same time! Not only that, but the heroines are three relative strangers who end up becoming roommates in a New York apartment. Best of all, the books feature three lookalike skirts. But that’s not all…. You’ll meet the neighbors—Mrs. Higgenbotham and her poodle, Cleo, who is in therapy for Canine Intimacy Dysfunction, Petra, the sculptress with a penchant for naked men, and Franco, the aspiring actor/doorman with a gossip addicition. And of course, we’ll introduce you to three new heroes, who may or may not have been attracted by the skirt.
With three women counting on the skirt to work its magic, mix-ups are bound to happen. Will they ever really be sure which skirt is which? Be sure to watch out for even more romantic misadventures next month in Sheerly Irresistible by Kristin Gabriel, then again in Short, Sweet and Sexy, by Cara Summers in October. And don’t miss the skirt’s upcoming West Coast debut, when it arrives in San Francisco for the next round of SINGLE IN THE CITY books—April, May and June of 2003.
And be sure to visit our Web site at www.SingleintheCity.org to let us know how you like the series. While you’re at it, check out my Web site at www.HeatherMacAllister.com for other writing news.
Happy reading!
Heather MacAllister
Skirting the Issue
Heather MacAllister
In memory of my grandmother, Mildred Copple Hull.
1902–2002
Contents
Prologue
THERE WAS NOTHING LIKE A wedding to make a single woman assess her options. And Samantha Baldwin had options. She was hiding from one of them now.
“Sam! There you are.”
She cringed. How had Kevin found her?
“The bride’s about to throw the bouquet.”
“Thanks for the warning.” Caught behind the proverbial potted palm artfully disguising the hallway to the women’s rest room, Sam downed the last swallow of her champagne and snagged another glass from a passing waiter.
“Won’t it be difficult to catch the bouquet with your hands full?” Kevin, her boyfriend, her blond-haired, blue-eyed, what-a-wonderful-catch boyfriend, the very boyfriend who traveled to the wedding with her all the way from San Francisco to Seattle—even though she had told him not to—smiled archly. Sam didn’t even know he knew how to smile archly. Kevin wasn’t an arch sort of man. He was a veterinarian.
“Silly me.” Looking him right in the eye, Sam quaffed the glass and handed it to him. “Oh, please,” she said at his raised eyebrow. “The glasses are small and only half-full.”
“I just want you to be sharp and alert.”
It was a cue. She knew she was supposed to ask him why she should be sharp and alert. Then he’d reply that it was so she could be sure and catch the bouquet. Then she’d ask why catching flowers was so important, and he’d…he’d…
And there the screen in Sam’s mind went blank.
Or rather, she knew what was on the screen, she just wished she was in a different theater.
There were two shows running in Sam’s mind. Showing on the screen with Kevin was the happily-ever-after, white-picket-fence, puppies-and-kids movie. A qualified thumbs-up, especially surrounded as she was by all the wedding vibes this weekend.
But showing on another screen was the promotion-and-corporate-success-in-New-York movie. Two thumbs-up. And in the audience, applauding wildly, was Sam’s mother.
Kevin took her arm—really, there was no need; the glasses were small, a couple of swallows max—and gently, but insistently steered her toward the ballroom.
Sam swallowed dryly, since Kevin avoided the wait staff.
“Holy cow!” Kevin was given to animal imprecations. “Look at that mob.”
“They can’t all be wedding guests.” But there they were all crowding around Kate and her bridesmaids, Chelsea, Gwen and Torrie. Sam felt cheered. The odds of her not catching the bouquet had just gone up.
At the realization, she looked up at Kevin guiltily, then back at Kate.
The other bridesmaids, all friends of Sam’s from college, were also newlyweds and they all glowed disgustingly. No, it wasn’t disgusting, but they were all so happy it made her wish for that happiness, too. The way they looked at their husbands—and the way their