Skirting The Issue. HEATHER MACALLISTER

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      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 husbands looked back at them…Sam squeezed Kevin’s arm and he looked down at her in almost the same way. He was a good man, a kind man—he cured little kids’ sick puppies, for heaven’s sake. But he also had a quirky sense of humor, played a ruthlessly wicked game of poker and was perfectly willing to walk out of a movie he didn’t feel was worth his time.

      She should love him. What was wrong with her that she didn’t love him?

      But she didn’t. At least not enough to give up the chance of the promotion she was recently offered. And not enough to ask him to wait while she went to New York to compete for it. Because…because what if she got it? What if she became the east coast convention sales manager for Carrington Hotels? She’d have to move to New York. Kevin had a thriving veterinary practice in San Francisco. He’d have to really, really love her to relocate to New York.

      And he’d deserve someone who really, really loved him back.

      Sam squeezed his arm again and as he smiled down at her, she waited for the gooey feelings she knew Kate and the others felt for their husbands. She felt…fondness. And a little irritation because she didn’t feel more.

      That was it, then. She’d made her decision, the one she’d come all the way from San Francisco to think about. She’d intended to come alone, but Kevin had surprised her. Would it have made any difference if he’d stayed behind as she’d asked? She’d half-seriously quoted, “absence makes the heart grow fonder” at him, but he’d countered with, “while the cat’s away, the mouse will play.” The animal theme again, but honestly, she’d set herself up for it.

      And speaking of setups…while Sam was pondering her future, Kevin steered her through an incredibly aggressive throng of single women until she’d reached a decent field position, one well within bouquet-throwing range. Then he’d kissed her on her cheek and got the heck out of Dodge.

      Sam watched Kate search the crowd, her face lighting with radiant bliss—truly, she looked like the women in those diamond ads—when she found her husband. At her nod, Brock approached the band-leader, and then came a remarkable announcement: the bride would be throwing a skirt, not a bouquet.

      Well, now. Sam edged toward the side. This she had to see. Oh, sure, she’d heard the rumors about this great skirt. Kate and her bridesmaids all swore they met their husbands while wearing it. Others must have heard about it, too, because as the bride and her attendants climbed the circular dais, they were practically mobbed.

      Kate stepped forward and scanned the crowd. Taking a deep breath, she tossed the skirt high into the air, right toward the spot where Sam had been standing.

      Then it seemed to float in the air, drifting left, as though caught by a draft from the ventilation system. It twirled and fluttered. It may have even glinted.

      Then it dived. Straight toward Sam. Like she had a homing beacon attached to her, or something. Whatever, Sam ducked and waved her arms to fend off the attack. The crowd pushed and shoved, grasping for the black fabric. Sam backed up, and felt one of the white folding chairs against her calf. She lost her balance and grabbed blindly, hoping to prevent her fall. She grabbed a fistful of air—and the skirt. Astonishingly, the thing nearly molded itself to her hands, but it didn’t prevent Sam from a hard landing on the dance floor. She sat, dazed, her legs splayed in front of her, the skirt in her hands.

      The single women of Seattle gave a disappointed groan. Make that a menacing groan.

      “Sam…You caught it! Way to go!” Kevin made his way through the knot of resentful women.

      “But I didn’t mean to catch it,” Sam said. But she knew nobody heard her and wouldn’t believe her if they had.

      Kevin stood behind her and struggled to haul her upright by taking hold of her beneath her arms, almost like he was wrestling with a ninety-pound German shepherd.

      Sam didn’t weigh ninety pounds, but she was no German shepherd, either. She waved him off with skirt-covered hands and got to her feet.

      “So, what’s this mean?” he asked.

      “That Kate wanted to dry her bouquet and keep it for herself?”

      At that moment, Gwen, one of the bridesmaids, made her way toward them. “Hey, Sam!” She hugged her. “We were hoping you’d be the one.” And Gwen smiled pointedly, beamed, actually, at Kevin.

      Kevin was beaming back in perfect understanding. This was not good.

      Gwen tapped the skirt with the pink rose she’d carried in the wedding. “Kate sent me over here to make sure you knew the skirt rules.”

      Sam held the skirt out in front of her. It shimmered enticingly. “There’re rules?”

      “Oh, yeah. Rules and a warning. It works fast.”

      “Is that the rule or the warning?”

      Gwen laughed. “I got the skirt right after Christmas and I was married on Valentine’s Day.”

      Sam stared at her. How horrible. Fortunately, she didn’t say so.

      “What exactly does it do?” Kevin asked.

      “It attracts men,” Gwen answered.

      Kevin frowned.

      “One of whom will be your true love,” she added to Sam.

      “What if she’s already met her true love?” Kevin stepped forward and fingered the material of the skirt. It must have been a trick of the light, but the lustrous black material seemed to take on an ashy hue. It hung limply from Sam’s hand.

      “Then she’ll know he’s the one.” Gwen gave one of the gooey smiles so prevalent today as a well-built man ambled over and tucked his arm around her waist. “After all, I already knew Alec, here, but it wasn’t until I put on the skirt that I knew he was the one for me.”

      “If I recall, there was a certain red sweater you wore with it.” Alec grinned. “I liked that sweater.”

      Gwen batted at his arm. “Anyway, when you find him, you’ll know. And then you toss it at your wedding to some extremely lucky woman.” After exchanging goo-goo eyes with her husband, Gwen went off with Alec.

      Sam stared at the skirt and then at Kevin. He stared back. She knew all right, and she didn’t need the skirt to tell her.

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