The Bad Luck Wedding Dress by Geralyn Dawson Page A

hadn’t been this nervous since Mother took up with that Italian following her third divorce from Richard.
    A proposition, he’d said. Not a proposal. But a proposition could be a proposal. Or, a proposition could be something less honorable. But Trace McBride appeared to be a man of honor. Didn’t he?
    Jenny couldn’t take the uncertainty anymore. Jerking her hand away, she planted her feet beside a large rock and blurted out, “What is this proposition, Mr. McBride? I want to know now, please.”
    He stopped, frowned, and rubbed the line of his jaw with his hand, and Jenny braced for the question she fully expected to come. What would she say if he declared his love? She didn’t love him, not yet. She thought she could grow to love him, but for now, what would she say?
    He hoisted himself onto the rock. “All right, Miss Fortune. I’ll come right out and speak what’s on my mind. Lately I’ve had problems controlling my girls.” He paused and his mouth twisted in a rueful smile. “But then you know that already, considering you near to beat me over the head with the fact.”
    Jenny nodded and plucked at the leaves of a sunflower that dipped across the path. Why didn’t he just get to the point?
    “Anyway, in the past few months we’ve gone through enough housekeepers to keep a palace up to snuff, and I’ve pretty well given up on the idea of a cook-and-clean type of woman to keep my daughters in line.” He propped one boot atop the rock and wrapped his arm around his bended knee. Flashing a grin, he added, “Guess they take after me more than I’d like.”
    “Mr. McBride,” she began, her voice pitched high with impatience.
    He ignored her interruption. “I realize I need more than a housekeeper. My girls need a mother.”
    That was it. Jenny closed her eyes and drew a breath. He’d marry to provide a mother for his children. He was saying it right out, no declaration of love or even affection, just the straight truth. She should feel relieved and appreciative of his honesty.
    Then why was she feeling insulted?
    Trace continued, “They need to have a woman they respect in their lives, a woman they’ll listen to and mind. And they need someone who can teach them how to be ladies. With Emmie getting older, it’s easier for me to understand that it’s something important and something that has been missing.”
    He paused for a moment and looked toward the creek, a pensiveness lingering in his eyes. Then he shrugged. “After our set-to the day my Menaces landed in jail, I got to thinking. You obviously care about my daughters, and they sure as hell care for you. They pay attention when you talk. You proved that earlier when you had that chat with Kat. And offering to teach Emma to sew is exactly the type of thing I’m looking for in a mother for my children.”
    Jenny’s nervousness faded with his speech, and before he finished, she was well on the way to vexed. She plucked the bloom from the stem, then tossed it away. Her pride had taken a direct hit. The receiving of a marriage proposal was an event a woman remembered for the rest of her life.
    It wouldn’t hurt the man to be a little more … romantic. He treated the moment like a business proposition.
    Trace McBride needed a reminder that she was a woman.
    Jenny thought of her mother. She recalled her own less-than-successful efforts at flirtation with this man just a few weeks ago. She’d always made it her practice to learn from her mistakes, and she believed herself better prepared this time.
    Subtly, she shifted her stance. Pulling her shoulders back, she leaned forward, toward him, her breasts brushing the boulder just beside his dangling leg. Then, she slowly, deliberately licked her lips.
    His eyes narrowed and his nostrils flared slightly.
    A sense of power ripped through Jenny, and in a soft, seductive tone, she stated, “Then I guess you do need a woman, don’t you, Mr. McBride.”
    His gaze fastened on her mouth, he slowly said,