Free The Bad Luck Wedding Dress by Geralyn Dawson

silly, some of them inspired. None of them had worked. The girls had chewed on her like pups on a steak bone, and eventually the dressmaker had given in.
    For the first time in weeks Trace was glad of his daughters’ cussed stubbornness. He needed to deal with the dressmaker on his own terms, and Emma’s birthday outing was his first effort in that regard. At the reminder, he tore his gaze from the dressmaker’s skirts.
    After the confrontation in his parlor, he’d devoted some thought to the situation that, like it or not, had landed in his lap. His girls had developed an affection for Jenny Fortune, one she apparently returned. He’d been too late in catching on to the developing relationship to do anything to prevent it, and experience had taught him that short of locking the Menaces in their room—which probably wouldn’t work worth a damn anyway—he’d be wasting his time trying to put a stop to it at this late date. Moving into the house wouldn’t likely solve the problem now. Trace knew without a doubt they’d find a way to visit the woman.
    At that point he realized he’d have to make this connection between his daughters and Miss Fortune work for him. Working for him meant putting the boot to this mother talk and to the unsettling effect Miss Fortune was having on his senses.
    The dressmaker got prettier every time he saw her. That business over the girls had made it even worse. Throwing all that sass in his direction had caused her eyes to shine, her cheeks to glow, and that bountiful bosom to lift in an admirable way. Ever since the skirmish he’d had a devil of a time forcing the image from his mind.
    So he’d bent his mind to the task of developing a strategy on how to deal with Miss Jenny Fortune. Once he realized that she’d not become a problem for him until he allowed her to cross that mental line between business and personal, Trace had known what tack to take. He’d made the first move by allowing the girls to invite the woman along on the birthday celebration. Before they left Quail Creek this evening, he intended to have the job done and the problem of Jenny Fortune solved.
    “Miss Fortune,” Emma called, glancing over her shoulder. She gestured toward a patch of grass nestled among a collection of flat rocks lining the creek bank. “This is where we usually spread the blankets. Papa can sit here and watch us all while we’re swimming. Katrina plays where it’s shallow off to the left, while Mari and I swim where it’s deeper over on the right.”
    Katrina turned round, solemn eyes toward Jenny. “I like the shallow best, but I know how to swim where it’s deep,” she said. “Little Louise Who Is An Angel couldn’t swim and so Papa made sure to teach us all first thing.”
    “Oh, I see,” Jenny replied, her questioning look toward Trace showing that she didn’t see at all.
    He explained. “The girls had a cousin who drowned. I want them to know how to handle themselves in any situation. In fact, I’m hoping we’ll have the chance to talk about that for a bit this afternoon.”
    “Talk about swimming?”
    “No, I was thinking more along the lines of quilting bees.”
    “You’ve lost me, Mr. McBride.”
    He gave her a slow, easy smile. “No, Miss Fortune, I think I’ve found you.”
    Jenny’s heart fluttered at the look. Of course, it had been in near constant quiver since Trace McBride sauntered into Fortune’s Design a little over an hour ago. The man confused her. She’d rented shop space from him for months, and in all of that time, he’d never acted the least bit interested in her as a woman.
    Firmly, Jenny dismissed the speculations. She probably just imagined the heat in his eyes. She obviously read meanings he didn’t intend into the words he spoke. One more silly idea, that’s all it was. Funny how a single little intimation by her mother had managed to put all of these suggestions in her mind.
    Intimations. Intimate. Oh, goodness.
    Jenny focused her