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than anything else. But she couldn’t take it off.” Tasha shook her head. “She was stuck wearing the thing for a week until she ran into Nick.” Nick was Tasha’s stepfather and an all-around great guy. He was seven years younger than Tasha’s mother and so obviously in love. The two were a great couple.
    Still, happy as that situation appeared, Heather wasn’t buying it. It was a dress. There was no way it could be cursed.
    “How can a dress know who Mr. Right is?”
    “I don’t know how it works, just that it does.”
    “What if you have multiple Mr. Rights? Maybe there are a dozen men out there who are a perfect match and you just have to pick one.”
    “No.” She glared at Heather, exasperation filling her eyes. “It’s one man. The dress only responds to one man.”
    Heather chuckled. Sometimes Tasha was too fun to mess with. “I’m sure Cait will be fine.”
    “Unless she meets her true love,” Tasha said. Her voice vibrated with trepidation and warning. Damn, Heather felt as though she was a character in a horror movie. Oh what the hell? She’d play along.
    “But I thought she couldn’t take the dress off unless she meets him. So we want her to meet him, right?” Heather shook her head, confused and seriously considering more wine.
    “The dress can’t be taken off until she meets her true love.” Tasha paused and bit her lip. “But if she meets him…”
    “Yes,” Heather prompted.
    “The dress will, kind of, strip itself off.”
    “What?!”
    “Yup. Just sort of falls off. Leaving you standing there in nothing but your panties.”
    “You’re kidding me.”
    “No. My mother was at work, and boy, was she surprised.”
    “The dress takes itself off?”
    “All the way down to the undies. At least that’s what my mom told me. You know, later. When I was in my twenties.”
    “I think your mother’s playing you.”
    “I don’t think so.” Tasha stretched over to the opposite chair and grabbed her purse. “We need to call Cait. Tell her not to put on the dress.”
    Heather looked at the clock. “It’s too late. She left here wearing it and the party started an hour ago.”

Chapter Two
     
    Dear Diary,
    I’m so ready for this weekend to be over. The Bridal Ball is tonight and Mrs. Warren wasn’t happy when she found out I wasn’t going to attend. It’s not really my thing. Certainly not without a date. I’m going to sit home, watch TV and drink some wine. Nothing is prying my butt off this couch tonight.
     
    Cait tugged on the bodice of the wedding gown, trying to pull it just a little higher, maybe make her breasts a little less noticeable. But every time she tugged, the material dropped back into place.
    Wishing she’d had time to run home and get a jacket, a scarf, anything to provide a little cover, she walked down the wide hallway leading the ballroom, mentally calculating the hours until she could leave. The best she’d been able to do was pull her hair back in a bun during the drive over. At least it wasn’t a wild mess any more.
    She sighed, looking at the open doors to the ballroom. This was not her kind of event. It was fun and for a good cause—the families of fallen police officers—but it was the kind of thing she wanted to attend with a date. Not stag. And not while she was working.
    If she were just a participant, she would love to attend. Good food, wine and dancing. Hmmm, dancing. Bodies pressed subtly together, close enough to tempt, but leaving so much to the imagination.
    She looked down. The shallow peaks of her nipples were barely pressing against the thick silk bodice. She would be fine. Nothing she hated more than walking into a room with her nipples showing through. Usually it was from the cold, but sometimes it was just pure sensual stimulation. Could she help it if her nipples responded to the lightest touch? To hide the reaction of her body, she’d learned to wear thick, padded bras. But tonight, that wasn’t possible.
    For a woman of her