The Angel Tasted Temptation (34 page)

"I would have rather he saved my dress," Candace muttered. "At least I have insurance. But I still need to find another dress. I can't get that particular one anymore and even if I could, there's not enough time to order it."

"You haven't bought one yet?" Maria's jaw dropped. "But Candace, the wedding's only three weeks away."

Since Candace had said "I will" to Barry, it had been one disaster after another. If she put stock in things like signs, she'd have called off the wedding months ago. But she didn't believe in any of that. It was a string of bad luck, mat's all. Marrying Barry was the right choice, she was sure of it Candace had never made a move in her life that she hadn't thoroughly researched, planned and analyzed.

Well, except one. But that had been a long time ago. Ever since then, Candace had subscribed to the "more control is better" life mantra. That's why Barry was so perfect for her. They matched like plaid and stripes.

On her marrying Barry list the pros had far outweighed any cons. Now if Murphy's Law would just see that too.

Candace sighed. "Between the business and all those last-minute glitches, I haven't had time to find another dress."

Rebecca looped her arm through Candace’s. "Tonight we're going dress shopping, and then well get good and drunk because tomorrow is Sunday, our day off, and we don't have a single delivery due on Monday."

Of the three of them, Rebecca was the oldest by four months and thus had become the unofficial decision maker. She was also the thinnest and the only one who came equipped with both an iron will and a Blackwell-worthy fashion sense. And, as the sole married one, the wisest when it came to matters of weddings and bridal gowns.

"Wow. An instant vacation." Maria grabbed a second cookie and finished it off in two bites. "I hope the bar is well stocked."

Rebecca gave her a wry look. "You mean you hope the bartender is well built."

"Yeah, that, too." Maria smiled. "But if he doesn't know how to make a killer margarita, what good are looks?"

Book 2 in the Sweet and Savory Novel series

Chapter One

Maria Pagliano was serious this time.

No-holds-barred, no-prisoners-taken, no-cheese-allowed serious. She had eight weeks to do what she'd never been able to do before—lose twenty-five pounds.

This time, she vowed, was going to be different. She wasn't going to cheat and fall victim to her own desires. But in order to stick to her plan, she needed a little help, which was why she had come here on a Tuesday night.

To a meeting of the Chubby Chums support group.

In the lime green basement of a tiny church in Boston's North End, a dozen or so people sat on folding chairs in a circle. Above them, a fluorescent light flickered and hummed like a pathetic disco ball. Maria crossed her legs, pantyhose swishing in the quiet, trying very hard not to think about the lone manicotti from Guido's Italian Cafe sitting in her apartment refrigerator.

"Welcome, group!'' A woman in tight jeans who looked like she'd never been tempted by a bowl of raviolis in her life stepped into the room and opened her arms wide, in an all-encompassing group hug. "And how are my Chubby Chums tonight?"

"We're peachy with light syrup!"

Maria looked around at the group, all laughing at their practiced pun. Had she accidentally stumbled into the Lunatics with Heart Support Forum?

The pixie leader's name badge said,
Hello, my name is: Stephanie
, with a smiley face and an exclamation point. Stephanie took a seat in one of the chairs, thrusting out her hands. The group copied her, becoming a human circle of joined palms. A portly guy—his tag declared his name was "Homer"—grabbed up Maria's left hand with a sweaty palm, giving her a smile that lacked a few teeth. "Jillie," a middle-aged sniffling woman, put down her stash of tissues to take Maria's right hand in a floppy fish grip.

Then, as if on cue, the group dropped their heads to their chests and began to recite: "God grant me the serenity to accept my goal weight, the courage to resist anything with more than three hundred calories, and the wisdom to check the fat grams before I open my mouth and insert a fork."

Goose bumps rose on Maria's arms. Bunch of lunatics.

She should leave. But...

Mary Louise Zipparetto
had
gone from a size twenty to a size two, with the help of the Chubby Chums. Mary Louise had told her mother, who'd told Maria's mother, who'd told Maria over a cheese danish, that Mary Louise would be wearing a sleeveless Band-Aid of a dress to the class reunion to show off her new figure.

No way was Maria going to let Mary Louise be the best-looking woman in the Sons of Italy hall. All her life, Mary Louise had been the one to compete against. The first one to get an "A" in Mr. Marcetto's impossibly hard geometry class. She'd run for class president and won— two out of four years in high school. The other two, Maria had taken the top spot and made Mary Louise serve as veep.

And now, Mary Louise was skinnier
and
planning on taking the spotlight at the reunion.

Over Maria's dead bruschetta-fortified body.

Maria straightened in her seat, yanked her hand away from Homer, who let out a sigh of disappointment, and started paying attention. Stephanie's hands danced around her head as she talked, dramatizing her clear joy at being among a crowd of wannabe-thin people.

"Let's get started with a little bit of sharing! Tell us the last food you ate today and then name an animal you'd most like to be."

Mary Louise Zipparetto. In a size two.

Starting today, Maria intended to leave the double digits behind for good. She'd been okay with herself as a ten, but as twelve edged toward fourteen, she'd begun to dread shopping. Getting dressed. Looking in the mirror. But most of all, she now dreaded dating and the inevitable getting naked part. For a woman who enjoyed sex as much as pasta, that presented a few problems.

Then the invitation to her ten-year class reunion had come in the mail, followed by a phone call that had sent her pulse—and her diet dedication—into overdrive.

Antonio Lombardi, captain of the football team in high school and God's gift to a sex-starved woman, had asked her if she was coming, and if she was still as pretty as the rah-rah cheerleader he remembered. He'd said something about letting him see her in
just
the pom-poms and she'd babbled some kind of agreement. It was, after all, Antonio, and she'd never been able to say no to him, not even on prom night.

Over the course of her life, she'd done every diet— the seven-day grapefruit plan; the all-the-meat-you-can-eat regime and the starve-yourself-until-the-dress-fits desperation diet only to make a mad dash to Macy's and buy the next size up. Nothing had worked. Inevitably, she gave in to the first thing with tomato sauce and cheese, her diets failing faster than a one-hit-wonder’s second album.

But now, there was no turning back. Hanging in her closet was a little black—and very expensive—dress from Saks in a size eight that she'd bought this afternoon. The dress, and the thought of Antonio eyeing Mary Louise at the reunion instead of her, kept Maria rooted to her seat.

New York Times
and
USA Today
bestselling author Shirley Jump spends her days writing romance and women’s fiction to feed her shoe addiction and avoid cleaning the toilets. She cleverly finds writing time by feeding her kids junk food, allowing them to dress in the clothes they find on the floor and encouraging the dogs to double as vacuum cleaners. Visit her website at
www.ShirleyJump.com
or read recipes and life adventures at
www.ShirleyJump.blogspot.com
.