Open Invitation?. Karen Kendall

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      She wanted to lick him

      And Lilia had never licked anyone in her life. She was quite sure that licking people was not good manners in any country. But that didn’t stop her from wanting to crawl all over Dan.

      “I have to get my keys,” she said, turning away from him. You don’t like cowboys. You like your men supersonically civilized. Why do you have the hots for a man who rides horses? she told herself.

      She didn’t know. She couldn’t explain it.

      Lilia walked to her front door with the full knowledge that Dan’s eyes were fixed on her backside. Heat bloomed over her skin. Giving in to wicked temptation, she dropped her keys, then bent to pick them up, knowing that her skirt would pull tight as she did so.

      She inserted the key into the lock and watched him, reflected in the glass of the door. He actually made a fist and stuck it in his mouth. She was pretty sure that was the man-sign for “hubba hubba” or something like that.

      Lilia smiled and wondered what was the most proper, mannerly way to seduce someone.

      Dear Reader,

      If you love opposites-attract stories, then Open Invitation? is the novel for you! The third book in my THE MAN-HANDLERS trilogy for Harlequin Blaze, it features Lil, a Connecticut etiquette consultant who learns a few steamy lessons from Dan, her west Texas cowboy client. Lil’s got a lesson to learn: that an apparently “rude” cowboy is really the supreme gentleman.

      Dan reminds me a little of my own husband, who could burp the alphabet when I first met him, and actually proposed to me in the bathroom while I was washing my face.

      ME: (chip clip on head to hold hair back, soap lather on face) You cannot propose to me in the bathroom!

      HIM: What, like there’s a rule about this?

      ME: Well, if there isn’t a rule, there should be one!

      HIM: Look, will you marry me or not?

      But hubby is really Prince Charming—just undercover. I hope you enjoy Dan and Lil’s story as much as I did writing it. Come see me at www.KarenKendall.com, or you can write to me care of Harlequin Enterprises Ltd., 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario M3B 3K9, Canada.

      Happy reading,

      Karen Kendall

      Open Invitation?

      Karen Kendall

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      Contents

      Chapter 1

      Chapter 2

      Chapter 3

      Chapter 4

      Chapter 5

      Chapter 6

      Chapter 7

      Chapter 8

      Chapter 9

      Chapter 10

      Chapter 11

      Chapter 12

      Chapter 13

      Chapter 14

      Chapter 15

      Chapter 16

      Chapter 17

      Chapter 18

      Chapter 19

      Chapter 20

      Chapter 21

      1

      LILIA LONDON, Connecticut etiquette consultant, grimaced as her bra strap fell off her shoulder and down her arm. She shoved it back up—for the third time—and ignored the throbbing of her left big toe, which ached to escape the sling-back she wore.

      An etiquette consultant couldn’t run around in just her panty hose, and she shouldn’t be flashing her lingerie in public, either. Too bad, because the bra was really pretty. Someone besides her should see it….

      Lil banished the thought, straightened her posture and edged closer to the eighteenth-century mahogany card table she used as a desk. She peered at her computer.

      “In Chinese tradition,” she wrote, “the last half of the seventh lunar month is viewed as unlucky for weddings. During this time, the Hungry Ghost Festival is held. It is thought that the gates of Hell are opened, freeing lost spirits to wander the earth. No couple wishes them invited to their nuptials!”

      She finished typing the last line of a report on Chinese wedding customs for a client and hit the save button on her computer just as the phone rang.

      Now battling an itch in an uncouth place, Lil sighed. It was really tough to be a lady today.

      She ignored the itch, crossed her legs and punched the speakerphone button with one tastefully manicured, medium-length nail. “Finesse, Lilia speaking.”

      “Haaaaaaaaah,” said a man’s voice, deep and lazy and full of almost sinister sexual vibrations.

      Haaaaaaaaaah? Since her mind was more focused on ni hao, or hello in Chinese, it took her a moment to process his accent.

      “Haaaaaaaaaaah,” he repeated. “Maaaah nayme is Dayan Graaanger, Miz Lundun.”

      My goodness. His Texas drawl was thicker than the peach preserves Nana Lisbeth used to put away each summer.

      “Hello, Mr. Granger. How may I help you?”

      “I gotch your nayme by way of a Mrs. Shane.”

      Her partner Shannon’s mother. Interesting.

      “And the dill is—”

      Dill? The spice?

      “—I need some emergency, uh, charm school lessons. Mah sister’s marryin’ some blue-blood Brit and she don’t want me to embarrass her at her own weddin’.”

      Oh, the poor man. So the sister has humiliated him by saying so. Lil’s heart went out to him, even though his accent was almost comical. “When will the nuptials take place, Mr. Granger?”

      “In two weeks.”

      Lilia raised an eyebrow and looked at her gilt-edged, blue-leather appointment book. “I’m afraid that I’m out of the office on vacation starting Monday, a week from today. Could you come in tomorrow, perhaps? I think I can clear my afternoon.”

      “Ahh think this is gonna take more than a single afternoon, Miz London, but I guess I can try to find a flight.”

      “From where will you be traveling?”

      “Amarillo, Texas.”

      She’d surmised that he was coming from somewhere in the Wild West.

      “I can probably give you two and a half days this week, but I’m afraid that’s all the time I have,” she said regretfully.

      “Here’s the dill, Miz Granger. Because I’m guilty of procrastinatin’ on this, I’m willing to triple your normal fees if you’ll take me on. I need dancin’ lessons. I need fark lessons. I need—”

      Lil paused. What on earth is a fark? “Fark lessons, Mr. Granger?”

      “You know. Like knife ‘n’ fark. I’ve been warned there’s gonna be five farks at this damn dinner, and hell if I know what to do with ’em. Also, I need to learn ballroom dancin’—the waltz and that kinda crap. And I need clothes, plus a penguin suit.”

      Penguin…oh, dear. He needs a great deal more than that, by the sound of it.

      “I