high as it’d go. “I do hope you’ll be able to contain your excitement at seeing the brown, black, and grey swatches.”
“And what of yellow?” She eyed him askance. “I think you’d look very dashing in either canary or mustard.”
“Do you plan to dress to match?”
She scowled. “Yellow is not my color.”
“No, pink is.” He waited a moment then added, “See, there it is again.”
She knit her eyebrows. “Pardon?”
“Your cheeks.”
Her free hand flew to her left cheek and she scowled at him. “You have a disease, did you know that?”
“I wouldn’t consider it a disease to find enjoyment in making a young lady blush.”
“I would.” Her tone was full of conviction. “I’m sure others would, too.”
“Who? Those who’ve chosen to live out their life in a convent?”
“Just so.”
A cloud of dust swirled around the hem of Rae’s green skirt. She slowed her steps.
“Is something wrong?” Simon queried, matching her steps.
“No,” she said quickly.
Simon stilled and looked around them. “Is he here?” he asked in a stage whisper.
“No,” she lied, her stomach knotting into a tight fist. She gave his arm a little tug. “Let’s go in here and talk terms.”
“Terms?” Dutifully, he followed her lead toward Goldberg’s and then opened the door for her.
Rae walked inside the old familiar tearoom, noting how everyone was looking at them. She silently counted to five to calm her nerves and flashed Simon and the rest of the room the best smile she could at the moment.
“Are you sure you want to be in here?” Simon asked quietly by her ear, his hand finding a resting spot on the small of her back.
Ignoring the shiver skating up her spine, she nodded. “I used to come here when I was a girl and well—” she shrugged. “Things are different now.”
“Shall we scandalize them all further and order, then?” Simon suggested.
“Of course.” Rae tucked a stray lock of her hair behind her ear. “Their lemonade is quite unmatched.”
“And what of their biscuits, I wonder.”
“They’re all right.” She grinned. “Mama’s are better.”
“Mama?” Simon asked before ordering them each a lemonade and a plate of biscuits. “You never speak of your mama.”
“She’s always increasing. Not much else to say.” She looked at him. “Biscuits and lemonade? Interesting combination.”
Simon turned back toward the clerk, grimacing. “Could you bring out a pot of tea with the biscuits? It seems the lady finds sweet and sour at the same time not to be to her liking.”
Rae shook her head. “You’re incorrigible.” She took a seat in the chair Simon pulled out for her. “You know as well as I do you’d be choking and hacking up those biscuits— Is something wrong?”
“No, no.” Simon took a seat in the chair opposite her. “I’ve just never heard a lady describe ‘hacking up biscuits’.”
Rae flushed and forced a shrug. “Well, it pains me to be the one to ruin your image of me, but ‘round here, there aren’t many ladies, and I am no exception.”
“Praise the Lord,” Simon burst out. “Ladies are tiresome.”
“And me?” She couldn’t believe she’d asked such a thing!
“Oh, you’re tiresome, but for a completely different reason.”
“That reminds me,” she said, leaning back so the footman could put their lemonades on the table. “We need to discuss our terms.”
“Terms?”
“Terms, plans.” She waved her hand through the air and pulled off her glove. “Same thing.”
Simon impaled her with his emerald eyes.
Smoothing her skirts, she licked her lips. “The way I see it, if I allow you to help me with my…er…” she looked around the room to make sure no one was paying attention to them— “goals,” she finished smoothly. “I think I should help you with yours.”
Simon started. “Mine?”
She nodded.
“I don’t have any goals.”
Despite her best efforts not to, Rae giggled. “Yes, you do.”
“And what would those be?” he drawled then took a deep drink of his lemonade.
“Children.”
Simon choked on his lemonade. “P-pardon,” he sputtered, slapping his chest. Hard.
“They terrify you.”
Simon choked for another reason now.
How had she known that?
“I wouldn’t say they terrify me,” he said as evenly as he could.
She gave him a dubious look and raised her hands in the air. “All right, perhaps they don’t terrify you.” She dropped her hands. “We’d hate for anyone to think a man such as yourself has an ounce of fear.”
He frowned at her. “That’s not—”
Rae waved him off. “It’s of no account. What is—” she bit her lip and lowered her voice— “is that you don’t know what to do or say around children.”
Simon’s frown deepened. “Why does that matter?”
“Because