Free A Season Beyond a Kiss by Kathleen E. Woodiwiss Page A

with a soft laugh, “but only if you’ll consent to call me Raelynn.”
    “Raelynn it is, then, and may I say that your husband and I made an exceptional purchase when we bought you from your uncle.”
    She dipped her head pertly in acknowledgment of his praise. “I must thank you for your timely assistance, Farrell, but if you wouldn’t think me uncouth, I’d rather not claim Cooper Frye as my uncle. Whether he is or not has yet to be proven in my mind. In short, I hope I come from better stock.”
    The clothier’s smile broadened. “I had trouble envisioning the oaf being close kin to an angel. I’m relieved to know there’s a possibility that he isn’t.”
    “If you can stop drooling over my wife long enough to lend me your attention, Mr. Ives,” Jeff prodded good-naturedly, “we’d like to enlist your services in designing a gown for Raelynn to wear at a ball that I’m giving to celebrate our nuptials the middle of October.”
    “I’ll lend whatever talents I have to the matter, my friend, but only if I’m invited.”
    Jeff heaved an exaggerated sigh as he slid a fleeting glance upward. “What I must go through to get this fellow to conform to my wishes.”
    Farrell winked askance at Raelynn. “For your wife, I’d do it for nothing, but since you’ve been so filthy rich all your life, Jeffrey, you need someone to remind you that your every wish isn’t going to be granted with a snap of your well-manicured fingers. You’ll have to pay through the teeth in this instance.”
    A gentle clatter of dishes brought the couturier’s attention promptly around to bear upon one emerging with a tray heavily laden with cups, saucers and a silver coffee and tea service from the passageway. His employee’s look of consternation warned Farrell that his assistance was required posthaste.
    “Good heavens, Elizabeth, let me take that before you drop it,” he urged, with long strides rapidly crossing the room. “It looks too heavy for you to even consider carrying all that distance.”
    The woman sighed in relief as she gave the service over into his capable hands. “I’m sorry, Mr. Ives. I didn’t realize it was so cumbersome until I was halfway here, and then there was no place to set it down. I thought Mrs. Birmingham would prefer tea, and I know how you men enjoy your coffee, so I brought both.”
    “You’re as thoughtful as always, Elizabeth.” Her employer flashed her a smile, brightening the rosy hue of her cheeks before he faced his guests. After deftly whisking the tray to a table residing in the midst of the settee and chairs, he straightened and rubbed his hands together in anticipation. “I could stand some coffee. What about you, Jeffrey? Raelynn and Elizabeth, will you both be having tea?”
    “I should finish instructing the new girl if you have no further need of me, Mr. Ives,” Elizabeth said, retreating several steps.
    “Nonsense, Elizabeth. Have someone else explain to her what she’ll be required to do here. I’d like for you to stay and share in the refreshments while we discuss some ideas for a new ball gown that we’ll be making for Mrs. Birmingham.”
    “Yes, of course, Mr. Ives. If that is your wish.”
    “It is, most assuredly.”
    She seemed a bit flustered beneath the grin he swept toward her. “Then let me go ask Mrs. Murphy to take over for me. I’ll need to fetch another cup anyway.”
    “Don’t be long.”
    “Only a moment, sir.”
    As she hurried from the parlor, Jeff swept a glance around in time to catch his friend casually observing the subtle sway of his employee’s hips. The stylishly narrow skirt of the Empire gown was most obliging to inspection, for it not only evidenced the graceful slenderness of the woman who wore it, but it also defined her nicely turned backside. At the moment the couturier seemed especially appreciative of the view. Whether he realized it or not, his close scrutiny was typical of perusals common among bachelors seriously on the