Free Roses in June by Clare Revell

glad to be back?”
    “No. It’s stressful. Exam season is in full swing.”
    “I remember that. Not anyone’s favorite time.”
    Dawn put the flowers in a vase. “These smell heavenly. Probably why they reckon you are closer to God in a garden than anywhere else on earth. I love roses.”
    “So do I. That’s why I chose them. And also because the color means friendship.”
    “Oh?”
    His gaze followed her every movement. “According to the florist, each color has its own meaning.”
    “Neat. So the pink ones you sent?”
    “Dark pink means thank you, gratitude, and appreciation. And I sent them because I really enjoyed the afternoon and evening of the careers fayre. I can see the attraction of conventions now.”
    “I’ve never been to one of those either.”
    “Do you even own a TV?” he teased.
    “Yeah, just haven’t seen you on it.” She finished arranging the flowers. “There, done.”
    “Lovely.” He checked his watch. “Shall we? I have a table booked for half past.”
    She glanced down at herself. “Do I look all right? I didn’t know what to wear.”
    “You look just fine.”
    She grabbed her bag and followed him to the door. “Where are we going?”
    “It’s a surprise.” Gabe held the door open for her.
    “I hate surprises. How do I know if I’m dressed right?”
    “Trust me, you are. It’s Lancini’s.”
    Dawn looked at him. That answered her question as to which man was taking her out. It was Gabriel the lord, not Gabriel the actor.
    ~*~
    Gabe had booked a quiet table at the back of Lancini’s. A two star Michelin French restaurant, it was his favorite place to eat in Headley Cross.
    He opened the door for Dawn escorting her inside with a gentle hand on the small of her back.
    His heart raced with the slight touch, and he was grateful the dim lighting would hide his reaction.
    The maître d’ greeted him with the usual smile. “Good evening, Lord Tyler. This way, ma’am.”
    Gabe followed him, his hand still on Dawn’s back.
    “ Lord Tyler?” she hissed.
    “The title has its advantages. I don’t have to book months in advance, and the maître d’ will keep any press at bay that saw us coming in.”
    “The press?” Slight panic filled her for a moment. She hadn’t anticipated that, even though he’d mentioned the paparazzi before.
    “The local rag likes keeping the natives happy with tales of what the toffs had for dinner.”
    She grinned. “Something else your mother says?”
    “Oh, yeah.”
    They were almost to their table when Jeffery Palmer came over. “Lord Tyler?”
    Gabe glanced around and sighed. He reached up and put a hand over the camera lens. “Please, not tonight. There will be plenty of opportunity for photos tomorrow evening in London at Leicester Square.”
    “But my editor…”
    “I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” The maître d’ intervened.
    Gabe thought fast. “Tell you what, you can print two lines on the fact I was here with a friend for dinner. You can comment on what I eat, but you do not mention the fact my friend is a lady.”
    “Will she be accompanying you tomorrow night?”
    “If she is, you can have a picture then.” He turned his back on the journalist and took Dawn over to their table. “Sorry.”
    The maître d’ followed with menus. “I’m so sorry, Lord Tyler.”
    “It’s OK.”
    “Can I get you some champagne?” the maître d’ asked.
    Gabe shook his head. “Not for me, I’m driving tonight. Dawn?”
    She shook her head.
    Gabe thought. “A bottle of sparkling grape juice, please. And a jug of ice water.”
    Dawn looked at the menu, scanning the page, her face falling as she did so.
    “What’s up?”
    “Nothing.” She bowed her head lower, her finger running down the prices to one side.
    Gabe wasn’t convinced. “You’re not a very good liar, Dawn. What happened to being direct?”
    “I can’t afford anything off this menu.”
    He took a deep breath. “OK, let’s just get something