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responsibilities. She had no time for frivolity. No time for dancing and singing … no time … She sighed again with heavy melancholy. Oh, but it would be lovely to put on her dancing slippers and be swept across the floor, trailing exotic perfume and ruffled, lace-edged silk.
    “It would be my pleasure to buy a few yards of that silk just to see you wearing it.”
    Regina’s eyes popped open and the material slipped from her fingers as she stared into Theodore Dane’s sparkling blue eyes. She felt roses bloom in her cheeks as a nervous laugh puffed across her lips. He looked roguishly handsome in his black suit and gray shirt, and he held a stylish black hat in his hands. His hair was attractively mussed. He ran the fingers of one hand through it, sweeping it off his forehead.
    “Mr. Dane, I … You caught me daydreaming.” She smoothed her damp palms down the skirt of her brown dress. She felt like a wren, drab and timid, confronted by this big, bold raven. Glancing around, she saw that they were alone at the backof the store. Mr. Mason was still engaged by the two women up front. Regina grasped a length of black muslin and examined it, trying her best to ignore the man who had managed to step closer to her.
    “Go back to the green, Miss Rose,” he said in a low, intimate whisper. He angled closer. Regina had never been around a man who smelled so good. A spicy, woodsy scent enveloped her and she yearned to press her nose to the side of his neck for a more intoxicating sniff. “I’ll buy the green material for you,” he added, his grin creasing the corners of his eyes.
    His good humor was infectious and she felt her lips curve in response. There was something about him—a sly sexuality—that both appealed to her and repelled her. She had the impression that he could look through her public veneer and observe her private thoughts, her buried dreams, her midnight wishes. She cleared her throat of nerves.
    “Mr. Dane, you know I’m not the kind of lady to accept such a gift from a stranger. Besides, I have no use for fancy fabric. This muslin will give me many seasons of wear.”
    He pursed his lips in thought. “Yes, but it’s not the kind of thing to wear to a dance.”
    “Dance?” She laughed under her breath and edged away from him. Could he read her mind? “Why would I be buying material for a dance dress? Why, I hardly have time to read my Bible daily, what with all the chores I have around Mrs. Nation’s place.”
    “I heard she left town. Guess she left you all her work, too.”
    “I don’t mind a bit.” She sent him a sharp glance. “And she wouldn’t have had to leave if she didn’t need to raise money for the upcoming trial.”
    “Ouch.” He winced and laid one hand against his heart. “So it’s all my fault, is it? Because of me Mrs. Nation had to leave town and you must work your fingers to the bone and wear sackcloth and ashes.”
    She forced her gaze away from the strong, tanned hand covering his heart. “Work is good for everyone, and this dress I’m wearing isn’t so unattractive that it could be mistaken for sackcloth.”
    “No,” he allowed, stepping back to peruse her as if she were a tailor’s dress form. “But you can’t wear it to the cotillion. It just wouldn’t do.”
    “The co-cotillion?” Her voice broke on the word. She stared at him, wondering irrationally if he was clairvoyant. “How did you …? What made you bring up the Spring Cotillion?”
    He turned sideways and looked up. She followed his gaze and laughed with relief when she saw the handbill promoting the town event.
    “Thank heavens! For a moment there, I thought …” She let the rest go unsaid and turned away from him. “Well … I should be on my way now, Mr. Dane. Good—”
    “You’re going, aren’t you?”
    She turned back to him. “To the cotillion? No, sir. I couldn’t possibly.”
    “Oh, so you have no escort? I’ll be glad to oblige. Just don’t wear black or brown. You