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ladies have their hands full, so why don’t you take off?”
    These young Learners were too cocky for their own good.
    Simon gently took the wrist of the blonde and placed her hand on his crotch. He throbbed inside her warm palm, the friction against his leathers unbearably pleasurable. The woman curled up against him, her lips on his neck.
    “ This is how you keep a lady’s hands full, boys. Perhaps later I’ll explain how I keep my mouth full.” He trailed his fingers down the curve of her spine until he found her bum.
    Simon was an audacious flirt, but he would never cross a line of sexual misconduct. That was one line he respected. But over the years, he’d become a master at reading a woman well enough to know her limits. This sassy vixen had been stroking her inner thigh while watching him in the foyer not five minutes earlier.
    “Why don’t you go wait for me over there,” he whispered in her ear.
    When he let go of her hand, she gave him a friendly pat and lured her friends over to nosh on some berries at a nearby table.
    Simon eased toward the window and glanced outside. His breath caught when he noticed Hannah’s Learner sitting alone at a table, her pale ginger hair pulled into a French braid. Not especially long hair, but he guessed it went past her shoulders. Her gaze drifted around while she nibbled on a morsel of food, averting her eyes whenever someone walked by.
    She wouldn’t be a good candidate for rehabilitation and weapons training if she couldn’t even smile at a stranger. But damn, he’d never seen skin so fair—like fine porcelain. Something about her made it impossible to look away.
    “Pretty, isn’t she?” one of the jerk-offs said.
    Simon gave him a peevish glance. “And you are?”
    “James Dmitry, progeny of—”
    “Boris Dmitry. That name doesn’t impress me in the least.”
    “Yeah? And who is your Creator?”
    Simon ignored him, still gazing out the window.
    “She wouldn’t have anything to do with a loser like you,” James continued, giving Simon’s attire a scathing glance. “She’s upper-class high society. She’s bred for someone with wealth and status.”
    “Is that so?” Simon sensed a challenge coming on.
    James folded his arms and followed the direction of his gaze. A few scattered guests mingled near the musicians, their animated discussions making the quiet girl at the table even more noticeable. “You don’t have what it takes to charm a girl like Mouse. I’d put money on it.”
    “How much?”
    James clicked his teeth together. “Two hundred.”
    “Make it three. And what is a mouse?”
    “Mouse is her name.”
    Well, that was unattractive. What kind of Creator names her progeny Mouse? Then again, Simon had once known a man named Rodent. Hannah was a bit deranged, so it hardly came as a surprise.
    James snagged his collar as he moved toward the door. “Don’t say her name.”
    “Why’s that?” Simon asked.
    “Familiarity gives you an unfair advantage. Let’s keep this an honest wager.”
    Simon shrugged and opened the door, slowing his step to a casual swagger as soon as he hit the patio. The stringed quartet played a familiar tune as he slowly moved about the tables, collecting three grapes from an abandoned plate and rolling them between his fingers. He watched her from the corner of his eye and saw her gaze following him. Simon glanced up at the trellis beside him, which someone had adorned with lights, and pretended not to notice her. He tossed the grape in his right hand into the air and proceeded to juggle. When one of them went high enough, he missed and let it bounce off his forehead.
    Her hand flew up to cover her smile.
    Simon grinned impishly and shook his head, dropping the remaining grapes onto an empty plate. He strolled toward her with his head down, the same way one might approach a timid animal.
    And what a petite thing she was—slim and much shorter than Simon. His sinewy build stretched just over six feet of