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fastened on her lips. Full and pouty. He imagined them soft, sensuous. “Silk.”
    Her gaze swept him head to foot and she took the tiniest of steps backward. Then, curiously, she inhaled a deep breath and stepped forward once again. “Silk it is,” she said, nodding. “And the color? Do you have a preference? I have a beautiful bolt of arctic blue, or a primrose might be nice.”
    He shrugged, forcing himself to drag his thoughts back to the matter at hand. Forget about her looks. He’d promised his daughters he’d make sure their Miss Fortune wasn’t dying of some dread disease, and that was all he was here for. Now, if he could only figure how to go about it.
    Hell, maybe he should just ask her. Sometimes folks appreciated these things being met head-on. “Miss Fortune …”
    “Yes?”
    He hesitated, then said, “Blue will be fine.”
    Her lips twitched with a smile as she lifted a tape measure from a table and said, “You’ll look divine in blue, Mr. McBride.”
    The fog cleared from his brain and he realized the direction in which she’d taken this conversation. Why, the little tease. Lord help him. Beautiful, smart, and a sense of humor. The most dangerous kind of woman.
    Knowing that, yet still unable to stop himself from baiting her back, Trace lifted his arms wide, held his hands palms out, and drawled, “Y’know, insecurity would make a lot of men run from a woman with a tape measure in her hand. Personally, I’ve never had the worry.”
    Twin spots of color stained her cheeks and she retreated a few steps.
    Trace took his first good breath since she’d entered the room. At least the exchange had yielded information, he told himself, feeling the need for an excuse. Miss Fortune was the type to badger a man, but only up to a point.
    He was glad. He wouldn’t want his daughters charmed by a tart.
    Bad enough to find himself tantalized by a tease.
    “Forgive me, Mr. McBride,” Jenny said, offering an apologetic smile. “I should never have indulged my tendency to jest. I fear it’s one of the penchants I’ve inherited from my mother.”
    He opened his mouth—to protest or agree, he wasn’t sure—but she barged ahead.
    “I forgot we are basically strangers. It’s just that your daughters speak of you so often that I feel as if I’ve known you for years.” Her tone became brisk and businesslike. “Now, I take it you are here to order a dress for one of the girls. Emma perhaps? Her birthday is close.”
    He nodded and she continued. “May I suggest that the blue silk would not be an appropriate everyday dress for a girl her age? What about calico? I received a new bolt last week in colors that would be perfect for Emma.”
    Trace blinked. He’d had no intention of buying a dress when he walked through the door. He’d already purchased a frilly new doll for Emma’s birthday gift, and he didn’t want to give her two presents. That would set a bad precedent with the other girls. “Fine. Whatever you think.”
    Jenny’s smile was stunning. “Emma will be so pleased. She’s been talking to me about her birthday. I compliment you on being aware of her wishes, Mr. McBride. She seems to think you’ve not noticed how grown-up she’s become, and she’s afraid you’ll give her another doll.”
    Trace barely managed to keep the scowl from showing on his face. “Yes, well, I know better than that. She’ll be twelve years old after all.” Guess he could save the doll for Kat’s birthday. Surely she was still young enough for baby dolls.
    Lifting a book from the desk that sat against the wall, Jenny jotted down some notes, then asked, “Do you want to keep this secret from Maribeth and Katrina, too? I could use their help in getting Emma’s measurements.”
    Measurements. Trace’s gaze slipped to the dressmaker’s bodice and the wayward thought occurred that it might have been worth the embarrassment of ordering a dress for himself just to get her hands on him.
    He forced himself to