“Yes. What if we were to buy her something to wear? She likes pretty things, she just can’t afford them. And she’s cute, don’t you think?”
Gabriel twitched beneath his gray wool trousers. He brought his thighs closer together to hide the disturbing fact from his sister.
“Spend the money on whatever you like, but you must replace the book bag.”
“Good! I’ll buy her something fabulous. But I’ll probably need more money…and we should take her somewhere special so she can show off her new clothes.” Rachel batted her eyes playfully at her older brother.
Without argument or negotiation, he removed a business card from his wallet, picked up his Montblanc fountain pen, and slowly unscrewed the cap.
“Do normal people still use those kinds of pens, or just medievalists?” She leaned over inquisitively. “I’m surprised you’re not using a quill.”
Gabriel frowned. “This is a Meisterstück 149,” he said, as if that should mean something.
Rachel rolled her eyes as he used his sparkling eighteen karat gold nib to write a brief note on the back of his business card in a confident but old-fashioned hand. Her brother was beyond pretentious.
“There.” He slid the business card across the counter. “I have an account at Holt Renfrew. Show this to the concierge, and he will direct you to Hilary, my personal shopper. She’ll place everything on my account. Don’t go completely mad, Rachel, and you can keep the cash for yourself. Happy Birthday, six months in advance.”
She leaned over to press a light kiss to his cheek. “Thank you. What’s Holt Renfrew?”
“The Canadian Saks Fifth Avenue—they have everything. But you must replace the book bag. That’s all I care about. The rest are just…inconsequential details.” His voice sounded gruff all of a sudden.
“Fine. But I want you to explain why you’re so agitated about an L. L. Bean knapsack. All the undergrads had one. I had one, for crying out loud. Before I grew up and discovered Longchamp.”
“I don’t know.” Gabriel removed his glasses and began rubbing his eyes.
“Hmmm. Should I add lingerie to my shopping list? Do you like her—like her?” Rachel grinned annoyingly.
He snorted. “How old are we, Rachel? Remember, she’s my student. It isn’t about romance—it’s about penance.”
“Penance?”
“Penance. For sin. My sin.”
Rachel snorted. “You really are medieval. What sin have you committed against Julia? Apart from being a jackass! You don’t even know her…”
He replaced his glasses, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. He was twitching at the mere thought of sin and Miss Mitchell. Together. In the same room. With him. And nothing else…except perhaps a pair of couture stilettos…which he could finally touch…
“Gabriel? I’m waiting.”
“I don’t need to confess my sins to you, Rachel. I just need to atone for them.” He snatched the magazine out of her hand.
She set her teeth. “How good is your French? And your knowledge of women’s fashion?”
Gabriel glanced down to find the magazine open to a photo of an airbrushed and spread-eagled model wearing a très petite white bikini. His eyes widened.
Rachel crossed her arms in annoyance and glared at him. “Don’t bark at me. I’m not one of your students, and I’m not going to put up with your shit.”
He sighed and began to rub his eyes again, minutely adjusting his glasses to do so.
“I’m sorry,” he muttered, returning the magazine, but not before he gave the model one more serious look, purely for research purposes, bien s?r.
“Why are you wound up so tight? Are you having girl troubles? Do you even have a girl right now? When was the last time you had one? And by the way, what’s with those photos in your…”
He interrupted her quickly. “I’m not having this conversation with you. I don’t ask who you’re fucking.”
Rachel bit back an angry response and took a very deep breath. “I’m going to forgive you for that remark, even though it was insensitive and crass. When you’re down on your knees making your penance, include the sin of envy, will you?
“You know I’ve only ever been with Aaron. And I think you know that what we do together goes way beyond what you said. What’s wrong with you?”
Gabriel muttered an apology and refused to make eye contact. But his warning shot across the bow had accomplished what he wished it to, and that was to divert her attention from one of her questions. So he felt no remorse. Not really.
Rachel toyed with her brother’s business card for a moment as she tried to calm down.
“If you don’t like Julia, then you must feel sorry for her. Why? Is it just because she’s poor?”
“I don’t know.” He sighed and shook his head.
“Julia brings out the protective side in people. She was always a little sad and a little lost. Although make no mistake, she has steel in her bones. She survived an alcoholic mother and a boyfriend who…”