"What is this?" she teased. "Lord of the manor picks up seventies slang?" He grinned at her boyishly, mischievously. "Maybe I am the one hanging out with the wrong crowd." "And maybe there's hope for you yet." She kissed his throat, his chin, the stubborn line of his blue-shadowed jaw. "Did I tell you how beautiful you look in that dress?" His arm curved around her shoulders, and turned her toward the table. "We are about to have company."