Heartbreaker

Chapter 21

She had trouble looking Nick in the eye the following morning. As soon as the lights had gone out the night before, Nick had abruptly pulled away from her and had gone into the hallway to dismantle the camera. She was thankful for the darkness then because she knew she looked dazed and disoriented. She had trouble getting her legs to work. She’d wanted to hide in the bathroom until she regained her wits, but that had been out of the question. She fell back on the bed instead and stayed there until her heartbeat slowed down and she could draw a proper breath.

Nick and Joe came into her darkened room and told her to get some rest. They would take turns staying awake. She didn’t know if Nick slept or if he got any rest at all. The only thing she remembered was the exhaustion that overtook her.

She woke up at daybreak and dressed in her jogging clothes, a snug-fitting, blue-and-white-striped spandex top that didn’t quite cover her belly button, blue spandex shorts, socks, and her comfortable but worn-looking white Reeboks. After securing her hair into a ponytail, she went into the bedroom to begin her stretching exercises.

Nick came into the bedroom as she was coming out of the bathroom. He took one look at her outfit, and his heart slapped a beat.

Every curve of her body was evident. "Jeez, Laurant, does your brother know you wear stuff like that?"

She began her waist bends and didn’t look at him when she answered, "There’s nothing wrong with my clothes. I’m not going to church. I’m going running."

"Maybe you ought to put a big T-shirt over…"

"Over what?"

"Your chest."

The shirt wasn’t going to cover her amazing long legs. He was having trouble taking his eyes off them. "And long pants," he muttered. "This is a small town. You’re going to shock folks."

"No I won’t," she assured him. "They’re used to seeing me run."

He didn’t like it, not one little bit, but who was he to complain? If she wanted to dress like a… runner… ah, hell, what was the matter with him? He had no business telling her what to wear. Even if they were in a relationship-which they weren’t, he quickly qualified-he still wouldn’t have the right to tell her how to dress.

Nick had already put on his running clothes, a faded navy blue T-shirt, gym shorts, white socks, and his battered, used-to-be-white running shoes. While she stretched her legs, he slipped his gun into the holster at his hip and pulled the T-shirt down to cover it. Then he picked up a small earpiece and tucked it in his right ear. Moving in front of the mirror above her dresser, he pinned a circular disc to his neck band just above his clavicle.

She was retying one of her shoelaces when she asked, "What’s the pin for?"

"It’s a microphone," he answered. "So no dirty talking today. Wesson will hear whatever I say, and just for the record, Jules, I still think this is a badass idea."

The voice inside his ear spoke back. "Duly noted, Agent Buchanan, and it’s sir to you, not Jules."

Nick mouthed the word "jackass" to himself and then turned to Laurant, "You ready?"

"Yes," she answered, and for the first time since he’d come into the bedroom, she looked into his eyes.

"I wondered how long that was going to take."

She didn’t bother to pretend to misunderstand. "You noticed?"

"Now you’re blushing."

"I am not." Shrugging to cover her embarrassment, her voice dropped to a whisper so that Wesson, hopefully, wouldn’t hear her "I don’t think we need to talk about what happened…"

"No, we don’t need to talk about it," he agreed. Then he grinned an adorable lopsided grin and added, "But I’ll bet we’re both gonna be thinking about it all day long."

He was staring at her mouth, and so she stared at the floor.

"Let’s go," he said.

Nodding, she brushed past him. On the way down the stairs, he said, "I want you to stay directly in front of me, and don’t worry, I’ll slow down to keep pace with you."

She laughed. "You’ll slow down? I don’t think so."

"I’ve been running almost every morning since I joined the FBI. We agents have to keep in top shape," he told her.

"Uh-huh," she agreed. "Then how come you told me you weren’t a runner?"

"No, I didn’t say that. I told you I hated to run."

"You said it was bad on the knees and that you were going to complain the entire time."

"It is bad on the knees, and I do plan to complain."

"And how many miles do you run every morning?"

"About a hundred, give or take."

She laughed. "Is that right?"

Joe was standing in front of the living room window, looking outside through the crack in the drawn drapes.

"Nick, I think you better have a look at this. We’ve got a situation here. You might want to reconsider running today."

Laurant beat him to the window. She peeked out and then said,

"It’s all right. It’s just the boys waiting for me. We run together every morning."

Nick looked over her head and saw seven young men cluttering the sidewalk in front of her house. There were two more jogging in place in the middle of the street.

"Who are they?"

"High school kids," she answered.

"And they run with you every day? Why the hell didn’t you mention them to me?"

He sounded incredulous and angry. "Don’t get upset. It’s no big deal. I’m sorry I forgot to mention them. The boys are on the track team at Holy Oaks High School… well, some of them are," she explained. "And they don’t really run with me, at least not around the lake. They all peter out by the time I hit the path. Then they wait for me to come back and…"

"And what?" he demanded. Before she had a chance to answer, he muttered, "Wesson, are you getting this?"

"I’m hearing you loud and clear," came the staticky reply.

"And what?" he asked Laurant again. "They wait for you to come back around the lake, and then what?"

"And they jog home with me. That’s all. They want to stay in shape during the summer so that when school starts, they’ll be in top form."

Nick glanced outside again and noticed another boy running down the street to join his friends.

"Oh, yeah, they’re serious runners all right," he remarked sarcastically. "Especially the kid eating the donut. He’s definitely headed for the Olympics."

Joe got a glimpse of himself in the hall mirror. His hair was sticking up every which way. He hadn’t bothered to comb it since he’d gotten out of bed, or rather, since he’d gotten off the sofa, and he self-consciously tried to pat it down as he said, "Uh… I don’t believe any of those boys dragged themselves out of bed and came over here to run, Laurant. No, I’m pretty sure running isn’t on their minds."

"Then what did get them out of their beds this early in the morning?" she asked, exasperated.

Nick answered. "Hormones, Laurant. Raging hormones."

"Oh, for heaven’s sake. At this time of day? Boys their age have a whole lot more on their minds besides sex."

"No, they don’t," Nick argued.

She looked at Joe who sheepishly nodded. "They really don’t," he agreed with Nick.

Nick jerked his thumb toward the window. "At that age, I didn’t think about anything else but sex."

Joe nodded. "I’d have to agree with Nick again," he said. "It’s all I ever thought about. Mostly I thought about how to get it, and when I finally did get it, then I thought about how to get it again."

She didn’t know whether to laugh or be angry. The conversation was ludicrous. "You’re saying that every second of every waking hour that’s what you both were thinking about when you were teenagers?"

"Pretty much," Nick said. "So we know where they’re coming from and what they’re after. Maybe I ought to go outside and have a little talk with them."

"Don’t you dare."

Nick came up with a better idea. He’d intimidate them. He pulled his T-shirt up over his gun and tucked the material behind it so that the weapon was clearly visible.

Joe watched him. "That ought to discourage them."

As Nick was opening the front door for Laurant, he smiled and said, "Maybe I ought to shoot a couple of them."

Laurant rolled her eyes as she went past him, ignoring his scowl. Waving to her entourage, she jogged across the street and introduced Nick to the boys. She told them that he was her fiance. The kids all noticed Nick’s gun, of course, but they gave it only a cursory glance before returning their full attention to Laurant’s considerable assets. They didn’t even look at him when Laurant explained that Nick worked for the FBI.

It all came down to spandex versus a loaded weapon, and spandex won.

Nick stayed right behind her as she ran. The boys fell into step around the two of them, taking turns trying to engage Laurant in conversation.

Donut boy was the first to fade. Three others quickly followed. Laurant gradually picked up the pace, her long legs eating up the pavement as she gracefully glided forward. She’d been right about her fan club’s endurance. By the time they reached the entrance to the park, the last two boys were doubled over and panting for breath. Nick heard one of them gag and got an inordinate amount of pleasure from the sound.

Laurant loved this time of day. It was so peaceful and quiet and lovely. For an hour she forced herself to forget about everything and concentrate only on the path. The rain last night had left the leaves damp, but she knew that by noon, they would all be dried out again. A drought had hit Iowa hard, and the weeds and scrub were brown. As she rounded the bend around the blue water lake, the entrance to the nature preserve was on her right. There were a good ten acres of tall brown prairie grass. Like wheat, it swayed in the gentle morning breeze.

She passed the abbot’s cabin and had the feeling that Agent Wesson was watching her, but she couldn’t see him because the blinds were drawn. The dock to the right of the cabin and behind was sitting up high out of the water, another sign of the lack of rain. Sweat trickled down the back of her neck and between her breasts by the time she’d made a complete circle around the lake. She slowed down, then stopped, doubled over and took long deep breaths. She could hear Nick panting behind her.

Standing there, they were easy targets. He did a quick survey of the dense forest and overgrown brush around them, and moved closer to her. His T-shirt was covered with sweat. With the back of his arm he wiped his forehead. She could catch her breath when they were back home. "Let’s get out of here. Do we walk or run home?"

"We jog."

The boys were waiting at the park entrance. Grinning like idiots they once again fell into step around Nick and Laurant.

"Wimps," Nick muttered as Laurant waved good-bye to the boys and sprinted up the front walk.

Once the door was shut behind them, Nick relaxed. "Damn, it’s humid out there."

"What did you think of our lake? Isn’t it beautiful?"

"I saw it yesterday," he reminded her. "When we went to see Wesson."

"But isn’t it lovely? It’s a fisherman’s paradise. You can actually see the fish in the clear, rock-bottomed water."

"Yeah? I didn’t notice."

She had her hands on her hips and was still panting a bit. "How could you not notice? What were you looking at?"

"All the places the bastard could hide. He could have had you in his sights from the moment we entered the park until the moment we left, and I never would have spotted him. I can’t let you do that run again. You hear me, Wesson? The unsub could have been hiding anywhere. There’s too much territory to cover."

Her mouth went dry when she tried to speak. "You think he’ll use a gun to…"

"He’s an up close and personal kind of guy," Nick said. "He might try to wing you to slow you down though."

"There were other agents keeping both of you in their sights all the while you were in the park," Joe added as Laurant passed him on her way to get some bottled water. He followed her into the kitchen and continued. "You both were safe."

Laurant returned to the living room, tossed Nick a bottle of Evian, and opened her own. She took a big drink and headed for the stairs.

"I’m going to take a shower."

"Wait," Nick said as he went up the stairs ahead of her. He looked in the bathroom to make sure there weren’t any surprises waiting. He was being overly cautious, and she was thankful for it. "Okay, go ahead."

"You could shower in the other bathroom down the hall," she suggested. "I’ll wait."

Nick was sitting on the bed talking on the phone when she came out of the bathroom fifteen minutes later. Her hair was dripping down her back, and she was wearing a short cotton robe that had seen better days. He took one look at her and promptly lost his train of thought. He knew she was naked under that thin material, and he had to force himself to turn away so he could concentrate on his conversation.

"Look, Theo, we’ll talk about this when I get back to Boston. All right?" He hung up the phone and slowly turned his head to get a glimpse of Laurant out of the corner of his eye. He watched her open the dresser drawer and take out two little wisps of lace. Immediately, his mind went to visions of her wearing them.

Get a grip, he told himself. She was off-limits, and he had no business fantasizing about her. What the hell kind of a friend was he to lust after Tommy’s sister?

Berating himself didn’t do any good. He wanted her. Simple as that. There, he finally admitted the obvious. Now what was he going to do about it? Nothing, he decided. Not a damned thing. Even if she weren’t his friend’s sister, he wouldn’t get involved with her. A relationship between the two of them was impossible. It would never work out, and she’d end up hating him. She wanted what she had never had, a family and kids, lots of kids, and he didn’t want any of that. He’d seen too much to ever let himself become that vulnerable. Even though he came from a family of eight, he was still a loner, and that’s the way he liked it.

He never should have kissed her. Bad idea, he decided. He hadn’t been prepared, hadn’t realized how good it was going to be. God he was arrogant. He actually thought he could remain distant and professional, but when she wrapped her arms around him and he felt her soft lips, thoughts of being professional went flying out the window, and he’d turned into one of those perverted teenagers outside All he could think about was getting her flat on her back.

Maybe Morganstern was right after all. Maybe Nick was too close and personal for this assignment. His boss had been referring to his friendship with Tommy though. What would Pete think if he knew that his agent was lusting after the friend’s sister? Nick already knew the answer to that question. Pete would have his hide.

The phone rang again. Nick answered it, listened for a minute, and then said, "Yes, Monsignor. I’ll be sure to tell him. Thanks for calling."

Laurant was standing in the closet doorway, shifting from bare foot to bare foot as she searched through the clothes crammed together on the single, bowed rod.

When Nick hung up, she asked, "Was that Monsignor McKindry?"

"What? Oh, yeah, it was. Tommy left his Daytimer in the kitchen, and Monsignor said he’d mail it to him."

"Did he mention when Tommy and Noah left?"

"Yes," he answered. "At the crack of dawn. Laurant, for the love of God, put some clothes on."

She kept sorting through her clothes as she answered him. "As soon as you give me a little privacy, I’ll be happy to get dressed."

He could hear the embarrassment in her voice. "Okay, okay," he said, feeling like an idiot. Heading for her shower, he added, "Don’t leave the bedroom until I’m dressed, and keep the door locked."

"Joe’s downstairs."

"Yeah, well, I still want you to wait for me." His voice didn’t leave room for argument.

She ran after him. He was peeling his T-shirt off as she reached behind him to grab her hair dryer and brush from the counter behind the sink. Her hand accidentally rubbed against the base of his spine, and he reacted as though she’d just burned him with her curling iron He flinched.

"Sorry," she stammered.

He sighed as he tossed the T-shirt into the sink. "I made you feel awkward again, didn’t I?"

They were standing toe to toe, facing each other. She clutched the robe to her chest with one hand and gripped the hair dryer and brush with the other hand.

"Is Mr. Wesson listening?" she whispered.

He shook his head. "The pin’s on the dresser with the earpiece."

"I don’t want it to be awkward, but it’s just that we kissed. I know we were supposed to, but I…"

"What?"

Shrugging, she said, "It just made things awkward again. That’s all."

"We both got…"

"What?" she whispered.

"Hot."

She’d been staring at his toes until he’d said that word. Her eyes flew to his.

"Yes, we did. What do we do about it?"

"Get past it," he suggested. "I know one way."

The sparkle in his eyes should have been a warning. "How?" she asked.

"Take a shower with me. That should get you past your shyness."

She was so shocked by the suggestion she laughed, which was exactly what he wanted her to do. The tension vanished. His grin was comical. "You’ve got that leer down perfectly," she told him as she turned around and left the bathroom.

Because the mirror was still clouded with steam, and the bathroom was sweltering, Nick told her to leave the door open. She waited until she heard the shower running, then hurried to get dressed and dry her hair. Since they were going shopping for an engagement ring, she decided to dress up a little, and she put on her white pleated slacks and a peach silk blouse. Then she found her white canvas slip-ons in the back of the closet.

Nick made the bed while she brushed her hair. The coverlet was all lopsided when he was finished, but she didn’t criticize his effort.

Nick wore jeans and a white polo shirt. He clipped the leather holster to his belt. Then he pinned the red disc back on, added the earpiece, and shoved his wallet in his back pocket.

"Okay, so what’s the schedule?" he asked after he gave her a quick once-over.

"Some breakfast first because I’m starving, then the grocery store for Joe. After that, I want to check on my store to see if they’ve started on the floors yet. If they haven’t, I’ll work there all afternoon."

"Then the jewelry store," he suggested as he slipped on a pair of leather loafers.

"I’ve got to pick up the bridesmaid dress too," she remembered. "And I should spend an hour or two at the abbey. I’ve got to get started on the attic."

They spent the morning doing errands. It was all so ordinary, tasks that couples did together all the time, but there wasn’t anything ordinary about their situation. She was constantly looking over her shoulder, even when they were in the grocery store getting supplies for Joe. Laurant was stopped by a friend or neighbor on almost every aisle, and each time, she introduced Nick as her fiance.

He put on quite a show. He was attentive and affectionate, and it was all so natural, she had to remind herself that it was just an act.

She relaxed only when they were inside the car. She felt safe then. Nick drove through McDonald’s to get breakfast and headed home again. He turned on the radio, and they listened to Garth Brooks croon about a love lost and found again.

She was eager for Nick to see her store. She helped him carry the groceries inside, and left them in the hall for Joe to put away. Then they got back in the car again. Since they were going up to the abbey after they purchased an engagement ring, he decided to drive to the square.

He stopped at the fountain so that he could see all the buildings ahead of him. None of them were historical treasures by any means, but the old structures were charming. Most of the facades needed work, but nothing major.

"Do you see what it could be?" she asked.

"Yeah, I do," he agreed. "Why would anybody want to tear this down?"

"Exactly," she said enthusiastically. "Years ago, this is where everyone did their shopping and their socializing. I want it to be like that again."

"Sprucing up the stores won’t be enough," he said. "There’s got to be something inside to draw the people in."

"The president of the college is considering moving the bookstore into the corner building on your right. It’s more than big enough, and they’re running out of room on campus. The kids would have to come into the square to get their books."

"That will help."

"Yes," she agreed. "And they can walk. The campus is only a couple of blocks away. Let’s go," she urged. "I want you to see my store."

Her enthusiasm made him smile. He parked in the center block, near the jewelry store. He put his arm around her as they walked along the street.

She couldn’t show off her store after all. The first coat of polyurethane had just been applied to the floor. Since the windows were coated, Nick couldn’t even look through to see the lovely marble countertop. He would have to wait at least four days until the second and third coats had been applied and dried.

They backtracked to Russell’s Jewelry Store. Nick impressed the socks off of Miriam Russell when he picked out a two-carat diamond ring-the biggest in the store. Laurant didn’t want that one though. She liked the one-and-a-half-carat, marquise diamond. Since it didn’t need to be sized-it fit her finger perfectly-Nick said it was meant to be.

She held out her hand, waving her fingers so the light would catch the sparkle in the diamond, ooh-ing and ah-ing like a woman in love. She worried she might be overdoing it a bit, but Miriam seemed to be buying the act. Her hands were clasped together, and she was beaming with satisfaction.

When Nick handed Miriam his American Express card to pay for the purchase, her expression sobered. She asked Laurant if she could have a word in private before she ran the charge. She led Laurant to the back of the store while Nick waited at the counter. He didn’t know what they were discussing, but whatever the topic was, it embarrassed Laurant. Her face turned pink, and she kept shaking her head.

A few minutes later, after Nick signed the purchase slip, he picked up the ring, put it on Laurant’s finger again, and then leaned down and kissed her. It was a gentle, undemanding kiss that left her thoroughly shaken. He had to nudge her away from the counter.

As they were leaving the store, Miriam called out, "Remember what I said, Lauren. I’ll keep my fingers crossed for you."

Clearly mortified, Laurant hurried away. Nick caught up with her. "What was that all about?"

"Nothing important."

"She’s gonna keep her fingers crossed for you?"

"It’s nothing, really."

"Come on, Laurant. Tell me."

She stopped trying to outrun him. "Fine, I’ll tell you. That little conference we had in the store was all about Russell’s return policy. She thinks I’m going to botch this one up. Those were her words, not mine. You do realize, don’t you, that when this is over and you’ve gone away, they’re all going to think I screwed up again. This isn’t funny, Nick, so you can stop grinning."

He wasn’t at all sympathetic. Laughing, he said, "You’ve got a real strange reputation here, don’t you? Exactly what is it you do to the men who try to get close to you?"

"Nothing," she cried out. "I don’t do anything. I’m just… discriminating. There’s a small group of women in town who have nothing better to do than gossip, and if one of them happens to see me talking to an available man, she assumes all sorts of things that aren’t true. Before I know what’s happened, that nosy editor, Lorna Hamburg, is printing it in the local paper. It’s ridiculous," she added. "When I’m not seen socializing with the same man, everyone assumes I’ve gone and botched it again."

"She actually prints stuff like that in the paper?"

"She runs the society page," she explained. "It’s all gossip and rubbish. There isn’t a whole lot going on here, and so she…"

"Embellishes?"

"Oh, God, speaking of the devil," she whispered. "Let’s get out of here. Move it, Nick. She’s spotted us."

Lorna Hamburg caught sight of them a block away and came running. Long, curly, platinum hair dwarfed her already small features, and huge pendulum earrings dangled from her lobes and flapped madly to and fro with each step. She carried a leopard print canvas bag the size of a suitcase looped over her left shoulder, and as she ran, she tilted to that side, like a drunk who couldn’t walk a straight line.

She was sprinting now to intercept them, her fuchsia-colored, four-inch heels clipping along the sidewalk. The sound was like teeth chattering.

"Man, can she move," he remarked.

As she bore down on them, Nick couldn’t help but notice her eyebrows, or rather the lack thereof. Lorna had plucked hers out and used a pencil to draw a straight line above her deep-set eyes.

Thanks to Nick’s lack of cooperation in running for cover, Laurant was stuck.

"I thought FBI agents were supposed to be fast," she muttered as she patiently waited to introduce him to the woman she secretly called Gazette Gorilla.

"Keep the goal in mind. This is a golden opportunity. Now stop frowning and look like you love me."

Nick was disgustingly charming, and that only encouraged Lorna to be pushier than ever. She demanded an on-the-spot interview Whipping her eight-by-ten notebook out of her bag, she wanted to know all the details of how the two of them had met.

Within fifteen seconds, Nick knew two things about the woman. One, she detested Laurant, and two, she wanted him. It wasn’t an arrogant assumption. Nor was it a shrewd observation. Hell, the way she was looking at him while she repeatedly moistened her lips with her tongue darting in and out made it real apparent. Disgustingly so.

The knot in Laurant’s stomach twisted tighter and tighter as Lorna’s questions became more and more personal, but she didn’t reach her unraveling point until Lorna asked if she and Nick were already living as man and wife.

"That’s none of your damned business, Lorna."

Nick squeezed her shoulder and then said, "Honey, show Lorna your engagement ring."

Laurant was still fuming as she lifted her hand and waved it in front of Lorna’s face.

"That must have cost a fortune. Everyone in town knows you work for the FBI," she said then. "Why, I must have gotten six phone calls about you already. It’s true," she added when he looked skeptical. "It’s the gun, you see. People wondered about it. They’re much too polite to ask you, of course."

"So they whisper behind his back," Laurant interjected.

Lorna ignored her. "FBI agents don’t make much money, do they?"

"Are you asking me if I can afford the ring?" Nick wondered.

"I wasn’t going to be that forward."

Nick squeezed Laurant’s hand. "I live a comfortable life. Family trust," he added.

"Then you’re rich?"

"For heaven’s sake, Lorna. It’s none of your-"

Nick placed his other hand on Laurant’s shoulder and said sweetly, "Now, darling, don’t get all bent out of shape. Lorna’s just curious."

"Yes," she agreed. "Curious. Where are you from, Nick? You don’t mind if I call you Nick, do you?"

"No, of course not. I live in Boston. I was raised on Nathan’s Bay."

"Will you be taking Laurant to Boston after you’re married?"

"No. We’re going to be living here. I’ll be doing a lot of traveling, but I can be based anywhere, and Laurant loves this town. It’s growing on me too."

"But Laurant won’t have to work after you’re married, will she?"

"I’m not selling the store, Lorna, so give it up," Laurant snapped.

"You’re holding up progress, Laura."

"Tough." It wasn’t a great comeback, but it was the best she could do on the spur of the moment. "And I happen to want to work."

"Of course you do." Her tone was condescending.

"If Laurant wants to work, she will," Nick said. "She’s a modern, independent woman, and I’ll support whatever she does."

Lorna closed her notebook and stuffed it in her bag. Then she turned her full, patronizing attention on Laurant.

"I want to believe this one’s the real thing, but honestly, I have my doubts. I certainly don’t want to be forced to print yet another retraction. I just hate doing that. People believe that what I print in my column is true, so you can understand my concern."

Nick draped his arm around Laurant’s shoulders and pulled her into his side.

"You’ve had to print a retraction about Laurant?"

"Twice I’ve had to do it," Lorna said.

"It’s not important," Laurant blurted. "We really need to get going. I’ve got a lot to get done this afternoon."

"I’m sure you’ve noticed what a small town Holy Oaks is," Lorna began. "But I’m actually quite important here. I’m the society editor at the Gazette. People depend on me to keep them abreast of the latest happenings about town. They also expect me to be accurate, but your fiancee has made that task extremely difficult I’ve gotten to the point where I just hate writing anything about her. I really do."

"Then don’t," Laurant suggested.

Turning back to Nick, Lorna continued, "As I was telling you before I was so rudely interrupted, Laura keeps changing her mind I mentioned in one of my articles that Steve Brenner and Laura were a serious item and that marriage appeared to be on the horizon, but I was forced to print a retraction."

She paused to smirk at Laurant before continuing. "She made me do it. Can you imagine? My credibility was on the line, but she didn’t care about that. She still insisted I print a retraction."

"Because it wasn’t true," Laurant pointed out in exasperation. "I’ve never dated Steve Brenner and you know it, but you didn’t care about being accurate, Lorna. Did you?"

Laurant’s French accent was getting thicker, a dead giveaway that she was upset.

"Must you be insulting? I am accurate. I print what I’m told."

"If memory serves, you wrote about my wedding plans."

Laurant was backing her into a corner, and Lorna didn’t like that one bit. "I can’t remember the details now, but I’m sure I must have gotten it straight from the horse’s mouth or I wouldn’t have printed it," she muttered, her lips puckered with distaste now.

"The horse being Steve Brenner?" Nick asked.

"I’ll admit I might have… exaggerated a bit, to make the article newsworthy," she explained. "But I certainly didn’t make it all up, no matter what Laura’s told you. I have my reputation to protect."

"What did Steve have to say about the article?"

Lorna shrugged. "He didn’t say anything about it. Have you met him yet?"

"No, I haven’t."

"You’ll like him," Lorna predicted. "Everyone likes him, everyone but Laura," she said, waving her hand at Laurant. "Steve wants to improve the economy here, and he’s done so much to help this town. I know he must have been as embarrassed as I was about the retraction, but he never said a word. He wouldn’t, of course. He’s such a gentleman. I wouldn’t have printed that retraction at all if Lauren hadn’t threatened to go over my head. She can be a very… difficult woman."

"We really need to get going," Laurant said again. She had had enough of Little Lorna.

Nick didn’t budge. "Just for the record… since you want to be accurate and all…"

"Yes?" Lorna asked, her pen posed to strike.

"Her name’s Laurant. That’s Laurant, not Laura, not Lauren. We’re in love," he added. "So you aren’t going to have to worry about printing another retraction. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?"

When she didn’t answer right away, he squeezed her shoulders.

"Yes," she said. "Nick loves me and I love him."

Lorna had that ugly smirk on her face again. It was apparent she didn’t believe Laurant, and all of a sudden it became imperative to Laurant that the obnoxious woman be convinced.

"It happened just like that," she said, snapping her fingers in front of Lorna’s nose. "I didn’t believe in love at first sight, but then I met Nick. I thought it was just plain old lust, didn’t I, darling? But then I realized it was real. I’m madly in love with him."

Lorna’s small eyes were darting back and forth between Nick’s complacent grin and Laurant’s earnest expression.

"I’m going to quote you." She made it sound like a threat.

"That’ll be just fine," Nick told her as he turned toward the car with Laurant still tucked against his side.

Fortunately the car wasn’t parked far away. Nick opened the door for Laurant and then went around to the driver’s side and got in. Lorna stood on the sidewalk, watching them with a malevolent glare.

"I get the feeling Little Lorna doesn’t like you much," Nick said, glancing back at the society editor in the rearview mirror.

"I can see why the FBI wanted you. You’re very observant."

"My article’s going to be in the Sunday paper," Lorna shouted "Please try to stay in love until then."

Infuriated because the woman wouldn’t believe her, Laurant hit the button to roll the window down and then leaned out. "I’m telling you for the last time, Lorna. This is true love. It’s the lasting kind."

Lorna stepped off the curb. "Really."

"Really," Laurant repeated.

"Have you set a wedding date?"

It was a challenge, and it didn’t go unanswered. "As a matter of fact we have," she said. "We’re getting married on the second Saturday in October at seven o’clock."

"Is there a reason the wedding’s so soon?" she asked.

"We don’t want a long engagement. Besides, everything’s planned. Honestly, Lorna, everyone knows about this. You really should keep up, shouldn’t you? I mean, you are the society editor after all."

Lorna’s response was a loud snort. "Still… planning a wedding in so little time. You don’t have to get married, do you? Is that the reason for the rush?"

"That’s it," Laurant snapped as she reached for the door handle.

Nick grabbed her arm and hit the door lock. He was trying not to laugh, but he was dying to ask her what she would do if he let her get out of the car. Was she going to deck Little Lorna?

It suddenly occurred to Laurant that she was acting like a complete lunatic. She slumped down in her seat and rolled the window up.

"Will you please start the car. I want to get out of here."

Neither one of them said another word until they had driven away from the town square and were heading for the abbey. Then Laurant exploded in a tirade. "Lorna Hamburg is the most opinionated, gossipy, nasty-spirited woman in Holy Oaks. I can’t abide her. She’s mean and cruel, and she loves to stir up trouble. How dare she not believe me," she cried. "I’ve never, ever lied to her before. Never. But she didn’t believe me, did she? You saw the look on her face. She thought I was lying."

A minute passed in silence and then Nick glanced at her.

"Laurant?"

"What?" she asked, sounding downright surly.

He pointed out the obvious. "You were lying."

"But she didn’t know that, did she?"

"Apparently she did."

"Drive, Nick. Just drive."

He laughed. He simply couldn’t help it.

She ignored him and stared out the window while she struggled to get her temper under control.

"You aren’t being very logical," he pointed out. "What’s going to happen when this is over and I go back to Boston? Are you going to make Lorna print another retraction, or are you just going to admit that you lied to her?"

"I’m never going to admit I lied. Never. I won’t give that vile woman the satisfaction of knowing she was right. I’ve got a horrible reputation with the men in this town because of her lies."

She folded her arms and stared down at her lap. She knew she wasn’t being reasonable, but she was too angry with the Gorilla to care.

"Lorna doesn’t have any ethics. None at all. I swear I’ll go to any lengths to avoid admitting I lied. I’d even marry you," she exaggerated. "And you’re totally unsuitable."

Nick slowed the car. "What do you mean, I’m unsuitable? What’s the matter with me?"

"You aren’t safe. That’s what’s the matter with you. You wear a gun, for heaven’s sake."

"I told you before, it goes with the job."

"Exactly."

"There aren’t any guarantees in life, and there’s no such thing as completely safe, at least not the way you mean it. Bus drivers can be killed while they’re doing their job."

"Oh? How many bus drivers do you think get involved in shoot-outs?"

He gritted his teeth. "I don’t know all that many FBI agents who get into shoot-outs, as you so quaintly put it," he muttered. "You’re being completely illogical. You do know that, don’t you?"

Her spine stiffened. "Maybe I don’t want to be logical. What’s wrong with that?"

"Let me get this straight. Even though you know it’s illogical you’d still marry me just to spite Lorna?"

Of course she wouldn’t do such a thing. And of course she wasn’t going to admit it to Mr. Always-logical-know-it-all. "What’s your point?" she asked

"Nothing. If you don’t see anything wrong with it, then I don’t either."

She folded her arms and gave him a belligerent nod. "Good. October fourteenth… seven P.M… Pencil it in."