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."