year by rallying local citizens. No one got hurt either time.”
“Is PAR organizing the protests here in New Chapel?”
“That’s my responsibility.”
“But they’re here in town working with you?”
“No, but a very competent PAR representative is advising me. Naturally, Uniworld wants to stop the protests, but I refuse to let a few threatening letters scare me off.”
Mom gasped. “They’ve actually threatened you?”
Why didn’t I learn to keep my mouth shut? “In a polite way, like, ‘please cease and desist.’ I’m not dealing with gangsters, you know.”
“Can we go now?” Tara asked. “It’s, like, zero degrees out here.”
“In a minute, Tara,” Mom said. “Abigail, I’ve changed my mind. Let someone else try to stop that farm from opening. You have your whole life ahead of you. I don’t want to read in the newspaper one morning that your car was pushed into a ditch.”
No matter what the threat was, in her imagination, I always ended up in a ditch.
“That’s the problem with our society, Mom. ‘Let someone else do it. I’m too busy. I don’t want to be bothered.’ If everyone said that, we’d have huge, horrible problems, like drugs in our water supply, poisons in our plastic bottles, pesticides in our vegetables-”
“But we do have those problems,” she said.
“Exactly. Look, if it helps you worry less, all I’m planning to do for the moment is collect more signatures so I can take my petition to court and ask for an injunction. And what is Uniworld going to do about that? Shoot me?”
“I’m freezing here,” Tara called, rubbing her arms.
“What does Marco say about your protesting?” Mom asked.
“He’s behind me one hundred percent.” Although that figure might be subject to change when I finally got around to telling him about the threats. I gave Mom a hug. “Don’t worry about me. I know what I’m doing. I’ll see you soon, okay?”
“Can’t. Move,” Tara said through tightly squeezed lips. “Frozen. Solid.”
“You should have said something earlier,” Mom said, and pushed the button on her remote. Across the lot, her headlights flashed. “Go sit in the van. I’ll be right there.”
Tara still pretended to be frozen into a Popsicle. Mom turned to give me a hug, then held me at arm’s distance. “Be careful.”
I held up my hand. “Promise.”
“You promised to get engaged, but that hasn’t happened yet, has it?”
“It won’t happen any sooner because you keep asking, either.”
We locked gazes, glaring stubbornly. Then her gaze moved upward, landing on my beret. “Is that what Tara was talking about earlier?”
“Mm-hmm,” Tara managed.
“How pretty,” Mom said, our dispute put aside. “Is it an antique?”
“I don’t know,” I said, fingering the brooch. “I found it in a shipment of flowers from Hawaii. I called the supplier, but he had no idea how it got in the box, so he said to keep it unless someone contacts him about it.”
“May I see it?” As I removed my hat, Mom took her reading glasses out of her purse for a closer look at the brooch. “Is it a lily?”
“Anthurium,” I said. “You can tell by the heart-shaped leaf and the long yellow spadix.”
“Spadix?” Tara repeated with a snicker, her lips apparently thawed. “Is that another name for a guy’s-?”
“Tara!” my mom said.
“Well, that’s what it looks like!” she cried.
Mom tapped the back with her fingernail. “It could be made out of wood, or some type of pottery. I’ll bet it wouldn’t be hard to copy.”
As I put my beret back on, I caught a familiar gleam in her eye. I had a feeling she’d found her inspiration.
“Hey, Buttercup, you’re back early. How was the show?” Marco asked, getting up from his desk to come around and greet me. He was in his office catching up on paperwork, and as usual, looking so yummy it was all I could do to not devour him then and there. Fortunately, I can suppress my appetite.
Marco had on a black T-shirt with a Down the Hatch logo on the front, close-fitting blue jeans, and scuffed black boots. There wasn’t anything extraordinary about the outfit, but the male inside it was a different story. How lucky was I to have found a guy who was not only brave, educated,
He also had a firm, expressive mouth that was a genuine pleasure to kiss. Such as now. “You taste like peanut butter,” I told him, nibbling his lips. “Mmm. Makes me hungry.” ›
“You’re making me hungry, too,” he growled. We kissed again; then my stomach decided to join in the chorus, growling loud and long and not at all provocatively, definitely spoiling the romantic flavor of the moment.
“Sorry. I haven’t had lunch. I guess I should eat something.”
He turned and stretched across his desk for an open bag of nuts, affording me a great view of his backside. Hmm. Hot Pockets wasn’t such a bad nickname after all.
He held out the bag. “I’ll share these with you. So, what happened? I thought the Home and Garden Show ran until five o’clock.”
I grabbed a handful of peanuts and took a seat in one of the sleek black leather chairs in front of his desk as he relaxed in the matching chair beside me. “There was a slight hitch.”
Marco’s eyebrows rose. Such an endearing expression. So I gave him the whole story, from my petition failure through the candy disaster, omitting only my promise to Tara. When I stopped talking and reached for more nuts, I noticed Marco’s mouth quirking up at the corners, as it usually does when he’s amused.
“So, other than causing a minor panic with bleeding hearts, ticking off Nils Raand and two security guards with your petition, and getting your mom, Tara, and yourself booted out of the exposition center, how was the show?”
With a sigh, I leaned my head against the back of the chair. “Forty-three signatures. It’s disheartening, Marco. People simply don’t want to take a stand against injustice. I mean, everyone is busy, but how can they close their eyes to what’s happening?”
He drew my hand to his lips and pressed a sensual kiss in my palm. Tingles ran up my arm and landed in my pleasure zone, bringing a blissful sigh to my lips that made me forget my frustrations.
He kissed the inside of my wrist. “I’m sorry you’re having a bad day. Did anything good happen?”
“I promised Tara I’d take her to a Barrow Boys concert on February fourteenth for her birthday gift. Have you heard of the Barrow Boys?”
“Sure. I spend long hours on stakeouts, don’t forget, so I listen to lots of radio. The Barrow Boys are a good group. I like their music.”
Good thing, since that was how he’d be spending part of Valentine’s Day.
“That reminds me”-he pulled me onto his lap-“I finished my investigation this morning and got a nice fat check from it. So what do you say I take you to dinner somewhere pricey?”
“You are so on.”
“How about Adagio’s? I’ll pick you up at six.”
A. Mazing. I was thinking the same thing! Putting my arms around his neck, I said, “How about I wear my green silk dress?”
His pupils darkened as though he was already imagining me in that dress; then he kissed me, a deep, slow, intimate kiss that made me thirst for more. He was such a sucker for green.
“I’ve got to call for those concert tickets before they’re all gone,” I told him, reluctantly ending our kiss. “Tara would be crushed if she didn’t get to go.”
I reached for my coat and he stood to help me put it on. How many guys did that? “Oh. One more thing. Tara
