Part 18 (1/2)

”Nate,” she hissed, squirming and giggling. ”Quit it.”

”Help me choose colors, and I'll stop.”

”Okay, okay. I'll help.”

He released her foot with one final tickle, and her smile-warm, open, carefree-sucker-punched him right in the kisser. Because he realized what he'd done. He'd grabbed her ankle, holding it against her will while he tickled, and she hadn't freaked. No near fainting, no outward sign on her face that his action reminded her of what Jonathan had done. Just laughter and playfulness.

She trusted him. And he had no idea how to tell her what that meant.

So he cleared his throat and pa.s.sed her the samples.

”Here...I thought white all around-or Antique White, whatever the difference.”

Lauren s.n.a.t.c.hed the samples out of his hand. ”Good grief, you can't paint Mac's house boring old white!”

She shuffled through the cards like a professional gambler preparing for a big game. ”What about Tea? Or Thistle and Kapiti with a trim of Rainforest Reef? Or even Thistle and Driftwood. Hmm.”

Leaning back in his chair, he studied the crease between her brows. ”You know, if Drew and I are left to our own devices in the hardware store, we'll probably come home with ten gallons of bubblegum pink.”

Her gaze flicked up. ”Over my dead body. You'll turn that place into a blight on the landscape.”

”I thought you didn't want me selling it anyway.”

She c.o.c.ked her head. ”I don't. But neither do I want old Mac haunting me because you've painted his house pink.”

”Looks like you're coming to town with us.”

Lauren returned the samples to the table in a neat pile. ”Sneaky, sneaky, sneaky.”

He opened his eyes wide and innocent-like and shrugged.

”I don't trust you one bit, Nate Fraser.”

”Yeah, you do.” Nate s.n.a.t.c.hed up her hand. He nibble-kissed her fingers and waggled his eyebrows at her until she smiled. ”Now pa.s.s me the Wheat-biscuits. I've worked up quite an appet.i.te this morning.”

Lauren left her sunhat at home-and for her, it was tantamount to arriving at Bounty Bay Hardware in a bikini. Summer crowds still milled through the town's main street, but the hardware store's mostly empty parking lot settled her pulse down from a gallop to a trot. Holidaymakers were more interested in cafes, surf-shops and bars than the locally owned and operated store.

She clasped Drew's hand and tried not to squeeze too hard as they strolled along the aisles, the salesclerk mixing the agreed paint choices of Thistle, Driftwood, and Fossil out in the back under Nate's supervision. b.u.t.terfly light flutters tickled her stomach, more from the memory of that morning's lovemaking than the familiar nerves at being out in public. Tension seeped out of her muscles; only a few other shoppers browsed along the same aisle, and none of them appeared the slightest bit interested in her or her son.

”Look, a tool belt like Nate's.” Drew tugged his hand out of hers and ran to a display of scaled-down, kid-sized tool belts.

”Wow. They're cool.”

She crouched next to him, and they examined the little belt on display, complete with a small metal hammer, measuring tape and crescent wrench.

Wheels squeaked on the linoleum, and Lizzie Callahan, mother of two of Drew's preschool friends, turned into the aisle. Her twin sons, Lucas and Logan, let go of the shopping cart and rushed to Drew's side.

”Hi-Drew-what-did-Santa-bring-ya-for-Christmas?” said Lucas.

Lizzie's gaze zipped from the boys to Lauren, then slightly off over her shoulder. ”Oh, h.e.l.lo...Lauren.”

d.a.m.n. The slight hesitation between the greeting and her name was enough to set her heart pounding again.

On the parent/teacher committee, Lizzie had hinted for months for Lauren to take a more active involvement in the local preschool. Maybe she should've agreed to man a stall at the planned summer fundraising carnival, instead of only offering to bake six-dozen m.u.f.fins.

Lizzie circled the shopping cart, as Lauren stood upright. The shorter woman reached out to gently guide Lauren a few steps away from the chattering boys.

”There's a bit of a buzz going around the social networks-Grace, my niece, showed me on one of her websites a few days ago...” Lizzie glanced over her shoulder as if to check the boys weren't listening.

”About me?” The question slipped out before her brain caught up with Lizzie's sympathetic gaze.

Lizzie lowered her voice even further. ”About Alexandra Knight.”

She gaped at the other woman, but the certainty on Lizzie's face made denial pointless.

”A few of Alexandra's most famous covers were posted alongside a blurry photo of you leaving Kai Moana. I recognized you straight away.” Lizzie sent Lauren a guilty smile. ”Actually I recognized you the first time we met at the boys' preschool.”

”You did?”

”Hon, coloring your hair brown and expecting guys not to figure you were once the face of Marie Claire is one thing. But with women, pffft-” She dismissed the notion with a wave of her hand. ”All the other girls know, and we'd hate you for being tall and beautiful-except you're too d.a.m.n sweet to hate.”

Lauren blinked. The other mums knew? They'd never said a word.

”Oh. Well, I guess it's all over town by now.” Keeping gossip from spreading in Bounty Bay was akin to preventing the transmission of the common cold-virtually impossible.

Lizzie's nose crinkled. ”Well, of course. We are talking about Bounty Bay. No one can keep a secret. But it's okay...” She rubbed a soothing hand down Lauren's arm. ”It'll blow over when the next scandal sweeps through. So you used to be a model? h.e.l.l, years ago I used to be a dee-jay on the popular Coast-to-Coast-FM morning show, but do you think anyone gives a hoot about that now?”

”I didn't know that.”

”You would-if you'd ever accept one of my invitations to come and hang out with me and the other mums at coffee group.”

Lauren shook her head. ”I'm sorry, Lizzie. You all must think I'm such a sn.o.b.”

”We understood it must be hard.”

”I think I've made it harder.”

”n.o.body's judging you, hon-well, except Angelique-and that's because she's itching to get you into her salon to fix your horrendous cut and color. She's convinced you hacked off your split ends with a chainsaw.”

Lauren laughed, bending to scoop up Drew as he wrapped his arms around her legs. ”She's not far wrong. Maybe I am due for a trim.”

”Hey.” Nate's deep voice behind her sent a s.h.i.+ver down her spine.

She stood and made the introductions, bristling a little at the appreciative light in Lizzie's eyes as she surrept.i.tiously eyed Nate. The muscled length of him- complete with a rakish couple of days' worth of scruff-was hard to ignore, even if you had a husband and twin boys.

Nate grinned down at Lauren, as if he somehow sensed the possessive vibe pumping off her skin. Ridiculous that she felt possessive at all.

”I'd better get going before the boys fall too much more in love with that tool belt,” Lizzie said. ”Think about the summer carnival, Lauren. We'd love to see you manning the cake stall instead of just baking m.u.f.fins for it. You'll call me?”