"You should come in and get cleansed," he told her as she straightened small bottles of beauty and bath oils.

"I just don't see that I would have the time." Nor could she ever see herself making the time. As a job, she'd rank colon cleaning in the same ballpark as being a mortician. One of those jobs she supposed someone had to do but thanked her lucky karma that it wasn't her.

"You can't put off something so important," he said, kind of reminding her of a mortician, too. His voice was a bit too tranquil, his fingernails a little too polished, and his skin a lot too pale. "I'm telling you, you feel so much lighter once all those toxins are expelled."

She was going to take his word for it. "Oh, yeah?" was all she managed, then pretended great interest in her aromatherapies. "I think someone is at your booth," she said, so desperate to get rid of him she lied on purpose.

"No, they're just walking by."

Out of the corner of her eye, a brown paper sack was plopped down next to her crystal vaporizers. "I made lunch," spoke a deep voice she'd never thought she'd actually be glad to hear. "Are you hungry?"

She let her gaze travel up Joe's plain white T-shirt, past the hollow of his tan throat, to the deep furrow of his top lip. The shadow of a red-and-blue baseball cap covered the top half of his face, accentuating the carnal lines of his mouth. After her conversation with Doug, she was surprised she was hungry. "Starved" she answered and turned to the man standing beside her. "Joe, this is Doug Tano. Doug has the booth over there." She pointed across the walkway and couldn't help but notice the obvious difference in the two men. Doug was a calm soul in touch with his spiritual nature. Joe radiated raw, masculine energy and was about as calming as a nuclear blast.

Joe glanced over his shoulder, then turned his attention to Doug. "Colonic hydrotherapy? Is that you?"

"Yes. My practice is off Sixth. I aid in weight loss, detoxification of the body, improving digestion, and increasing energy levels. Hydro-therapy has a very calming effect on the body."

"Uh-huh. Don't you have to get a hose shoved up your butt?"

"Well, ahh… ahh," Doug stammered. "Shoved is an awfully strong word. We do place a very soft, malleable tube-"

"I'm going to have to stop you there, buddy," Joe interrupted and held up one hand. "I'm about to eat lunch, and I really do want to enjoy my ham and salami."

Disapproval pinched Doug's features. "Have you ever seen what processed meat does to your colon?"

"Nope," Joe answered as he dug around in the sack. "I figure the only way I'm ever going to see the inside of my colon is to shove my head up my ass. And you know what, Doug? That's just never going to happen."

Gabrielle felt her jaw drop a little. He was so rude… even for Joe… yet so effective. Doug turned and practically ran from her booth to get away from him. And although she hated to admit it, she was grateful and even a bit envious.

"Jesus, I didn't think he was ever going to leave."

"Thank you, I guess," she uttered. "He wouldn't stop talking about my colon, and I couldn't get rid of him."

"That's because he wants to see your naked tush." Joe grabbed her hand and slapped a sandwich wrapped in waxed paper into her palm. "Can't say that I blame him."

He walked past her to the back of the booth and sat in one of the two director's chairs she'd brought from home. She wasn't sure, but she thought he'd just given her a compliment.

"Is Mara going to help you out today?" he asked.

"She'll be here in just a little bit." Gabrielle looked at the sandwich in her hand. "What's this?"

"Turkey on whole wheat."

She sat in the seat next to him and glanced about. "I guess you didn't know," she said just above a whisper, "but the Coeur Festival is vegetarian."

"I thought you were lapsed."

"I am." She opened the waxed paper and gazed at a huge mound of turkey and sprouts shoved between two pieces of soft bread. Her stomach growled and her mouth watered, and she felt guilty and conspicuous, like a heretic at a born-again revival.

Joe knocked her arm with his elbow. "Go ahead. I won't tell anybody," he said as if he were Satan offering her original sin.

Gabrielle closed her eyes and sank her teeth into the sandwich. Since Joe had been uncharacteristically nice and brought her lunch, it would be impolite not to eat. She'd left her house that morning without eating breakfast, and she really was starving. So far, she just hadn't been able to work up an appetite for chili con veggie. She sighed, and her lips curved into a blissful smile. "Hungry?"

She opened her eyes. "Mmm-hmm." He stared at her from beneath the bill of his cap, watching her as he slowly chewed, then swallowed. "There's some cheesecake if you want it."

"You bought me cheesecake?" She was surprised and more than a little touched by his thoughtfulness.

He shrugged. "Yeah, sure. Why not?" "Because I didn't think you liked me." His gaze lowered to her mouth. "You're okay." He took a big bite of his sandwich, then turned his attention to the crowded park. Gabrielle grabbed two bottles of water from a small cooler next to her chair and handed one to Joe. He took it from her, and they ate in companionable silence. She was surprised she didn't feel a need to fill up the quiet with conversation. She felt comfortable sitting beside Joe, eating her turkey, not talking, and that surprised her even more.

She kicked off her sandals and crossed her legs, settling back to watch the crowd flowing past her booth. It was a real mix of everything from Benetton preppies to Birkenstock New Agers, from polyester-loving retirees, to Woodstock wanna-bes born the same year as disco fever. And for the first time since Joe had tackled her in the park not far from where they sat now, she wondered what he saw when he looked at her. Some of the other vendors were extremely bizarre looking, and she wondered if he saw her that way, too. Like Mother Soul, with her tangle of dreadlocks, nose ring, and bright robes meditating on her prayer rug. And she wondered why she should care what he thought.

Gabrielle was full halfway through the huge sandwich, so she wrapped the other half back up, then set it on top of a block of ice in her cooler. "I didn't think I'd see you today," she said, finally breaking the silence. "I thought you'd be at my store, keeping your eyes on Kevin."

"I'll go there in just a bit." He polished off the last of his sandwich and washed it down with half his water. "Kevin isn't going anywhere, but even if he does, I'll know about it."

The police were following Kevin. She didn't think they'd told her that, but she supposed she wasn't surprised. She picked at the label on her bottle and watched him out of the corner of her eye. "What are you going to do today? Finish the shelves in the storage room?" By closing time the day before, he'd cut the shelves and screwed the brackets to the wall. All he had to do was put the shelves in place. That wouldn't take long.

"I'm going to paint them first, but I should be finished by the end of the day. I need something to do tomorrow."

"What about a countertop in the back room? Kevin mentioned that he wouldn't mind seeing it replaced, and a job like that ought to last through Monday."

"Hopefully, Kevin will make his move this weekend, and I won't be there Monday."

Gabrielle's fingers stilled. "Maybe we shouldn't talk about this. You still think Kevin is guilty, and I don't."

"I'd rather not talk about Kevin right now anyway." He raised the water and squirted a stream into his mouth. When he was finished he sucked a bead of water off his lower lip and said, "I have a few important questions I want to ask you."

She should have suspected he'd been nice to her because he wanted something. "What?"

"Where did you get that Barbara Eden, I Dream of Jeannie, outfit?"

She glanced downward at her little blouse and bare middle. "That's one of your important questions?"

"No, I was just curious."

Since his gaze was directed at her stomach, she couldn't tell what he was thinking. "You don't like it?"

"I didn't say that." He looked into her face, his cop's eyes carefully blank, and she still couldn't tell what he thought. "After you left the store yesterday," he continued, "what did you tell your mother and aunt about me?"

"I told them the truth." She crossed her arms beneath her breasts and watched him show his displeasure the usual way. He scowled at her.

"You told them about me being an undercover cop?"

"Yep, but they won't say anything to anyone," she assured him. "They promised, and besides, they believe fate brought us together. They don't mess with fate." She'd tried to tell Claire that Joe wasn't the dark passionate lover of her psychic vision, that he was really just a bad-tempered detective. But the more she'd explained, the more her mother had become convinced that fate had indeed played a role in Gabrielle's love life. After all, Claire had reasoned, getting tailed, tackled, and forced to play girlfriend to a macho undercover police officer like Joe just wasn't a normal event, not even in the universal course of cosmic coincidence. "Anything else you want to know?" she asked.

"Yeah. How did you know I was following you last week? And don't give me a bunch of crap about feeling my vibes."

"I don't feel vibes. What if I told you it was your black aura?" she asked, although truthfully, she hadn't noticed his aura until after he'd arrested her.

From within the shadow of his cap, his eyes narrowed, and Gabrielle decided to let him off the hook. "It was easy. You smoke. I don't know of any joggers who have a nice healthy cigarette before they set off on a run. Wheat grass, yes. A Marlboro, no."