The Virgin And The Vengeful Groom. Dixie Browning

fist and lowered her hand to her lap. Smile, Lily, smile! Don’t let him know you’re afraid, bluff! You can do it, you’re an old hand at bluff and run. Besides, even if he turned out to be her crank caller, the policewoman had told her that nine times out of ten, crank callers were harmless. Pathetic losers who couldn’t interact with women except anonymously.

      The last thing this man looked was harmless.

      He was staring at her. Now he was moving in her direction. Years of soft living had taken its toll, because she was suddenly having trouble breathing. Surely someone was looking this way—someone would notice if he started anything? The store manager—

      “Miss O’Malley? I believe you have something that belongs to me,” he said in a voice that could best be described as chocolate-covered gravel.

      It didn’t sound like the voice she’d heard on the phone, but voices could be disguised.

      Her mouth was so dry she couldn’t have spit if her pants were on fire, but she forced herself to look him in the eye. Coolly, graciously she said, “I beg your pardon?”