"Yes, Mother, certainly... Another magazine...? You don't say... Of course, I'm looking forward to it... Good night, Mother, I'll give Mr. Steele your best."

Hanging up the phone, Laura slid down to the couch beside Remington and asked, "Why do you want to buy a cow if I can give you milk for free?"

"I take it you haven't picked out a dress yet," he wagered.

Her look told him what happened to those who asked stupid questions. At least a menacing kick wasn't addressed to his shin but rather to a pile of magazines lying at her feet. With a sigh she leaned into the couch and asked, "Do you like lace?"

"Lace? You know I do," he said carefully, not quite sure if a lascivious grin was in order yet. "And the less lace, the better I like it..."

"What about beads?"

"Instead of lace?"

"On top of it!" she moaned. "Lace, beads, pearls, sequins, feathers, silk flowers... for crying out loud!" She bent forward and picked a magazine off the top of the heap and dropping it into his lap, added, "Just like this."

Remington carefully inspected the picture on the cover. "Forgive my ignorance, Laura, is it customary in this country for a bride to match the wedding cake?"

"Yes, it certainly looks that way, doesn't it?" she agreed and finally let out a giggle. "Do you have a problem with marrying a wedding cake?"

"Laura, you know I'd marry you even if you chose to wear a dirty business suit and decided to conduct the wedding on a fishing trawler..."

"Fishing trawler?" she interrupted. "Whatever gave you such an idea?"

"Merely a figure of speech," he assured.

"I did it again, didn't I?" she asked with a lame smile.

"Did what?"

"I never asked you what you'd like to see me in, did I?"

"No, but I merely assumed that if a groom isn't allowed to see his bride on the day of the wedding, he isn't allowed to see the dress either. I'll be much more interested in seeing what's under the dress anyway."

She playfully hit him with a pillow and demanded, "All right, give!"

"Give what? Isn't one pillow enough for you?"

"I know that look in your eye. No matter what you say, you have a very good idea what you'd like to see me in. Fess up or spend the night alone."

"Well, now that you've put it that way..."

"An offer you couldn't refuse?" she drawled suggestively.

"Yes, Godmother," he replied with mock severity as he bent and kissed her ring. He continued looking up into her smiling eyes, "Do you remember that white dress you used to have? The one that made you look like Myrna Loy?"

"It was burned with the rest of my things," she pointed out.

"Yes, I know. But I thought perhaps you could find a similar dress in that sea of lace and pearls."

"Plain and simple?"

"Elegant and understated."

"This is so much like you," she said heaving a sigh.

"Elegant and understated? Why, Laura..."

"Wanting to marry Myrna Loy!" Laura snapped.

"I don't want to marry Myrna Loy!"

"Why the dress, then?"

"I want to marry the woman who trusted an arrogant amateur to work on a case for the first time," he said slowly, looking into her eyes.

After a long pause, she declared, "I know just the shop that can make it." In seemingly one motion she snatched the magazine, flung it across the room in a manner that would do a stripper proud, and took its place in Remington's lap. Grabbing his tie, pulling him close, she murmured, "Let's practice the wedding night."

The End