Kate Collins - Sleeping with Anemone

“You look fine. By the way, I didn’t know you were going to be at the Home and Garden Show collecting signatures this morning or I would have volunteered to help.”

“You did know. I told you yesterday.”

“Seriously?”

Lately, Nikki was so wrapped up in Morgan that she couldn’t even remember what she had for breakfast. To think Morgan once annoyed her as much as he did me. But those good times were over.

“Wow. You sure let Uniworld have it,” Nikki said.

“Look at that crowd, Nik. They were totally with me.”

Nikki got up close to the screen. “Is that a flower pin on your beret?”

“It’s a brooch I found in a shipment of flowers, and please don’t say it’s nasty.”

“Are you kidding? It’s retro. Look how fashionable you are. Jillian will be so jealous.”

That would be a first. My über-fashionista cousin strove to possess whatever the latest trend dictated. If I were to best her, well, things could get ugly.

The report ended, so I clicked off the TV and headed for my bedroom to dress for dinner. “Maybe all this bad press will do the trick, and I won’t have to go to court to ask for an injunction.”

“Let’s hope that’s all the bad press does,” Nikki called from the bathroom. “After that flaming brick incident, I’d be a little nervous.”

“Do you sincerely think anyone from Uniworld would do anything to me now? I mean, who’d be the first on the suspect list? Anyway, Reilly was going to talk to Nils Raand, the head honcho at the distribution center, about meeting with me to discuss the situation, so hopefully we can come to a peaceable agreement.”

I paused, catching sight of a magazine lying on my bed. “Today’s Bride? Did you buy this for me?”

“It came in the mail. No note with it. Hey, are you going out tonight?”

I pulled my green dress on over my head, fuming. I’d bet anything Marco’s mom sent that magazine. “Marco is taking me to Adagio’s. Why?”

“Greg just got a dining membership at the country club, and his Lexus is in the shop, and I hate to take my old beater, so… can I borrow your car?”

Borrow my Vette? My pride and joy? Okay, yes, I was a tad particular about whom I let use my carefully repaired and repainted 1960 Corvette but, truthfully, Nikki wasn’t the most mindful driver in the world. “I guess so. But be really, really careful, okay?”

“It’s just a car, Abby. Besides, nothing bad happened last time I used it.”

Unless you counted those two scratches on the bumper and the odor of greasy onion rings that clung to the interior for weeks . But hey, she was my best friend. How could I refuse her?

Seriously, I wanted to know. How could I refuse her?

Marco lifted his wineglass and waited until I did the same. We were in the elegant Adagio’s, New Chapel’s one and only cosmopolitan restaurant, at a cozy corner table for two, set with real china, white linen tablecloth and napkins, and a votive candle in a crystal goblet. Marco had worn a black and gray tweed jacket over a black shirt, with gray pants, and looked so sexy it was hard for me to stay in my chair.

Gazing at me over the flickering candlelight at our table, he said, “You in that green dress?” He dropped his voice to a throaty growl. “Dangerous.”

“Thank you. And you in, well, in anything? Totally dangerous.”

He touched the rim of his glass to mine, suddenly serious. “To us.”

“Yes, to us.” He wasn’t going to choose now to have our discussion, was he? I mean, we’d barely sat down.

His dark eyes held my own. “To our future.”

My cell phone rang. Marco waited, glass in the air.

“Sorry. I’ll just turn that off.” I set down my wine and pulled my phone out of my purse. “Um, maybe I should take this. It’s Nikki. I told you she’s using my car, right?”

“Twice. That’s okay. I know you’re worried. Go ahead.”

I smiled at him. What an understanding guy. “Nikki? What’s up?”

“Abby, I think someone’s following me,” she whispered tensely. “What should I do?”

“Where are you? Isn’t Morgan with you?” I glanced over at Marco, and he raised his eyebrows questioningly.

“I dropped Greg off and went to find a parking space, but the lot was jammed, so I was looking for off-street parking when this white van-Omigod, Abby, he’s right on my bumper!”

Make that my bumper. “Step on the gas, Nikki! Get out of there.”

“What’s happening?” Marco asked, leaning toward me.

“A van is following Nikki,” I whispered. “She dropped Morgan off, then-”

“I floored it, Abby. The van’s still right behind me,” Nikki cried, in a panic.

“Honk the horn and keep driving, Nik. Try to attract attention.”

“There’s no one on the road,” she cried, “and where’s the damn horn button?”

“It’s not a button! It’s-”

“Let me talk to her.” Marco took my mobile and handed me his. “Call 911.”

While I called the police, he pressed my phone to his ear. “Nikki, where are you? Heading toward Concord Avenue? Good. Keep going. Forget the horn. No, do not let the van pass. Drive down the middle of the road if you have to. He might be trying to run you off. When you get to Concord, cross the intersection and pull into the gas station on the corner.”

I gave the dispatch operator Nikki’s location and ended the call, my stomach in fist-sized knots. What if the van ran Nikki off the road? What if she ended up in a ditch? My mom’s worst nightmare had just become my own.

“Okay, Nikki,” Marco said, “as soon as you pull up in front of the door, put the car in park, kill the engine, grab the keys… Hello?” He looked at the screen, then, with a muttered curse, started punching buttons.

“What happened?”

“Dropped call.” He held my phone to his ear, listened, then cursed again. “Nothing.”

“I’ll try your phone. We’ve got different phone companies.” Quickly, I entered Nikki’s number in Marco’s phone, tapping my fingers on the tabletop as I counted the rings. “Four, five, six-either she should have answered or the call should have gone to voice mail-eight, nine, ten.” I clapped his phone shut. “She’s not answering.”

Marco tossed down a twenty-dollar bill for the wine and ushered me toward the coat-check closet. I thrust my arms into the sleeves as he held open my navy coat, then clung to his arm so I wouldn’t slip in my heels as we hurried to his car.

He drove as fast as he could, but it still took more than ten minutes to reach the north side of town. When he screeched into the gas station, two cop cars were there, lights flashing, and my yellow Corvette was parked in front of the gas station/convenience store’s door. As we hurried toward the entrance, I took a hasty glance at my car, and everything looked fine, luckily.

When we stepped inside, Reilly and another cop were with Nikki, who was seated on a folding chair with a bottle of water in her hand. When she saw me, she started to cry.

Marco, Reilly, and the other cop formed a huddle to discuss the situation, while I went straight to Nikki to hug her. “Are you okay? Did you get hurt?”

She took a deep breath and blew it out, wiping tears off her cheeks. “I’m okay, other than wanting to vomit.”

“Did you see the guy who was following you?”

“There were two people, Abby. I didn’t see their faces, but I noticed their van when I circled through the parking lot. I thought they were looking for a space, not for a car to steal.”

And then my bright yellow Vette went sailing past their thieving little eyeballs.