Kate Collins - Sleeping with Anemone

Nikki took a sip of water. “Remind me to never borrow your car again.”

No problemo.

Within minutes, an APB went out for a white van with no markings and two people inside. Unfortunately, since Nikki hadn’t seen their faces, the search was going to be difficult. Reilly took her back to the country club to meet up with Morgan, who’d been frantically phoning her, not realizing Nikki had hit a dead zone. Since she’d lost her appetite for a heavy meal, she and Morgan planned to hail a cab back to our apartment for a light supper of toast and eggs.

“Take my car,” Marco told me, as we left the gas station. “I’ll follow you in the Vette, just in case anyone tries anything.”

Still my hero. “Thanks, Marco.” I gave his arm an affectionate squeeze. “Are we going back to Adagio’s or do you want to call it a night?”

“Your choice.”

Hmm. If we went to the restaurant, I’d have to leave my car parked on a main street, and after what had just happened, that wasn’t something I was ready to do. But Marco lived on a quiet block with little traffic. “How about we pick up a pizza and go back to your place?”

“Okay, but Rafe will be there. We’ll have to get two pizzas.”

Darn. I’d forgotten about Marco’s younger brother, a supposedly temporary houseguest who’d now been there a month. After Rafe had dropped out of college one semester shy of graduation, Marco’s mom had asked him to take Rafe under his wing to get him back on track. I was still waiting for that to happen.

“How about your place?” Marco asked.

“Two words. Nikki. Morgan.”

“Right. Let’s just grab a sandwich at Down the Hatch.”

In my green silk dress? At least we’d be fed quickly, and since my stomach was starting to eat itself, it worked for me. “Let’s go.”

But once back at Marco’s bar on a crowded Saturday night, we found nowhere to sit but in his office, so we pulled chairs up to his desk and gobbled our sandwiches as though we hadn’t eaten in weeks. Quite romantic.

“I almost forgot,” Marco said, swallowing a mouthful of barbecued beef. “Reilly said to tell you Nils Raand agreed to meet Monday afternoon at two o’clock. If that time doesn’t work, you should call the distribution center and leave a message.”

“I wonder why Reilly didn’t tell me.”

“You were busy. I told Reilly no problem. Grace and Lottie will cover.” He gave me his sexy little grin. “Right?”

“Yes.” Still, he could have asked. Making assumptions was not a positive attribute.

“It’ll be quiet here at the bar, so I’ll be able to make it, too.”

Wow. With no invitation or anything-not that I minded his company. “So you’re going with me, then.”

“Damn straight. Raand’s not going to intimidate you while I’m around.”

I put down my sandwich and wiped my fingers on a napkin. At least that was how it looked to Marco. Actually I was counting to ten. “That’s sweet, Marco, and I appreciate your support, but Raand’s not going to intimidate me.”

“You got that right.”

“But not because you’ll be there, Marco. Because I won’t let him. It’s all about mental attitude.”

“Trust me, Sunshine. It won’t come to that.”

Arrogance. Straight into the minus column.

PLUSES : MINUSES

Protective: Bossy

Confident: Arrogant

Open-minded: Stubborn

Sexy:

Hardworking:

Brave:

Trusting:

Family oriented:

Generous:

Kind:

Understanding:

Supportive:

Great with children:

Strong:

Soulful:

Considerate:

Devoted:

Calm:

Levelheaded:

Sensitive:

Helpful:

Earns a good living:

Even though I had to park my Corvette in the city parking garage and tip the attendant extra to make sure no one touched my car, I was really glad to see Monday come, because Sunday was a serious bummer. After church, I was swarmed by concerned family and friends who’d seen the cable news report about the brick and had all kinds of warnings for me; after lunch, Marco and I saw a boring war movie-his choice, since I picked last time-and after supper, I had to do laundry that had piled up all week, while he watched a football game.

All of which made Monday a real treat, especially since the sun was out, the snow had melted, and Valentine’s Day was rapidly approaching, which meant an increase in profits for my struggling flower shop. Another bonus: The window repairman arrived promptly at eight thirty a.m., so that when Grace opened the shop at nine, a brand-new beveled glass pane greeted the customers. And there were lots of them, some making straight for the parlor to get their morning java, some browsing the arrangements and gift items on display, and others placing orders for the holiday.

I saw many of our regular customers and met new ones. Some who I thought were new seemed to know me, so I pretended to remember them when they stopped to say how terrible it was that a person couldn’t feel safe on her own town square. One woman in particular looked familiar-how do you forget hair that big?-and I nearly said something chatty to her, but then someone asked me a question about flowers, and I lost track of her.

Although we barely had a moment to breathe, it was a great morning, profit-wise. Amazing what the threat of a store burning to the ground could do to motivate shoppers.

Suddenly it was almost two o’clock and Marco was there to escort me to Nils Raand’s office.

“We had the most amazing day,” I told Marco as we pulled into the huge parking lot in front of the Uniworld Distribution Center. “I am so psyched. Mark my words. Before we leave Raand’s office, I’ll have a signed agreement in my hand.”

“I think you’re being a little naive, Sunshine. You’re talking about a huge conglomerate here. Nothing happens swiftly in that environment.”

We dodged a semitrailer truck leaving one of the dozen loading docks that ran across the front of the warehouse, then walked up to a small, steel door on the end of the building nearest to us. Marco held it open and I stepped inside, gazing around in wonder at the rows of two-story-high shelving stocked with boxes of goods. Small cherry pickers were at work loading and unloading more boxes, their beeps echoing through the enormous space.

Marco pointed toward the ceiling, where we could see an office with a big window that overlooked the operation. We headed toward a staircase that would take us to it, but before we were halfway up, a woman in a neat navy suit appeared at the top. She ushered us into a reception area and offered us a selection of beverages. Marco took a glass of water but I declined. I didn’t want to have to balance anything on my knee, especially if things got heated. I might end up dousing Raand with it.

When we stepped inside Raand’s office, he came around his desk, his gaze flickering over Marco, coolly assessing him, before lighting on me and turning downright icy. “Miss Knight.”

“Mr. Raand, this is Marco Salvare, my, er”-what should I call him? A boyfriend? It sounded so twelfth grade-“partner.”

Raand shook Marco’s hand, each man taking the other’s measure, while I glanced around. His office appeared to have come straight from an IKEA showroom-light wood, simple lines, and no personal touches at all. Not one photo, award, coffee mug, or pencil cup. The top of his desk, a long, straight-legged table, was bare, save for an intercom/telephone and a silver laptop. The entire room seemed sterile and off-putting, just like Nils Raand.

“Please. Sit.” Raand indicated a tan leather sofa against the wall. I put my purse on the floor by my feet, as Marco settled beside me. Raand looked comfortably relaxed in an adjacent brown chair, his hands resting on the chair arms.