Sleeping with Anemone

Awesome. “So”-I gave him a flirtatious glance-“you’re not angry about Rafe and me going up to New Buffalo?”

“Don’t push your luck,” he said with a little quirk of his mouth. “But the next time you decide to take a road trip, would you please let me know? I hate hearing it from Reilly.”

“I promise you’ll be the first to know.”

Marco shook his head. “It’s a good thing I like incorrigible women.”

“Excuse me? You mean woman, don’t you?”

“I mean you.” He dipped his head and our lips met, gently at first and then passionately, our bodies melding, soft curves meeting hard muscle, making me forget everything but the man against me. He sure knew how to kiss.

A few moments later, a key turned in the lock and then Nikki called, “Hello?”

Reluctantly, I broke away. “In here, Nikki. Marco and Rafe are here, too.” I glanced at Marco and shrugged. “Sorry. Bad timing.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Marco said, reaching for his jacket. “Now that Nikki’s home, I’ll run Rafe back to my place.” He kissed me on the tip of my nose and went to rouse his brother, calling back, “You need to hit the sack, Sunshine. It’s after midnight.”

Ugh. He was right. I had to be up in less than six hours.

Nikki peered around the corner. “So,” she said in a whisper, “everything okay?”

I knew she meant Marco and me. “We’re fine. I’ll tell you more tomorrow.”

“Hey, Nik, thanks for your help today,” Marco said, pushing Rafe toward the door. “Dinner is on me tomorrow.”

“About that,” Nikki said. “We’ll have to take a rain check. Greg has the flu. He left a message on my cell phone about an hour ago.”

Didn’t it figure that the one time I had Marco’s permission to be nosy, I couldn’t?

Wait. Yes, I could.

CHAPTER TWENTY

I woke up the next morning filled with all kinds of energy. I had a plan to get the information we needed from Morgan and it involved chicken soup. My mom always kept homemade soup in her freezer. I’d just stop on my way to work to pick it up.

When I came out of the bedroom, Marco was already shaved, his sheets folded neatly on the end of the sofa. He was wearing a T-shirt and jeans, doing push-ups on the living room carpet.

“Oatmeal this morning?” I asked.

“Sure. Fifty-eight, fifty-nine, sixty… I’ll be in to help in a moment.”

“That’s okay. Keep working those biceps, Salvare. The Irish chef is on duty.” I was in a generous mood. It felt great knowing Marco and I were a team again. Holmes and Watson. Batman and Robin. Marco and Abby. We were unstoppable.

Marco’s cell phone rang as I was pouring a packet of oatmeal in the bowl. “Would you get that, babe?” he called in between counts. “Phone’s on the table.”

And Nikki was sleeping, which he’d apparently forgotten. I dashed for the phone, glanced quickly at the screen, saw OUT OF AREA, and had an instant feeling of trepidation. “Hello?”

“Who is this?” a woman with a slight Italian accent demanded.

Yikes. Just as I feared, it was Francesca Salvare. “Um, just a minute, please,” I said, hurrying into the living room. “Your mom!” I whispered, shoving the phone at Marco. “Don’t tell her I’m here.”

“But you answered,” Marco whispered back.

“The last time I spoke with her, she quizzed me on my bowel habits!” I whispered. “And the time before that-”

“Hi, Mama. Yes, that was Abby. Because I was busy. Doing push-ups, Mama. I don’t think she recognized your voice, either. I don’t know why Rafe isn’t answering his phone. I’m not at home. Yes, I know what time it is. I slept here. Why? Do I need a reason?” Marco held the phone away to draw a deep breath. “Did you want something, Mama? Yes, I gave her the pattern book. She’s thinking about it.”

Ye gods. How was I going to get out of that one without hurting her feelings?

Marco put a hand over the phone to whisper, “She wants to talk to you.”

“No!” I whispered in alarm. “Tell her I’m leaving right now to go to work. Wait. Tell her I’m running late and have lots to do today. No, that’s no good. Tell her-”

“She can’t talk now, Mama. I’m sure she’ll let you know when she makes up her mind. Okay, I’ll have Rafe phone you later. Sure. Bye.

“Did you catch the gist of that?” Marco asked.

“Yes, and she’s not going to make my gown.” I headed into the kitchen, muttering, “I’m wearing jeans and a white blouse. End of discussion.”

I had just stirred hot water into the oats when I heard, “Abby, you need to see this.”

I put the bowls on a tray with spoons, napkins, and cups of coffee, and carried it to the living room. Marco had tuned in to the local cable TV station’s morning newscast, where a reporter was talking about a press conference. I put the tray on the coffee table, sat beside Marco on the sofa, and picked up my bowl.

Marco turned up the volume, catching the reporter in midsentence. “-head of operations at the Uniworld Distribution Center gave this statement yesterday.”

Head of operations? “Is this about Nils Raand?” I asked, spooning a bite of creamy oatmeal into my mouth.

“Yep. Raand bonded out yesterday afternoon,” Marco said.

“He did? Then maybe Raand is who Honey ran from.”

“It’s possible.”

A prerecorded clip showed a shot of the New Chapel courthouse, where microphones had been set up at the top of the steps. I watched as Nils Raand took his place in front of the mics, where a good half dozen reporters had gathered. Beside Raand was attorney Nathan Knowles in the standard-issue black wool dress coat. Raand sported a chic tan suede bomber jacket, brown pants, and shiny brown leather shoes.

“My arrest was a mistake,” Raand said, “and in no way reflects on the good name of Uniworld Food Corporation. Uniworld remains one of the premier corporations in this country, dedicated to providing quality food products for everyone.”

I nearly choked at that remark. “Food products laced with hormones, that is!”

“Will you be suing the police for false arrest?” a reporter called.

Attorney Knowles leaned toward the microphones. “We’ll take this case step by step. Our first order of business is to clear this man’s name.”

A woman reporter stepped forward, a cameraman at her shoulder. “We understand there’s been some controversy surrounding the opening of what has been called Uniworld’s dairy factory, and, more important, Uniworld’s use of bovine hormones in the operation of that factory. How would you address those issues?”

“It would be unthinkable for Uniworld to be involved in anything unethical,” Raand said. “Every Uniworld product is USDA certified. What’s more, we are a family-oriented company and this will be a standard dairy farm that will employ members of your own community. It is unfathomable to me that anyone would be opposed to that.”

“That is such a load of propaganda,” I said.

“Does this hormone controversy have anything to do with why you were arrested?” the woman reporter asked.

Knowles started to answer, but Raand beat him to it. “Yes, it does. I was arrested because of one woman’s personal vendetta against me.”

“I can’t watch this.” I started to get up, but the reporter’s next question stopped me cold.