Snipped in the Bud by Kate Collins Page B

headed for the tiny kitchen in back. “I’ll microwave a bag of popcorn. It’ll tide you over until supper.”
    While Lottie was gone I pulled an order for an arrangement of silk flowers for the insurance agency next door and gathered supplies for it, starting with a wicker basket. The bell chimed four times while I worked, and each time I held my breath, expecting to see Marco stride through the curtain. Instead, I kept hearing what sounded like turkeys gobbling. I finally went to the curtain to take a peek.
    “Here you go,” Lottie said from behind me, the buttery smell of popcorn preceding her. “What are you looking at?”
    “Customers.”
    “Is someone trying to steal something?”
    “I can’t tell.”
    “What do you mean you can’t tell?”
    “It’s too crowded.”
    “Crowded?” Lottie came up behind me for a look. “Lordy,” she whispered in an amazed voice. “It’s like a plague of locusts.”
    We peered out together, watching as at least a dozen women prowled the shop, examining flower arrangements, picking up knickknacks, and checking price tags on the wreaths that hung on the brick walls.
    “I haven’t seen it this busy since Valentine’s Day,” Lottie said in a whisper. “I’d better work the register so Grace can take care of the coffee parlor. I see people heading in there.”
    The bell chimed, and over the top of the ladies’ heads I saw Marco step inside. He glanced around, clearly surprised by the crowd. Then he spotted me and headed my way. He didn’t look happy.

CHAPTER SIX
    I backed into the workroom, pinched my cheeks for color, and hurried to the table to resume my work. No need to let him think I was watching for him. How pathetic would that look? When he came in, I was perched on a stool, arranging silk flowers. I glanced up at him and couldn’t stop a smile from spreading across my face. No matter what kind of trouble I was in, seeing Marco always strummed my heart strings.
    He had thick, dark hair that was kind of curly but not too short or too shaggy. He had deep-set dark eyes that could strip away your outer layers and see into those secret places in your soul, strong Mediterranean good looks, and a body sculpted from the rigorous training of the Army Rangers and maintained through workouts at the local YMCA. But what really made him sexy was the confidence he exuded from every pore. It was like an aphrodisiac, only without the slimy oyster. Add that famous Salvare smile to the mix—a slight upturn of his mouth—and grab hold of something solid, baby. As the French would say, ooh-la-la .
    Marco and I had been seeing each other ever since he’d come to my rescue after a hit-and-run driver smashed my Vette a few months back. It was the beginning of a beautiful and, hopefully, permanent relationship—when we’re both ready for the permanent part. I seemed to be moving toward it faster than he was, although he was starting to show glimmers of promise.
    Marco wasn’t glimmering now. He had pulled up a stool and was studying me with an intense gaze, waiting for me to talk. I offered him popcorn, trying to raise his smile, but he shook his head. He wanted facts. He was in his PI persona. “Tell me what happened.”
    I took a bite of popcorn to appease the hunger monster, then launched into my story, which was starting to suffer from too many tellings. “All in all it was a horrible experience, Marco, a terribly gruesome sight, and I hope I never have to witness anything like it again. Professor Reed had his faults, but I certainly didn’t want to see him dead. And then to have Reilly treat me like a suspect, well, that was just over the top. Dave Hammond doesn’t think it will come to anything, but I can’t help worrying a little.”
    Marco didn’t bat an eye or make a sound. The only indication of his feelings was a tiny tic in his jaw muscle, and I knew exactly what it meant. “I know,” I said. “I should have taken your advice and left the college. But I had