Assumed Identity(29)

He scratched at his short brown hair, as though replaying his morning errands in his head. “Yeah. They were having shipping issues with some of the hothouse flowers. Orchids and birds-of-paradise. That kind of stuff.”

Chloe piped up. “Ooh. Birds-of-paradise would be beautiful standing up on the altar, wouldn’t they, Paul?”

Robin averted her head in case she rolled her eyes. Hadn’t the woman just heard there was a shortage of that particular flower? And did she really think the exotic orange flower would look good with anything else she’d picked out today? Once she had her tongue and patience firmly in check, Robin turned to Chloe. “Don’t worry. There will be plenty of roses, I’m sure.”

“Yes, ma’am. There always is.” Leon had always happier driving the truck than interacting with customers in the shop. He shifted on his booted feet and tugged at his collar again. “Is that all, Ms. Carter? I need to get those arrangements delivered to the hospitals before closing time.”

“Sure, Leon. You run along. Oh.” She tugged on his sleeve to catch him before her left. “Tomorrow morning, bring the stock manifests to me. I’ll explain the change to Mark.”

His wiry shoulders lifted in an irritated sigh. “Yes, ma’am.”

When he left, Robin wished she could go with him because Brian was at her side again, reaching for her hand. “Is there anything I can do for you? Anything you need? You could stay a few days at the penthouse—let my staff wait on you so you can relax.”

“I prefer my own home, thanks.”

Chloe asked another question about the exotic flowers. Paul pulled out his cell phone and Robin considered pulling out her hair. But her patience was given a respite by the ringing of the telephone. She quickly turned to the back wall and picked up the receiver before the second ring. “Hello. Robin’s Nest Floral. This is Robin, may I help you?”

“Ms. Carter?” The deep tone was brusque, and she instantly knew this wasn’t a customer. “Spencer Montgomery here. Can you talk?”

“Sure, I... Just a second. I’d like to get to someplace more private.” She covered the mouthpiece and stuck her head through the swinging doors and shouted to the back rooms. “Mark? I need you up front.” Then she turned to the people demanding her attention. “Mark is my top designer, Chloe. He’ll finish taking your order.” The phone’s long cord followed behind her as she stretched up on tiptoe and kissed Brian’s cheek. “Thank you for stopping by. But this is an important call I need to take. I’m sure you understand.”

Although he didn’t look terribly pleased by the dismissal, Brian kissed her cheek in return. Robin idly noted that there was not one flicker of erotic heat at the skin to skin contact, unlike that dangerous almost-kiss that had happened between her and Lonergan last night. Maybe she’d dated too many tailored suits like Brian Elliott over the years, and that was why someone as coarse and earthy as her rescuer seemed so appealing. Then again, maybe Chloe wasn’t too far off in her “fairy tale” description of last night’s rescue, after all, and Robin was succumbing to a little adolescent hero worship.

“Take care,” said Brian, as coolly articulate and handsome as Lonergan was not. “Call if you need anything.”

“I will.” She placed the detective on hold and hurried down the hallway to her office.

En route, she ran into Mark Riggins, smoothing his store apron over his striped shirt and khakis. “What’s the emergency?” he asked. “Leon said you were upset with him.”

“I wasn’t upset.” Robin frowned, anxious to get to the phone, anxious to explain her suspicions to Mark, just...anxious. “I asked him a few questions. I wasn’t accusing anyone of anything.”

His dark eyes narrowed. “Accusing?”

Robin groaned with impatience. “I asked him about the stock and whether we’ve been getting all the supplies we’ve ordered. He said he’s been funneling all that through you and didn’t seem to know the details.”

Mark made a little protesting noise and propped his hands on his hips. “Leon is a sweet young man who excels at driving the van and doing manual labor. But he’s no brain surgeon. I asked him to turn over all the paperwork to me because he was making a mess of it. If you have a problem with that, then you need to talk to me.”

“Let’s make an appointment and do that. Right now I need to take a phone call from KCPD.”