“But she’s a—She’s still a—I demand a—”
“In that case,” Ward said, turning the man abruptly around and pointing him toward the door before releasing his collar, “you’d best run along back to your shop, sir. Otherwise, I’ll have to bring you in. Might take you a night in the Lower Eastside cooler to chill your head.”
Mr. Marlin shut his mouth so hard, his teeth threatened to crack. He stared first at Ward then at Luna then at Ward again, as though desperately trying to figure out which of them he hated most. Finally, he shook out his head, rolled his shoulders, and backed down the aisle, unaware of the tiger lilies taking swipes at his trousers as he passed by. “You’ll be sorry for this!” he declared. Reaching the door at last, he turned, staggered out onto the sidewalk, and the bells rang joyfully to signal his departure.
Ward turned his dimples full-blast on Luna. “Oh, Ward!” she gasped, sagging against the counter. “Ward, I . . . I don’t know what to . . .”
He tilted his hat back from his forehead, releasing that bobbing black curl of his. “Aw, it was nothing,” he said. “Littlerat like that you could have handled on your own. Just glad I happened to turn up when I did.”
“But what are doing here, Ward? I thought you were on assignment.”
He leaned an elbow on the counter and inclined his head toward her, grinning. “Did you miss me?”
“You weren’t gone long enough to miss!”
He pouted at this, his full lips working their darndest to earn their keep. “I think I’m insulted. Because I missed you all day. In fact, when I got word that plans had changed, and I’d be shipping out on Thursday instead, I promised myself, the minute my shift ended today, I’d try to make it to your flower shop before you got off work. Wanted to ask you out again. Thought for sure I’d miss you. Can’t say how glad I was to see the lights still on.”
“Yes, well.” Luna glanced uneasily around at the still-messy shop. “I had some cleanup still to do.”
“And old Grimm skipped out, leaving you to manage on your own?”
Luna’s brow tightened. “I’m perfectly capable of handling things.”
“No doubt.” Ward shrugged and shifted his weight to his other elbow. “But what’s say you give me a broom, let me help you out a bit, then we go get a bite of dinner.”
“Oh, Ward!” Luna looked down at her bedraggled self and shook her head, helplessly. “I’m not fit to go anywhere!”
He looked her over. “You do look rather, um,natural,as they say. Still cute as a button though.” Reaching over the counter, he plucked up her hand and held it rather firmly. Luna felt her whole body go very still and stiff in response. “Come on,” he said. “The place I’ve got in mind, you don’t need to be all glammed-up. You’ll fit in fine.”
Luna stared at the sight of her fingers held in that powerful grasp. “I’m not sure that speaks volumes for the quality of the place.”
Ward smirked. “Go find a comb. Do something with your hair. I’ll finish sweeping up. Just show me where to toss it all.”
Luna worried her lower lip. She wasn’t sure she felt up to another evening out with Ward, not after the day she’d just had. Then again, he had come to her rescue rather gallantly, hadn’t he? Surely she owed him a little something for that. And he would be leaving soon for who-knows how long anyway. “All right,” she said, laughing faintly. “I’ll just nip up to Mr. Grimm’s apartment and see if I can freshen up a little.”
“Sure. Borrow the old boy’s pomade.” Ward chuckled. Then, stretching out his hand to lay claim to the broom handle, he began sweeping rather too vigorously to be much use. Luna opened her mouth to correct him then shrugged. She’d already taken care of the worst of the mess, and she could always come in a bit early tomorrow to finish up before opening.
Only . . . not too early.
She didn’t want to be here when Bryony was leaving.
Grimacing against the sudden sickness in her gut, Luna hastened up the stairs. Shewouldhave a night out. And itwouldbe fun. And she wouldn’t think aboutanything.
By rights, Nigel figured, he ought, at the very least, to be enjoying the view.
The King’s Crown was certainly as glittering as he remembered under the shine of chandeliers on crystal and gilt-edged porcelain. Delectable aromas from the kitchen blended with a hundred different perfumes and colognes in a feast for the nose that rivaled even the aromatic atmosphere of The Arcane Bouquet. The band played with gentle reserve, creating romance out of thin air via the magic of strings and woodwinds and one very demure drum set.
But all these delights Nigel had experienced before. The new and far more interesting element was the woman sitting across from him.
And man alive, did she know how tosit.
Tonight, Bryony Braithwait had poured herself into a gown that was now doing the gods’ own work to contain her magnificent femininity. The color of the gown Nigel couldn’t say if pressed—gold, perhaps? It didn’t matter. Nor did the cut, the styling, or the adorning jewels. All these served but one purpose,which was to serve up the body thus clad. “Clad” being a very loose definition of the word.
It had been something of a shock when Nigel had helped her out of her fur wrap in the hotel foyer. It continued to be something of a shock now, as she leaned her elbows on the table, plumping up everything to an exaggerated degree as she addressed the waiter. This poor man, bless his heart, strove valiantly to keep his eyeline at a respectful level, but Nigel could swear he saw beads of sweat forming along his upper lip.
“I’ll have the lobster,” Bryony said, then bit prettily at a red nail as she flicked a glance Nigel’s way and caught himlooking.She grinned then returned her gaze to the waiter and purred. “And send dessert first, why don’t you? I’ve got me a real sweet tooth tonight.”
“Very good, miss,” the waiter said then, with no little degree of relief, turned to address himself to Nigel. “And for you, sir?”
