A Rose From the Dead Read Free

if I walked around punching out morticians, even young ones who thought they were crafty stud muffins?
    “Fine. I’ll let them go for now, but if they pull anything else, they’re going to find out Abby Knight is a force to be reckoned with. I may be small, but I’m mighty.” I flexed a bicep, which, I might add, was looking pretty hot. Chalk that up to toting heavy bags of potting soil from the depths of Bloomers’s basement to the first-floor workroom.
    Ignoring my demonstration, Marco made a visual sweep of my five-foot-two body, as if to remind me that I wouldn’t be much of a threat to two full-grown, testosterone-charged young males. “Don’t worry about the Urbans. I’ll take care of them.”
    It was my turn to grab his arm. “Not so fast, Rambo. Legally, you’re here as my agent. What you do affects my liability. So, touché. You can’t do anything, either.”
    “Agent? Is that a new term for pack mule?”
    “Pack mule. Ha. All you did is carry in three floral arrangements and help Max and Delilah put together the portable walls of our booth. Stop complaining.”
    He finally relaxed, put an arm around my shoulders, and bent his head close to my ear to murmur in his husky low voice, “You’re foxy when you’re stubborn.”
    All it took was the brush of his lips against my earlobe to send flutters of excitement all the way to my toes. “Want to come to my den this evening?” I murmured back.
    “You have a banquet this evening.”
    Double rats. In the heat of the moment, I’d forgotten. “Actually, we have a banquet. You’re my date, don’t forget. And don’t roll your eyes. I know you hate to put on a jacket and tie, but Delilah said the food is fantastic. It’ll be over by eight o’clock anyway.”
    “Have you ever known a banquet to be over in an hour?”
    “No. But honestly, Marco, take a look at the people around us. What do you see? Morticians. Is there any group deadly duller than a bunch of morticians?”
    “Deadly duller? Were you trying to make a pun?”
    “I was trying to say that I can’t imagine there being any fun and games with this crowd. Think about it. They work with dead people. On the whole, they’re a serious bunch—except for Thing One and Thing Two, who are aberrations.”
    Marco turned me around to see a man wearing a big sandwich board that read, CASKET RACES , SUNDAY , 2:00 P.M . EAST PARKING LOT . Beneath the print was a picture of a long pine box on wheels, with racing stripes down the sides. A morticians’ soapbox derby?
    The man turned to display the back of his board: POST-BANQUET VAMPIRE VIP PARTY TONIGHT . DRACULA DRESS REQUIRED . BLOODY MARYS AT MIDNIGHT .
    “What were you saying about a serious bunch?” Marco drawled.
    “I take it all back. But you’ll still come with me to the banquet, won’t you?”
    He scratched behind his ear. “There’s a hitch.”
    I groaned.
    “Gina wants me to have dinner with her and Mom tonight to decide on her baby shower plans.”
    “Why didn’t you tell me a month ago, when I accepted Max and Delilah’s invitation?”
    “She called me this morning.”
    “I asked before she did.”
    “You can eat with Max and Delilah.”
    “And Gina can eat with your mom, her husband, and your nephew. That’s three to two in her favor.”
    “It’s a tie. Gina’s husband is away on business.”
    “I don’t get it. Your mother has already decided on the menu for the shower. I’m providing the flowers, my mother made the favors, and you donated the use of your bar. There’s nothing left to plan.”
    “She needs me to run interference. You remember how it is with those two.”
    Fat chance. I’d been with the two Salvare women exactly once, when Marco’s mom invited me for her lasagna dinner and kept refilling my wineglass until I couldn’t remember my own telephone number. Marco had later explained that she’d been testing my alcohol tolerance. The higher the tolerance, the less she’d like me. It had been one of