Free Confessions of the World's Oldest Shotgun Bride by Gail Hart Page B

stepped through the detector and swiped at the panties. “Get real.”
    Murph pulled the skimpy scrap of silk just out of Steve’s reach. “No, you’re not the type. These must be a war trophy. Souvenir of your big score.”
    Steve snatched the panties from Murph’s hand. “Just for five seconds, could you stop being an asshole?”
    An aggrieved look settled on Murph’s face. “What bug crawled up your butt? I didn’t get lucky all week. You spent the last two days in the sack, and you’re the one acting all pissy.”
    Steve ran a hand through his hair. “Sorry. I’m in a lousy mood. She blew me off, all right?”
    “What did you expect? This was a vacation hook-up, and the vacation’s over.”
    “Yeah, but I didn’t think we were done with each other. Especially since I found out she lives in D.C., on the Virginia side. But she shut me down cold.”
    “I gotta say, that’s a surprise. Women never blow you off. What’s her problem?”
    “She said I’m ‘unsuitable.’”
    Murph scowled. “That’s awfully snotty. Who the hell does she think she is?”
    “I’d guess she thinks she’s a hotshot business exec who could buy and sell my sorry ass ten times over, and I’m a tool.”
    “How are you going to change her mind?”
    Steve rolled his eyes. “You’re encouraging me to go for it?”
    “Nobody disses my wingman and gets away with it. What’s the ops plan?”
    “An all-out romance blitzkrieg.” And he had a secret weapon, because there were still several items left to explore on Katie’s To-Do List.

CHAPTER SIX
    A bell jangled as Steve pushed open the door of Joanne’s Flower Boutique and was hit by the cloying scent of the place. Operation Katie was officially underway.
    There weren’t any other customers in the shop—just the salesclerk, a college-age redhead. At the sound of the bell, she looked toward the door, and her bored expression perked up. Ignoring her, he walked to the refrigeration case along the back wall and began scoping out the roses.
    “How can I help you?” the redhead asked. Her tone suggested an answer that was illegal in several states. He felt a twinge of annoyance. That was the kind of guy he’d been—the kind women hit on even when he was buying flowers for another woman. And up to now, he’d probably have flirted back, accepted her phone number, maybe even called her for a date. No wonder Katie didn’t trust him.
    “I want to send three dozen roses to an office out by Dulles. I need to impress a special lady.”
    “Three dozen?” Her eyebrows rose, but at least she’d put a lid on the suggestive tone.
    He shoved his hands in his pockets and shrugged. “Like I said, she’s special.”
    “Hmmm...”
    He frowned. “What?”
    “That sounds a little over the top. Though don’t tell my boss I said so.”
    “Really? I don’t want to look like a dork, but I want to send her a message that I’m serious.”
    “Then go with two dozen. Guys usually send a dozen, so you’ll still be making a statement.”
    “Okay.”
    “I assume you want red?”
    “No. Red roses are a cliché, and this woman’s an original. Let’s go with yellow.”
    She shook her head. “Bad idea.”
    “Why?”
    “Yellow roses stand for friendship.”
    He looked at her in disbelief. “What, there’s a code to the color of roses?” Hell, he hadn’t realized buying flowers was so complicated.
    “Yes. Every color means something different.”
    “How do you women come up with this stuff? Okay, forget about yellow. What are my other choices?”
    “Red stands for true love, but you’ve already turned that down. And white stands for innocence, so you’d better skip that if you want to get lucky. Pink means thank you...”
    “That might work.”
    “Then there’s lavender which means love at first sight, and coral which stands for desire, and...”
    Desire; coral, like coral reefs—score! “Coral would be perfect.”
    “Two dozen coral roses it is then.”
    Crossing to the