Regardless, being late wasn’t an option, considering the strings Logan had pulled to get an appointment with the best, busiest, most expensive OB/GYN in the Denver area. She grabbed her coat, turned off her computer and went to his office. She knocked on his closed door.

No answer. She frowned. Maybe he was caught up in last-minute contract details for his latest score with the Brazilian government.

To hasten their departure, she decided to wait for him in the front lobby. As she neared the designer glass partition separating the lobby from the elevators, the heavy scent of gardenias nearly knocked her over backward.

She’d once loved gardenias. They were the single splurge Trevor had agreed to for their small chapel wedding. The gaudy smell reminded her of days when she’d adored big dreams, and men who made big promises. Trevor had tapped into sentimentality occasionally, surprising her with a bouquet of gardenias for their anniversary. Mostly, she’d received them the morning after Trevor had exhibited appalling behavior or descended into one of his violent tantrums. Like an over-worn perfume, the sticky-sweet scent no longer reduced her to a knee-weakened puddle.

When she rounded the oval-shaped front desk, she stopped short. She’d never seen so many flowers outside a greenhouse. At least a dozen vases sprouted with thick, fluffy blossoms.

One of the receptionists must’ve had a birthday or anniversary—or was being proposed to right there in the lobby. Allison hung back, taking a quick sweep of the scene. She didn’t want to interrupt the big moment.

The receptionists were cheerful and perky as usual, but neither wore the blushing look of a woman enchanted by an extravagant gift from a lover. When she didn’t see Logan in the lobby either, she paused to inquire about the white garden.

Lacie, the dark-haired receptionist in her early twenties, caught her eye and smiled. “Anything I can help you with, Miss Dupree?”

Allison gestured to the piles of flowers. “What’s the special occasion?”

Instead of launching into one of her rambling sagas, Lacie shrugged. “No idea.”

“All these are here for no reason?”

“I wish some handsome stranger would walk in off the street to bring me dozens of flowers, just because.” Lacie sighed wistfully. “There was no card, no message—not even a note to say who they were for.”

An eerie sensation prickled up Allison’s neck. The type of flower was merely coincidence, she told herself. It had nothing to do with her, no added meaning or hidden agenda. Just an accidental mix-up at the flower shop. “Did you try to return them? There could be a wedding missing its floral arrangements.”

“I didn’t want to,” Lacie admitted. She wrinkled her nose at the other receptionist. “Gloria made me.”

Gloria smacked her gum and rolled her eyes. “I thought the same thing as you, Allison. We called the shop. They said there was no mistake. The guy who ordered them paid cash and demanded anonymity.”

Lacie looked at them curiously. “Ana… What?”

Gloria gave a world-weary sigh. “He wanted to remain nameless. Said something about them being a memento of sorts, I guess.”

The edgy feeling returned with greater force, and this time, Allison couldn’t shake the shadow creeping over her. She looked over her shoulder. The lobby was bright and clean and filled with normal looking people. She exhaled with agitation, at herself and the worry stabbing her gut. “That’s all he said? A memento. Nothing about memories…or an anniversary?”

“Nope. Nothing.” Gloria popped her gum again, bored with the interrogation. She went back to answering calls.

Lacie wore a far-away look. “Aren’t romantic mysteries the best?” She swayed dreamily. “I’ve always imagined I had a secret admirer out there. He’d see me at the grocery store, or the coffee shop, or I walk past him on the street everyday at lunch hour. I always take the same route, just in case.” Her eyes gleamed. “It could happen, you know.”

By contrast, Allison had trained herself to never walk the same route twice. Never park in the same place. Not even use the same door when she entered and left a building.

Lacie rambled on. “He’s desperately in love with me, but I’m so far out of his league he hasn’t found the courage yet to talk to me, or ask me to marry him.”

Gloria stabbed the mute button. “Yeah, right, keep dreaming.”

“I will,” Lacie retorted.

Allison admitted a truth. “Obsession is not as romantic as it sounds, believe me.”

“Neither is a stalker,” Gloria muttered. “You want to answer your phone already, Cinderella?”

Allison cut in. “Lacie, have you seen Logan around?”

The girl snapped her fingers. “That’s right! I was supposed to tell you he’s waiting out front.”

Allison swallowed her frustration. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” Lacie chirped. She picked up the blinking phone line. “Thanks for calling Stone Security. How may I direct your call?”

Racing out the door, Allison wove through the pedestrian-packed sidewalk. She barreled through ankle-deep slush and nearly ran into Logan.

Gripping her elbows to steady her, he demanded, “Where have you been?”

“Waiting for you.”

He glowered. “Didn’t Lacie page you?”

“No, but I’m here now. Let’s go.” She glanced around. “Where’s your Escalade?”

“We’re taking a different mode of transportation.” He gestured to the glistening black limousine. Without waiting for the driver, he opened the door. “Ladies first.”

“Good grief, Logan. Are you serious? A limo?”

“We’re about to be late. Get in.”

She scooted across the warm leather bench seat. “Why the extravagance?”

He shut the door and brushed snowflakes off his trench coat. “I don’t know what’s involved. If you needed to take the rest of the day to relax, I’d have the limo drop you off at home. Then I’d go back to work, since I’ve got six blueprints to approve and a stack of agreements on my desk to sign.”

The gesture was thoughtful, but unnecessary. “I’m sure it’s not a big deal. Just a routine exam.”

He arched an eyebrow. “Nothing is routine when it comes to my kid.” He patted her thigh. “Just taking precautions.”

As they sped away, Logan glanced out the window as buildings zipped past. He sat forward, elbows on his knees. The toe of one shoe drummed impatiently. His thumbs tapped together in an anxious rhythm.