Send Me No Flowers Page 5

  “Surprise,” he said, presenting her with the bouquet. Then his gaze flicked up somewhere above her eyebrows. “What happened to your hair?”

  DREW STOOD HOLDING the roses out to Rachel, feeling like an idiot. What happened to your hair? Smooth, Lavery. Very smooth. And on live television, too. Besides, her hair didn’t look that bad. It was a little poofy. And kind of flat on top. But he liked the way it made her appear taller. Statuesque. Even with that hair, Rachel Grant was a knockout.

  Too bad she was a kooky knockout An angry, kooky knockout, judging by the sparks in her big brown eyes. He never should have agreed to surprise her on the show. But when the station had called, asking if he’d like equal time to comment on this Valentine’s Day boycott, how could he refuse? Especially since the Chamber of Commerce had held an emergency meeting yesterday. The merchants of Love were worried about the economic repercussions if this boycott grew in popularity. And they all expected him to do something about it.

  Except they didn’t know Dr. Rachel Grant. So far, she’d thwarted his every attempt to discuss this boycott in a reasonable, rational manner. Even refused to return his telephone messages. Just to get her to listen to him, he’d had to resort to this surprise ambush of her on television.

  “These are for you,” he said, hoping she’d accept his conciliatory gesture. They’d gotten off to a rocky start. She’d believed he was impotent, and he’d believed she was a kook. He still thought she was a kook. But maybe just a misinformed kook.

  Candi squealed. “Oooh, just look at those beautiful roses!” She turned to the camera. “Courtesy of Fiorelli’s Florist at Ninth and Baltic. Fiorelli’s can make your Valentine’s Day a rosy one. Stop in and take advantage of their Sweetheart Specials.”

  Drew inched the bouquet closer to Rachel, feeling even more foolish when she folded her arms under her breasts and glared at him. How long did she expect him to stand here?

  “Don’t they make a cute couple?” Candi gushed, while the audience hooted and clapped. “Mayor Lavery, why don’t you tell us what Valentine’s Day means to you?”

  He cleared his throat, eager to take advantage of this opportunity. “Valentine’s Day is vital to our economic prosperity, Candi. Hundreds of couples come from all over the state to celebrate the most romantic day of the year in Love.”

  Candi whirled around to Rachel. “What do you have to say to that, Dr. Grant.”

  Rachel leveled her frosty gaze on Drew. “I’d say that Mayor Lavery sounds more interested in the city’s pocketbook than its citizens. A recent study shows that some holidays, especially Valentine’s Day, can trigger feelings of loneliness and depression in a significant percentage of the population.”

  Candi turned to Drew. “And your response, Mayor Lavery?”

  “We all know studies like that can be biased. But numbers are black-and-white. If we want our city to prosper, we can’t afford to give into a bogus boycott just to indulge some bleeding hearts.”

  “Bleeding hearts?” Rachel echoed, her voice rising. “I’ll have you know that the supporters of this boycott are tax-paying citizens who deserve to have their voices heard in this city. Especially when those taxes go to support an overblown Valentine’s Day budget that includes extravagant decorations and sponsoring a sexist beauty pageant.”

  Drew dropped the bouquet onto her empty chair, ready to do battle. “Listen, Rachel, that pageant is the highlight of the celebration. Little girls all over Love dream about becoming Miss Valentine.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I think you mean little boys dream about Miss Valentine, especially when she’s wearing a red-hot bikini. In the middle of February! And that includes all the little boys sitting on the judges panel.”

  The audience gasped. Everybody in Love knew that the mayor headed up the judges panel.

  Drew wondered when he’d lost control of this debate. If she wanted to fight dirty, he’d oblige her. “Jealousy is not a sound reason for a boycott. Not every woman can be Miss Valentine.”

  “Jealousy?” she sputtered. “I’m not jealous. The only thing those contestants get out of the pageant is hypothermia.”

  “That’s not true,” Drew countered. “The winner receives a gift certificate to Victoria’s Secret...among other things.” He cleared his throat. “Miss Valentine is also the grand marshall of the Cupid Parade. A parade your boycott is threatening to ruin. Float entries are down twenty-five percent this year.”

  “My boycott is about choices, Mayor,” Rachel declared. “If you have to strong-arm people to participate in your parade, maybe that’s a hint.”

  “What kind of hint?” he asked, edging closer to her.

  “A hint that Valentine’s Day is more popular with the city’s merchants than with its citizens. Maybe people are sick and tired of all the hoopla surrounding this holiday.”

  To Drew’s dismay, her remark provoked a spattering of applause from the studio audience. But before he could respond to her barb, Candi Conrad stepped between them as if she were a referee at a professional wrestling match.

  “The sparks are flying, folks, and Dr. Grant is holding her ground. Do you think a date with our handsome mayor will make her have a change of heart?”

  The audience responded with hoots and wolf whistles. Drew saw Rachel visibly pale at the prospect.

  “I don’t need a date,” she said firmly.

  Drew smiled at the camera, fearing their appearance on “A Look at Love” had done more harm than good. He had to hand it to Rachel, she’d actually defended this crazy boycott with style and substance. Unfortunately she still didn’t realize all the possible repercussions. He needed another opportunity to point them out to her. “Since I know Dr. Grant is both fair and open-minded, I’m sure she’ll agree to just one little date. Unless she’s afraid I’ll make her change her mind about the boycott.”

  Candi Conrad turned her megawatt smile on Rachel. “How about it, Dr. Grant? This is your chance to prove you’re not a man-hater. That this boycott isn’t some personal vendetta against romance. Do you accept Mayor Lavery’s proposal?”

  He realized Rachel found herself trapped in a very tight corner. But he was trapped, too. This Valentine’s Day boycott meant big trouble for the city’s economy. He knew he could prove that to her if they just had a chance to talk one-on-one. No studio audience. No patient eavesdropping in the closet. No overcaffeinated hostess.

  He wanted Rachel all to himself.

  The audience grew fidgety as the silence stretched between them. Drew held his breath as he awaited her answer.

  “It sounds like an offer I can’t refuse,” she said at last.

  He smiled, knowing by the gleam in her eye that the battle had just begun.

  “I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU ambushed me!” Rachel cried, as she strode across the snowpacked parking lot of the television station, trying to lengthen the distance between herself and her nemesis.

  His long strides easily caught up with her. “Look, I already apologized after the show. But I think you’re overreacting just a bit.”

  She whirled on him, her breath coming in fast puffs of white. “Overreacting? Just because you staged an attack on me on live television? Just because you coerced me into accepting a date with you? If you’re that desperate for a date, maybe you should consider an escort service.”

  “Hey, I don’t have any trouble finding a date,” Drew said, standing toe-to-toe with her. “And just for your information, I don’t have any of that other kind of trouble, either.”

  She arched a brow, perfectly aware of what he was referring to, but willing to play the dumb blonde just to see him squirm. “What other kind of trouble?”

  He tugged at his shirt collar and cleared his throat. “You know. That thing we talked about in your office.”

  He was squirming beautifully. A crowd gathered behind him, watching and listening to their heated conversation. She recognized the girl with the bleached blond hair and several other audience members. Rachel tapped her chin with one fin
ger. “Let’s see...what did we discuss in my office? I’m sorry, Drew, I just can’t remember. I’ll have to check your file.”

  “File?” he exclaimed. “You’d better not have a file on me. There’s nothing wrong with me.”

  “That’s what they all say.”

  He leaned closer to her, his body blocking the brisk north wind. “Well, you can believe me, Dr. Grant I’m not...you know...what you accused me of before.”

  “What? Of having an overinflated ego?”

  He shook his head in exasperation. “You never said that. You said that I’m impotent!”

  His words elicited several gasps from the crowd, followed by a snort of laughter. He glanced over his shoulder, suddenly aware they weren’t alone. Then he turned back to Rachel, his cheeks Bushed red from either cold or mortification. “Happy now?”

  “Revenge is sweet,” she replied. “And now that we’re even, I suggest we call a truce. Let’s forget about this ridiculous date and go our separate ways.”

  “No way. As you pointed out, we just made that date on live television. No matter how unpleasant it is for either of us, we have to go through with it now.”

  “Let’s not and say we did.”

  He shook his head. “I’m the mayor of this city. I can’t lie to my constituents. And believe me, Candi Conrad is going to want a follow-up story.”

  “Just my luck,” she said, shivering slightly from the cold. “An honest politician. Fine, I’ll go through with it.”

  “You’re enthusiasm overwhelms me. How does Saturday night sound?”

  “I’ll go out with you on one date. Only I choose where and when. Take it or leave it, Lavery.”

  He scowled. “I’ll take it. But our date had better be in this decade. And it better not be at an impotency support group meeting.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ve got something better in mind”

  “I hope so,” he said softly, moving closer to her until the buttons of his overcoat brushed the zipper of her parka. “Rachel, I want to apologize for ambushing you back on the show. I’d like to make it up to you.”

  She didn’t know quite how to react to a gentle, repentant Drew Lavery. “How?”

  “Like this,” he said, taking her in his arms before she had a chance to resist. He gently touched his lips to hers, just for an instant, but long enough for her to realize what a dangerous game they played.

  “You’re right,” he said huskily, his gaze fixed hungrily on her mouth. “Revenge is sweet.”

  Rachel’s cheeks flushed with mortification as she suddenly became aware of the wolf whistles and cheers. Someone in the crowd shouted, “Go for it, Mayor!”

  When Drew turned around to wave to his fans, Rachel realized she’d let him go too far. Submitting to that kiss had been a mistake. A big mistake. One she’d have to rectify as soon as possible.

  No time like the present.

  Drew didn’t see it coming until it was too late, when he turned back to Rachel at just the wrong moment.

  And got a snowball smack in the face.

  4

  Send me no flowers,

  my position is clear.

  So don’t call me sweetheart,

  honey, darling, or dear.

  RACHEL OPENED THE FRONT door of her apartment Saturday evening to find Gina and Pam standing out in the hallway. They looked excited and eager, like Girl Scouts ready to earn a merit badge. And she had the sinking feeling she was going to be their latest project.

  “Help has arrived,” Pam said, striding into the living room with a bulging bag in each hand. “The fashion police are here.”

  “And none too soon by the looks of it,” Gina said, walking in after her. “You’re not going to wear that on your date with the mayor, are you?”

  Rachel looked down at her red sweatshirt and blue denim jeans. “Why not? It’s clean.”

  Pam looked at Gina. “I told you she’d do everything possible to sabotage this wonderful opportunity. A date with the sexiest man in Love, and my sister is wearing a sweatshirt she bought at a garage sale five years ago.”

  “This is not a real date,” Rachel retorted. “Drew Lavery set me up and now he has to live with the consequences.”

  Gina winced. “You’re not going to hit him again, are you?”

  Rachel swallowed as she sat down in a wing chair. “I didn’t hit him. Well, all right, I did, but with a snowball. A nice, soft snowball. How was I to know he was a bleeder?”

  “You drew blood?” Pam asked in astonishment, setting the bags on the floor. “When? Where? How did this happen?”

  Gina plopped down on the sofa. “It happened after the show on Thursday. You can find all the gory details in yesterday’s newspaper under the headline Mayor Assaulted By Therapist.”

  “I didn’t assault him,” Rachel insisted. “I threw a snowball at him. Unfortunately he turned at just the wrong moment, so it hit him in the face. Then his nose started to bleed...” She threw her hands up in the air. “It barely bled at all.”

  Pam crinkled her brow. “That’s it? That hardly sounds like enough material for a newspaper story. Must have been a slow news day.”

  Rachel squirmed in her chair. “Well, that’s not exactly the whole story.” She cleared her throat. “It seems Drew is a little squeamish about blood.”

  “He passed out,” Gina announced. “And hit his head on the ice. Somebody called the paramedics and they took him away in the ambulance. The hospital called in a specialist, but after a couple of hours they determined he just had a slight concussion and released him.”

  Pam gazed at Rachel with an expression of horror on her face. “You gave him a concussion?”

  “Yes, I gave him a concussion,” Rachel exclaimed. “And I already feel awful about it. I didn’t mean to hit him in the face. Or draw blood. It all just sort of...”

  “Snowballed?” Gina concluded.

  Pam smothered a burst of laughter behind her hand. “Oh, Rach, this is awful. I can’t believe he still wants to go out with you.”

  “Me, neither,” Rachel muttered, remembering how awful it felt to see Drew, her victim, stretched out on a gurney in the emergency room, his handsome face so frighteningly pale. He hadn’t even opened his eyes when she’d apologized. But his lips had moved. She’d bent down to hear his weak whisper, hoping for forgiveness.

  Instead he’d whispered, “Saturday night at eight.”

  Barely conscious and still trying to tell her what to do. Still, Rachel did feel guilty about making him suffer. The least she could do was suffer through one date.

  Pam pulled a green dress out of one of the bags. “Lucky for you, I brought the perfect dress to make it up to him. Believe me, this little number will reveal enough skin to make him forget all your violent tendencies.”

  “I don’t look good in green,” Rachel said, bending down to relace her white Nikes.

  “Then how about my blue cocktail dress,” Gina suggested. “You look dynamite in blue.”

  Rachel scowled up at her. “You’re five inches shorter than me and two sizes smaller. I’d need the Jaws of Life to get myself in and out of that dress.”

  Gina grinned. “Maybe Drew can help you get out of it.”

  “If he’s still not too woozy from the concussion,” Pam added. “Of course, the right motivation may help speed up the healing process. You could be just what the doctor ordered.”

  “Hold it right there,” Rachel warned, straightening up before they could go any further. “I’ll say it one more time. This is not a real date. I don’t think Drew even likes me very much.”

  “Then why did he kiss you?” Gina asked.

  Pam’s eyes widened. “He kissed you? When? Where? Why didn’t you call and tell me all of this, Rachel? How come I’m out of the loop?”

  Rachel really didn’t want to talk about that kiss, but she knew her sister wouldn’t stop badgering her until she knew every last detail. “Because I’m trying to forget the whole ugly incident. And I figured you read abo
ut it in the newspaper like everybody else in this city.”

  “They reported the kiss in the newspaper story, too?” Pam asked.

  Gina nodded. “The reporter hypothesized that the kiss was the motive for the assault. According to all the witnesses, it happened shortly before she nailed him with the snowball.”

  “There were witnesses?” Pam asked. “He kissed you in public?”

  “Of course there were witnesses,” Rachel exclaimed. “That’s why he kissed me. For revenge.”

  Gina crinkled her brow. “Gee, Rach, I’ve become somewhat of an expert at revenge these days, and kissing isn’t exactly a weapon of choice.”