“So how does he kiss?” Pam asked.
Rachel bent down to relace her other shoe so they wouldn’t see the flush in her cheeks. “It was a very short kiss. I can’t really describe it.”
“Thumbs-up or thumbs-down?” Gina asked.
Rachel sat up, brushing her hair off her face. “Thumbs...up, I guess. It’s hard to remember after all the excitement with the ambulance and everything.”
Gina and Pam exchanged glances. “So maybe you should refresh your memory tonight,” Pam suggested. “I mean, it’s not every day a woman gets to kiss the mayor.”
“Let’s get real,” Gina said. “It’s not every day a woman gets to kiss a hunk like Drew Lavery.”
Rachel had no intention of kissing that particular hunk again. Especially when his kiss left her reeling. Drew’s brief peck on the lips had affected her more than the long, deep kisses she’d shared with Russell. She didn’t even want to imagine what would happen to her if he really kissed her. Full-fledged, mouth-to-mouth combat. Her stomach flip-flopped just thinking about it.
“Look, Drew may be handsome...” Rachel began.
“And smart and successful,” Gina added.
“And the hottest man to cross your path in years,” Pam declared.
“But his interest in me all boils down to one thing. He sees me as the competition. This boycott issue has become a contest to him. And he’s determined to win, no matter what it takes.”
Gina thoughtfully tapped one finger on her chin. “Let’s see, so far his strategy includes asking you out for a date and kissing you. I wonder what else is on his agenda?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Rachel said firmly. “Because I’m putting a stop to this nonsense. After tonight, Drew will realize I’m not going to change my mind about the boycott. Then he’ll leave me alone.”
“I think you’re underestimating yourself again,” Pam said. “The guy couldn’t even wait until your first date to kiss you.”
“Our only date,” Rachel amended. She had no intention of giving him any second chances. She might be solidly behind this boycott, but she wasn’t made of stone. And Drew seemed to know just how to break through her defenses.
Pam shook her head. “This boycott may have brought you together, but I’m willing to bet he’ll be disappointed if it keeps you apart.”
Rachel got up, grabbing her car keys off the credenza. It was almost eight o’clock. Time to give up hope that he was going to call and cancel. “Well, as far as I’m concerned, Drew Lavery will just have to get used to disappointment.”
RACHEL SLOWLY WALKED up the lighted walk that led to the two-story frame house. Boards creaked as she climbed the wooden steps of the wraparound porch, swept clean of snow. This place certainly didn’t look like a typical bachelor pad. It looked like a home straight out of a Norman Rockwell painting; with gingerbread trim around the eaves and leaded glass in the windows. From the street, she’d seen a pair of apple trees in the big backyard, surrounded by a sturdy white picket fence.
Rachel double-checked the address on the scrap of paper in her hand. Maybe she’d written it down wrong or Drew had inverted the numbers when they’d spoken on the phone last night. After all, the man did have a concussion.
She reached into her purse for her cell phone, then hesitated. Calling him from his front porch might seem odd. And if this wasn’t his front porch, she could just go home with the excuse that he’d given her the wrong address.
Buoyed by this optimistic thought, she reached up to knock on the door. Only it swung wide-open at that moment, leaving her fist flailing in thin air.
“Hello, Rachel.”
Her hopes fell as she gazed up into a pair of incredible blue eyes. “Oh. It’s you.”
He braced one hand against the door frame, his mouth crooked up in a half smile. “Try not to sound so disappointed.”
“I’m not disappointed,” she lied, as he ushered her into the house.
“I thought we could have a drink together before our mystery date,” he said, taking her coat and hanging it on an oak hall tree. “Something to take the chill off.”
“Sure,” Rachel said, noting how handsome he looked in a pair of tan Dockers and a light blue oxford shirt. At least he hadn’t made any disparaging comments about her sweatshirt. Although, after all they’d been through together, a few well-aimed insults might make her feel more comfortable.
“I’ll be right back,” he promised as he headed toward the kitchen.
“Take your time,” she called after him. Take all the time in the world. Unfortunately she knew he’d be back eventually. She really didn’t want to sit in front of his blazing fireplace, drinking cognac. It seemed too cozy. Too intimate. Especially since she wanted to get this date over with as soon as possible.
Previous experience had taught her the less time she spent with Drew, the better. Especially since their meetings always led to disaster. She shuddered to think what catastrophe lay ahead for them this evening. Maybe she should revise her plans and make their date at the nearest bomb shelter.
Drew returned to the living room holding two steaming mugs. “I hope you like hot apple cider.”
So much for cognac in front of the fire. Maybe she was making too much of this date. Maybe she’d made way too much of that kiss. Maybe neither one meant anything to him.
“Yes, thank you,” she said, as she took the cup out of his hands. Then she looked around his spacious living room, hoping some polite conversation might loosen her up. “This house is so unique. I wasn’t sure I had the right address. It seems like an old spinster lady should live here.”
He smiled. “Don’t let my mother hear you say that. She’s only fifty-five.”
“She lives here?” Rachel asked, noticing for the first time the light, feminine touches around the room. The gingham throw pillows. The scented candles. The blue satin garter belt on the floor in the corner.
“No, but she owns the house. She’s a Realtor and buys gems like these herself when they go on the market. I’m just leasing it from her.”
“Well, you’ve done a great job of decorating,” she said, stirring her cider with a cinnamon stick.
“Thanks, but I don’t deserve all the credit. Sheila did most of it. She’s an interior designer.”
“Sheila?”
“An old girlfriend.” He took a sip of apple cider. “She decorated all the rooms. Even took pictures to use in her portfolio.”
“I’m impressed,” Rachel said honestly, then noticed a framed photograph of the house at sunset, hanging on the far wall. “Wow, great picture. Did she take that one, too?”
Drew followed her gaze. “Carmen took that one. She’s a free-lance photographer.”
Rachel looked back at Drew. “Carmen?”
He cleared his throat. “Another old girlfriend.”
“Before, during, or after Sheila?” she asked, feeling a totally inappropriate prick of jealousy.
“After,” he said firmly. Then he picked up a red, heart-shaped box of candy off the coffee table. “Chocolate?”
Rachel smiled sweetly. “Thanks, but I gave it up for Valentine’s Day.”
He put down the box, shaking his head. “Rachel, this boycott is just plain nuts. You have to know that. I mean, you’re a therapist. Doesn’t boycotting an international holiday seem a little extreme?”
“Not when you live in Love, Michigan, where the citizens are almost mandated to participate in the celebration.”
“Mandated? That’s ridiculous. No one is forcing you to fall in love. If you’ll just listen to reason...”
She held up one hand to ward him off. “I’ve heard all your arguments, Drew, and you’ve heard mine. I really don’t want to debate the boycott again tonight.”
“But that’s the reason for our date.”
There. He’d said it. Rachel tried to ignore the rush of disappointment inside of her. She’d known from the beginning he just wanted to finesse his way into her life so he could dissuade her from the
boycott.
“Then I guess our date is over,” she said, her voice tight as she rose and headed for the door. “Good night, Drew.”
He grasped her arm. “Wait a minute, Rachel. That’s not what I meant. I just thought we might talk about the boycott, among other things.” His mouth turned up in a boyish smile. “I happen to enjoy debating with you.” He reached up to rub the back of his head. “Despite the danger.”
Remorse mingled with her irritation. “Drew, I am so sorry about...everything. The snowball...the trip to the hospital...the concussion.”
“It isn’t your fault I can’t stand the sight of blood.,” he replied, looking slightly abashed. “Especially my own.”
“I still feel responsible. I know there was only a tiny bit of blood. But when your eyes rolled back and you keeled over...”
“I get the picture,” he said wryly. “So did the newspaper. That’s why you have to go out with me tonight. Otherwise everyone will think I’m afraid of you.”
She smiled in spite of herself. Drew Lavery had a laid-back charm that appealed to her. Maybe a little too much. “All right. Are you ready?”
“Sure thing. Just let me hide the chocolates,” he said, picking up the box of candy. “If Missy sees them, she’ll devour every piece.”
Missy? Well, that explained the garter belt. Another girlfriend, but obviously a newer model. She supposed she should give him points for honesty, but she’d rather hit him with another snowball. “Is Missy here?” she asked coolly, wondering if his current girlfriend approved of their date.
He placed the chocolate box in a drawer. “Last time I saw her she was curled up in my bed, sound asleep. I can go get her...”
“No,” Rachel interjected, her cheeks warm as she envisioned another woman in Drew’s bed. “That’s not necessary. I don’t want to disturb her.”
He shrugged. “She sleeps all the time. I guess that’s what happens when you get fat and lazy.”
Rachel’s mouth dropped open in disbelief. Fat and lazy? How could he talk that way about his girlfriend? About any woman? She didn’t even want to imagine the words he used to describe her.
Drew smiled, unaware of her thoughts. “I should probably make her go on a diet again, but she’s pretty sneaky. If I don’t watch her, she digs food out of the garbage can.”
This was too much. She had to save Missy from an obviously abusive relationship. She’d never imagined Drew could be capable of such callous treatment. Which didn’t say much for her intuitive skills as a therapist. She’d actually been fantasizing about kissing him again.
“By the way, you look very nice in red.”
She looked down at her ratty sweatshirt. Flattery would get him nowhere. No wonder he went through girlfriends like paper towels. She had no intention of being the next disposable woman in his life.
She stood up. “I’ve changed my mind. I would like to meet Missy. Unless it will upset her.”
He looked puzzled for a moment, then shrugged. “I’ve had women here before and it doesn’t seem to bother her. She usually just ignores them.”
Women? Plural? Now his honesty sounded distinctly like bragging. He probably had notches in his bedpost. She took a deep breath. “Avoidance is one of the classic signs of a problem. Missy is probably in a depression.”
Drew looked perplexed. “I don’t think so. She always seems perfectly happy as long as I keep her warm and fed.”
“Happy? I seriously doubt it.” Rachel felt flushed from the combination of hot cider and indignation. Or maybe it was embarrassment that she’d been so wrong about this man. And so attracted to him.
He stood up, his expression wary. “Are you upset about something?”
How could he be so clueless? More importantly, how could a man this dense and uncaring be in charge of her city? “Yes, Drew. I’m upset about the way you’re treating Missy: She deserves respect and kindness. I’d like to talk to her and, hopefully, convince her to seek therapy.”
His grin surprised her. “I don’t think you understand...”
“Oh, I understand,” she snapped. “I’ve seen plenty of men like you in my practice. Handsome, charming, with an alluring sexual magnetism, who think they can treat women like their own personal toys.”
He looked surprised. “You think I’m sexy?”
She rolled her eyes. “Please. Spare me the innocent act. You need help, too, Drew, to curb this destructive behavior. Now I can suggest several therapists who specialize in—”
“Rachel.”
She paused, not surprised he’d interrupted her. Most people resisted any suggestion of therapy. “What?”
“Missy is my cat.”
His cat? Several long silent seconds passed while Rachel wondered if it was physically possible to sink through the floor. The fact that her intuition about him hadn’t been haywire did little to comfort her. Especially since Drew could barely conceal his amusement.
“Your cat?” she echoed, her face matching the color of her sweatshirt.
He nodded. “An old tabby I found in the cellar when I moved in. She sort of adopted me. But I can still bring her in for some therapy,” he said with a broad grin. “She’s always been a little neurotic.”
“But the garter belt,” she sputtered, pointing to the scrap of silk and lace in the corner.
“Her favorite toy,” he replied. “I was the lucky guy who caught it at my cousin’s wedding last month.”
“I seem to be making a habit of misunderstanding you,” she said. “First I thought you were impotent, then a playboy.”
“Well, if I had to choose between the two...” he began.
“I think I know which one you’d choose,” she replied. Even if Missy didn’t qualify as girlfriend material, Drew still fit the playboy mold. Her heart beat faster as he moved nearer to her, proving his undeniable appeal.
“Don’t you think it’s possible you’re misunderstanding me about this boycott issue, too?” he asked huskily. “I realize romance isn’t for everyone, but Valentine’s Day does have a real economic impact on this city. And there are people in Love who actually look forward to the celebration.”
She breathed in the scent of his spicy, seductive aftershave as she looked up into his intense blue eyes. A weaker woman might be swayed by his persuasive argument. Not to mention his broad shoulders and sexy smile. A weaker woman would forget she had people depending on her. That this boycott had some very sound reasons behind it.
She tipped up her chin, determined to resist his charms. “I thought we’d already agreed to disagree?”
He grinned. “You’ll soon learn that I don’t give up that easily.”
“Talk is cheap, Lavery. It’s time to take a stand. Are you ready?”
He looked suspicious. “Ready for what?”
Now it was her turn to smile. “For our mystery date.”
DREW HAD SPENT MORE TIME than he liked to admit fantasizing about his date with Rachel. His concussion had given him ample opportunity to lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling as he pictured them at a popular comedy club, or sharing popcorn at the movies, or dancing cheek-to-cheek at a local nightclub.
Maybe she planned on taking him to The Fireside, Love’s most lavish restaurant. Except she wouldn’t meet the dress code in that outfit. After she’d gone out of her way to emphasize how casual this date was going to be, he’d half expected her to show up wearing a burlap bag. But he liked her snug, form-fitting jeans. A lot. She looked incredibly cuddly in that old sweatshirt, too. And certainly not as unapproachable as she’d seemed in her office, dressed in an ultraprofessional gray silk suit.
Drew reached up to rub the back of his head as they rode toward downtown Love. He obviously hadn’t thought her unapproachable in the television station parking lot. According to the news report, he’d kissed her. Now if only he could remember it. Unfortunately the events surrounding the incident in the parking lot were still fuzzy.
He gave Rachel a sideways glance, desperately wishing he could
remember kissing those lush, pink lips. Did he kiss her like a friend or a lover? Did he hold her in his arms? Did he dare ask her to remind him?
Light jazz music drifted from the car’s stereo speakers. “So,” he said, “ready to give me a hint about our date?”
“No hints,” she replied, pulling up to a stoplight. “You agreed that I could pick the place. I’m afraid you’ll try to change my mind once you realize where we’re headed.”
As if he’d had any success changing her mind so far. She still seemed stubbornly adamant about the Valentine’s Day boycott. He wanted to wine and dine her. Make her realize a little romance never hurt anybody.
Send Me No Flowers Page 6