She punched the button on the intercom. “Yes, Jodie?”
“Dr. Grant, there is a woman here to see you. A Mrs. Lavery.”
“I don’t believe it,” Gina exclaimed, throwing the magazine down. “He’s married! What a jerk! I knew he was too good to be true.”
The Twinkies settled like a stone in the pit of her stomach. Mrs. Lavery? There had to be some mistake...
“She’s the mayor’s mother,” Jodie whispered over the intercom. “Shall I tell her you’re with a patient?”
Rachel turned to Gina. “Can you believe it? His mother. He actually sent his mother to do his dirty work.”
“You don’t know that for sure.”
“Can you think of another reason? I bet he sent her here as a spy, hoping to pump me for information. She’s probably wired.”
“Okay—now I think you are paranoid. You really think Drew would use his mother like that?”
Rachel closed her eyes, her head muddled from the events of the last few days. Her attraction to Drew completely baffled her. They had nothing in common. He was an uptight bureaucrat who only cared about the bottom line and she was a woman who dealt in emotions and followed her heart. So why couldn’t she stop thinking about him?
Then there was Russell. She still couldn’t believe he’d dropped into her life again. She hadn’t stopped eating Twinkies since his return. What did that mean?
“I don’t know what to think anymore,” Rachel muttered.
“At least you can find out why Drew’s mother is here to see you.”
Static crackled over the intercom. “Dr. Grant?”
Rachel checked her watch. Forty-five minutes until her Transitions support group meeting. Plenty of time to interrogate the enemy. Or rather, the enemy’s mother. She pressed the intercom button. “Please send Mrs. Lavery right in.”
Gina settled deeper into the chair. “I think I should stay, just in case it gets ugly. After all, she might be here to get back at you for beating up her son.”
“I didn’t beat him up. We had a snowball fight. And I won.”
“He ended up in the hospital!”
Rachel frowned at her. “He wasn’t unconscious that long. The paramedics probably overreacted. Besides, he’s fine now.” At least, she hoped he was fine. The concussion had given him a case of selective amnesia. Maybe another complication had set in. Maybe Mrs. Lavery wanted revenge.
Rachel held her breath as the door opened, half expecting an older, mirror image of Drew Lavery, but with breasts. Instead a petite woman with chestnut brown hair, kind blue eyes and faint lines etched in her face stepped into the office.
“Dr. Grant?” Kate Lavery asked, looking at Gina seated in the therapist’s chair.
Rachel hesitated just a moment, waiting to see if Drew’s mother went for Gina’s throat. Then she stepped forward. “I’m Rachel Grant.”
Kate grasped her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “How very nice to meet you, Dr. Grant. I’ve heard so much about you.”
“Please call me Rachel,” she told her, assuming it was the least she could do after sending her son to the hospital. She didn’t want to imagine what Drew had said about her. And then there were the newspaper articles and the television show.
“Rachel,” Kate echoed, letting the name roll off her tongue. “How lovely. I think one of the Detroit Lions fullbacks is married to a Rachel. I’ll have to check my book.”
Gina blinked up at her. “You have a book on the Detroit Lions football team?”
Kate sat down on the sofa. “I have several. They’re my favorite NFL team. I’ve even sold houses to a couple of the linebackers. Big, hulking men.” She smiled up at Rachel. “And so strong I think they could snap a leg in two like a toothpick.”
Rachel swallowed. Was that a veiled threat? Beat up my son again and I’ll send a linebacker after you?
Gina sat up straighter in her chair. “So do you follow all their games?”
Kate laughed. “Follow them? I’ve got season tickets. That’s the first thing I told my lawyer I wanted in the divorce. They’re great tickets, too. Right on the fifty-yard line.”
“You’re divorced?” Rachel asked, sitting down on the other end of the sofa. She suddenly realized how very little she knew about Drew. Only that he was the mayor, dead set against the boycott and a great kisser.
Kate nodded. “It got a little messy. My ex-husband sued me for joint custody.”
“Of Drew?” Rachel asked, wondering how old he’d been at the time. Or did he have younger brothers and sisters?
Kate laughed. “No, of the football tickets. He wanted each of us to take one, but he never really liked football. In the end, I prevailed.”
Gina dug into her purse. “Wow, I have to get the name of your lawyer.”
Rachel just wanted to know the reason behind Kate Lavery’s unexpected arrival in her office. She couldn’t help but like Drew’s cheerful, vivacious mother. But that didn’t mean she trusted her.
“My son is an excellent attorney,” Kate said, “but I don’t think he handles many divorce cases. Besides, he’d ask you where you got your referral. Then he’d find out I came here.”
“Why are you here, Mrs. Lavery?” Rachel asked, her curiosity finally overcoming her.
Kate smiled. “I want to join the boycott.”
CHARLIE STRODE into Drew’s living room, a brown leather briefcase swinging from one hand. “I brought those contracts you wanted to look over.” Then he tipped his nose in the air. “Is that your mother’s famous lasagna I smell?”
“No,” Drew replied, flipping on the overhead light. “It’s frozen pizza.”
“Isn’t Monday lasagna night? Your mom makes the best lasagna in the world. I didn’t agree to work overtime for frozen pizza,” Charlie said, sounding puzzled as he snapped open his briefcase.
Drew loosened the tie around his collar, his mouth watering at the thought of his mother’s lasagna. Maybe she was right. Maybe he’d gotten too used to having her around. He’d have to get out the directions to the dishwasher and figure out how to use it again.
“Does this mean your mom won’t be cooking dinner for us...I mean, for you tonight?”
Drew shook his head. “Not tonight or any other night. She’s joined some new group and told me she wouldn’t be able to spend as much time here.”
“She hasn’t joined some cult, has she?”
Drew laughed. “Of course not. She’s just not going to devote herself to me anymore. She’s finally decided to move on with her life, and frankly, I couldn’t be happier.”
Charlie flinched. “You mean...no more Swedish meatballs? No more cranberry salad? No more caramel nut cake?”
“She copied out all the recipes if you want to borrow them.”
Charlie shook his head in disbelief. “How can you be so cavalier about this? Your mother is abandoning us.”
“You don’t even live here. And Mom only came over here on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays.”
Charlie sighed. “The most nutritious nights of my week.”
A blood-curdling yell erupted somewhere above them. Charlie’s eyes widened as he looked up the staircase. “What the hell was that?”
“Russell,” Drew said, shuffling the contracts in his hands.
Charlie stared at him. “Who the hell is Russell?”
Before he could explain, Russell bounded down the stairs two steps at a time. He looked bedraggled and wild-eyed, his flannel shirt hanging out of his jeans. He skidded to a stop at the bottom of the stairs, hanging on to the banister for support.
“My Megaloblatta longipennis,” he exclaimed, his eyes wide with apprehension. “It’s gone.”
Drew looked up from the contracts. “Your what?”
“It’s the largest cockroach in the world,” Russell explained, pacing back and forth. “It’s from Japan and very rare. We have to call the police.”
Charlie immediately jumped up on the sofa. “A giant cockroach? Forget the police. Call an extermi
nator!”
Drew stifled a smile at Charlie’s reaction. His friend had an irrational fear of bugs. He’d quit the Boy Scouts just so he wouldn’t have to face insects in the wild. “Don’t worry, Dennison, they’re all dead.”
Charlie gulped. “You mean there’s more than one?”
Russell sank down onto the bottom step. “I have the most extensive cockroach collection in the country. The Megaloblatta longipennis was the crowning jewel, coveted by all my colleagues.” He stood up and headed toward the telephone. “One of them probably stole it. Just another case of entomologist envy. I’m calling the cops.”
“Wait a minute, Russ,” Drew said, another news headline flashing before his eyes: Mayor’s House Full of Cockroaches. “Are you sure you didn’t lose it somewhere?”
Russell rifled his hand through his blond hair. “Of course not. I always keep it in the special locked case with the rest of the collection. I left it open last night and now the Megaloblatta is gone.”
Missy the cat suddenly scampered around the corner, tossing a suspicious, brown object in the air with her paw.
Russell looked on in horror. “My Megaloblatta!” He caught it in midair, then checked it for damage. Then he breathed a long sigh of relief. “Miraculously it seems to be in good condition.”
Drew wished he could say the same about Charlie, who looked more than a little green around the gills. He turned to Russell. “Maybe you’d better take it back upstairs and put it away. You can lock the case in your bedroom closet for safekeeping. Just don’t lose the key.”
“I’ll guard it with my life,” Russell said, cradling the dead bug in his hands as he ascended the staircase.
Charlie sank down onto the sofa. “Who is that guy? Don’t tell me he’s a friend of yours.”
“Not exactly. He’s Russell Baker, a soon-to-be famous entomologist and Rachel’s fiancé.”
“Rachel? Your Rachel?”
“She’s not my Rachel,” Drew said, even though that’s exactly how he’d been thinking of her. Especially after Russell had arrived and tried to stake his claim.
“Of course she isn’t,” Charlie affirmed. “But I can’t believe that guy is her fiancé.”
“I think ex-fiancé is more accurate.” Drew had spent enough time with Russell Baker to know for certain this man was all wrong for Rachel. “He abandoned her a year ago, on Valentine’s Day.”
Charlie nodded. “So that explains it.”
“Now he’s back with some cockamamy story, claiming he’s madly in love with her. He even planned on moving in with her.” Drew shook his head. “Can you believe the nerve of that guy? But before she could turn him down, I offered him a place here. I thought it might be a good way to keep tabs on the competition.”
“By competition, do you mean Russell or Rachel?”
“Rachel, of course,” Drew replied. “Stopping this boycott is my top priority.”
Charlie eyed him shrewdly. “I hope you remember that, Drew. Especially since you plan to campaign for state attorney general in the next election.” He shook his head. “Rachel and her radical ideas would make her poison as a politician’s wife.”
“Wife?” Drew sputtered, trying to ignore the images it brought to mind. Rachel Grant sharing his name, his house, his bed. He ran a finger around his shirt collar. “Who said anything about a wife? I’m not looking for a wife, remember? I’ve already got my hands full.” His memory, now crystal clear, envisioned his hands full of Rachel last night. How warm and soft and tempting she’d been when he’d kissed her. How he’d never wanted to let her go.
“That’s good,” Charlie said. “Especially since you don’t seem to have much influence with her.” He straightened his tie. “Maybe I should give it a try. I’ve been known to distract a few women in my time.”
“Forget it, Dennison,” Drew snapped. “Rachel Grant is off-limits. We have a bet, remember? Fifty bucks says I convince her to drop the boycott by Valentine’s Day. I still have one week left.”
Charlie hitched a thumb toward the ceiling. “The question is, can you stand to live with Russell and his cockroach collection for that long?”
“I’ll do whatever it takes,” Drew said grimly.
“Wait just a minute.” A smile slowly dawned on Charlie’s face. “This is wonderful. You’ve just found yourself the perfect weapon, Lavery.”
“Weapon?”
“The bug man. If Rachel falls in love with him again, what happens?”
“She’s kookier than I thought?”
“No,” Charlie exclaimed in a low voice. “If she falls head-over-heels for Russell, she’ll be too wrapped up in romance to bother with the boycott. In fact, she’ll probably be the first in line to celebrate Valentine’s Day.”
As much as he hated to admit it, Charlie’s idea made sense. “I don’t know. He doesn’t seem like her type.”
Charlie shrugged. “Hey, she fell for him once before. She was even engaged to the guy. There must be some sparks left. Now you just have to find a way to ignite them.”
Drew’s jaw dropped. “Me? I’m no matchmaker.”
“But you know women. Just give good old Russ some pointers. You know, teach him a few of your old tricks. C’mon, Lavery it’s for a good cause.”
“I’ll have to think about it,” Drew said, resisting the idea of fixing Rachel up with another man. Especially since even the thought of her kissing another man made his gut clench. But Russell certainly had more to offer her than Drew. Love. Marriage. A world-famous cockroach collection.
Charlie shrugged. “You can always just pay me the fifty bucks from our bet now. Because unless you’ve got a better idea, this boycott is going to derail Valentine’s Day in Love.”
One week. One week to play Cupid for Rachel and Russell. The thought made him cringe. But what choice did he have if he wanted to stop the boycott?
The oven timer dinged, providing a welcome distraction. “Supper’s on. I’ve got enough if you want to stay.”
Charlie sighed. “Frozen pizza. I guess I can choke it down if you’ve got plenty of beer to go with it. Do you mind if I turn on the game? The Detroit Pistons are playing the Bulls tonight.”
“Sure, go ahead,” Drew said, heading for the kitchen. “And tell Russell it’s time to eat.”
By the time he came back from the kitchen with pizza and beer and paper plates, Russell was seated in his favorite recliner. Charlie still sat on the sofa, the remote control in his hand, an expression of horror frozen on his face.
“The Bulls must be winning,” Drew concluded, setting down the beer.
“It’s worse than that,” Charlie said. “Look.”
Drew turned his gaze to the television set. He recognized the face of television reporter Candi Conrad beaming at the camera, a raucous crowd gathering behind her. “This is a special newsbreak brought to you by WKLV in Love, Michigan. A protest rally has begun here at the Cupid Fountain in downtown Love...”
“Hey, there’s Rachel,” Russell exclaimed, pointing toward the television set. “Wow, she looks great! And get a load of that crazy woman climbing on top of the Cupid statue.”
“What the hell is going on?” Drew muttered as he took a better look. Then he dropped the pizza. “That’s my mom!”
7
Send me no flowers,
buy me no ring.
I’ll be perfectly happy
just having a fling.
BY THE TIME HE ARRIVED downtown, Drew knew what he had to do. He fought his way through the crowd until he reached the epicenter of the rally. That’s where he found Rachel.
She stood on a platform in front of the fountain, her cheeks a rosy red from the cold and her big brown eyes sparkling with excitement. Her silky blond hair was pulled back by oversize furry black earmuffs. Her long, black leather coat was cinched at the waist and her black boots came up to her knees. She clutched a bullhorn with a bulky red mitten, reciting her top ten reasons to boycott Valentine’s Day.
“Reason number
seven,” she shouted to the enthusiastic crowd gathered around her, “those sappy love songs on the radio.”
The crowd whooped and hollered, some waving signs with the anti-Valentine’s logo emblazoned on them. A newspaper photographer jostled his way through the crowd, gleefully snapping pictures.
“Number eight,” she called out, “red hearts on underwear—need I say more?”
“Call the fashion police!” shrieked one of the protesters.
Drew didn’t see his mother anywhere. At least she wasn’t still straddling the statue. He couldn’t take another minute of this nonsense. “I need to talk to you,” he yelled over the noise of the crowd, waving his arms to get Rachel’s attention.
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