Send Me No Flowers (4 page)

Rachel swallowed. She had the distinct feeling she wasn’t handling this as well as she’d hoped. “It can be very beneficial in cases like yours...”

“Hold it,” he interjected. “I came here to talk about you, Dr. Grant.”

The tone of his voice and the determination in his deep blue eyes persuaded Rachel that she’d been wrong. This man didn’t suffer from a lack of confidence. She had a nagging suspicion he didn’t suffer from impotency, either.

“I came to talk about this crazy notion of yours to boycott Valentine’s Day. You’ve already wreaked havoc with the parade.” He drew a deep breath. “Now I don’t know your motives, or how many people you’ve recruited, but I intend to put a stop to it. Consider this fair warning, Doctor.”

She blinked back her surprise.
How did he hear about the boycott?

“This is hardly the time or the place...”

“And just what kind of place are you running here? I’m half tempted to call the authorities and have you investigated!”

“Now wait just a minute.” She shot to her feet, her own temper igniting. “This is a perfectly reputable clinic.”

He moved toward her. “Reputable? How can it be reputable when it hires kooks like you?”

Her mouth fell open as he moved another step closer. She inhaled the brisk, clean scent of soap. Her knees grew weak as she glared up into those heavenly eyes. Her physical reaction to him annoyed her. Drew Lavery might be nice to look at, but he was one of the most exasperating men she’d ever met.

And he thought she was a kook.

“For your information, I’m a board-certified therapist. A thorough, compassionate, dedicated professional...”

The closet door crashed open, shaking the walls in the small office.

“Can I come out now, Dr. Grant?” cried Mr. Kasper. He stumbled from the closet, sweat pouring off his forehead. He looked up at Drew and did a double take. “Mayor Lavery? Well, this is a surprise.”

Rachel froze.
Mr. Kasper
. She’d forgotten all about him.

“Are you all right?” she asked, hurrying toward him.

He sagged against her desk, gasping for air. “It got pretty hot in there.” Then he grinned. “Sounds like it got pretty hot out here, too.”

She vigorously fanned him with a mental. health journal, mortified that she’d neglected one of her patients. “I can’t believe you stayed in there so long.”

“I think I’m cured,” he announced. “You were right about finding a distraction, Dr. Grant.” He rubbed his hands together. “Yes, indeedy. That makes all the difference in the world.”

She swallowed. “Mr. Kasper, you realize that anything you may have happened to overhear is strictly confidential. Mayor Lavery is a patient of mine....”

“I am
not
a patient,” Drew interjected, before she could explain any further.

Mr. Kasper mopped his forehead with a limp handkerchief. “So then the confidentiality rules don’t apply?”

She opened her mouth, but Drew answered “Of course not. I’ve never even met Dr. Grant before today. And this is the first time I’ve ever been in a therapist’s office.”

“Mayor, I don’t think—” she began.

“That’s clear, Dr. Grant.” Drew cut her off once again. “It seems to be a recurrent problem of yours.”

Mr. Kasper lifted his parka off the coatrack. “Well I’ve got to run. I can’t wait to tell Thelma the news.”

Rachel struggled to maintain her composure. “I’m sure your wife will be thrilled you’ve finally overcome your claustrophobia.”

Mr. Kasper grinned. “Yes, that, too.” He zipped up the parka as he headed for the door. Then he turned to Drew. “And don’t worry, Mayor, I’ll make certain the paper doesn’t print anything about...” He lowered his voice to a whisper.
“Your little problem
.”

After he left, Drew slowly turned to face her. “What paper? What exactly did he mean by that?”

She folded her arms across her chest, deriving a certain satisfaction from his stricken expression. “Mr. Kasper’s wife is Thelma Hunt Kasper, CEO of Hunt Media Productions. It’s the company that manages the Love Daily News and the local television station.”

He closed his eyes. “I don’t believe it.”

“I tried to warn you.” She experienced a twinge of remorse. “I’m sorry, Mayor. I completely forgot he was in there.”

His eyes flew open. “How could you possibly forget a man in your closet?”

Not certain of the answer herself, she shrugged. When Drew came into her office, all common sense seemed to have vanished. “I guess I was so focused on your impotency problem...”

“I really wish you’d stop saying that. I only have one problem, lady, and that’s you. Thanks to your patient-in-the-closet trick, this silly boycott of yours is going to be front page news.”

“This isn’t a silly boycott. It’s a public service. And I’m not the one who practically gave Mr. Kasper an invitation to publish our conversation.”

Drew set his jaw in a stubborn line. “But you’re the one who’s going to call him up and tell him the boycott is off. And I intend to stay right here until you do.”

“Then you’d better get comfortable, because I’m not calling anyone,” she said, just as determined to stand her ground. She knew she sounded stubborn, maybe even a little unreasonable. But Drew Lavery seemed to bring out the worst in her.

One thing was for certain. She didn’t want a Twinkie anymore.

“THEN SHE KICKED ME out of her office,” Drew said, as he handed Charlie a frosty bottle of beer. His tiger-striped cat lay stretched out on the seat of the recliner he bad just vacated. Gently lifting her up, he set her on the sofa. Miffed at the expulsion from her favorite spot, she jumped off the sofa and with a defiant flick of her tail, padded out of the living room.

“Was this before or after you called her a kook?” Charlie asked.

“After.” Drew sat down on the recliner; taking a deep swig of his beer. “And after she called me...impotent.” He shook his head in disbelief. “Can you believe it? Me!
Impotent!”

Drew’s mother stepped out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron. “Did you say something, dear?”

“Ah...no, Mom,” Drew replied. “Charlie and I were just talking about the game on Sunday.”

Kate Lavery nodded. “I’ve got fifty bucks on it, and I say the Pistons are going to murder them.” Then she smiled at Charlie. “I hope you can stay for supper, Charlie. I fixed plenty of Swedish meatballs.”

“It smells delicious, Mrs. Lavery. I’d love to stay.”

Charlie sighed after she moved back into the kitchen. “I wish my mother would come to my place three times a week and fix me supper. And dust. And vacuum. And do my laundry.”

“She doesn’t do my laundry,” Drew replied. “Besides, it makes her feel needed.”

“I suppose she has a lot of time on her hands since she divorced your stepfather.”

“Yeah, and now I’m all she has left.” His mother had remarried shortly after his father’s death seven years ago, saying she needed a man in her life. Instead she got a lousy marriage that had made her miserable.

Drew took another swig of his beer. “She’s made a killing in real estate and only goes into the office now a couple of days a week. She spends all her free time taking care of me.”

“Sounds perfect.”

Drew shook his head. “I’m worried about her. I wish she’d find some other interests.”

“I’m surprised she’s not nagging you about giving her some grandchildren.” Charlie grinned. “Hey, that’s an idea! Get married and have a few kids. That way, you can make your mom happy and squelch those ugly impotency rumors all at the same time.”

“Very funny,” Drew said, grimacing. “A wife is the last thing I need. I’ve got plans. Big plans. Besides, with my law practice and this stint as mayor, I’m already working seven days a week. And I like it that way. I don’t need any distractions.”

His father had been a workaholic, too. The only difference was Ted Lavery had tried to divide himself up between his work and his wife and his son. To Drew’s regret, they’d never had enough time together as a family. His most vivid childhood memory was sitting in the window seat, watching for his dad to come home. He’d fallen asleep there more times than he could remember. Drew didn’t want to do that to a child. He didn’t want to die of a stress-induced heart attack at fifty-two like his father, either.

“So you’re planning to stay a bachelor forever?” Charlie asked.

Drew shrugged. “Maybe I’ll tie the knot someday—when the exciting part of my life is over. Besides I’m too young to get married.”

“You’re thirty-four, same as me.”

“So why don’t you get married?”

“I will.” Charlie smiled. “Just as soon as I find a woman who cooks like your mother.”

“This is the nineties, Dennison. Women don’t have to do all the cooking and the cleaning anymore. It’s supposed to fifty-fifty.”

“Spoken like a man whose mother still irons his T-shirts.”

Drew tipped up his beer. It made his mom happy to iron his T-shirts. And he just wanted her to be happy. “We’re not supposed to be talking about my mother, we’re supposed to be talking about Rachel. We have to come up with a new strategy.”

“Rachel?”

Drew scowled. “I mean Dr. Grant.”

“So she’s really a knockout?”

Drew took another swig of his beer, remembering those big brown eyes, that golden hair and those long, long legs. “She’s...not what I expected.”

“Obviously. So it’s time for Operation Rachel. What’s the plan?”

“I don’t know. First we need some damage control. Did you see this morning’s newspaper?”

“No. Did I miss something?”

Drew shoved the paper under his nose. “Can you believe that headline? Mayor Attempts To Rise To The Occasion.”

Charlie whistled as he skimmed the article. “Sounds like she got the better of you, Mayor. She’s almost convinced
me
to boycott Valentine’s Day.”

“She may have won the battle but the war is far from over. I’ve got three weeks until Valentine’s Day. That’s plenty of time to convince her that this whole idea of a boycott is ridiculous.” He tipped his head back against the cushion. “All I have to do is get her to listen to me.”

“I’ll do what I can to help.” Charlie rubbed his chin. “But I don’t know, Lavery. I think you may have finally met your match. Care to make a little wager on it?”

Drew drained his beer. “Fifty bucks says I make Rachel back off the boycott by Valentine’s Day.”

“You’re on.”

“Supper’s on, too,” Kate announced, resting against the door frame. She held up her own copy of the morning newspaper. “And since I’m a wagering woman, I’ll put fifty bucks down, too...on Dr. Rachel Grant.”

THREE DAYS LATER, Gina lay stretched across the thick carpet in Rachel’s living room, her hands clasped behind her head as she stared up at the ceiling fan. “So you don’t think I could get away with a temporary insanity plea?”

Rachel sat cross-legged on the sofa, a stack of pamphlets on one side of her, a box of Mallomars on the other. She turned the page of the glossy pamphlet in her hand. “I think you should quit fantasizing about ways to kill your husband. It’s not healthy.”

“Maybe not, but it’s fun. Besides, Kurt cannot leave me for a stripper and get away with it.”

Rachel looked up from her reading. “I thought you said she was a lingerie model.”

“Whatever. He still has to pay.”

The phone rang on Rachel’s end table. She reached for a Mallomar, bit into its gooey center, then resumed reading. It rang once. Twice.

Gina sat up. “Aren’t you going to answer it?”

“Nope,” Rachel said, holding out the box of cookies to Gina. “Appetizer?”

Gina took three Mallomars as the phone rang a third time. “I can answer it for you.”

Rachel shook her head as she set the Mallomars back on the sofa cushion. “No need. The machine will pick it up.”

As if on cue, the answering machine next to the telephone clicked on. “
Hello, you’ve reached Dr. Grant. I’m not available right now, so please leave a message after the tone.
”

The tone sounded, followed by a deep, sexy voice that made Rachel’s pulses quicken.

Gina stared in bewilderment as Rachel remained on the sofa, pretending to be immersed in her reading.

Gina reached for another Mallomar. “You saw Drew Lavery last night?”

“Briefly,” she replied, grabbing another Mallomar herself. “He tried to sign up for my Women Who Love Too Much class at the community college. He’s been calling me five times a day, driving my receptionist crazy.” She chomped down on her Mallomar. Didn’t the man understand the meaning of the word
no?
“He even got ahold of my cell phone number.”

Gina smiled. “So why do I get the feeling you’re attracted to him?”

“No way,” Rachel said vehemently. “Drew Lavery is rude, overbearing and definitely not my type.”