Send Me No Flowers (11 page)

DREW DIDN’T KNOW which bothered him more: the way this character sashayed into the apartment as if he lived here, or the way Rachel let him. She looked incredibly pale, except for her lips, still red and swollen from his kisses.

Drew’s body still pounded and his head still swam with fantasies fueled by their embrace, but Rachel acted as if he’d become the invisible man. She only had eyes for...Russell.

So who the hell was Russell?

The visitor dropped his knapsack, sweeping Rachel up in his arms and whirling her around in a big bear hug. “You look wonderful, Lovebug.”

A swift and totally unexpected jab of jealousy sucker-punched Drew in the gut. He barely resisted the overwhelming urge to grab this clown by the scruff of his neck and toss him out in the street.

Probably not the most diplomatic way for the mayor of Love to welcome a newcomer to town, but he wasn’t feeling particularly diplomatic. Especially since this guy looked as if he’d just come in on the last train. His thick blond hair, though neatly combed, hung almost to his shoulders. A heavy growth of golden whiskers covered his square jaw. He wore faded blue jeans and a wrinkled Grateful Dead T-shirt under a weathered pea jacket. Only his shoes looked as if they didn’t come from a thrift shop: a brand-new pair of hiking boots.

But Rachel didn’t seem to notice his disreputable appearance. She just kept staring at him in disbelief, as if he’d just come back from the dead. At last she found her voice. “Russell, what on earth are you doing here?”

Drew folded his arms across his chest, patiently awaiting the answer to that excellent question.

Russell grinned. “I couldn’t wait to see you, Lovebug. So I just came here straight from the bus station. I visited your folks in Florida, and they gave me your new address.” He looked around the apartment, nodding his approval. “Great place. Got anything to drink?”

She seemed to shake herself out of her daze. “Oh...sure. I’ve got some grape juice...”

“Hey,” Russell said, his eyes alighting on the wine bottle on the coffee table. “This is perfect. I haven’t had Merlot in months.” He looked up at Rachel, his eyes glittering. “And now I get to share my first glass with you.”

Despite the fact that they both seemed to have forgotten his existence, Drew had no intention of making a discreet exit. He moved to the sofa, deftly throwing the worn knapsack onto the floor, and settled in for a long stay. “I’ll have another glass of wine, too,” he announced. “Can I get you one, Rachel?”

She tore her gaze from Russell and blinked at Drew. He had the distinct feeling she’d forgotten his name.

“What?” she asked, then shook her head. “Oh, the wine. No, I still feel a little light-headed from that last glass.” She stumbled backward to the recliner and sat down.

Russell seated himself on the floor, his elbows resting on his bent knees. “Looks like I’ve interrupted a party.”

Rachel motioned toward the sofa. “This is Drew Lavery. He’s my...”

“Date.” Drew finished the introduction for her, wanting Russell to know exactly where he stood in the pecking order.

Russell cocked a brow. “Really? That surprises me. You don’t strike me as Rachel’s type.”

“And who exactly are you?” Drew asked.

Rachel cleared her throat. “This is Russell Baker. He’s my...”

“Fiancé,” Russell concluded, with a cocky grin.

Drew turned to Rachel. “You’re engaged?”

“Yes. No. Well...I suppose, technically, we’re sort of engaged.”

Drew’s jaw clenched, his voice sounding harsher than he intended. “Rachel, there’s no such thing as
sort of
engaged. Either you’re engaged or you’re not.”

Rachel tipped up her chin. “We
aren’t
engaged,” she said in a firmer voice. “Not anymore.”

“But, Lovebug...” Russell began.

She turned to him. “And how dare you waltz into my apartment one year after you waltzed out, without a word or a letter or even a telephone call!”

“I can explain.”

Drew sat back, ready to enjoy the show. He knew from personal experience that nobody could do battle like Rachel Grant.

“Explain?” she repeated, her brown eyes snapping. “How do you explain practically abandoning me at the altar? We were supposed to get married last February. Until you pulled your disappearing act.”

“Just hear me out, Lovebug,” Russell said.

Drew’s hand curled into a fist. If he called her that stupid pet name one more time...

“All right,” she said, settling into the chair, a becoming flush on her cheeks. “Let’s hear it.”

Russell drained his wineglass, then poured himself another. He cleared his throat twice, then sighed as he stared up at the ceiling. Drew half expected him to pull a violin out of his knapsack to accompany his sob story.

“Let me take you back to last February,” Russell began, “so you can be inside my head.”

That was the last place Drew wanted to be, but Rachel actually looked intrigued. He supposed that was the therapist in her. Which made him wonder if this Russell knew just what buttons to push.

“I didn’t have any doubts about our marrying until I was awarded that grant from the entomology department. Suddenly I had enough money for my dream trip to Africa to study the dung beetle.” Russell took a deep sip of wine. “Only how could I ask you to give up your career and come with me? You had your own career and patients that depended on you. And I couldn’t imagine spending our honeymoon apart. Especially since I’d be gone for months.”

“So you chose the dung beetle over me,” Rachel said softly.

“I needed to find myself,” Russell explained. “I didn’t know what I wanted anymore. I wasn’t sure I was ready for marriage. And I loved you too much to pretend.”

Drew rolled his eyes, but Rachel seemed spellbound. She pulled her long legs up against her chest, wrapping her arms around them and resting her chin on her knees.

Russell sighed. “But instead of finding myself, I got lost.”

“You mean emotionally lost?” Rachel asked.

Russell shook his head. “No, I mean actually lost. One of the guides took me into the bush on a beetle safari. But it started to rain, a monsoon, actually, and the Jeep got stuck in the mud. While the guide went to get help, I went to find shelter. My colleagues finally found me six months later living with a village of natives.”

“That’s incredible,” Rachel said, exhaling.

Drew found it preposterous. This so-called story sounded more like a pile of...dung. But Rachel actually looked as if she believed him. Or wanted to believe him.

Russell nodded. “I know. But you can check it out with Professor Simmons from the university. They were all ready to give me up for dead when they came upon me in that village three weeks ago.”

“Lucky for us,” Drew said dryly.

“Getting lost in the bush was the best thing that ever happened to me,” Russell said, gazing into Rachel’s eyes. “Not only did I discover a rare new species of African dung beetle, but I discovered I loved you, Rachel. Truly and deeply. And now the most important thing to me is spending the rest of my life making you happy.”

She twisted her hands in her lap. “This is all so...unexpected. I don’t know what to say.”

“Don’t say anything. Yet.” Russell got to his feet, picking up his knapsack. Then he looked at Drew, hitching his eyebrows toward the door. Sending him a silent message to get lost himself.

Drew just smiled as he settled deeper into the sofa. He wasn’t planning on going anywhere.

Russell gave up and turned back to Rachel. He pulled a small velvet box out of his knapsack. “This is for you,” he said, handing it to her.

She held it in her hands, looking uncertain. “Gee, Russell, you shouldn’t have.”

“Open it,” he prodded.

Drew set his jaw, wondering if Russell dressed like a drifter because he’d spent all his cash on a three-carat diamond ring. Or some exquisite emerald from an African mine. He carefully watched Rachel’s expression as she opened the lid. If she smiled and squealed at the sight of some gaudy ring, then Drew was out the door.

But instead of joy, her face reflected puzzlement.

Rachel looked up at Russell. “It’s a bug.”

He bent down in front of her. “I know. The rare dung beetle I discovered near that village. Unknown until now, it’s destined to make me famous among entomologists all over the world.”

She stared down at the dead black bug in the red velvet box. “That’s...wonderful, Russell.”

“But you haven’t even heard the best part,” he exclaimed.

“You’re going back to Africa?” Drew ventured.

Russell scowled at him, then turned back to Rachel. “No. The best part is that I named it for you. You’re looking at the
Rachelona cyanella.”

Her eyes widened as she stared at the beetle. “Gee...I don’t know what to say.”

Russell moved closer to her, grasping her free hand in both of his. “Say you’ll take me back, Rachel. Please let me prove to you how much I really love you.”

When his chest began aching, Drew realized he was holding his breath waiting for her answer. On the one hand, he thought Rachel much too sensible to fall for this guy’s lame excuses. On the other hand, he knew plenty of women who fell for goofy intellectuals like the bug doctor.

Russell took the velvet box from her, carefully closing it, then setting it on an end table. “Don’t say anything yet. I know this is all a shock to you. I probably should have called you as soon as I got back to civilization. But I wrote you a letter every day I spent in that village.” He pulled a stack of ivory envelopes tied with a pink silk ribbon from his knapsack.

“They have hotel stationery in the bush?” Drew asked, not bothering to hide his skepticism.

“I wrote it on tree bark, then transcribed it onto paper later.” He pushed the envelopes into her lap. “You can read these, then give me your answer. We’ll have plenty of time to get reacquainted now that I’m back.”

“Where are you staying?” Rachel asked.

Russell put on a little boy lost expression he’d obviously perfected wandering around in Africa. “I spent my last dime on a first-class ticket back to the States. I couldn’t wait to be with you again. But since I won’t start teaching back at the university until the summer session, I was hoping you’d let me camp out here.”

“Here?” Rachel and Drew said at the same time.

“I travel light,” he said, motioning to his knapsack. “I’ve learned to relinquish material things for what’s really important, like love and friendship. I just want to fill my life and my heart with you.”

Drew thought he might be sick. What did this guy do, memorize Hallmark cards in his spare time?

Rachel nibbled her lower lip. “But this apartment only has one bedroom.”

Russell grinned. “Sounds perfect to me.”

It sounded a little too cozy to Drew. It also made him want to wipe that smile off Russell’s face. Preferably with his fist. But what right did he have to interfere with their relationship? Despite that soul-searing kiss, he didn’t have any claim on Rachel.

Although he still needed to convince her to drop the boycott. That was the prime objective of this date. A date that wasn’t going exactly as he planned.

He looked from Rachel to her love-struck fiancé as a new strategy formed in his mind. He didn’t like it. In fact, he almost considered declaring her the winner in their endless Valentine’s Day debate just so he could avoid going to this extreme. But that meant throwing in the towel, and Drew never quit competing until the last play of the game. Now he just needed to alter his game plan. He needed more time. More access to Rachel. He needed a reason to keep her in his life.

He needed...a roommate.

Or maybe a bug zapper. A gift that kept on giving.

Gina sat in the armchair, thumbing through a mercenary magazine in her search for the perfect hit man. “Paranoid? Just because your date asked your fiancé to move in? Of course not.”

“My ex-fiancé,” Rachel amended. “Although, I never gave him the ring back.”

“How could you? He left the continent.”

“Exactly. So we never officially broke it off.” She rested her arms behind her head. “Isn’t there some sort of statute of limitations on disappearing fiancés?” Gina shrugged. “According to my research, a missing person can be legally declared dead after seven years. But I don’t know about missing fiancés. Do you want me to look into it?”