Send Me No Flowers (17 page)

A tap on her shoulder made her jump. She turned around to see Gina smiling at her.

Rachel breathed a sigh of relief. “Where have you been?”

Gina flipped her dark hair over one shoulder. “Flirting with a security guard. I’m a little rusty, but I still haven’t lost my touch.”

Rachel rolled her eyes. “You can flirt later, we’ve got beauty contestants to convert.”

“Not a chance, Sister Rachel. According to Red, they’re off-limits to commoners like us.”

“Who’s Red?”

“The two-hundred-and-fifty-pound security guard standing outside the dressing room door. And believe me, he’s a pussycat compared to the hellcat pageant coordinator. Her name is Maxine, and she’s all claws. Nobody but Miss Valentine wannabes can enter her lair.”

Rachel slumped against the wall. “This is just great. Our plan hinges on convincing the women that the Miss Valentine pageant should be more than a girlie show. Now what will we do?”

“We’re going undercover.”

“Please tell me you’re joking.”

“It’s no joke. Wait until you see the disguise.” She pulled two small scraps of red Lycra out of the bag and handed them to Rachel.

“A bikini?” She held it up. “I have freckles bigger than this thing.”

“Hey, these bikinis are our ticket into the dressing room. Once we have access to the contestants, we can instigate the mutiny.”

“If we don’t die of pneumonia first.” Rachel dropped the bikini back into the bag. “Why didn’t you warn me about this before I went on my Twinkie binge?”

Gina shrugged. “So we’ve both got a few more bulges than we did ten years ago. It will be good for these young girls to see what happens to a woman’s body as she gets older.”

“Thanks. That’s making me feel so much better,” Rachel said, pushing her toward the dressing room door.

BY THE TIME RACHEL HAD wedged herself into the bikini, her mood hadn’t improved. Especially when she’d compared herself to the perfect, nubile bodies buzzing around the dressing room. These women bulged in all the right places. Their only worries seemed to be dark roots and tan lines.
Who had tan lines in February?
She was just glad she’d remembered to shave her legs.

“Now I remember why I hate going to the beach,” Gina said, tugging up her bikini strap. “Whoever invented Lycra should be shot.”

“You look fine,” Rachel said, hoping she looked as good as Gina. “We’d better split up and work the room. And watch out for Maxine, she looks suspicious.”

They both stole stealthy peeks at the steel-haired chaperone. She stood by the door, staring at them over her bifocals and making notes on her clipboard.

“That’s because we’re not performing the proper beauty pageant rituals. We didn’t spread Vaseline on our teeth for that perfect smile. We didn’t spray glue on our butts to keep the bikini bottom from riding up. And our hair weighs less than the requisite five pounds.”

“Gina, I think you’ve just found the perfect opening. We’ll ask the contestants for advice on proper pageant procedure, then make our case for the boycott.”

“Sounds good. I’ll take the girls at the mascara table and you can start in the curling iron corner.”

The first woman Rachel approached wore her bikini like a second skin. She knew from the whispers flying across the dressing room that her name was Valerie and she was the front runner to win the title of Miss Valentine this year.

“Excuse me, Valerie, I was wondering if you could give me some advice,” Rachel began, hoping the future Miss Valentine could use her clout to make some changes.

Valerie’s smoky gray gaze flicked over her from head to toe. “I think a trench coat would do wonders for you.”

Rachel bared her teeth in the form of a smile. Just what she needed, a wise-cracking debutante. “You look like you’ve been around the pageant circle a few times.”

Valerie shrugged. “Enough to know a novice when I see one. You don’t stand a chance, honey.” She flashed a fake Vaseline smile, then slinked away.

Rachel swallowed a sigh of disappointment, hoping Gina was having better luck. Then she felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned around to see a petite redhead grinning up at her.

“Hi, I’m Mimi Summers. You’re new around here.”

“I’m Rachel Grant, and I’ve lived in Love all my life.”

“No, I mean you’re new on the pageant circuit. I’ve seen the rest of these gals in various pageants around the state since I was eight years old.”

“It almost sounds like an exclusive club.”

Mimi flashed another huge smile. “Oh, we’re all great friends. All the girls are just great. And I’m sure they’ll all want to welcome you here and wish you good luck. I know you’ll have a great, great time. All the great friendships I’ve made here are worth all the time and money and hard work. But it’s been great. I hold the record for Miss Congeniality. I’ve won it five times in the last seven years.”

“Wow, that’s...great.” The woman’s exuberant cheerfulness was starting to give her a headache. But at least she seemed open to conversation. Maybe if Rachel could get Mimi in their corner, she could spread the boycott cheer.

“So is the pageant’s new hairdresser,” Mimi chimed, smiling as she grasped Rachel’s elbow and steered her through the crowd of women. “No offense, but you could use some help, honey. Don’t worry, José can work miracles. He really is a great guy.”

“José?” Rachel echoed in horror. How many hairdressers named José could there be in Love? It had taken her three days to undo the damage the last time he touched her hair. And it still didn’t curl the way it used to.

“He works at the television station, but moonlights at all local pageants. Isn’t that great? He’s a wizard with styling gel. All the girls use him.”

No wonder they all had such big hair. She slipped out of Mimi’s grasp and ducked out the dressing-room door before José could spot her and inflict permanent damage. Only now she was caught in the narrow hallway, surrounded on all sides by bikini-clad beauties. They moved slowly forward, like a human conveyer belt.

Someone elbowed her in the ribs, another stepped on her bare foot with a spiked heel. Rachel raised herself on her toes, finally spotting Gina among them. She jostled her way over hoping they could find an escape route together.

“This way,” Gina called, as loud music filled the hallway.

Rachel cut across the stream of bodies toward the darkened tunnel Gina had entered. She headed toward the light and found herself among another group of beauty contestants.

On center stage.

To her horror, the curtain swept open before she could move. Spotlights illuminated every bulge and flaw revealed by her skimpy bikini. The auditorium was filled with people, but she only saw one of them. Drew Lavery, sitting at the judges table right in front of her, staring at her body in horrified disbelief.

Where was a snowball when you needed one?

The next thing she knew, Drew shot out of his chair and onto the stage. Several of the women squealed as he barreled down on Rachel.

“I told you she’d get kicked out for being too old,” Valerie said in a stage whisper to the woman next to her.

That did it. She’d had it with Valerie and her put-downs. She was thirty years old, not ready for a retirement home. And her body didn’t look that bad, even in a bikini. At least her I.Q. was bigger than her bust size. She’d used her body to get on stage, and now she’d use her brains to stay on stage until she accomplished her mission.

Only Drew had other ideas. “Get off the stage.”

She tried to ignore the way his gaze kept drifting down her body. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“This isn’t up for debate, Rachel,” he insisted, his voice harsh. “Now get off this stage or I’ll carry you off.”

She tipped up her chin. “I’d like to see you try!”

She’d never seen a man move so fast. Before she knew it, he tipped her up and over his shoulder. Her head hung at his waist, providing her a perfect view of his backside. And perfect was definitely the word for it.

Blood rushed to her head, and not only from hanging upside down. Drew’s strong hands held her firmly by her upper thighs, his fingers brushed against her sensitive bare skin, sending electric tingles throughout her entire body. She shouldn’t let him have this effect on her, she told herself firmly. Especially when he was treating her like a lumpy sack of potatoes.

“Put me down,” she growled, suddenly aware of the hoots and hollers of the audience. If she thought she looked bad in a bikini before, she didn’t even want to think about the view she was presenting them now.

“I will,” he snapped, marching toward the exit, “as soon as I get you off this stage.” But his path was blocked by television newswoman Candi Conrad, complete with microphone and camera crew.

“Mayor Lavery, may I have a word with you?”

“This really isn’t a good time,” he muttered.

Rachel raised her head, fighting a wave of dizziness. “It’s the perfect time, Candi!”

Candi hurried around to the other side, her cameramen still blocking the escape route. Rachel could only hope they didn’t have their cameras pointed toward the bottom half of her bikini. She put that thought out of her mind, and tried to ignore the touch of Drew’s hands moving over her bare skin as she struggled to right herself. When his firm grasp on her didn’t loosen, she gave up and focused her concentration on the microphone in front of her face.

“Does entering the Miss Valentine pageant put you in an awkward position, Dr. Grant?” Candi asked.

She couldn’t be serious. Only if hanging upside down over the mayor’s broad shoulder in a skimpy bikini in view of half the town and a television audience could be considered an awkward position.

“I suppose you could say that,” Rachel replied wryly. “Or you could say that the mayor of Love is abusing his power. I have every right to be on this stage. Now put me down!”

Drew acceded to her wishes, grasping her bare waist and sliding her slowly down his long, sinewy body. She reached out to him to steady herself when her feet finally hit the ground. It certainly had gotten warm on the stage. Probably from all those bright lights. Drew looked flushed, too, as he shrugged out of his suit coat and draped it over her shoulders.

“You’ve made your point,” he said between clenched teeth. “Now get off the stage. Every guy in the audience can see you.”

“Isn’t that the purpose of the bikini competition?” she asked, relishing the warmth of his jacket. It smelled like him too, spicy and sexy and so incredibly masculine.

“Rachel, we can debate this later...” Drew began, before Candi honed in between them with her microphone.

“Is this run for Miss Valentine an indication that you’re dropping the boycott, Dr. Grant?”

“Of course not,” Rachel replied, ignoring Drew’s dark glower and clenched jaw. “In fact, this pageant is a perfect example of the way our city’s celebration discriminates against a certain segment of the population. Mayor Lavery wants to disqualify me because I don’t have a perfect body.”

“That’s not true,” Drew said between clenched teeth, “There’s absolutely nothing wrong with her body.”

“Then why are you kicking me off the stage?”

“Because I don’t happen to like you parading around half-naked in public. Besides, you’re just doing this to get back at me.”

Her mouth dropped open. “This is not about us, Drew.”

Candi Conrad stuck her microphone under Drew’s nose. “Is your relationship with the leader of the boycott affecting your job performance, Mayor Lavery?”

“There is no relationship,” Rachel insisted, pulling the microphone toward her. “The mayor just wants to deflect attention from the boycott because he knows I’m right. Let’s make the Miss Valentine pageant one that celebrates brains as much as beauty. And let’s begin by giving out scholarships instead of sexy lingerie as prizes.”

“Do you have any comments, Mayor?” Candi asked.

“I agree with everything Dr. Grant says about the beauty pageant. But she’s wrong about one thing.”

Rachel stood her ground as he moved a step closer to her. “We do have a relationship. She’s just too stubborn to admit it.”

“There you go,” she sputtered, “changing the subject again. We were talking about the Miss Valentine pageant. Now are you prepared to spearhead the changes I mentioned?”

“Yes. Are you prepared to be my valentine?”

The audience gasped. She could see Lacie and Frank in the center aisle with their mouths hanging open in disbelief. Rachel pressed her lips together. He’d trapped her in a corner. Again. Television cameras seemed to bring out the worst in him. “You can’t be serious.”

“I want you to be my valentine, Rachel. Now are you willing to compromise and meet me halfway?” He took another step closer to her, his blue eyes blazing into hers. “Will you be my valentine?”

Cameras rolled and flashbulbs popped, a hush settling over the audience as everyone awaited her answer. She saw anti-Valentine’s Day signs bobbing up and down in the crowd. The members of her support group were out there, depending on her. Looking up to her as their leader. She couldn’t let them down.

Just as she couldn’t let Drew play any more games with her heart. She took a deep breath and looked him squarely in the eye. “No.”

TWO HOURS LATER, Rachel and her group of Valentine’s Day protesters sat at a corner table in the Love Nest Bar and Grill, toasting their success. Although Rachel smiled and joked and laughed with the rest of them, all she really wanted to do was cry in her beer. Refusing to be Drew’s valentine had been the hardest thing she’d ever done. Even if it was for a good cause.