Hank held the calla lilies out to Rachel, wanting to kick himself.
What happened to your hair? Smooth, Holden. Very smooth.
And on live television, too. Besides, her hair didn’t look that bad. It was a little poofy. And kind of flat on top. But he liked the way it made her appear taller and statuesque.
Even with that hair, Dr. Rachel Grant was a knockout.
But the way she was staring daggers at him now made him regret arranging to surprise her on the show. At the time, he’d thought it would be a good way to attract the attention of her stalker.
But after receiving an emergency call from Charlie, who needed help with a difficult birth of twin foals, he’d just made it to the studio in time to hear Midge call him onto the stage.
“These are for you,” he said, hoping she’d just play along for the camera.
Midge squealed. “Oooh, just look at those beautiful flowers!” She turned to the camera. “Courtesy of Fiorelli’s Florist at Ninth and Baltic. Fiorelli’s can make your Valentine’s Day a rosy one. Stop in and take advantage of their Sweetheart Specials.”
Hank inched the bouquet closer to Rachel, feeling even more foolish when she folded her arms across her chest and glared at him. How long did she expect him to stand there looking like an idiot?
“Don’t they make a cute couple?” Midge gushed, while the audience hooted and clapped. “For those of us who speak the language of flowers, purple calla lilies represent passionate love.”
At last, Rachel took the bouquet from him, but she didn’t seem happy about it.
“The sparks are flying, folks,” Midge said, looking between the two of them. Then she held a microphone out to Hank. “I believe you had something you wanted to ask Dr. Grant.”
He cleared his throat. “Rachel, will you be my Valentine?”
Midge turned her megawatt smile on Rachel. “How about it, Dr. Grant? Do you accept Dr. Holden’s offer?”
He didn’t understand why Rachel looked so upset. They’d agreed to a fake romance and been out in public as a couple several times. Maybe she just had stage fright, but he sensed there was something more behind her tense expression.
The audience grew fidgety as the silence stretched between them. Hank held his breath as he awaited her answer.
“It sounds like an offer I can’t refuse,” Rachel said at last, leading the audience to burst into applause.
“Wonderful!” Midge boomed into the microphone. “And Rawlings Steakhouse is happy to sponsor a lovely Valentine’s Day dinner for these two fledgling lovebirds. Congratulations!”
The audience rose to their feet, still applauding, as Midge ended the show.
Hank hugged her and whispered, “This should get your stalker’s attention.”
Her lips brushed against his ear. “I think he just threatened to kill me.”
“What do you mean he called the show?” Hank asked.
Rachel sat in the passenger seat of his pickup truck, watching the scenery roll by as he drove to her house. She’d walked out of the television studio only to find both rear tires of her car had been slashed. Hank had handled calling a tire repair service, but it would be at least a two-hour wait and neither one of them wanted to hang around that long for her stalker’s amusement.
“Midge let the audience comment during my segment, including a live caller,” she explained. “That’s when he recited his verse.” She shook her head, still chilled by the memory. “Roses are red, corpses are blue. Keep watch, my love, I’m coming for you.”
She watched Hank’s large hands tighten on the steering wheel, then he made a hard left, causing her to lean into the door. “What are you doing?”
“Taking you to Elk Creek Ranch,” he said as they headed north out of Pine City. “Grandma Hattie has her book club meeting tonight, but I know she’ll agree to have you stay there for as long as we need. I want you out of sight until we catch this maniac.”
She watched as they passed the last of the streetlights and the paved street turned into a country road. The rumble of the tires on gravel made her realize how far away she was from home. “Maybe I should go back to Philly instead.”
“You mean to visit?”
“No, I mean permanently.” She shifted in the passenger seat so she was half facing Hank. “I know we’ve talked about it before, but what if he doesn’t stop? You have to go back to your life. And I have to live mine without looking over my shoulder all the time.”
“Do you want to move back to Pennsylvania?”
“No, I don’t. I love it here. I’ve got a great practice at the Craig Clinic and I’d have to start all over in Philly. And as much as I miss my family, I feel like this is where I belong.”
She took a deep breath, realizing the shock of the stalker’s threat was evolving into a determination not to let him win. “Turn around, Hank, and take me home. I refuse to run away.”
“It’s not running, it’s keeping you safe.”
“I can take care of myself. Please, just turn around.”
Hank’s mouth tightened, but he did as she asked. Soon, they were on the way back into Pine City.
For the next several miles, they sat in silence. Rachel sensed he was trying to formulate a persuasive argument to change her mind. But she’d already allowed the stalker too much influence over her life—including her fake romance with Hank.
She watched him now as he traversed the road, his cowboy hat shading his eyes from the late afternoon sun. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming to the studio? Did Midge blackmail you too?”
“No,” he said, glancing over at her. “I called her, thinking if I showed up with flowers and asked you to be my Valentine, it might trigger the stalker into acting out. Of course, I had no idea he’d act out all on his own.”
Rachel suddenly sat up in the seat. “But that’s what we want, right? For him to keep acting out.” She looked at Hank. “I need to be bait.”
He scowled. “I don’t like the sound of that.”
“No, listen! I can take care of myself. We need to give him a chance to approach me when no one else is around. Or when he thinks no one else is around.”
Hank pulled into her driveway and cut the engine, then opened his door.
“I think that’s the worst idea I’ve ever heard.”
She followed him up the sidewalk. The more she thought about it, the more Rachel was willing to risk it. “I think we’ve been going about this the wrong way,” she told him, unlocking the front door and walking inside.
Georgie ran up to greet them, wriggling with excitement.
“Most stalkers are very insecure,” she continued. “Stalking someone makes them feel powerful. But you exude power and confidence, Hank. I think he’d find that very intimidating and take pains to avoid you.”
Hank knelt down to pet the dog. “So then what’s the answer?”
She met his gaze. “We break up in a public place. And go our separate ways.”
“Wow, you’re full of terrible ideas today.” He walked to the kitchen and filled the dog’s water bowl. “I’m not going anywhere when that creep is still out there. He just slashed your tires!”
“I know.” Rachel followed him into the kitchen, realizing the most difficult part of this new plan might be convincing Hank to go along with it. “So let me rephrase the plan. We’ll pretend to go our separate ways. I want him to think I’m alone and vulnerable. That’s when he’ll approach me.”
Hank shook his head. “I don’t get your logic. He didn’t approach you before we started our fake romance.”
Another possibility dawned on her. “Yes, he did. He got close to me when he left that note in my coat pocket. He just didn’t approach me directly. But that same night is when we kissed in the lobby and we’ve been together ever since.”
Hank looked thoughtful. “You may be right. If he was the one driving that red Buick, he could have been trying to determine if you were alone that night I saw him.” He took off his cowboy hat and raked a hand through his hair. “I don’t know—we’re really just guessing.”
“Let’s just give it a try. With any luck, he’ll approach me as soon as he sees us break up and he thinks I’m on my own. We just need to figure out where to do it.”
“I think I know the perfect place.” He smiled. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow night at eight.”
“Okay,” she said, determined to make it work.
The chime of the doorbell brought Georgie running to the front door, barking all the way.
“Hold on, girl, let me answer.” Rachel walked toward the door as the doorbell rang three more times in quick succession.
“All right, already,” she muttered, pulling the door open. Then her knees almost buckled, because standing in front of her was a tall bearded man with shaggy blond hair that hung almost to his shoulders and a worn khaki knapsack slung over one shoulder. A man she barely recognized.
“Russell?” she gasped.
The man in the doorway grinned at her. “Hi, honey, I’m home.”
Hank didn’t know which bothered him more: the way this character sashayed into the house as if he lived here, or the way Rachel let him. She was still holding the front door open, as if she’d just seen someone return from the dead.
Unfortunately, Russell Baker was very much alive. Scruffy, but alive. And he had that rugged mountain man look that some women fell for.
But judging by Georgie’s deep, suspicious growl and the way her ears were drawn all the way back, she wasn’t impressed with him either. In Hank’s experience, dogs were some of the best judges of character.
Hank knew he should call off his dog, but this was the man who had abandoned Rachel and broken her heart, so he deserved to be growled at.
Russell hesitated, looking between Rachel and the dog. “Does she bite?”
“It depends,” Rachel told him as she gently led the dog away from Russell and into the living room. Then she leaned down to pet her. “It’s okay, girl. Russell’s a friend.”
“More than a friend, actually,” Russell said, following them. Then he dropped his knapsack on the sofa and swept Rachel up in his arms, whirling her around in a big bear hug. “You look wonderful, Lovebug.”
Lovebug?
A swift and totally unexpected jab of jealousy sucker-punched Hank in the gut. He barely resisted the overwhelming urge to grab this guy by the scruff of his neck and toss him out into the street.
Probably not the most diplomatic way for him to handle the situation, but he wasn’t feeling particularly diplomatic at the moment. Especially since the guy looked as if he’d just come in on the last train.
His thick blond hair, though neatly combed now, hung almost to his shoulders. A heavy growth of golden whiskers covered his square jaw. He wore faded blue jeans and a wrinkled button-up shirt under a weathered pea jacket. Only his shoes looked as if they hadn’t come from a thrift shop: a brand-new pair of hiking boots.
But Rachel didn’t seem to care about his rumpled appearance. She just kept staring at him. At last, she said, “Russell, what on earth are you doing here?”
Hank folded his arms across his chest, patiently awaiting the answer to that excellent question.
“I couldn’t wait to see you,” Russell explained. “So I just came here straight from the airport. It was a long, exhausting trip, but those international flights always are.” He looked around the house, nodding his approval. “The place still looks great. And so do you.”
That seemed to shake her out of her daze. “Oh…thank you. Would you like something to drink? Some coffee or tea?”
“No, I don’t want you go to any trouble,” Russell said, his eyes lingering on her. “I just want to drink you in, Rachel. It’s been so long.”
Despite the fact that they both seemed to have forgotten his existence, Hank had no intention of making a discreet exit. He moved to the sofa, deftly throwing the guy’s knapsack onto the floor, and then settled in for a long stay. “Don’t mind me, you two go ahead and catch up.”
She tore her gaze from Russell and blinked at Hank. He had the distinct feeling she’d forgotten he was there. The sudden reappearance of her ex had truly rattled her.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said at last. “Russell, this is Hank Holden. He’s my…”
“Boyfriend.” Hank finished the introduction for her, wanting Russell to know exactly where he stood in the pecking order.
Russell cocked an eyebrow. “Really? That surprises me. You don’t strike me as Rachel’s type.”
“And who exactly are you?” Hank asked, playing along. Because Rachel had never said one word to him about Russell. He only knew about him because he’d eavesdropped on the Lonely Hearts group before joining them and heard about the way Russell had abandoned her on the most romantic day of the year.
Rachel cleared her throat. “This is Russell Baker. He’s my…”
“Fiancé,” Russell concluded with a cocky grin.
Hank turned to Rachel. “You’re engaged?”
“Yes. No. Well…I suppose, technically, we’re sort of engaged.”
Hank’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. “You’re right. We’re not engaged,” she said in a firmer voice. “Not anymore.”
“But, Lovebug…” Russell began.
“Please don’t call me that.” She turned to him. “I’ve never liked that nickname. And how dare you waltz into my house one year after you waltzed out, without a word or a letter or even a telephone call.”
“I can explain.”
Hank sat back, ready to enjoy the show. He knew from personal experience that nobody could do battle like Rachel Grant.
“Explain?” she repeated, her green eyes snapping. “How do you explain practically abandoning me at the altar? We were supposed to get married last spring. Until you pulled your disappearing act.”
Married? Last spring? The words hit Hank like a shotgun blast to the heart.
A gentleman would leave these two alone to work out their problems. Then again, a gentleman wouldn’t have kissed Rachel to the point of passing out. So maybe he should stay. It was his job to protect her, after all. And as far as he was concerned, that job description wasn’t limited to stalkers.
“Just hear me out, Lovebug,” Russell said.
Hank’s hand curled into a fist. If he called her that stupid pet name one more time…
“I mean Rachel,” Russell amended, quickly correcting himself.
“All right,” she said, settling into the chair, a ruddy flush on her cheeks. “Let’s hear it.”
Russell began to pace back and forth in front of her. “Let me take you back to last February,” he began, “so you can be inside my head.”
That was the last place Hank wanted to be, but Rachel actually looked intrigued. He supposed that was the therapist in her. Which made him wonder if 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. You remember that day?”
She nodded. “We celebrated with champagne.”
“And 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 were a rising star in your field—everybody said so. And I couldn’t imagine getting married and then 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.”
Hank 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 downpour actually, and the Jeep got stuck in the mud. While the guide went to get help, I went in search of shelter. My colleagues finally found me six months later, living in a remote village.”
“That’s…incredible,” Rachel said.
Hank 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.
“It was crazy,” Russell acknowledged. “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,” Hank said dryly.
“Getting lost in the bush was the best thing that ever happened to me.” Russell gazed 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.” “You don’t have to say anything,” Russell assured her. Then he looked at
Hank, hitching his eyebrows toward the door. Sending him a silent message to get lost himself.
Hank 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.
Hank 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 Hank 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?” Hank 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. “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, Hank realized he was holding his breath waiting for her answer. On the one hand, he thought Rachel was much too sensible to fall for this guy’s lame stories. On the other hand, she’d loved him once. Maybe she still did.
Russell took the velvet box from her, carefully closing it, then setting it on an end table. “You don’t have to answer right now. I know this is all a shock to you. I probably should have called you as soon as I got back to the States. But I wrote you a letter every day I spent in that village.” He pulled out a stack of ivory envelopes tied with a pink silk ribbon from his knapsack.
“They have hotel stationery in the bush?” Hank 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 that he’d obviously perfected wandering around in Africa. “I spent my last dime on the airline ticket. 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 Hank 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.”
Hank thought he might be sick. What did this guy do, memorize greeting cards in his spare time?
Rachel nibbled her lower lip. “I have a lot going on in my life right now…”
“I know,” Russell said. “But I don’t have anywhere else to go.”
For the first time, it occurred to Hank that Russell might be her stalker. Maybe he’d planned to scare her into wanting him back. The guy seemed just cocky enough to come up with a plan that would make him a hero.
Just that long-shot possibility 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 the time Hank had spent with her—and the kisses they’d shared--he didn’t have any claim on Rachel. He’d never wanted a relationship with any woman.
But that didn’t mean he’d throw her to a wolf like Russell.
He looked from Rachel to her fast-talking ex-fiancé as a new strategy formed in his mind. He didn’t like it. Hell, he hadn’t even thought it all the way through yet. But he could see Rachel wavering. He needed to act fast. He needed to keep Russell away from her.
He needed…a roommate.