Nerd Gone Wild

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  “Don’t do this.”

  She lifted her eyebrows. “Did you just give me another order?”

  “No. Not an order,” he said quickly. “A suggestion. Only a suggestion.”

  “I’m so glad it wasn’t an order. Now get it up again for mama, so I can take its little picture.”

  “I can’t. Not when you have that camera pointed right at it.”

  “Sure you can. All you have to do is think about last night, and how you felt when I slapped those reins against your buns, and then how you enjoyed the fun you had later on, after you fetched that joystick in your teeth. Remember how much you liked what happened next, and how much you’d like that to happen again?”

  He clenched his teeth.

  “Ah, there we go. That’s better. Much perkier. Now you’re ready for your close-up.” She clicked the shutter several more times.

  At last she lowered the camera. “There. I’ve taken my first wildlife pictures.” Then she walked into the bedroom, leaving him standing there with his own personal telephoto fully extended.

  * * *

  Mitch stepped out the back door onto crunchy white stuff that he’d hoped never to deal with again. As he proceeded to shovel a path to the shed where the giant shovels lived, he thought about the new danger posed by Dave, the chain-saw sculptor. Nothing like a starving artist to prompt a woman like Ally to empty her pockets, and her pockets held a considerable amount of moolah.

  At least Kurt Jarrett and his fifth wheel would be delayed if the roads into Porcupine wouldn’t be plowed in the near future. Good old Ernie could stay soused as far as Mitch was concerned. Given a choice, Mitch would rather tilt at his windmills one at a time.

  “Mitchell, look!”

  “What?” Mitch’s head came up and he switched immediately into fight-or-flight mode as he glanced warily through the trees. Ally might promise that the grizzlies were taking a long winter’s nap, but nature always had exceptions to the rule.

  “There! Look at the mountains!”

  His shoulders sagged in relief. She was pointing out scenery, not a thousand-pound combo of big claws and big teeth. He looked at the horizon, and sure enough, the landscape was one big postcard. The sky had cleared to faded-denim blue, and jagged peaks dressed all in white reminded him of the whipped meringue on a lemon pie.

  “That takes my breath away,” she said. “Well, that’s obviously just an expression, since every time I talk, I can see my breath. I could probably blow smoke rings, there’s so much breath to see.”

  He turned to glance in her direction as she tried to do exactly that and was ambushed by pink cheeks and smiling Hps as she tried to puff out perfect little rings. Damned if she hadn’t reverted from being a pain in the ass to someone he desperately wanted to kiss.

  “Can’t do it,” she said. “But really, doesn’t the view leave you speechless?”

  “Not exactly.” He had to remember that he wasn’t supposed to see that well. “It’s kinda fuzzy, but I guess it’s pretty.” He’d rather look at her any day.

  “Maybe you should dig out your glasses so you can see it better. Pretty doesn’t even come close.”

  No, it doesn’t, he thought, completely absorbed in watching her. Pretty was a word for a girl in a nice dress, one with a measured smile and carefully styled hair. Ally had none of that going for her.

  She wore a bulky parka that eliminated all curviness, a knit cap pulled down over her ears, and a grin that made her seem more alive than any woman he’d ever cared about. She wasn’t pretty. She was gorgeous.

  “You know, I came out here ready to have an argument with you about the value of art for art’s sake, like Dave with his chain-saw sculpture.” She continued to gaze at the mountains, which were beginning to glow pink where the sun touched them.

  “I’m not against art.” Every sentence was accompanied by little puffs of fog. It was far too cold out here. “But I think a guy like Dave, who’s scraping along on tips from the Top Hat Bar, might think of you as a sugar mommy. I’d hate to see anyone take advant—”

  “Stop right there.” She held up a hand. “I said I came out here ready to argue, and you’re tempting me, but I don’t want to fight. Not in the face of that view. Even you have to admit that it makes our problems seem tiny.”

  He chose to ignore the even you part of her comment. After all, she was supposed to think of him that way, the kind of guy who deserved an even you now and then. “I know what you’re saying, but I think you and I have a different perspective on snow.”

  She turned back to him. “You mean because you grew up in Chicago and I grew up in Bel Air?”

  “Uh-huh.” And he remembered too well the frozen eyelashes and numb fingers and toes. “I shoveled snow for my folks. I shoveled snow for my grandma who lived two blocks away. I shoveled snow to save money for—” He caught himself before saying the police academy.

  “For school, right?” she said.

  “Right. For school. Anyway, when I finally was in a position to choose where I would live, I came to Southern California and vowed I would never shovel another flake of snow or go out in weather where I could see my breath.”

  She looked him straight in the eye. “Mitchell.”

  “What, Ally?”

  “Go home.”

  “Can’t.”

  “Of course you can. I will be fine. I love this snow! And what could possibly happen to me?”

  “A million things.” Above them, the house seemed to creak and groan as it cast off the buildup of ice and snow. Surely she could see what an alien environment this was. She had to understand that guys would covet her money, even if they didn’t know the full extent of her wealth. She obviously wasn’t a pauper and many of the residents of Porcupine… well, they weren’t exactly in league with the Kennedys.

  Ally blew out a breath, creating even more vapor. “I’ll survive the weather, no problem. And as for the men around here, you don’t give me enough credit. I won’t let myself be sweet-talked by a guy who’s only after my money.”

  “You might!” Betsy called from the open window of Mitch’s bedroom upstairs. “If he’s hung like a horse!”

  Mitch glanced up and realized part of the creaking and groaning had been Betsy opening a window to eavesdrop. Ally laughed at Betsy’s remark, but Mitch didn’t laugh. He was too busy wondering what the hell he’d do if Betsy was upstairs poking around in his stuff. He’d tucked both the recorder and his gun in his suitcase, so she’d have to really snoop to find them. He didn’t think she would, but he wasn’t willing to bet on it.

  “You two are hereby awarded the booby prize for shoveling!” Betsy said. “In the time you’ve been out there yakking, Clyde and I have enjoyed a private moment, he’s taken the busted door off the hinges to see if he can repair it, and I’m halfway through my morning chores!”

  Ally waved a gloved hand. “We’ll be done before you know it!”

  Betsy snorted and closed the window.

  “Where do you suppose they had their private moment?” Mitch cleared away the last of the snow from the front of the shed, unhooked the rusty hasp and yanked the door open.

  “They wouldn’t do it in your room… would they?”

  “I dunno, but she said he was taking the hinges off the door, and she’s up there making the bed. Clyde’s a regular firecracker. I think it adds up to funny business.” He reached in and found two super-sized snow shovels. “Here’s your weapon.”

  She took the shovel. “I feel like we’re chaperones at a college dorm.”

  “Me, too, but I try to look on the bright side.” He started across the porch toward what might have been steps if the whole area hadn’t been blanketed by snow. “If she’s occupied with Clyde, she’s not after me.”

  “And she would definitely be after somebody,” Ally said. “Seven husbands and working on number eight. She’s a force of nature. She’s—”

  “Hold it.” Mitch held out his arm, stopping her from walking on what appeared to be
level snow. “Betsy warned us to watch out for cave-ins. Better let me go first.”

  “No, I should go first. I’m lighter.”

  He looked at her. “I don’t see the logic. If it supports me, then you’re a shoo-in. If it supports you, I’m still an unknown quantity.”

  She shrugged. “So I want to be the test walker. This is a brand-new experience for me.”

  He was beginning to think nearly everything was a brand-new experience for her. After Madeline had lost her only son and beloved daughter-in-law when they died on a scuba-diving vacation, and her husband Clayton had keeled over three years later of a massive heart attack, Madeline had drawn a protective net around Ally, the only one left to love.

  From reading Ally’s file, Mitch knew that she’d never gone skiing, never tried surfing, and had never ridden on a motorcycle. Some kids would have rebelled and done those things anyway, but not Ally. Apparently she’d understood the agony she’d cause her grandmother, and she’d reined herself in.

  Now Mitch had been assigned Madeline’s role, and in some ways, he didn’t much like it. “Go ahead.” He gestured her toward the blanket of snow. “Test it out.”

  * * *

  Ally supposed it wasn’t much of a concession. A significant concession would have been Mitchell leaving Alaska to let her explore her options on her own. But that might be too much to ask of a worrywart like Mitchell. So she’d take this opportunity to walk on a crust of new-fallen snow and find out whether she fell through.

  Holding her shovel like a pole used by a tightrope walker, she started out, placing one foot gingerly in front of the other. Her boots crunched about an inch into the snow, but that was it. This test walk wasn’t a huge deal, anyway. Even if she fell through, she guesstimated she’d only fall about six feet down, through soft snow.

  Mitchell knew that, of course, which was why he’d let her have her way. If she’d told him she planned to spend the afternoon on the outskirts of town searching for signs of wolves, he’d probably pitch a fit and insist on tagging along. So that’s why she didn’t intend to tell him where she was going later on today.

  “Okay,” Mitchell called after her. “I’m going to follow you.”

  She turned back to watch him step out on the snow, putting his boots down in her footsteps. “It should be doable. Think of it. When we’re not here, Betsy’s the one who has to walk around and dig through to the front door.”

  “Exactly.” He moved more confidently now. “And it’s only snow. I mean, even if it gives way, how bad can it—” He yelped as the snow crumpled like tissue paper under him. He threw his shovel off to one side before he completely disappeared.

  “Mitchell!” Ally tossed down her shovel and ran back, no longer thinking of whether the snow would hold her or not. Naturally when she reached the edge of the hole he’d made, she crashed right through the crust and landed on top of him.

  He groaned, and his voice was muffled. “Ally… move your boot. It’s right on my…”

  “Your what? Mitchell, is anything broken?”

  “Not yet. Lift your leg. No, the other one.”

  She floundered around in the snow, trying to figure out which way he was facing. Snow was in her mouth and eyes. “Mitchell, hang on. I’ll save you.”

  “Don’t save me.” He sounded desperate. “Just get off me.”

  “I’m trying!”

  “Stop wiggling around!”

  She cried out in surprise when his hand clamped onto her thigh. For a guy who pushed papers all day, he had an amazing amount of strength. With only that one grip on her thigh, he managed to flip her over on her back, where she sank down in the fluffy snow and decided to lie there for a minute and catch her breath.

  “That’s better.” Next to her, Mitchell sat up and brushed snow off his face. “Much more pressure from the heel of your boot and I’d have been singing soprano.”

  “I’m sorry.” She gazed up at him. “I didn’t mean to.” The hood of his borrowed parka had been shoved back by the fall, and his hair and eyebrows were crusted with snow.

  He grinned. “Are you quite sure about that?”

  “Of course I’m sure! I might get irritated with you from time to time, but I wouldn’t ever knowingly kick you in the balls! What kind of woman do you think I am?”

  His grin gentled to a soft smile. “A snow woman.” He leaned down and brushed at her eyebrows. “You look like one of those ads for a retirement community, where the people look about thirty, but they all have the PC white hair, by golly.”

  “So do you.” And for some reason, her heart had started racing again. The excitement of the fall was over, so why was her pulse rate so high? Surely not because Mitchell was leaning over her, wiping the snow from her face.

  And yet it was sort of silly, for him to be concerned about getting the snow off. They were lying in a snowy hole and would probably get covered all over again when they tried to work their way out. They’d have to dig out with their hands because neither of the shovels had made it into the hole with them.

  She was enjoying this little interlude they were having, though. Mitchell’s brown eyes glowed with a tenderness that she’d never seen before. Maybe he’d looked at her that way in the past, but if so, the light reflecting off his glasses had disguised his expression. Nothing disguised his expression now, and she found herself growing really fond of it.

  In fact, shock of shocks, she discovered herself thinking that he was almost handsome. No, not just almost. He was definitely handsome, especially with that certain glow in his eyes, a glow that seemed to be getting hotter by the minute.

  A curl of desire started low in her belly and branched out until she began to tingle everywhere, especially in areas that she wouldn’t normally associate with thoughts of Mitchell. She couldn’t come up with any excuse for it. They weren’t currently listening in on Betsy and Clyde, and they weren’t eating sensuous globs of blackberry pie.

  He leaned closer.

  His mouth had never looked better to her than it did right now. She decided to take the guesswork out this episode. “Mitchell, are you going to kiss me?”

  “Yes, Ally, I am. Any problem with that?”

  “None whatsoever. I’m totally in the mood. Lay one on me.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Many times in his life, Mitch had realized he was about to make a mistake and had barreled ahead, anyway. This was one of those times. He wanted to kiss Ally more than he wanted to follow the path of right living.

  Her lips were so plump, so pink, so incredibly inviting. Her mouth was open just the tiniest bit. Mitch longed to find out if the tip of his tongue would fit right in that opening.

  He was sexually educated enough to know that the urge to put his tongue in her mouth was related to the urge to put something else in a different opening belonging to Ally. He knew that once he kissed her, he was headed down a slippery slope. But he couldn’t help himself.

  So he made contact, putting his cold mouth against her cold mouth. She sighed, wrapped her arms around his neck, and opened her mouth a little more. His heart slammed into high gear. She was thinking along the same lines that he was. Bring it on.

  Not about to let that kind of invitation float away unnoticed, he made a gentle foray with his tongue to see what kind of reception he might get. Ah, man, she threw open the door and pulled him right inside. Did he feel special!

  His lips were no longer cold. Neither were hers. Warm lips, warm mouth, warm tongue—what a trio. He could hang around here all day. Kissing Ally was way more fun than he’d thought it would be, and that was saying something.

  His only problem, and it seemed relatively minor, was that he was running short of breath. But then again, if he couldn’t breathe, he might pass out, which would not be a good thing. This kiss was building into something pretty damned wonderful, and he needed a second wind so that he could dive in again.

  Lifting his head, he gulped for air while clouds of vapor swirled around them.

 
; “Don’t stop,” she moaned, and pulled him back down.

  “Not going to.” He picked up right where he left off. The kiss got wetter and sloppier and he started wanting something to do with his hands. At this stage in a kiss, a guy usually developed the urge to fondle, but Ally seemed to be covered in the equivalent of bubble wrap.

  At the moment he reached for the zipper of her parka, an alarm sounded in his brain. It was as if hi conscience had picked up a bullhorn. Hands off the zipper. Back away from the zipper.

  Wrenching his mouth free, he sat up, and became aware upon doing so that he was sporting a real dandy of an erection. Fortunately his parka covered the evidence.

  What had he been thinking? He’d been ready to unzip her coat! And he probably wouldn’t have stopped there, either. One zipper down, one sweater and a bra catch to go, and before long he’d have been in, touching the merchandise. And it was freezing outside. But down in this little cave of snow, it wasn’t quite so cold, and the waves of body heat made unzipping her coat seem logical.

  He still wanted to.

  And obviously she was of the same mind. “You quit!” Her tone was accusing.

  “One of us needed to exercise some restraint.” That sounded sufficiently anal. He should get back in geek mode, and fast.

  She gazed up at him, her chest heaving. “I suppose I could have guessed it would be you exercising restraint.”

  Although she’d hurled it like an insult, he took it as a compliment. “Thank you.”

  “Oh, well.” She sat up. “I wasn’t having all that much fun, anyway.”

  He didn’t contradict her, didn’t dare look at her for fear he’d grab her and start all over. “Yeah, me, neither.”

  “Ha. I could feel your woody all the way through the layers.”

  “Oh, yeah?” He gave her a quick glance. “I could feel your nipples getting hard. So there.” It was a lie. He couldn’t really feel her nipples through three inches of padding, but he would bet that if he had been able to feel them, they would have been as hard as acorns. And not just because it was cold outside.