The Nerd Who Loved Me

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  She finally made herself get up and move away from Harry. He was fine here on the sofa, and she might as well rest, too. They were as safe as she could imagine them to be for now. Maybe she could get a little sleep.

  Walking into the bedroom, she pulled off the red wig, took out the hairpins, and massaged her scalp. Much bet­ter. Then she shucked her pants and shirt and climbed under the covers. She expected to fall asleep immedi­ately, but instead she started worrying about Joey. He would want to have Dexter in his life for sure, now.

  Of course she didn't want Joey to have anything to do with Dexter, but Joey was his father and had legal rights. He might also have access to some money by now—not the billions he was hoping to inherit, but an allowance from the trust fund each of the boys had been promised when they reached thirty. Even with gambling debts, he might have the resources to fight her for custody.

  Not only that, she had to consider whether she could rightfully deprive Dexter of being the heir to the Ben­jamin fortune. But there was Joey, who obviously hadn't changed his drinking habits. Every instinct told her to keep Dexter away from Joey, no matter what the cost. Still, she hadn't planned on the cost being billions of dollars.

  Dexter was extremely smart and probably needed pri­vate school and special attention to make the most of his brains. With the right education he might invent some­thing important or find a cure for some dreadful disease. She had an obligation to nurture his abilities, but she was financially limited.

  The problem seemed to have no solution, and various plans made her thoughts spin like a roulette wheel. Even­tually she wore herself out enough to drift toward sleep.

  The cutesy tone on Joey's cell phone woke him a little after noon. Swearing, he vowed to change the damned tune ASAP. He didn't like waking up under the best of circumstances, and he couldn't classify his current cir­cumstances as anything but crappy. He should have had his kid and been on his way back to New York by now.

  The phone call turned out to be from the PI he'd hired, who had traced Lainie and the kid to a condo in Hender­son which belonged to Harry Ambrewster's mother. The PI was pretty sure Lainie had left the kid there with the mother when she'd driven off with Ambrewster, although no one had seen the kid, so the PI wasn't absolutely sure of that.

  As Joey heard this news, his mood improved. He couldn't figure why Lainie would take off and leave the kid, but that made life nearly perfect for him. All he had to do was talk some middle-aged broad into letting him take his own son out for an ice-cream cone, and he was in the money.

  He'd made a mistake the night before by having a few drinks and letting himself get all riled up about the situation, but he wouldn't make that mistake again. To­day he'd stay off the booze, take some Excedrin instead, and concentrate on what he had to do. A lot was at stake, here. His freaking life, in fact, if he didn't get the money to pay his debts. He could have a drink later, after he'd accomplished his mission.

  "Want me to keep the condo under surveillance?" the PI asked.

  Joey thought of all he was paying this dude and de­cided on a better plan. "Give me the address and I'll watch the place," he said. "You find out exactly where Lainie is. I need to keep track of her." Then he hung up.

  It had occurred to him that life would be much sim­pler if Lainie didn't exist. Then he'd automatically get the kid and he could make up any story he wanted about

  Dexter's mother. Maybe he'd get lucky and she'd meet up with an accident.

  Well, why not? After all, Emil's coming-out party had been a huge stroke of luck. All the events since then had been sort of shitty, but he had a feeling that streak was about to end. Today he'd pick up Dexter or know the reason why.

  Chapter Twelve

  The sound of knocking woke Harry from a very erotic dream that featured Lainie most prominently. He couldn't help noticing as he struggled up from the sofa that some­thing else was prominent as a result of that dream. Damn, he hadn't meant to go to sleep. Geez, it was hot in here. And where was Lainie?

  The knocking persisted as he stumbled to his feet— his bare feet, he noticed. Someone had made off with his shoes and socks. He located his glasses on the coffee table and shoved them on before proceeding. Then he set off, erection, sweaty clothes, bare feet and all, hop­ing no one had kidnapped Lainie while he slept.

  Fortunately he spied her right away. Standing in the bedroom doorway, he was relieved to see her sound asleep in bed, cuddling one of the extra pillows to her chest. Much more of that knocking and she was liable to wake up, though. He had a good idea who the knocker was, and if he was right, Dudley was getting a piece of his mind.

  Fortunately his erection had gone down a fair amount by the time he checked the peephole in the door. Sure enough, Dudley stood outside, and he was raising his fist to knock some more.

  Harry unlocked the door in a flash and swung it open while Dudley was in mid-swing.

  Dudley nearly toppled over with the force he'd brought to bear on his knocking effort. But he straightened im­mediately and grinned at Harry. "Ready to buy that one-bedroom unit yet?"

  "You don't want to hear what I'm ready to do with that one-bedroom unit." Harry wasn't usually the type to get upset, but he was ready to take Dudley apart for dis­turbing their rest, especially Lainie's. "Harassing people is no way to get their business, Dudley."

  Dudley stroked his chin, seemingly unfazed. "You might think that's true, but in fact, folks often need con­stant prodding to do what they know in their hearts is the right thing."

  "Let me put it this way." Harry's right temple began to throb. "Leave us alone or I'll be forced to report you to the resort."

  Dudley nodded. "I can see you feel right adamant about this."

  "You have no idea."

  "Tell you what." Dudley leaned forward and tucked a card in Harry's shirt pocket. "Call me later today, when you've made up your mind."

  "I have made up my—"

  "That's what you think. Go spend some more time with that little lady of yours. And you should turn on the air-conditioning unit, son. It's too hot in there to fan the flames of love." Then Dudley winked and headed down the path.

  Harry closed and locked the door. Then he padded back to check on Lainie. She was still asleep, thank God. Walking over to the temperature control on the wall, he discovered the air-conditioning was on. Obviously it didn't work. Figured. He glanced at the bedside clock and found out he'd been asleep a couple of hours.

  Apparently that was enough for now, because he was wide awake. Gazing at Lainie in that big bed would be enough to keep any guy bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.

  From the doorway of the bedroom he glanced back toward the sofa and noticed the pillow she must have put there. The last thing he remembered was disconnecting his cell phone after talking to Leo and then battling to stay awake. Apparently he'd lost the fight.

  He pictured Lainie kneeling down to take off his shoes and socks, and he started getting hard again. She'd been undressing him, and he hadn't even known it. Such a thing didn't seem remotely possible.

  She'd not only removed his shoes and socks, she'd managed to get him prone on the sofa with a pillow un­der his head. He sure would have liked to be awake dur­ing all of that. Her tenderness toward him inspired more than simple lust. He was slowly coming to realize what a terrific person she was, the kind of woman a man could easily fall for.

  He glanced into the bedroom again. She'd folded her clothes and laid them neatly on one of the upholstered chairs next to the window. The wig was history, too. She wore only her underwear. From here he could see one thin bra strap resting against her bare shoulder. The pillow she clutched covered her breasts. Her spectacular breasts. He licked dry lips.

  Then he closed his eyes and silently recited the rea­sons they shouldn't have sex. It couldn't go anywhere. They might find themselves getting emotionally in­volved, and she had way too much going on in her life to deal with an emotional involvement. Sex between them would only complicate matters in the lo
ng run. Oh, but in the short run . . .

  No. He wasn't going to weaken. With a shake of his head he pushed himself away from the doorjamb. Now would be an excellent time to bring in their suitcases.

  After that he should probably figure out what to do about food. He considered whether they should chance room service, or if the food would be as bad as he thought it might be. Then again, maybe there was no room ser­vice, which presented a problem. Leo had recommended staying low until Joey made his next move, so how would they feed themselves?

  Harry sat on the sofa to put on his shoes and socks, all the while imagining Lainie taking them off for him. He wondered what she'd been thinking about. Then his mind wandered to topics he had no business contem­plating, like wondering what she did about sexual urges. She had to have them. Maybe she resorted to solo sex.

  And that was definitely something he had no business contemplating if he intended to keep his hands off her during this trip. And that was the best plan, the logical plan. He wouldn't do either of them any favors by acting on his impulses.

  Checking to make sure his car keys were in the pocket of his slacks, he picked up a key from the scarred coffee table. Then he slipped out the door as quietly as possible and blinked in the bright sunlight. The air smelled of cedar and flowers. The rusty-hinge cry of a raven drew his attention to a big black bird soaring overhead. Other than that, everything was quiet. Storm clouds still hung on the horizon, but above him the sky was bright blue.

  Fortunately, there was no Dudley. If the guy so much as showed his face again, Harry was going to file a com­plaint with the resort. He hadn't wanted to get the guy fired, but maybe Dudley deserved to be fired.

  On the other hand, filing a complaint might not be such a good move. The more attention Harry brought upon himself, the more likely someone would discover that he was not Fred and Lainie was not Rona. So he couldn't risk reporting Dudley, after all. His threats had been empty ones, but maybe Dudley didn't realize that.

  Harry walked toward the car and pushed the button on his key ring that popped the trunk. As he lifted out both overnight bags, he tried to decide what to do if Dudley persisted. A few minutes ago he'd been ready to punch the guy, which wasn't his usual response at all. Physical violence never solved anything. Every person with half a brain knew that.

  He put down the suitcases, closed the trunk, and glanced around with the uneasy feeling that someone was watching him. Probably paranoia brought on by talking to Leo. Still, his heart pounded as he picked up the suit­cases and walked quickly back to the front door.

  The feeling of being watched continued. He surveyed the area one more time and caught himself literally sniff­ing the air, as if he needed all his senses to protect him­self and Lainie. That was ridiculous. What he probably needed was a gun or a can of Mace—something that would disable an attacker. But he'd never used anything like that, so he'd be a danger to himself and Lainie with such equipment.

  Finally he put the key in the lock, opened the door, and shoved both suitcases inside. He was inside with the door locked and the security latch on in no time. Embar­rassingly, he was breathing hard, and there was proba­bly no reason in the world for that.

  He forced himself to close his mouth and breathe through his nose. He ought to settle down and get back in control. But by breathing deeply through his nose, he picked up the scent of Lainie's perfume. It rose over the musty smell of the carpet and the stale odors in the kitchen to sing him a siren's song. He fought the urge to walk straight into the bedroom and strip off his clothes.

  Ironically, having fast and furious sex seemed like the logical thing to do, because they were in a crisis, and people always had sex when they were trying to release the tension from a crisis. He'd seen it a million times on TV, but he'd never experienced the feeling firsthand. Suddenly he was convinced that he should live for the moment, because he might not have many moments left.

  He shook his head and laughed. Talk about melodra­matic. Leo would get a real kick out of knowing he'd scared the shit out of his favorite accountant. Leo loved to shake up Harry's careful existence.

  Come to think of it, maybe Leo had overemphasized the danger, just to put Harry on the hot seat. Or maybe not. A guy with Joey's temperament who was in trou­ble with bad guys and had his sights set on inheriting a billion-dollar business was capable of anything. No matter how often Harry told himself nothing was going to happen, the size of Joey's debt and the scope of that inheritance changed the game.

  So he and Lainie would be careful. Right now he was sweaty and grungy. He could do with a cool shower and a shave. He'd feel much more like facing whatever was coming their way after getting cleaned up. With luck his mom had tucked some shaving supplies in the suitcase she'd packed for him. One way to find out. He swung it up on the sofa and reached for the zipper.

  The overnight case belonged to Leo—he could tell by the smooth black leather. No cheap fabric for Leo, who liked to travel first class. Inside the suitcase was another change of clothes and a small black leather case.

  Harry zipped it open, knowing he wouldn't be so for­tunate as to find an electric razor like the one he normally used. Sure enough, the case contained an old-fashioned shaving mug, a brush, and a metal razor that took dispos­able blades. Who used stuff like this anymore? A guy like Leo, obviously.

  Rona had thrown in a travel size of shaving lotion and some stick deodorant. She wouldn't want him to be ei­ther prickly or smelly during this trip, which she hoped would net her a daughter-in-law. Harry's conscience pricked him. Of course his mom wanted more family around her, and Harry was her only hope of getting that. He'd let her down on that score.

  Picking up the small leather case, he walked through the bedroom into the bathroom. On the way he couldn't help glancing in Lainie's direction. He shouldn't have.

  She'd abandoned the pillow she'd been clutching to her chest, turned over on her back and tossed the sheet aside, no doubt because of the heat. Harry gulped. The fit of that white lacy bra wasn't any more revealing than one of her costumes, but knowing it was underwear seemed to make a huge difference to his fevered brain.

  He stood as if nailed to the carpet, his attention riveted on the generous swell of her breasts barely contained by the scalloped edge of the bra. She was a woman with cleavage to bum, even lying on her back. Oh, to bury his face between those soft breasts and...

  She moaned in her sleep and turned on her side. That moan went right through him, bringing his penis to life as he imagined hearing her moan for a different reason, because he was caressing her and bringing her to a cli­max. He clenched his jaw. Then, calling on his famous control, he walked into the bathroom and quietly shut the door. He'd have to handle temptation one moment at a time and hope he'd be strong enough.

  Inside the bathroom he set the black case on the counter and turned on the water. The pipes creaked and groaned. He winced, afraid the noise would wake Lainie, after all, but it was too late. The groaning stopped, and he got out Leo's shaving supplies. Funny how using a mug and brush made Harry feel more manly. He'd always gone for the efficiency of a portable electric razor, figuring this lather-and-blade method was too much trouble.

  He took out the razor, a heavy thing with a pearlized handle. His fingers dislodged something, something that felt remarkably like... uh-oh. Peering into the case, he realized that what he'd thought was some sort of plastic liner to protect the leather was actually a layer of black condom packets.

  Water splashed into the sink unnoticed as he stared at the stash of little raincoats. In all his X-rated thoughts about Lainie, it had never once occurred to him that they'd be hampered by a lack of this exact item. That was a testament to his level of distraction and fatigue, because he always remembered condoms. He was diligent about safe sex.

  A lack of condoms would have been one more thing to keep him in check, because he couldn't imagine going out to actually buy the things during this trip. Had he even made the mistake of starting something with Laini
e, at some point in his lust he would have remembered that they had no protection. Then all activity would have come to a screeching halt. Or maybe not. There were al­ternates to penetration.

  Ah, geez. Were there ever alternates. And now he was focusing on those, top. He was in hell, is where he was— trapped for two days with the sexiest woman alive coupled with his own puritanical conscience. And... he pawed through the bag and counted... eight condoms. Yep. Hell.

  The sound of a shower running filtered gradually through Lainie's sleepy haze. It had been five long years since she'd listened to someone else take a shower. She was the only shower-taker in her apartment. Dexter still liked baths.

  So Harry was in the shower. And she was hot and sticky, because the air-conditioning was not working. She would love to be in the shower, too. With Harry. But she'd told herself that was a bad idea. However, Harry was naked in the shower. How strong could anyone expect a woman to be, when she'd gone without sex for five long years?

  Okay, what if she announced to him that she only wanted one meaningless sexual experience? She could assure him that she had no permanent designs on him, but that she needed one male-induced orgasm or she'd go crazy. It seemed like a reasonable request.

  Now was the time to ask, when he was already naked. Then there would be no awkward undressing scene, no chance for second thoughts. One quick orgasm, that's all she needed. Then she'd leave him alone for the rest of the trip.

  True, she had no condoms, but surely he could figure out how to give her an orgasm without condoms. And she'd do the same for him. That was only fair.

  So it was decided. One little orgasm wouldn't matter so much, would it? After that she'd be a good girl. Leav­ing the damp bed, she unhooked her bra and tossed it on her pile of clothes. Then she stepped out of her panties and walked toward the closed bathroom door. As she opened it, the sound of a washcloth slapping against bare skin stopped.