Nerd in Shining Armor

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  Matt shook his head. “You need to decide that for him. A fourteen-year-old won’t know whether it’s safe to go on. They think they’re invincible.”

  “I meant whether he feels seasick.”

  “Oh.” Matt looked nervous. “Uh, do you feel seasick?”

  “No.” And even if she did, she wouldn’t let a little thing like that stop her. “Let me go check on Lincoln, though.”

  “Listen, if you think there’s any chance that he’s gonna get seasick, then I think we should take him right back to the harbor. Matter of fact, maybe we’d better all go back. The storm will probably pass over in no time, and then we can—”

  “Never mind about Lincoln getting seasick, then.” She began to panic at the idea that he might seriously think of turning around. “Just head toward Molokai.”

  “Look, we’re closer to home than to Molokai, and I don’t want to be fighting through heavy seas with your kid puking his guts out down below. For all I know both of you are prone to seasickness.”

  “We’re not. And Lincoln will be just fine.” She wished she’d never brought up the subject. Come to think of it, her stomach was feeling like she’d just eaten a spoiled batch of crawdads.

  “But you just said—”

  “He’s never been seasick.” Which was absolutely true. You couldn’t get seasick if you’d never been to sea. She made a shooing motion with her hand. “Let’s just go. Pedal to the metal. Or whatever you do with a boat. Just goose it.”

  He mumbled something under his breath. She figured he wasn’t happy, but that was just too bad.

  “Hang on,” he said as the engine roared and the boat shot forward.

  She grabbed hold of Matt because he was the closest solid thing. And he felt wonderful, all warm muscles and broad shoulders. Plus he smelled good. After all her years in a beauty parlor with the perfumes and lotions women liked, she’d forgotten the pleasurable scent of a crisp aftershave. Maybe a vibrator and a good mechanic didn’t cover all her needs, after all.

  But that wasn’t what this boat ride was about. She let go of Matt the minute she found her balance. “Excuse me,” she said. “I’ll just go talk to Lincoln.”

  “You do that.” He sounded like a bear with a sore paw.

  “I will.” She hurried down the steps, eager to get away from him. He didn’t like her and she didn’t care. Just because he felt nice and smelled good didn’t matter a hill of beans. All she needed him to do was drive this boat.

  Matt had made some dumb moves in his life, but letting Annabelle talk him into renting a boat so they could search for her daughter was the granddaddy of all dumbness. He should just turn the boat around and head for the harbor, no matter what she said. As he considered doing that, a picture of Annabelle staging a mutiny flashed through his head. Yep, she’d be up for that.

  She was a fiery woman, and he was inappropriately excited by that. Now wasn’t the time to be thinking about sex, and he felt like a first-class sleaze because whenever he looked at Annabelle, that’s what he thought about. She was one luscious woman. When she’d grabbed him by the shoulder just now, he’d reacted instantly to her touch. He hadn’t wanted her to take her hand away.

  Well, he’d better put a lid on those thoughts immediately. If he couldn’t, he’d be obligated to take her back to Oahu and find her someone else to ferry her around. He didn’t want to do that, couldn’t trust that someone else would see this from her perspective and understand why she needed to be out here.

  He didn’t have any kids, but after the first shock of discovering that the plane was missing, he’d been able to set aside his own fears and imagine hers, which had to be huge. Maybe he was especially sensitized after his night with Celeste. No matter how bold and brash young women like Celeste and Genevieve pretended to be, they were more vulnerable than they knew. Vulnerability always tore down all his defenses.

  So he was out here for Annabelle’s sake, and for Genevieve’s, but he also was out here because he felt more useful doing something. She’d been right about that—sitting around waiting for word would have been torture. Bucking eight-foot swells with two green-to-the-gills passengers wouldn’t be a picnic, but at least he’d have taken some action.

  However, under the current weather conditions, they needed to exercise some caution or the Coast Guard would be adding them to the list of the missing. Matt was willing to risk his safety, and Annabelle had the right to risk hers, but neither of them should endanger a fourteen-year-old kid, no matter how obnoxious his hair color. They’d weather this storm in Molokai and then cruise around Maui to see what they could see. Maybe they’d chance upon something. Stranger things had been known to happen.

  And he’d keep his libido in check. For God’s sake, she even had her kid with her, and yet he still found himself thinking how he’d love to get her naked. He was a sorry specimen.

  When it came to Lincoln, Matt thought Annabelle was too lax. Obviously the kid’s father wasn’t anywhere around or that hair color wouldn’t be happening, and the earring wouldn’t be winking in his ear, either. The black T-shirt that said You Got a Problem with That? was pretty typical—all the kids had attitude these days. But if Matt had a son like Lincoln, the hair situation definitely would be under control and they’d find an alternate way to fly the colors of the flag.

  He glanced over his shoulder to where Annabelle and Lincoln were deep in conversation. From their hunched posture Matt figured they had to be freezing their asses off, what with the wind and the spray. When you were out on the water, a summer storm could bring your body temperature down in a hurry.

  Finally they must have had enough, because when Annabelle started up the steps toward him, Lincoln followed. The kid looked pale. Nobody enjoyed being seasick, but Matt figured Lincoln would hate it more than most. Spending the first part of the voyage hurling would put a big dent in that macho swagger he had going on. Matt felt a moment of sympathy for him. Being fourteen had never been an easy job, and having your sister missing wouldn’t make it a hell of a lot easier.

  “Lincoln needs to use the facilities,” Annabelle said. “Is that okay?”

  “Certainly that’s okay. Is he sick?”

  “No, I’m not sick. Definitely not sick.” Lincoln sounded weak but defiant.

  Matt was too busy handling the boat to study him more closely. “Go ahead down below, and just be aware that we’re tossing around quite a bit, so hold on to something to keep steady.”

  “Well, duh.”

  “Lincoln Roosevelt Terrence! Apologize to Mr. Murphy this second!”

  “Sorry, Mr. Murphy.”

  “No problem.” That was some name Annabelle had saddled him with. The kid was supposed to run for high office, apparently. “And call me Matt.”

  “Yeah, but my mom said—”

  “Lincoln, go on downstairs,” Annabelle said. “Now.”

  “And help yourself to some Seven-Up if you want,” Matt added. “That sometimes settles a queasy stomach.”

  “Thanks, but my stomach’s good.”

  “Glad to hear it.”

  “See you guys later.” Lincoln stumbled going down the steps, but that could have been due to the pitching of the boat.

  “Maybe you’d better go with him,” Matt said.

  She lowered her voice. “He would never forgive me if I did.”

  Matt nodded. He’d been fourteen once, too. “Okay, but if he isn’t back out in a few minutes, you’d better go tap on the door. I don’t want him to hit his head and knock himself out in there.”

  Annabelle drew in a sharp breath. “Then I’ll sneak down after I’m sure he’s in there, and I’ll listen. Oh, and Matt, I apologize for Lincoln’s manners. I’ll speak to him.”

  “Don’t, Annabelle. He’s a lot more polite than most kids I’ve seen. Don’t ride him on my account.”

  She sighed. “I’m so afraid if I let things slide, he’ll get mouthy like his friends, but today it’s a little harder to be strict with him.”


  “Exactly. This is an unusual circumstance. And I can take care of myself. If I think he’s getting too much of an attitude, I’ll tell him.”

  “Good. That’s good.” She hesitated. “Matt, I need to tell you something. Lincoln and I don’t think Genevieve’s in this direction.”

  “What do you mean in this direction? Nick was on his way to Maui, which is definitely in this direction.”

  “I know, but we don’t think that’s where she is. We think we’re going farther away from her, not closer.”

  Matt could smell her perfume mixed with the salty breeze that had been blowing through her hair. He wanted to nuzzle the side of her neck and sniff his fill of that combo. “And what are you basing this on?” He was afraid to ask.

  She hesitated. “I don’t suppose you’d just take my word for it that we need to turn around.”

  “Nope. And we’re not turning around. Not until this storm passes over. We’ll hole up in Molokai. You can see what it’s like out there.”

  “Yes.”

  He heard the sound of her swallow, even over the wind and the engine. He gave her a quick glance. “You’re about to upchuck, too, aren’t you?”

  “No.”

  “Annabelle, go do it. Use the sink in the galley if Lincoln’s still in the head. You’ll feel better if you get rid of what’s in your stomach.”

  “Will you…go the other way once it’s safe?”

  “You haven’t told me why.” But he already had a good idea what she’d say. She’d claim some hocus-pocus like her daughter was beaming waves of consciousness at her. Maybe Lincoln was picking up the transmission through his hair.

  “I can’t explain it so you’ll understand! Will you do it?”

  “If you don’t get below, you’re going to throw up all over me.” He was demented. Even knowing she was seasick, he still wanted her, right this minute.

  “Promise me, Matt Murphy!”

  “Okay, damn it! We’ll turn around and start back the other way once the storm’s over! Now go throw up, will you?”

  She was already heading down the steps.

  Great, just great. Nothing beat taking a boat ride with a couple of puking, psychic passengers, except having the hots for one of them and knowing he wouldn’t be able to do a damned thing about it. When he finally got his hands on Nick Brogan, his partner would have a hell of a lot to answer for.

  Chapter Ten

  Genevieve knew she should be worried about her perilous circumstances, and she hated to think how upset Mama was by this time. But other than worrying about Mama, she was having more fun than she’d had since the days of playing in the mud down by the crick. In the Hollow she’d only had other kids to boss around, but here she had Jack, who did pretty much whatever she wanted him to.

  She stood back and admired the three-sided shelter they’d decided to build using the cliff face as one wall and the overhang as a roof. They’d managed to find enough driftwood and lava rocks to put up two more walls. Well, she’d found the materials and Jack had hauled it all over. He’d wanted to do all sorts of elaborate calculating before they started building and kept using words like schematics, but the clouds rolling in had finally convinced him to just let her tell him how to do it.

  Jack folded his arms over his chest and nodded. “Not bad. Not bad at all. Should provide a fair bit of protection from the elements.”

  She got a kick out of his man-triumphs-over-nature attitude. A half hour ago he’d been complaining that this would never work. “I’ll bet you never built a hideaway when you were a kid in Nebraska.”

  He paused and adjusted his glasses, as if trying to remember.

  “If you have to think about it, then you didn’t. I can tell you exactly what my hideaway was like. We dug it out under the roots of this giant tree right beside the crick. Every year we dug out more and added rooms. We had frog races down there and everything. It was great until the year the crick overflowed.”

  “You’re right, I didn’t have anything like that. One summer I wanted to put up a tent in the backyard, but I gave up the idea when my grandmother wouldn’t let me run the extension cord outside so I could plug stuff in.”

  She shook her head. “You’re not supposed to have electricity, for pity’s sake.” Not that she always had that option in the Hollow, anyway. “You’re supposed to act like you’re completely on your own, with no grown-ups. You can’t have a blessed cord running from the house to your hideaway. That’s a dead giveaway as to where you are.”

  “So what?” He seemed totally mystified.

  “So if the grown-ups can’t find you, you can do all the things they would tell you not to.” She was beginning to wonder if Jack had taken a single chance as a kid. “That’s how I learned to start fires with my glasses. Do you think my mama would have wanted me out in the woods doing that?”

  “Guess not.”

  “Bet your britches she didn’t. But I did it anyway, and now I can make us a nice fire, lickety-split.” She walked over to the small pile of driftwood chips she’d been hoarding during the construction. “Let me have the glasses.”

  “There’s no point in starting a fire when it’s going to rain pretty soon.”

  “That’s why we’ll start it now, when we still have some sun, and then we’ll transfer the fire inside the shelter.”

  “You can’t have a fire in there! You’ll incinerate us both!”

  “Of course we can have a fire in there.” She was patient with him because he was such a beginner at the outdoor life. “There’s a nice little gap between the overhang and the wall, so the smoke can get out. And we’ll build the fire on sand up against the cliff and put rocks around it, so it can’t spread.”

  “It’ll be hot in there,” he muttered.

  “Not once the rain starts.” She gazed at him. “It’ll be cozy.”

  “We’ll die of carbon monoxide poisoning.”

  “No, we won’t. Trust me. It’ll be real nice.”

  “Humph.” He handed over the glasses, although he still looked worried about the project.

  Or maybe he was worried about being tucked into that tiny spot with her, since he had his crush going on and might be afraid he’d forget himself and give in to it. She could see that happening. She should be worried about the same thing, but she wasn’t.

  Without being real obvious about it, she’d kept her eye on Jack as he’d wrestled with the heavy pieces of driftwood. She couldn’t recall the last time she’d had a chance to watch a muscular man stripped to the waist doing physical labor. Clyde Loudermilk had looked good without his shirt, but Jack looked a heap better.

  That picture of Jack lifting a piece of driftwood to the top of the wall stayed with her as she knelt on the sand and held the glasses at the right angle to catch the sun. She was a little like this pile of kindling, now that she thought about it. For some time she’d turned down any dates that came her way, thinking she needed to be saving herself for Nick.

  What a waste that had been. But the upshot of all that self-sacrifice was that she hadn’t done the hokey-poky with a man in a coon’s age. Now here she was stranded on a desert island with Jack.

  If anybody had told her yesterday she’d be stuck with a guy like him after her long drought, she’d have laughed herself into a case of the hiccups. But after catching his manly display of muscle, she wasn’t so sure being plane-wrecked with Jack was such a disaster.

  She was beginning to feel very tender toward him. Finding out that he was color blind and ashamed of it touched her. Plus he was an orphan, a fact that always made her want to cuddle that person for all they’d missed. Jack was worth cuddling, too, because he had a good heart and he was very brave. Yesterday she hadn’t known any of that about him.

  Besides, they needed to find things to do to take their minds off food. She’d already started craving another energy bar, and they couldn’t eat those yet.

  For another thing, if she had a little fun with Jack while they were on the island, no one would
have to know. She could trust him not to tell anyone, and she certainly wouldn’t. And the third and best reason for having sex was that she’d be doing him a favor by teaching him how women liked to be treated in bed. He might not know any more about that than he did about making cozy hideaways.

  Having sex for Jack’s sake instead of her own made the idea seem noble and worthwhile. He might be terrible at it, which would leave her no better off than before. She was taking a big risk, come to think of it, and he should be mighty grateful for the chance to educate himself at her expense. Now that she knew him better, she expected he would be grateful.

  A wisp of smoke curled up from the dried leaves and driftwood chips. Genevieve moved the glasses and leaned down to blow gently into the pile.

  “I can’t believe you’re actually getting it to burn.”

  She blew harder and tiny flames wiggled upward. “You’re lucky you have me around, Jack.” Leaning back, she waved her hand over the flames until she could feel their heat. “I hate to think of what would become of you if you’d been marooned on this island all by your lonesome.”

  When he didn’t have a comeback to that, she glanced up at him. He was inspecting her the way she imagined he inspected a computer screen that had started flashing warning signals. Well, he’d never get a girlfriend standing around looking like that. He needed a confident smile on his face, not a worried frown. Maybe she could put that smile on his face before they were rescued.

  But first she had to get the inside of their hideaway all situated. “Could you tend this fire?” She stood. “I need to fix the pit inside.”

  “What should I do?”

  “Goodness, you don’t need an instruction book to—” She stopped when he started to blush. “You really never tended a fire before?” She could see the answer in his eyes. “Never mind. I didn’t mean to make you feel poorly about it.” She kicked herself for undermining his confidence when she wanted to do the exact opposite.