Talk Nerdy to Me (20 page)

She
turned the corner at the end of the hall, a corner he hadn't noticed before. Of
course he'd been thinking about round beds and condoms in the bathroom during
the time he'd spent in this part of the house.

"There it is."

At
first glance in the dim light from the hall, the old wooden door seemed fine.
He wasn't sure what he'd expected—maybe a hacked-out place where the lock
should have been. Then Eve pulled on the knob and the door swung open, letting
in a slice of cold air

The
other side had taken all the abuse. Claw marks indicated where someone had
used a crowbar to pry open the door. Looking at it made the hairs on the back
of his neck stand up.

"I
guess we don't have to worry about how many keys you have floating around, do
we?" he said.

"I
figure they hacked their way in the back door and went out the front, leaving
it unlocked. Maybe they even thought the unlocked front door would throw me off
the track for a while, which it did. If you hadn't been so intent on having me
lock everything up good and tight, I might not have checked this back door at
all."

"Did
you check for footprints?" He glanced out the door, but the snow looked
trampled by many pairs of boots.

"I
didn't think of that. When I first went out to see what had happened, I stomped
around a lot because I was cold. I'm sure I messed up any prints that might
have been there." She was shivering.

He
didn't know if her trembling was from the chill or nerves, but for starters he
closed the back door to eliminate the frigid draft. "For right now I'll
nail some boards across here so no one will be able to get in. Tomorrow I'll
get you a new door and a different lock." He unzipped his jacket in
preparation for the work ahead. "An alarm system might be a good idea,
too."

She
made a face. "I hate those things. I never remember the code and I'm
forever setting it off or forgetting to turn it on."

He
had no trouble believing that. Alarms only worked for meticulous people. A
scatterbrained genius like Eve would make a mess of an alarm system. "Then
we'll come up with something else."

"Sleigh
bells." The color was returning to her cheeks. "I'll hang sleigh
bells on both doors so I'll hear anybody who comes in."

"When
you're here. What about when you're not?" He figured the intruder had
taken advantage of Eve being gone.

"I'll
worry about that the next time I have to leave, which isn't until next week. I
hope to have the hovercraft ready to test before then."

"We
will have it ready." Charlie was busy rearranging his priorities. He had
unused vacation days at work. Now seemed like the time to take them. "But
the first order of business is boarding up this door."

She looked doubtful.
"No boards."

"Come
on. You must have boards somewhere. Every homeowner has boards. My mother has a
shed full of boards."

"Not
me. I like metal hardware and fiberglass and engine parts. I've never had the
slightest urge to get into carpentry."

Charlie
studied the door. "Then I'd better check out your hardware supply."

"Anything
I have would be out on the workbench. Want me to take your jacket?"

"Thanks.
And my chaps." He handed her his jacket and unbuckled the chaps. As he
gave her those, he noticed the color was
really
back
in her cheeks. Her eyes, magnified slightly by her glasses, seemed unusually
bright, too.

She fingered the chaps.
"Soft leather."

"It
needs to be flexible to give me plenty of mobility when I ride." And that
was the God's truth, but it came out sounding vaguely suggestive. He could feel
the sexual tension building. Apparently, it didn't take much to make that
happen.

"I
suppose so." She continued to finger the black leather.

To
sidetrack his instinctive urge to reach for her, he turned himself into the
Answer Man. "People think cyclists wear leather for the looks, but it's
the best protection you can have if you end up sliding across the pavement. It
peels off in layers, which gives you a chance to literally save your
skin."

She winced. "But
you're careful, aren't you?"

He
thought of the reckless way he'd been driving tonight while Rick had insisted
on describing his sexual adventures with Eunice. "Most of the time."

"You
should be careful
all
the time, Charlie. Think of
how your mother would react if something happened to you. Moving out West is
nothing compared to getting in an accident on your bike." A strong current
of emotion made her tremble.

Charlie
recognized that emotion. It was the same one he'd felt when he'd seen the
busted door. It seemed that they'd started to care about each other, whether
that was convenient or not. "You're right," he said. "I need to
be careful all the time." He looked into her eyes. "And so do you. No
more cavalier attitude about locks."

She nodded. "Don't
worry. I'm convinced."

He
took a deep breath. "Good. Okay, let's see what I can find on your
workbench that could secure the door until tomorrow. Unless you've put them
away already, I'll need the screwdrivers we left in your bathroom."

"I'll get them."

As
Charlie walked back through the house he thought about his options after he
secured the door. He didn't think he could just leave her and go home. Chances
were the thief wouldn't show up while she was still there, and maybe the notes
were the only thing the person was after, but still... Charlie wasn't wild
about leaving her alone.

Staying
would present its own kind of challenge, though. He was well aware of that. He
could camp out on her couch, of course. There was always that option. Yeah,
right. With the kind of sparks flying between them on a regular basis, opting
for the couch would be a joke. She'd know it the minute the suggestion came out
of his mouth. Sheesh, what a tricky situation.

Eve
hung Charlie's jacket and chaps on the hooks by the front door. Every time she
touched the chaps she got a sexual zing, and she was guilty of touching them a
lot. The soft leather was sensuous all by itself, but when she thought about
where that leather had been, she moaned with longing. She'd never thought of
herself as a kinky person, but the image of Charlie wearing those chaps— and
nothing else—was too potent to resist.

Maybe
she'd been nudged in that direction by Rick's comments about his session with
Eunice. Eve wondered if Eunice would divulge her side of the story. Apparently
the poor woman had been so long without sex that she'd hated to let Rick leave.

Eve
could relate. She had Charlie in residence and her hormones were telling her
this was an opportunity not to be taken lightly. He might not be boyfriend
material, but he had the right equipment to relieve the majority of her
tension, with or without the added thrill of chaps.

Contemplating
the wisdom of jumping his bones, knowing it was a temporary fix, she went back
to the bathroom to get the screwdrivers lying on top of the dryer. Then she
decided to peek inside the washer just for kicks. The junk in the bottom of the
basket was starting to smell funny, so she made a command decision and poured
some liquid soap on top of everything. Aromatherapy.

Finally,
as a last touch, she piled a few things on the lid to discourage Denise from
going in there. Oh, God, Denise. Eve could picture her sister's face when she
discovered the situation with the back door.

Denise
would go into her bossy routine immediately and probably insist on one of those
dopey alarms. Eve would have to remember that this was her house, not Denise's
house, and resist the alarm campaign. Denise had one, and that was the main
source of Eve's horror of them.

She'd
made the mistake of staying a weekend with Denise a couple
of
years
ago. During that one short weekend, Eve had managed to set off Denise's alarm
a grand total of six times. The first few episodes had brought the cops to the
door, but eventually they'd figured out it was Eve mishandling the system and
had called before they sent out a squad car. That had thrown Denise into a
tizzy because she was sure now the cops would ignore an actual emergency.

Eve
had felt rotten because it might be true—the little-boy-who-cried-wolf
syndrome. She'd tried really hard to master the alarm sequence, but the
pressure to get it right in a certain amount of time had always been her weakness.
Give her a relaxed atmosphere and she could perform most any task, but put her
under time constraints and she froze up. That was another reason to love pool.
It was a leisurely game.

After
picking up the screwdrivers, Eve paused, listening for Charlie's footsteps. He
must still be out in the garage. She tried to picture what would happen after
he'd fixed the door and couldn't decide for sure what he'd do. A guy like
Charlie wouldn't feel right leaving her to face the rest of the night by
herself.

But
they had issues. He might think sleeping on the couch was the best alternative
for dealing with those issues. Eve had other ideas. But if push came to shove,
and the birth control stayed inside the bathroom cupboard, Charlie would
probably be able to hang on to his virtue.

Setting
the screwdrivers on the bathroom counter, Eve opened the cabinet under the sink
and took out the box she'd put there. She'd moved the condoms from her New York
apartment along with all her other bathroom supplies. Although she'd had no
immediate use for them once Lyle was out of the picture, throwing them away had
seemed silly. They hadn't expired yet.

She
hadn't thought of Lyle much until tonight when she'd used his name in
conversation without thinking. Or maybe her subconscious had wanted Charlie to
know that Lyle had existed and why she'd turned him down. Despite knowing she
had no future with Charlie, she kept creating those tiny bonds, opportunities
for Charlie to get to know her better. Maybe the effort was futile, but she
couldn't seem to stop doing it.

Tucking
a couple of condoms in the pocket of her overalls felt like clandestine
behavior. But the more she thought about it, and she'd been thinking about it a
lot recently, she wanted to have sex with Charlie. So what if it led to
nothing? She'd had sex with Lyle, and that had led to nothing. But that had
been her choice not Lyle's, and she realized the distinction.

She'd
heard that Lyle hadn't taken their breakup very well. Some mutual friends had
reported several nights of heavy drinking during parties he'd attended alone.
But he was seeing someone now, and from all indications he was over her. Eve
was happy for him. She had nothing against Lyle except the golden cage he'd
wanted to put her in.

As
for Charlie, she knew going in that he was planning to leave Middlesex. She
wouldn't try to keep him here, either. Because she'd expect the relationship
to be short-lived, she could prepare for that—assuming she could get Charlie
to have sex with her in the first place.

"Hey,
Eve!" Charlie called to her as he came down the hall. "Guess I won't
need the screwdrivers, after all. I found your cordless ..."

She
spun around, putting her body between the door and the open box of condoms
still sitting on the counter.

".
. . drill." He paused in the doorway, a fistful of metal hinges in one
hand and her cordless drill in the other. She didn't think he could see the
condom box, but she probably looked both startled and guilty. She certainly
felt startled and guilty.

She
glanced at the cordless drill. "So you found the attachments? That's
great!" Too hearty. She needed to tone it down.

"Yeah,
I did." His gaze was difficult to interpret, but he was definitely
cloaking his reaction.

She
decided he'd either seen the box or he had a good idea what she'd been doing
over there by the cabinet. But he was going to act as if he hadn't. It wasn't
the sort of thing you could broach in casual conversation.
"I
found your cordless drill! And I see you’re getting out some condoms! Good to
know!"

Or
maybe he was trying to think how to gracefully derail her obvious interest in
having sex with him. Damn it, she'd wanted to be more subtle than this, but
she'd blown it due to her tendency to get lost in her thoughts. Denise had
tried to assign a bunch of alphabet letters to that tendency, but Eve hadn't
paid any attention because it sounded too much like a stock market symbol.
Denise loved to categorize things, but Eve didn't fit neatly into any category,
which drove Denise crazy.