Talk Nerdy to Me (25 page)

"Thinking soft would
make more sense."

"Ha,
ha. Come on. This is serious. How about the multiplication tables?"

"Too
easy.
I
could have an entire round of sex while mentally
reciting the multiplication tables. But you're on the right track.
I
'd
forgotten that trick. When
I
was
younger and didn't have great staying power during sex,
I
'd
take a number, any number, and figure it to the twelfth power so
I
wouldn't
come too quick."

As
heat surged through her, she moaned and hugged him tight. "Thanks. Thanks
a whole hell of a lot. Now all
I
'll
be able to think of is you and your well-developed staying power."

His
voice grew husky. "I didn't demonstrate that so well tonight, did I?"

"Wasn't
needed. Ever since Monday night, I've been thinking about sex. With you."

"Want
me to call my mom and cancel?" he asked softly.

"No. I would feel incredibly
guilty."

"I'll
bet you'd feel just plain incredible. At least I thought so the whole time I
was—"

"Stop
it, Charlie. Point this hog of yours toward the bakery, okay?"

"Okay."
With one last brush of his lips over her fingertips, he released her hand.
"And don't touch the chaps."

"Because
you're a hunk of burning love ready to go up in flames?"

"You've
got it." Charlie revved the motor and took off down the deserted street.

As
Charlie drew close to the bakery, he tried to get his head on straight. He knew
Eve had been kidding when she'd thrown out the "hunk of burning love"
comment, but she didn't know how close she'd come to the truth. He'd been in
love a couple of times in his life. It hadn't worked out either time. Cindi had
been way too young, and Mariah had hated his plan to move to Nevada.

After Mariah, he'd told
himself to be careful about this love business. But along came Eve. Maybe
because of her appealing nerdiness and her most excellent brain, he hadn't
remembered to be careful. And sure enough, judging from the signs, he was
coming down with the beginning stages of lovesickness.

The
evidence was all there. To begin with, he'd volunteered to work on the
hovercraft, but he'd spent more time learning about her than her invention.
Totally uncharacteristic. Then he'd allowed his sexual frustration to turn him
into a reckless driver tonight. Also unlike him.

Those
were the big things, but there were a million little things. He'd noticed just
now that she didn't wear rings of any kind, and he'd started wondering what
kind of wedding band she'd want. He got a real charge out of every time he made
her smile, and when she laughed, especially if he'd had something to do with
that reaction, he felt warm all over. Yes, the sex was amazing, but he also
remembered how cute she'd looked trying to hide the fact she'd been gathering
up condoms, just in case.

He'd
begun to catalog the small things—the graceful gestures she made as a result of
runway training, the soft wisps of hair that grew at the nape of her neck, and
the little indentation her glasses made on the bridge of her nose. She was
working her way into his heart, and he didn't know what to do to stop that from
happening.

Abandoning
the relationship wouldn't work, not when she needed him to help her with her
invention and potentially keep away whoever was trying to horn in on it. That
crowbar job on the door looked more like a man's work than a woman's, but a
woman who kept in shape might be able to accomplish it. One thing was fairly
sure—it hadn't been a professional thief. A professional would have picked the
lock.

Or
maybe it was a professional and they'd used the crowbar to make it look
amateurish. When Charlie considered that, he realized that he didn't know much
of anything about who had broken into Eve's house. The missing notes, if in
fact they were missing, were the only thing connecting the breakin to the
hovercraft. Someone even might have broken in by mistake, figured out they
didn't have the right house, and left.

All
Charlie could do was stay close and try to keep it from happening again. That
meant that he was leaving himself wide open to the onset of lovesickness. He
thought of it as a disease, one he didn't want to catch right now. But it
didn't seem as if he had much choice.

Guiding
his bike down an alley and steering around the shoveled mounds of slushy snow,
he parked in his usual spot behind the bakery, right next to his mother's
Volvo. His mother and Aunt Myrtle would have left the back door open. They
weren't much better about locks than Eve.

Eve
climbed off the bike and immediately Charlie missed the contact of her thighs
and breasts. Why did this bakery gizmo have to malfunction tonight? No matter
how quickly he fixed it, and he planned to do it at warp speed, he'd still lose
a good hour with Eve. And it would have been a good hour, too.

"What
should I do with the helmet?" She took it off and tossed her head so that
her hair fell loose around her shoulders. The back door light reflected off her
tumbling hair so that sections of it turned the color of burnished copper.

Charlie sat on his bike and
took in the show, unable to stop staring. He ached to bury his fingers in all
that glorious hair, to have it rain down around his face as she leaned over
him, to watch it bounce and wiggle as they writhed on her round bed.

"Charlie?" She
held out the helmet.

"I love your
hair."

She
looked startled. Then she adjusted the fit of her glasses. "Thank you.
It's just hair."

"That's
like saying Hoover is just a dam. Your hair is amazing."

"I never thought so. I
always wanted to be a blonde."

"Then
why aren't you?" He'd dated several blondes in his life. Three he knew for
a fact weren't natural blondes. The others were an unknown—the relationship
hadn't progressed to the bedroom stage where he'd inevitably find out. But all
the women he knew, including his mother and his aunt, had whatever color they
wanted.

"Models aren't
supposed to color their hair."

"I
didn't know that. But I'm glad you don't. It looks perfect the way it is."

She
picked up a strand and studied it. "It's okay, I guess. At least the ends
look better now that the frizzed part from the explosion is gone."

"You singed your
hair?

"Just a little."

"You
could have been killed." That settled it. He wasn't letting her do any
more testing without him around. Accidents could so easily happen, but if he
double-checked all her work, then ... his mind stalled as a horrible thought
came to him. What if the explosion hadn't been an accident? What if someone had
wanted to stall the development of the hovercraft until they could steal her
notes?

"I have fast
reflexes," she said.

"Thank
God." But the more he thought about this, the more worried he became. The
explosion had delayed Eve's progress, and someone might have wanted that.
"Listen, was Eunice the only person who knew about the hovercraft before
we all came over on Monday night?"

"I
think so. Unless somebody caught a glimpse of it when I opened my garage door,
which I didn't do very often. A couple of weeks ago I accidentally hit the button
and it opened, but the only person outside was Eunice, who was shoveling her
driveway."

"Does she usually
shovel her own driveway?"

"Usually. She thinks
it builds up her boobs. Why?"

"Just
thinking." A woman who shoveled her own driveway on a regular basis would
have the necessary muscles to use a crowbar on Eve's back door. But Charlie
wasn't ready to point the finger yet. He needed to find out more about Eunice
before he started making accusations.

"Look,
Eunice isn't behind any of this. I knew that the minute I saw somebody had gone
after my door with a crowbar."

"If
you think that lets her out because she has a key, think again. She could have
used the crowbar on purpose, to cast off any suspicion."

"She didn't use a crowbar on my back door,
Charlie."

"How
can you be so sure? If she shovels her own walk, she'd be strong enough."

"Strength isn't the issue here. It's
nails."

"Nails?
There weren't any nails in that door. Just the lock."

"Fingernails."
Eve waved her fingers at him. "Shoveling snow is one thing. You can wear
gloves and be careful. But using a crowbar on a door is a whole different ball
of wax. You can't predict exactly how it will go and when something will give
way, so you stand an excellent chance of breaking a nail on a project like
that. Eunice wouldn't risk it."

As
Charlie studied her, he tried to decide if her theory made sense. She certainly
knew more about women's manicures than he did. "Obviously you have been
thinking about who did this."

"Of
course I have." She smiled. "In between thinking about having sex
with you, that is."

He
pushed away his immediate response, which was to grab her and carry her away
into the night so they could get naked. "And do you have any idea who it
might be?"

"I
hate to throw out accusations." "I know. Me, too. But somebody broke
into your house while you were gone, and until you find those notes, we have to
assume that was the reason. I'm not ruling the explosion an accident yet,
either."

She
waved a hand, dismissing that part of his statement. "It was an accident.
The vandalized door was not. The only people I can think who might have done it
are ... and I hate to say this ... Manny and Kyle."

Charlie had thought of
them, too. "Motive?"

"They're
lowly assistants, working for a high-powered, successful photographer. Maybe
they're sick of being errand boys who are helping to build another guy's
career, and they want to make a chunk of money so they can go off on their own.
You and Rick let them know the hovercraft could be worth money, so they might
be trying to peddle the concept."

"I
guess it's possible." Charlie let the idea simmer a moment. Yeah, it was
definitely possible. "Too bad they ended up getting in on the discussion
Monday night and had to be invited over. But there wasn't much else we could
do."

"And
I could be wrong about them. That would be horrible, to accuse two innocent
guys when it's really someone else."

He
had a feeling that she had another person in mind who might be responsible, and
she wasn't saying. "So those are the two you came up with, Manny and
Kyle?"

"I don't know who else
it could be."

Charlie
thought he had to say it, to be fair. Maybe then she'd come out with her other
name. After all, she had told her sister, who didn't live all that far away.
And her sister could be insane with jealousy. Family dynamics could get very
weird.

"We
can't forget my cousin," he said. "He was there Monday night, too. He
believes the hovercraft's a moneymaker."

"Rick?
Why would he jeopardize a great career, one that's pulling in insane amounts of
money, by the way. Do you have any idea how much top photographers get these
days?"

Charlie
didn't. "Are you telling me that maybe his Rolex isn't from China?"

"Not
from China. Why do you think Eunice is putting on her alien sexual show with
all the fanfare and props? Sure, she thinks he's cute, but she also knows he's
loaded." She gazed at him. "Look,
I
have to ask, and then we
can drop the subject. Did you offer up your cousin to see if I'd offer up my
sister?"

She
looked so vulnerable that he could only come up with one answer. It might be a
white lie, but he'd take the consequences of telling one this time. "I'm
sure it's not your sister."

"Yeah, me, too. I'm
glad we agree on that."

From the soft way she said
it, he didn't think she was at all convinced. But he wasn't about to press on
that sore spot, and she'd desperately needed to hear that he didn't list Denise
as a suspect. "We're not going to solve it now, anyway."