Talk Nerdy to Me (4 page)

With great effort he
focused on the balls on the table and told the ones in his pants to cool down
so he could concentrate. Nothing good could come from muffing his first shot. A
guy with his own pool cue and a habit of practicing every afternoon after work
had better come up with the goods.

Fortunately
he managed to knock something in, and the technique wasn't half-bad, either.
He'd put a satisfying amount of backspin on the cue ball so that it lined up
perfectly for his next move.

"Nice screw
shot," she said.

"Thanks."
He should have guessed she'd know what to call it. Now if only that particular
word coming out of her mouth hadn't given him a boner, everything would be
ducky.

"You're
good," she said. "You have a nice steady rhythm."

Oh,
man.
Since when had everything
turned into a sexual reference? "Thanks," he said again, and
swallowed a groan of frustration.

"I can see why Archie
thought I should get a handicap."

"I'm
the one who needs the handicap." And he had a doozy pressing against the
fly of his jeans.

"Nah. You're doing
great."

"I
will be if I don't give you any more shots." He pictured how deflated
he'd feel if he lost, and that helped his buddy deflate some, too. He knocked
in one ball, then managed to sink another. Finally he had a groove going, until
he hit a ball too hard because he was showing off. Instead of sliding into the
pocket, the ball bounced off the rail. Well, at least he'd blocked her shot.

She
put down her beer and wiped her hands on her overalls before she picked up his
cue stick. He really liked that she was so careful with it. Then she did the
stroking thing, caressing the shaft of his stick, and he was in trouble again.

"I really love your
stick," she said.

He
almost choked. He managed to say thanks, although he sounded like the
Godfather.

"However,
I'm not going to use your stick for this one." She walked over to the wall
rack and leaned his pool cue carefully against one of the prongs.

Her
walk was getting to him too, he realized. Made sense. She walked for a living,
prowling down runways while wearing the latest fashion. She was paid to look
sexy doing it, and by now her walk was probably ingrained and unconscious. But
he was extremely conscious ... of every sway of her hips, every nonchalant
shrug of her shoulders.

She
wasn't particularly chesty, or at least she didn't seem to be. Hard to tell in
the bulky pink sweater and overalls. But chances were she wasn't hugely endowed
because most models weren't. That should mean Archie wasn't interested, yet he
was still leaning on the bar looking quite interested.

As
for Charlie, he didn't care whether a woman was stacked or not. He was
intrigued with how they moved, which might have something to do with his
engineering background. Eve moved with smooth precision, all parts
synchronized. That worked for Charlie.

"I'll try this
one." Eve took down the jump cue.

Charlie's
eyes widened. Was she seriously expecting to go over or around his ball? He'd
practiced both the swerve and the jump, but he didn't feel confident about
either of those shots. If she did ... then she was way out of his league.

Sure
enough, she lifted the butt end of that jump cue and came down on the cue ball
with the stroke of an expert.

Charlie
let out a low whistle as the cue ball traced a semicircle around his ball, hit
her ball, and drove it into the side pocket. "Where the hell did you learn
how to play pool like that?"

"From
my dad. He was a hotshot bar player back in the seventies."

"I'll
just bet he was." Charlie watched as the inevitable happened and Eve
dropped the eight ball neatly into the corner pocket. He didn't like losing,
but at least he'd lost to a worthy opponent. "Congratulations."

She
smiled at him as she returned his custom cue to the rack. "Thanks."

He hung on to the house
stick. "So much for me getting that explanation, though. How about best
two out of three?"

"I might beat you
again."

He
certainly believed that. "Then we can move on to best three out of five.
Who knows, I could get lucky." Then he heard himself. "At pool. Lucky
at pool."

"I
knew that's what you meant." She gazed at him. "But it might not
work, you know."

His
hopes faded. "And you don't feel like hanging around."

"Well,
yes, I do. But you don't have to beat me at pool to get an explanation.
I—"

The front door of the
tavern opened with a loud bang and three men came in, laughing and joking as
they stomped snow off their shoes.

At
first Charlie was irritated by the intrusion. Talk about your lousy timing.
Then he took a closer look at the men. No. Couldn't be. But it was. In the lead
was none other than his cousin Rick, who was supposed to be in L.A.

Charlie
hadn't seen Rick in more than a year, but he hadn't changed much. He was still
tanned and fit, his brown hair streaked either by the sun or a hairdresser.
Rick would never say which. In any case, the sun was beginning to trace
crow's-feet around Rick's lady-killer brown eyes. Still, the guy looked good.
He always had.

"Surprise!"
Rick grabbed Charlie's hand, pulled him into a quick hug and turned him loose.
"Bet you didn't expect to see me walk through that door, today,
cuz!"

"Nope,
sure didn't. I pictured you lying on the beach at Malibu next to Heidi
Klum." Charlie battled the conflicting emotions he always felt when Rick
was around. Charlie was only two months older, so they'd grown up like
brothers, alternating between loyal friendship and bitter rivalry. Back when
they were teenagers, Rick always got the girls and Charlie always got the
grades.

"Lying
on the beach?" Rick laughed. "Don't I wish! Instead I have to scout
out a location for a winter fashion spread."

"Does
anyone know you're in town?" Charlie was aware of Eve standing back by the
pool table. Soon common courtesy would dictate that he bring her into the conversation,
and he didn't want to. Rick would change the dynamic.

"I
stopped at the bakery," Rick said. "Mom and Aunt Rose told me you'd
be over here. Listen, we have to talk about that bakery, man. But first, let me
introduce you to my assistants. This here's Manny Flores and the short dude is
Kyle Harrington."

Charlie
shook hands with each of them. Manny was tall and rangy, a mix of Hispanic and
Anglo, while Kyle was short and compact, a Doug Flutie type who looked as if he
would be quick on his feet. Rick must be doing well if he had two assistants
trailing him around.

And
now Charlie was obliged to introduce Eve. "This is Eve Dupree," he
said. "Eve, this is my cousin Rick Bannister."

As
Eve came forward, Rick flashed his very white smile. "Eve? I thought it
looked like you! We did that Chico's shoot together at Dana Point about four,
maybe five years ago. Yeah, I think it was five, come to think of it. Time
flies, and all that."

Charlie
sighed. It figured that Rick would know her, which gave him an even bigger
advantage. Charlie took some comfort in the fact that Eve's face didn't light
up right away, though.

Instead
she gazed thoughtfully at Rick as if trying to pin down the occasion. "Was
that the time we got rained out and all ended up in a little bar drinking wine
for two hours?"

'That's
it." Rick stepped forward and held out his hand. "It's great to see
you again. Small world, huh?"

"Sure
is." Eve shook his hand. Then Rick repeated the introduction of his two
assistants, and Eve shook their hands, too.

Obviously
Rick was damned proud of those assistants, since he kept introducing them every
five minutes. Charlie had to admit it was impressive, traveling with a
retinue. Strangely enough, Eve didn't seem all that impressed. She acted
hesitant, almost wary of Rick.

Charlie
hoped that wasn't because they'd had a thing going on during that Dana Point
shoot. Rick was famous for getting horizontal with the models. Charlie didn't
want to believe Eve had been one of Rick's conquests.

"You
know what I remember from that time we spent in the bar?" Rick said.

Charlie didn't think he
wanted to hear this.

"Heaven
knows." Eve laughed nervously. "After two glasses of wine, no telling
what I might have said."

Now Charlie
really
didn't want to hear it.

"You
got very serious," Rick said. "And then you told me that you felt as
if modeling were a waste of your life. You said if you ever had the time and
the space, you'd create a laboratory and invent a manned hovercraft that ran on
veggie scraps. I never forgot that. What a concept."

Charlie
stared at Eve. Judging from her red face, he knew what had caused the explosion
in her garage. So Rick had heard all about it five years ago. Charlie's jaw
clenched. Some things never changed. When it came to women, Rick was ahead of
the game every damned time. And Charlie was sick of playing second fiddle.

Well,
shit. The minute Eve had figured out who Puck was, she'd
remembered that conversation they'd had over wine all those years ago. She wasn't in the habit of talking about her
dreams and schemes, but that day she'd been frustrated by the delays in the
shooting schedule and had seriously begun to question whether she was throwing
her life away just because the money was good.

Somewhere
into the second glass of wine she'd started talking to Rick about her idea for
a hovercraft. She'd thought about that conversation several times in the years
since. Turned out it had germinated and flowered into a viable life plan.
Breaking up with Lyle had been the first step in getting back to something she
loved.

She
didn't regret that talk with Rick because it had started her thinking again
after several years of being mentally asleep. At the time he'd seemed like a
safe person to confide in, someone who lived on the other side of the country,
someone who didn't know she'd flunked out of high school and wasn't considered
particularly bright by her family. He hadn't laughed when she'd suggested that
powering the hovercraft with veggie fuel could make a real contribution toward
solving the world's oil crisis.

But she wished Rick hadn't
shown up and exposed her secret just now. Charlie, a guy she was becoming
increasingly fond of, didn't look happy about that, not happy at all. She
didn't blame him. She should have told him sooner, before he'd had to find out
this way.

She'd
also rather not discuss it while they all stood in the middle of this very
public tavern. A quick glance at the bar told her that Archie had gone in the
back and probably hadn't heard Rick mention the hovercraft. But Manny and Kyle
were all ears.

"It's
strictly experimental." She lowered her voice. "It may never get out
of my garage. I'm just—"

"So
you
are
building it!" Rick
turned to Charlie. "I'll bet you're helping her, aren't you?"

Charlie
looked at Eve, his expression stormy. "Well, you see, I didn't—"

"I
would love some help, Charlie," Eve said. "There are definite gaps in
my knowledge when it comes to the electrical system. I'm pretty much
self-taught, and it would mean a lot if you'd check out my wiring."

"I'd be glad to."

He
said it so quickly that she had no doubt he was thrilled to be asked. Being
asked to help might make up for not being told about the hovercraft earlier.
She let out a breath. Maybe this wouldn't turn into a complete disaster.

But she needed to move this
party elsewhere. The workday was over in Middlesex, so happy hour could begin
any time. A couple of guys in jeans and flannel shirts had just come through
the door and were headed over to the bar. She thought Charlie had noticed them,
but Rick seemed oblivious.

"I'd
like to get a look at that thing, myself," Rick said.

She
edged closer to the door. "I'm trying to keep the project under wraps.
Until now, I haven't told anybody about it except my neighbor Eunice, and she's
sworn to keep it secret. It may never work, so there's no point in making a
laughingstock of myself, right?"