Once Upon an Earnest Nerd (Instalove in the City Book 2)

by Maggie Dallen

  His heart started to pick up its pace as a new hypothesis began to emerge.

  She clearly had difficulty committing to a single job. Perhaps that was indicative of her behavior overall. What if she wasn’t scared of him, but of what he represented.

  Hope soared, making his chest expand and his heart threaten to thump its way out of his chest as adrenaline coursed through his veins.

  What if it wasn’t him that scared her, but the way she felt about him?

  She was eyeing him with that wary look again, but this time her wariness gave him a reason to hope. There was only one way to be sure, though.

  Her gaze seemed to be stuck on his lips. Yes, he was smiling, but surely a smile wasn’t so fascinating, not unless his theory was correct.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked, backing up a step as if his smile was a weapon.

  “Like what?”

  “You’re grinning.”

  He raised his brows. “And?”

  She scowled at him, crossing her arms. “Why are you suddenly so happy?”

  He came to a stand slowly. “Because it’s just occurred to me why you’d like me to keep my distance.”

  She blinked rapidly. “W-what?”

  He approached cautiously, not wanting to startle her but needing to be close, aching to see if his theory had merit. Sure enough, when he drew a little closer he saw her pupils dilate and her breath hitched. He watched her swallow and lick her lips.

  He tried to ignore his body’s instantaneous response, but it was useless. Around this woman his body was a lost cause. But at least now he knew it was the same for her.

  That was good. His grin widened. He could use that.

  “What are you doing?” she asked. He noted with pleasure that she didn’t try to back away, despite her words and the wariness in her eyes.

  He stopped just shy of touching her. He wanted to touch her. He wanted to pull her into his arms and kiss her like he had the other night.

  But that would defeat the purpose. He needed to be close enough to see her response, but not touching.

  Touching would muddle the results.

  “I’ve figured it out,” he repeated.

  Her frown deepened as she crossed her arms in front of her chest. “Figured what out?”

  “You want us to forget about the other night because we’ve gone about this all wrong. We shouldn’t have kissed before talking, and we shouldn’t have gone back to my place when we hadn’t even shared a meal together.” He studied her closely as he said the next part. “You should be courted.”

  “Courted?” She repeated the word in a high-pitched voice, her eyes widening with alarm.

  He took a deep breath, not wanting to get his hopes up too quickly, though all signs were promising.

  “Absolutely.” He grew serious, which wasn’t hard to do as it was his natural state. “I apologize for rushing things the other night. You are absolutely right to insist on more from me…” He gestured between the two of them. “From us.”

  She shook her head emphatically, purple tendrils escaping from the bun. “What? No! I’m not insisting on anything.”

  He ignored her protest, enjoying the way alarm flared in her eyes, proving his hypothesis correct with each sign of horror.

  “I understand,” he said, his voice calm, his gaze even. “You deserve to be courted in an old-fashioned manner. If this is to be a true relationship, you need to be treated like a lady.”

  She was blinking rapidly, her breathing uneven.

  His beautiful, elfin princess was about to go into a full-blown panic. Much as he didn’t enjoy her distress, he absolutely adored what he knew it meant.

  She liked him. A lot.

  And it scared the crap out of her.

  Six

  Yvette stumbled backward, finally able to get her traitorous body to move away from his, even though it wanted nothing more than to be wrapped up in his arms once more.

  Man, he was sexy. How was he so sexy? He was a nerd, for Pete’s sakes. He was wearing a suit on a Sunday. Who did that? No matter what day of the week, she hated suits. And his hair was perfectly combed, his face was clean-shaven, and his glasses were wire-rimmed. And not in an ironic, hipster way.

  He was legitimately nerdy. So not her type. So so soooo not her type.

  She dated guys in bands, men who dressed like boys, guys who wouldn’t know a decent job and a stable income if it hit them upside the head. Her type of guy didn’t apologize for making out with her and they sure as heck didn’t declare that they wanted to court her.

  Court her! Who even talked like that?

  Her lips felt dry and cracked. Her skin itched under his intense, all-seeing scrutiny.

  She needed to get out of here. She had to get away.

  But her body was betraying her. Even now it was trying to get close again, like she’d developed some sort of chemical dependency to the smell of his after-shave.

  And holy jeez, it smelled so freakin’ yummy. Just like she remembered. And truth be told, she hadn’t been able to forget, not one dang memory from the other night. Over the past two days her traitorous memory kept reminding her of how he’d wrapped an arm around her when she’d gotten drowsy, how his chest and the steady beat of his heart had been like some perfect lullaby. How it had felt to wake up in his arms, his warm breath on his neck.

  Ugh. She couldn’t forget a single detail.

  Maybe she’d been too sober. She blamed Caleb for taking her wine away. She should have gotten plastered, then she wouldn’t remember anything from that night.

  But it was too late for sobriety regrets. Darren the dork was staring at her, waiting for a response.

  She didn’t know what to do. Panic rose up in her as her brain and her body went into full-blown war over how to proceed. Her brain said run and her body said jump him.

  Her body won. Despite her brain’s scream of protest, she closed the distance between them and leapt into his arms.

  Crap. She had zero self-control.

  But dang it, he felt so good. Like, better-than-anything-she’d-ever-felt-before kind of good.

  He responded instantly and insistently, his hands greedy as they moved over her, tangling in her messy hair and running over her back, her waist, pressing her to him with a passion that was so not in keeping with his quiet, staid demeanor.

  His mouth was hungry and insistent as he kissed just like he had the other night—as though she was air and he was drowning. As if he needed her to survive. As if she was the only woman who’d ever existed.

  The good guy-passionate kisser combo was heady—like she’d found her very own Clark Kent. Mild-mannered finance guy by day, and sexy stud by night.

  As if to prove her point, his hands moved down and gripped her waist. In one quick move he lifted her and set her on the work table so they were a little closer to being eye to eye.

  Or, more importantly, mouth to mouth.

  For one beautiful, perfect moment her fear left the building and her mind shut down entirely. This was all she wanted.

  This she could do.

  She ran her hands through his short, perfectly groomed hair. He sucked on her lower lip and she gasped. It had to be pheromones, there was no other explanation for this level of chemistry with a man who was so not her type.

  Man, she’d missed this.

  Wait, what? The thought made her freeze, her hands mid-stroke on his back.

  Maybe he felt her still, because he pulled back slightly, his hands brushing back her hair so he could better see her expression.

  His eyes were infinitely tender, his hands cupping her face as if it was something precious. Breakable and delicate, and something to be cherished.

  She would have rolled her eyes at that stupid, romantic notion if she could gain enough control over her body. As if was, she was definitely not in control. Her body had gone completely rogue.

  She was shaking. Trembling.

  This was not good.

  Th
at was when it clicked. Her body and her brain came to an agreement, of sorts. Clearly her body wanted this man, so why shouldn’t she have him? He clearly had the hots for her too, so it was a win-win. She could get him out of her system and then move on.

  Plus, she could use this crazy passion between them to get him off this crazy courting idea. Truth be told, his insistence that he court her had sent her into a blind panic, but now that alarmed feeling started to subside at this new thought.

  They’d have some fun. He’d grow tired of her. And then they could both move on.

  Her hands smoothed over his shoulders and she licked her lips as she gathered her thoughts. Yes, this could work. She once again felt back in control of the situation.

  She grinned at Darren, who was still staring at her in that frighteningly intense way of his, like whatever she said next would make or break his world. She supposed he just had that air about him. Serious, sincere, earnest to a fault. It made her uncomfortable, but she could live with it for a little while.

  “Sarah, are you okay?” he repeated.

  She tried not to flinch at his use of her real name. No one had called her that in so long it sounded foreign. Sarah was the name of the innocent idiot she’d left behind when she went to college. But she didn’t need to rehash all that, not when her new lover was waiting for an answer.

  He just didn’t know he was only her lover yet, that was all.

  She forced another smile. “I’m fine. Totally fine. I was just thinking….”

  He leaned forward and claimed her lips in a quick, sweet kiss as if he couldn’t hold out any longer. He shook his head. “Sorry, what were you saying?”

  “I think we should not stop,” she said, her hands moving over his chest and down to his flat abs as she spoke, loving the way his dark eyes darkened even further at her touch.

  “Yeah?”

  She nodded. For the first time since he’d arrived on her doorstep, shocking the life out of her, she felt in control. This she could do. A short-term fling with a guy who was so clearly not right for her…this was definitely in her wheelhouse.

  “So you’ll let me court you then?” he asked. “You’ll give us a shot?”

  Panic was like a shot of adrenaline to her system and she shook her head quickly. Too quickly. “No. No! I mean…no.” She bit her tongue to keep from speaking again, afraid that all that would come out was another fierce denial.

  She scooted back on the table so he wasn’t so close.

  He frowned down at her and she had the horrifying feeling that he saw straight through her. Worse, she was pretty sure he was laughing at her somewhere beneath that super serious gaze. “So what is it that you want then?”

  She forced a smile that felt awkward and false. “A fling. Fun. Simple. No strings.”

  He made a noncommittal noise that she couldn’t interpret.

  She shifted further back on the table and noticed with some shock that he was smiling. Not one of those rare, fleeting, smile gems, as she’d come to think of them. No, this was more like…a smirk.

  Danger, Will Robinson.

  The smirk irked her. But before she could call him on it, he was moving away from her. She frowned as she watched his back as he bent over to pick up her file, presumably to take it with him.

  “Wait, don’t you want…” She swallowed. Oh crap, this was embarrassing. For the second time she was basically offering herself up to this man and he…what?

  He didn’t want her?

  He gave her a quick reassuring smile over his shoulder. “I’ll be back tomorrow and we can continue with this, all right?” He held up the file.

  She nodded. “Yeah, sure.” She didn’t even try to hide her confusion. What kind of guy just walked away without taking her up on her offer? No strings. Wasn’t that what every man wanted?

  Her chest felt too tight. He looked too smug. She didn’t like any of it. It made her feel like he had the upper hand somehow, but she wasn’t sure how.

  She shifted on the table, not sure if she wanted to go to him or keep her distance. Her original wariness around this guy was back with a vengeance. “So, um…we’re good, right?” she asked.

  He gave her a politely questioning look, his brows hitched up on his forehead as he turned back to face her with his perfectly put together suit and his grown-up glasses.

  She pursed her lips as she tried to figure out what he was up to. “We’re agreed, right?” she asked. “We’re just going to have some fun every once in a while.”

  Now it was his turn to look confused, but he was not a very good actor. She could see that he was trying to hide his amusement and he wasn’t confused, not at all.

  She hopped off the table, irritation making her voice harsher than intended. “You’re going to drop this whole courting idea, right? We’re agreed that this is not going to go anywhere.”

  She said it as a statement but she waited to hear him agree. He gave her a grin—no, a smirk—before heading to the door. When he reached it, he turned to face her. “We’ll see.”

  Seven

  We’ll see.

  We’ll see?!

  What did that even mean?

  That stupid vague phrase had been haunting her ever since he’d left her studio. Now, they were nearing the end of the week, and she still didn’t know. He’d come to see her at her studio every day at noon over his lunch break. He was, not surprisingly, always on time, and always wearing a suit.

  She didn’t like suits, but by the time Friday rolled around, she’s found that she was telling herself that far too often and that perhaps it wasn’t quite true anymore.

  Because, to be perfectly frank—he looked so freakin’ good in that suit. And somehow the glasses seemed sexy, despite the fact that her brain knew very well that they were not in keeping with her type.

  Nothing about this man was her type. She told herself that for the millionth time as she popped a Pringle in her mouth and watched him read the essay she’d written as part of the grant package. She didn’t really need his insights on the writing. She was a solid writer and Kat had given it a proofread the night before. But Darren had offered and at this point, she got the feeling that he was just as invested in this grant opportunity as she was.

  It shouldn’t have taken this long to get her file in order. She peered at him as she chewed, trying to get some glimpse of what was going on behind that unreadable, stoic mask of his.

  Some days she wanted to strip down naked and do a wild rain dance just to see that mask slip.

  After Sundsay’s makeout session on the tabletop, he hadn’t touched her once. Which was probably for the best, she reminded herself for the eight hundredth time. Obviously there was some confusion over what this was between them and clearly keeping this…thing…strictly platonic was the best solution.

  She popped another chip in her mouth and let out a huff of air that was somewhere between a sigh and a grunt.

  The only problem was—she wasn’t sure what was going on here. Was it strictly platonic? Her eyes narrowed on him with suspicion as he blithely ignored her glare and continued to read the essay.

  He hadn’t made a move on her all week, but he’d been so…nice. Weirdly nice. Not in a smiley, ingratiating way. No, that wasn’t his M.O. at all. It was more like, he was just super interested in her. In getting to know her.

  He asked her questions. Personal questions. But in a way that she didn’t see it coming. Like, he wouldn’t just outright ask her about her family life, but he’d lead her there, asking questions or prompting her to continue until, next thing she knew, he’d learned all about her parents’ divorce and their toxic relationship.

  And he’d done it with all areas of her life—he’d wanted to know about why she’d started painting in the first place and where she got her inspiration. Her favorite foods. Her recent dating disasters. Why she’d chosen purple for her latest hair color.

  Sometimes the topics were innocuous but other times she’d look up in horror midway through a leng
thy conversation only to realize that she’d been opening up to him about things that she never typically talked about. But he made it so easy to talk. He was a freakin’ annoyingly good listener.

  And a good talker, too. He’d chime in with stories of his own, share anecdotes from his childhood and answer her return questions about his taste in music, and why he wore those suits all the time.

  Not a mystery, really. He worked in a corporate office.

  But the point was, he was weirdly interested in her, yet he hadn’t tried to kiss her again or get in her pants. The whole thing freaked her out.

  She’d shared her suspicions with Kat and Caleb when they’d met up for drinks on Wednesday night, and they both had laughed at her. But then, they didn’t have the full story. She hadn’t exactly spilled the beans about having thrown herself at Darren after the party, or about the amazing kissing that transpired his first day on the job.

  “Maybe he just wants to be friends,” Caleb had said.

  Kat had nodded in agreement. “Darren is good people. He probably just wants to get to know you.”

  But that was the problem. Why did he want to get to know her? Did he really just want to be her friend or did he have some sort of ulterior motive?

  We’ll see.

  Dang it, what had he meant by that?

  He turned to face her now, his impassive face softened by the warm glow of admiration and appreciation in his eyes. “Wow. That was really beautifully written.”

  A suspiciously warm and fuzzy feeling in her chest had her looking around the room at her paintings. Anywhere but at him.

  It would have been one thing if they’d been making out all week. Then she’d understand what this was about. But he hadn’t touched her. Not once.

  No, that wasn’t true. His hand had brushed hers when they’d both reached for the same W-2 at the same time. Her thigh had grazed against his beneath the table when they’d scooted closer together to read the same paragraph.

  She turned away from him and reached for a paintbrush. Crap. Why was her stupid brain able to pull up a list of every time they’d casually touched one another?