The Nerd Who Loved Me

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  He cleared his throat. "I think we've come to the part where I try to convince you to reconsider the room ser­vice option. Or better yet, postpone dinner for about two hours until we satisfy ... other cravings."

  She smiled. "So I look good to you?"

  "In case you haven't noticed, I'm wiping the drool off my chin. Are you absolutely sure we have to leave?" He gave her a wolfish grin. "I could make it worth your while to stay, little girl. I'll give you treats."

  "I'm sure you would." Mental images of sex on the coffee table, her legs wrapped around his neck and her red sandals still on her feet, tempted her more than a Utile. But she really wanted a dinner date, too. Still, it was his call, because he was paying. "We can stay in if you want."

  "But you want me to take you out," he said gently. "And I would love to do that. Let's go." He stood, pulled car keys out of the pocket of his slacks, and picked up his cell phone. "We should probably keep this around, though."

  "Probably. And in case I haven't said it enough, I really appreciate going out tonight. This dinner date means more than you know."

  "I should never have questioned the idea of going." He unlocked the front door and opened it for her. "I think it's a crime that you've had to live like a nun all these years and give up any kind of social life. I understand it, but still, what a sacrifice."

  "Your mom did the same for you." She stepped into the warm night.

  "Yeah, she did, and after seeing it from your perspec­tive, I'm starting to feel guilty as hell about that." He pressed a button on his key ring and the car's parking lights flashed as the locks clicked open.

  "I'm sure she wouldn't want you to. I'd never want Dexter to feel guilty. By the way, shouldn't we be watch­ing for snakes?"

  "Ah, geez. I forgot about the damned snakes. Let's get in the car. We can discuss guilt and motherhood in the nice, safe restaurant." He hustled her around to the passenger side and in through the car door. Then he sprinted to his side and hopped in, slamming his door shut. "That's better." He slipped the cell phone in its holder on the dash.

  "You could have let me get my own self in, if you were so spooked," she said, laughing.

  "I could not." He looked offended. "This is your first date in a trillion years, and we're going to do it right. Snakes or no snakes."

  "Harry, you're a peach." She didn't remember where that expression had come from until after the words popped out of her mouth. One of the TITS had called Leo that.

  "Thanks." He gave her a smile and started the engine. "You're more than a peach. You're an entire fruit salad."

  "Why, thank you, Harry. Are compliments part of this dating experience, too?"

  "Nope." He drove slowly through the parking lot of the resort. "Compliments are what you should be getting on a regular basis, regardless of the circumstances. And I think— Hey, look, there's a silver Jag like Leo's. I guess that's a common color."

  "You don't think it is Leo, do you?"

  "Nah. He wouldn't come down here, even if he thought we needed looking after. He'd send one of his boys. But that reminds me, maybe I should call him and tell him what we're doing. He'll complain, but that's just Leo and his mobster orientation, as you said."

  Lainie turned around to get a better look at the silver Jag. She thought she saw someone sitting in it, a guy, maybe, but in the darkness she couldn't tell for sure. She faced forward with a shrug. If Harry didn't think Leo would drive all the way down here, then Harry would know. He'd been around Leo more than she had. But she had a funny feeling that the car did belong to Leo, and that Leo had been sitting in the car. It wasn't a logical explanation, just a feeling.

  She was probably wrong. Harry was talking to Leo right this minute on the cell phone, and if they'd just passed him in the parking lot, surely Leo would have said so and told Harry to wait up. She didn't really want Leo to be down here. On the serious side, that would mean he was really worried about her safety, and on the not-so-serious side, Leo hanging around could put a real crimp in her plans to screw Harry's brains out tonight after dinner.

  But Leo must not be here, because Harry wasn't indi­cating anything like that during his conversation. From Harry's comments, she could tell that Leo wasn't happy that they were leaving the resort to go to dinner. She had to make allowances for Leo's attitude, though, because he didn't know Joey.

  "We'll be in a restaurant, Leo," Harry said, sounding reasonable and patient. "We won't have anything to worry about." He paused. "I promise to be very careful. But just so you know, Lainie thinks we're overreacting about Joey." He paused again. "Yeah, I see your point. I'll keep that in mind. Bye, Leo."

  Lainie waited, expecting Harry to explain that last part to her. When he drove along in silence, she decided to ask. "What point was Leo making? What are you sup­posed to keep in mind?"

  He hesitated. "Well, like you said, Leo's in the kind of business that breeds paranoia."

  Apparently Harry wasn't eager to share Leo's insights with her, which meant he didn't think she'd like hearing them. Too bad. "And?"

  "Oh, he's got some psychological theory going, that because Joey is Dexter's father, you'd be slow to accept that he might be capable of really bad things."

  "And you thought that might be true?"

  He glanced at her. "I don't know, Lainie. I've never had a kid, but I suppose, if I did have one, I might want to ignore warning signs about the mother." He returned his attention to the road. "It's logical that you wouldn't want to believe bad things about the other parent, be­cause that puts everybody in an awkward situation, in­cluding the kid."

  She decided there was no point in contradicting that argument. "All right, let's say I can't let myself believe that Joey wants to have me killed so he could get his in­heritance." Yet every time she tried to take the concept seriously, she had to laugh. It sounded so melodramatic and unlike Joey.

  "The thing is, people can get crazy when billions of dollars are on the line," Harry said.

  "Billions of dollars have always been on the line, Harry. If the thought of inheriting it could drive Joey nuts, why hasn't he already bumped off his two broth­ers? Oh, and he might as well waste Doyle while he's at it, to make sure there's no doubt who gets to take over."

  "See, that would take a really violent person." Harry stopped at a red light. "I'm not saying he's that bad.

  He might have resigned himself to not getting the busi­ness, but then here comes a real shot."

  "But it's not a real shot. There's no chance in hell that Doyle will hand over his empire to Joey. Joey's not super-smart to begin with, plus he has a drinking problem. Even if he paraded a hundred male heirs in front of Doyle, I don't think Doyle would be stupid enough to turn things over to him. Emil is the smart one. I'm not sure about Joey's younger brother, but Emil would have been the perfect choice."

  "But does Joey understand he doesn't have a shot, even with Dexter?"

  She thought about Joey's delusions of grandeur. In his mind, he was always on the brink of fame and for­tune. "No, I suppose not. He might be kidding himself that Dexter's the answer to everything."

  "So in his mind, you could be the only obstacle to that dream," Harry said. "And don't forget that he owes some underworld characters a whole lot of money. I hate to say this, but I think Leo may have reason to be paranoid."

  Lainie sighed in resignation. "If everyone's so con­vinced, then maybe we should turn around and head back to the resort."

  "I didn't say that."

  "But I want to be a grown-up about this. I may be sick of having Joey Benjamin rule what I do, but that's the consequence of getting involved with him in the first place."

  "You were young." Harry gave no indication he was ready to turn back.

  "And I thought I knew everything. Seriously, let's go back to the resort and order hamburgers again. Or chicken nuggets. Maybe Joey's hanging around Sedona waiting for a chance to wrap piano wire around my throat." She doubted it, but everyone else seemed to think it was a dis­tinct possib
ility.

  "We'll go to the restaurant."

  "Are you sure?"

  "I'm sure. This place will be fine." She glanced at him. "You say that like you picked one out."

  "Of course I picked one out." He smiled at her. "That's what you do on a real date. While you were getting ready I called Thalia and she suggested a place. I tried to make reservations, but they didn't take them. They said we should have no problem getting a table, though."

  "All righty, then." She relaxed against the seat, ridicu­lously happy to be following through on the date. "What's the name of this restaurant?"

  "The Cowboy Club. It's an institution in Sedona, but even more important, it's in the heart of the business dis­trict. Thalia suggested lots of great-sounding restaurants, but quite a few of them were in outlying areas. I wanted to make sure we'd have plenty of people around."

  "That's smart. The more people, the better, if we're going for security."

  "I was, plus ..."

  She waited, but he didn't finish the sentence. "Plus what?"

  "Never mind."

  "Harry, you can't start to say something and then just quit. That's not fair."

  "Yeah, I know, and I'm too damned honest for my own good. But I felt guilty having you think I picked a restaurant in the middle of Uptown Sedona strictly for security reasons."

  She tried to guess what he was talking about. "I know. You don't want me to know you have a problem with di­rections and so you picked a place on the main drag be­cause you'd have no trouble finding it."

  "No, I'm terrific with directions. I also have an on­board GPS."

  "Then you'd better tell me your other reason. Be­cause if you don't tell me now, I'll pester you all through dinner."

  "You'll laugh."

  "Try me."

  He cleared his throat. "I, um, like the idea of people seeing you with me. There. Now you know my darkest secret."

  "You want to show me off?" The idea thrilled her.

  "Pretty unevolved, huh? Not to mention dumb. I'm never going to see these people again, so why do I care whether they think I'm man enough to be dating a woman who looks like you?"

  "Oh, Harry." She reached over and touched his arm. "You're more than man enough."

  "You don't have to say that."

  "I know. And I wouldn't, if I didn't think so. I'm . . . well, I'm honored to be going to dinner with you to­night."

  He slowed down to turn left toward the main section of town. "It's not like you have a lot of guys to choose from."

  Her heart squeezed as she realized how truly vulnera­ble he was. Maybe he'd inherited his father's shy nature along with the intelligence and sexual equipment. "If I could be going to dinner with any man in the world to­night, I'd still choose you," she said.

  The dim light from the dash was just enough to reveal his little-boy smile of delight. "Thanks," he said.

  As Joey drove his rental car through the darkness toward Sedona, he thought about what Mandy, the waitress, had said to him a couple of hours ago. They'd been relaxing on the bed drinking champagne after he'd come the first time, which had been lickety-split. Faster than a speed­ing bullet.

  He wasn't going to blame himself for that, either. He'd been too long without, and once she'd stripped off that waitress uniform, seeing her 40-Ds bobbing in front of him had almost been enough to do the trick. Then she'd decided to work on him a little first, and her sweaty palms had turned out to be an asset when it came to hand jobs. Next thing he knew, Old Faithful had erupted.

  Because the first session had been so short, he'd de­cided to treat them both to a second round, but that meant a recovery period. He'd ordered up another bottle of champagne and they'd propped themselves against the headboard while they drank it. Mandy had turned out to be his kind of girl—happy to drink champagne out of the bathroom glasses because they held more than the flimsy champagne flutes room service had brought.

  In the process of drinking and talking, Joey had ended up telling her the whole story about how Lainie had self­ishly taken his only kid away and how important the little guy was to him, in many ways. By the time they'd gone through most of the second bottle, Mandy was getting mad on his account. She was also getting drunk, but Joey didn't care about that. He liked that she took his side against Lainie, though. That felt really good.

  "You jus' need to get rid of her," Mandy had said, waving her drink and nearly spilling it on the sheet.

  "How?" Joey had asked, watching Mandy's tits jiggle.

  "Who cares? She did you wrong. Get rid of her."

  "Maybe I will." Announcing that had made him feel more manly and in charge of his destiny. He'd made her put her drink down and they'd gone at it again. He en­joyed having sex with a woman who was smashed, be­cause then she was more likely to let him put it wherever he felt like putting it.

  Mandy had given him plenty of leeway in that de­partment. Because he had more staying power this time, he'd been able to try out everything she had to offer. Right before he'd come again, she'd looked over her shoulder and asked if he'd be sure and remember her when he was a billionaire.

  "Yeah," he'd said. "Definitely." Then he'd shot his wad.

  He'd left her there to sleep it off, but not before get­ting her phone number. It was always nice to have a few good phone numbers in case he was ever in Vegas again.

  He liked Mandy. Besides giving him a good time, she'd given him something to think about. Lainie had done him wrong. He wouldn't mind finding a way to get her out of the way. Maybe during the drive he'd think of how he could do that.

  Chapter Twenty

  Harry had to settle for a parking spot a block north of the restaurant, but when he saw the number of people milling around he wasn't particularly worried that the walk to the restaurant would be risky. Matter of fact, it would be gratifying. It wasn't every day he escorted the likes of Lainie Terrell to dinner. Maybe he could be for­given for feeling smug as he helped her out of the car and took her hand as they started down the sidewalk.

  Technically he hadn't orchestrated this moment. Even more technically, he'd had pretty much zero input. It was more like he'd been shoved into the right place at the right time. Therefore he had no right to this feeling of manly pride as he watched other guys looking at him with naked envy in their eyes.

  He was feeling it, anyway. Pity the poor slobs who could only look, while he had the privilege of touching. Soon he'd have to return Leo's imported clothes and resume his stodgy life that revolved around unyielding numbers on a spreadsheet. In the meantime, he was strutting along beside the hottest babe in town, and the words "spread" and "sheet" took on whole other mean­ings.

  Because guess what? Lainie would be spending the night in his bed and wrapping those long dancer's legs around his waist. In fact, she'd let him know in many subtle ways how much she looked forward to doing that. Now there was an astounding factoid. Lainie wanted him. If he'd been afraid she'd try him out and find him lacking, that fear had been put to rest.

  Lainie squeezed his hand and leaned her head close to his. "Harry?"

  "What, Lainie?" He squeezed back, thinking that she smelled delicious. Maybe she wanted to whisper some­thing outrageous in his ear, just to tease him about the activities they'd enjoy later. Taking her out in public af­ter the kind of sexually stimulating day they'd had was a definite turn-on. He wondered if everyone could tell they were lovers and sort of hoped they could.

  "I think someone's watching us."

  Harry laughed. Damned if he didn't feel at least ten feet tall right now. "They sure are. And it's not us but you they're watching. Every guy within gawking dis­tance would sell his soul if he could be me tonight. And I don't blame him a bit."

  "No, that's not what I mean." She tugged him to a stop and murmured urgently in his ear. "I keep catching a movement out of the corner of my eye, and when I look around, I see someone disappear into a doorway. Then, after I quit watching, there's that sense of some­one following us again."

&nbs
p; The glow faded from Harry's evening. Hell. He'd let his ego get in the way of his assignment, which was to protect Lainie. Leo had made him promise to be careful, and instead he'd been parading down the street like a dork, soaking up the moment. Lainie had been the one keeping an eye out, not her appointed bodyguard, aka Harry the Clueless. That's what happened when you sent an accountant as a stand-in for James Bond.

  Wondering if it was too little, too late, he turned around and scanned the area. On this warm August eve­ning, with the pavement still damp from the rain and the breeze cool and fragrant, people were everywhere. He saw kids with ice-cream cones and grandmothers nib­bling squares of fudge. Shops were still open and tourists strolled along with plastic bags full of souvenirs. Some teenagers were horsing around near the crosswalk, and a young couple with a baby in a stroller sat on a bench.

  On the surface, the scene looked perfectly safe. He didn't see anyone who posed a threat, but then, he was obviously no good at this. He looked closer, needing to find a bad guy, any bad guy. Surely somebody in the area was acting suspicious.

  Okay, what about that fellow window-shopping on the other side of the street? He didn't seem to have much of a purpose to his behavior, so he could be a pre­tend tourist up to no good. His build was similar to Joey's, and his hair was about the color Harry remem­bered from that quick encounter in the back parking lot of the Nirvana.

  "You mean that guy?" he asked, pointing to the window-shopper.

  "No. The person I catch glimpses of is dressed in dark clothes. That guy has on light-colored shorts and a white T-shirt. And he's on the wrong side of the street."

  "So you're sure that's not Joey looking in the store window?"

  "I'm absolutely sure. Joey's heavier than that, and besides, his hair's a darker shade of blond."

  Harry had found a potential villain, and he wasn't giv­ing up that easy. "He could have changed since you last saw him."