He only got them partway down before she was on him, shoving him down onto the slippery ice cream. Dropping to her knees, she rode him hard. His butt kept sliding around on the gooey floor, which shifted the angle each time. Right before he came, he congratulated himself for dreaming up the cigarette and ice cream switch. He hadn't been bored since he walked in the door.
After they finished, she tried to unfreeze a pack of cigarettes in the microwave and started a fire. He'd always wanted to try this trick, so he stood on a chair and peed on the fire. It went out, but the microwave was history.
Harvey didn't care. They could always buy a new one, and if he could create this kind of excitement all the time, life would be worth living. As Louise sat at the kitchen table trying to light a frozen cigarette, he sat down, too.
Time to start teasing the lion again. "Have you ever noticed how pretty the girl is who works for Dr. Tredway?"
Louise put down the lighter and the cigarette and gave him the kind of stare he imagined a cobra gave its victim. "If I ever find you fooling around with that girl, I'll personally feed your privates to the nearest junkyard dog."
Harvey shivered with pleasure. Dr. Tredway thought she knew how to put zing into this marriage, but she didn't know anything compared to Harvey. Even Louise didn't get it. Only Harvey knew how to torpedo them both out of the same ol', same ol' rut. When Louise saw that he could get a woman as hot as Amanda to have sex with him, Louise would have to treat him with more respect. Then it would be time for Harvey to be in charge.
Toward the end of the afternoon, Amanda wondered what she'd been thinking to agree that Will could spend the next few nights sleeping in her apartment. He'd dropped by the office a couple of times already to play his role as boyfriend, and each time she'd felt like a fool carrying on this charade.
Now she was actually inviting him into her home. There must have been better alternatives, if she'd only stopped long enough to think of them. For example, she could have bought barbed wire and strung it in a crisscross pattern over her windows.
She didn't know where a person found barbed wire in the heart of a big city like Chicago, but if not barbed wire, then something else to discourage a person trying to come in. She could have brought beer bottles home from Geekland, broken them, and placed the jagged edges along her windowsills. Except an intruder would probably be wearing gloves, and he'd be able to sweep that broken glass to the floor with no trouble.
Maybe she didn't have as many alternatives as she thought. But Will in residence seemed like a very rash idea. If she could come up with another plan before he arrived to ride home with her on the bus, then she could tell him she'd changed her mind.
Bells. She could string little bells across her window, and if someone tried to come through, the bells would ring and alert her. And then what? She didn't have a lot of confidence in her vacuum cleaner wand and collected works of Sigmund Freud. She could buy a gun, but she knew so little about them that she'd probably end up doing damage to herself instead of the stalker.
As Amanda racked her brain for other ideas, Gloria escorted out the couple who had been her last appointment of the day. "If the feathers make you sneeze, try the velvet gloves," she said. "And beforehand, use plenty of lotion. You want your skin to be supple and sensitized. Go easy on the pinching. That's something to be used sparingly, right before climaxing."
This was exactly the sort of thing Amanda didn't need to hear before taking a man home for the first time in a solid year. Fortunately she had no supply of feathers and velvet gloves. Or condoms. That should keep her honest.
Gloria waved goodbye to her clients and walked back to Amanda's desk. "What's the dress code at Geekland? Bowling shirts?"
"What you have on is fine." Amanda thought Gloria would cause quite a stir in her shape-hugging sweater and short leather skirt.
"But I won't fit in. Maybe I should go back to that shirtwaist, the glasses, and the sensible shoes."
Amanda shook her head. "The essence of nerdiness is to be exactly who you are. Nerds don't try to be anyone else. I'd say fitting in means following that rule."
"You're the expert."
Amanda opened her mouth to refute that, but then she closed it again. She might not have started out to be a nerd, but she could be turning into one thanks to her job at Geekland, her long hours of studying, and her lack of a social life. She wondered if entertaining a pretend boyfriend in her apartment for several days counted as a social life. Probably not.
Speaking of that, Will walked through the door carrying a small gym bag. He'd already told Amanda that a new membership in a health club would be his cover story.
"Will!" Gloria looked him up and down with obvious pleasure. "Headed for a workout?"
"Right. I spend way too much time riding a desk."
Amanda gave him a wide-eyed stare of disbelief. Surely he hadn't just given Gloria an opening you could drive a truck through.
He closed his eyes briefly. Apparently he had.
Gloria laughed in delight. "You are too cute. I could have so much fun with that remark, but may I simply suggest that you try riding girls, instead?"
"Good one, Gloria." He shifted the gym bag from one hand to the other.
"You make it too easy, Will. So, are you going from the gym to Geekland for the tournament?"
"I checked that out, and I was confused. It's not tonight. But, yeah, Justin and I will see you there about six."
Nice save, Amanda thought. She'd been reasonably sure there was no trivia tournament tonight. Will had been trying to keep Gloria and Justin apart, but that was a lost cause.
"I guess you'll be looking for suspects," Gloria said.
"Definitely. Any more ideas on that?"
She shook her head. "Amanda and I went through my list of clients and eliminated all the ones she's never met, plus the two we mentioned today and Franklin. As for the rest..."
"We did some random checking," Amanda said. "There wasn't enough time to go through all the files, but it could be anyone in them. There are guys with performance issues, some with S and M tendencies, a few Oedipus complexes, and a bunch who display a mixed bag of neuroses."
Will scrubbed a hand over his face and sighed. "In other words, a fertile field of potential stalkers."
"Instead of calling this person a stalker," Gloria said, "I prefer to describe the phenomenon as transference. The client imagines himself in love with the person who's helping him and is convinced that his love is returned. Normally that transference target would be me, but in this case, someone seems to have settled on Amanda, instead."
"And they're scaring the stuffing out of her," Will said. "That falls into the realm of stalking, in my book."
"Then again, we don't know that it's one of my clients. A customer at Geekland could have developed an inappropriate crush. At least my clients are in treatment. Any kind of borderline personality type could walk into that bar and fixate on Amanda."
"I know that's possible," Amanda said. "But I've been paying more attention to my customers since this started, and I'm having a hard time believing any of them are sending the valentines. They're goofy, not aggressive."
"I agree with that," Will said. "Not saying it's impossible, but I'm more willing to believe the guy's a client. He would have contact with Amanda and a plausible reason to be in the office."
Gloria clearly didn't like the idea of suspecting someone she was counseling. "We have a third group, don't forget. Amanda has constant contact with psychology students. Believe it or not, some people are drawn to this field because they're screwed up."
"You're kidding." Somehow Will managed to look shocked.
"No, it's true. I've met my share of strange people since getting into this business."
Amanda kept a straight face, but only because she didn't meet Will's gaze. "Speaking of my bartending job, I need to cut out of here. Gloria, I've finished all the filing, and the reports I typed this afternoon are all right here." She laid her hand on a st
ack of folders on her desk.
"I'm surprised you don't have everything on disk," Will said.
"We do." Amanda patted the CD file box on her desk. "But you never know when technology will change, and good-quality paper in a fireproof filing cabinet is a safe storage method."
"Besides, playing with computers doesn't appeal to me," Gloria said. "I'd rather play with less complicated toys." She settled her attention on Will. "Like vibrators, for instance. Amanda, on the other hand, can't be bothered with them."
"I really have to go." Amanda rolled back her desk chair.
"Amanda's the exact opposite of girls I've had in here before," Gloria continued. "They can hardly wait to get their hands on my vibrators. I had to insist that Amanda take one home. And then, does she use it? No. She—"
"Geez, the bus will be here any minute." Grabbing her backpack and shoving her purse inside, Amanda made a bee-line for the coat rack. Gloria should come with a warning label attached, caution: dangerous when mouth is open. "Move it, Will."
"I'm right behind you."
"You're leaving with her?" Gloria sounded bereft.
"Doing the boyfriend thing," Will called over his shoulder as he followed Amanda's flight out the door and down the steps. "She can't help herself," he murmured as he hurried along beside her. "I'm convinced she has no idea how she affects people."
"Maybe not, but God." Amanda's cheeks felt hotter than a Starbucks latte.
"She forced a vibrator on you, huh?"
"I'd rather not talk about it."
"I understand."
But when they reached the bus stop, they were early and had to stand there waiting. A couple of people sat on the bench, but Amanda and Will stood off to the side. She struggled to come up with a conversational topic, but it wasn't easy moving from the subject of vibrators to ... anything.
"I think it's a little colder today than yesterday," she said.
"Some." He put his arm around her shoulders. "Does this help?"
"Uh, sure. Thanks." Now that they were even cozier, the silence between them seemed ten times more awkward. Finally she couldn't stand it. "Here's what happened."
"You don't have to tell me."
"Yes I do, because I want you to know the thing isn't even in my possession anymore."
"Don't tell me you threw it away."
"No. And it was the red one, so you get the complete visual. I stuck it in my backpack, and on the way home it worked its way up through the zipper, so it was sticking out. Of course I had no clue."
His body began to shake.
She glanced up at him. "You're laughing, aren't you?" "Yeah." He grinned at her. "Is that not allowed?" "You might want to pace yourself. It gets better. Mavis always pounces whenever I come home, so naturally she saw this red thing before I realized it was showing and wanted to know what it was. I told her it was a battery-operated hair curler and the batteries were dead." Will snorted.
"So then my other neighbor, Chester, comes to the door, and as I'm talking to him, I turn around, and Mavis is testing the curler on her hair. She says the batteries are fine, but she can't figure out how it curls your hair."
By now Will was laughing so hard he had to let go of her so he could take off his glasses and mop the tears streaming down his face.
Watching him, she couldn't help smiling, herself. She was smiling on the inside, too, where all kinds of good feelings blossomed in ways she'd been missing for a long time. She couldn't remember the last time she'd shared a funny story with a guy.
Finally Will replaced his glasses and shoved his handkerchief in the pocket of his coat. He took a shaky breath, but he still couldn't get rid of the grin. "So did you ever tell her what it was for?"
"Well, I had to, and she was fascinated. So Chester got uncomfortable and left, but Mavis was so intrigued that I let her take it back to her apartment."
"Oh ...my ...God."
"I know. Don't think about it."
"How can I help it?"
"You have to. In about twenty minutes you'll be meeting her."
Will groaned. "This won't be easy."
"But necessary. You'll need to meet both of them. I can't bring a man into my apartment without letting them know. They'd hurt themselves trying to find out what was going on, so I might as well explain you right in the beginning."
"How are you planning to explain me? Am I supposed to be the real boyfriend as far as they're concerned, or the decoy?"
"You pretty much have to be the decoy." She wondered if she'd imagined the sudden flash of disappointment in his eyes. "Yesterday I told them the whole story, including your part in it."
"You emphasized that I'm not the valentine guy, I hope."
"Absolutely. I think they'll be happy that I have someone staying in the apartment with me. Mavis thought I needed protection, and the complex doesn't allow dogs, so she'll heartily approve of..." She paused as she realized how tacky that sounded. "I'm sorry. That didn't come out right. I don't think of you as a substitute for a dog."
"I know."
"I mean, really, I don't. I'm deeply appreciative that you've interrupted your routine to help me out. Considering we've only known each other a short time, you're making quite a sacrifice, and I—"
"It's not a sacrifice." His green gaze softened.
That kind of look could be her undoing. It could put her in the mood for all sorts of activities that she couldn't afford to indulge in. Time to change the mood.
"That's what you think," she said. "You haven't spent a night on my lumpy couch or been forced to eat one of Mavis's nuked meals. You'll have to share a small bathroom and keep weird hours."
The warmth in his eyes didn't go away as she'd hoped.
"Seriously, Will. The next few days could be pure torture."
He smiled "You could be right about that."
EIGHTEEN
As they approached Amanda's three-story apartment building, Will looked it over from the standpoint of security and wasn't cheered. Evergreen bushes shielded the view of many of the first-floor windows. Unless the windows were newer than they seemed from the outside, someone would have no trouble getting in that way.
He put his arm around Amanda's shoulders, in case the nutcase happened to be watching. "Which windows are yours?" Every time he touched her, he fought the surge of desire that threatened to turn this entire charade into chaos.
She pointed them out. "Right there. Fifth and sixth from the front."
"Think you could get anybody to trim those bushes?" His hip brushed hers as they walked. When she'd said the next few days could be pure torture, she'd nailed it.
"I could ask, but I doubt it. They have a schedule of trimming in the spring and in the fall. We're between trimming times."
"Would they care if I did it?"
She glanced up at him with a little smile. "You keep hedge clippers in your pocket?"
"Well, no. But I could buy some. I—" Then he noticed something glinting in one of her windows. He stopped in the middle of the sidewalk to identify it for sure. Damned if she didn't have a stained-glass hummingbird dangling from a suction cup.
Because he was hanging on to her, Amanda had to stop, too. "What's the matter?"
"That's your hummingbird in the window, right?"
"Uh-huh. That's the living room window. I found that sun-catcher at an art festival and I... Oh, God." She began to tremble. "I'll take it down right now."
"Okay."
"But it could be too late, couldn't it?"
He hated for her to be so frightened. Instinctively he tightened his grip on her shoulder and tried for a reassuring smile. "Maybe not. We don't even know for sure the valentine guy left the song on your answering machine. Someone could have dialed by mistake and the radio was on. Could be a little kid playing with the phone."
She took a shaky breath. "Right. But let's get inside and take down that sun-catcher. I didn't even think about it, but if he has any idea I'm in this apartment building, then he could make the co
nnection of the sun-catcher and the hummingbird on my desk. What an idiot I am."
"Lots of people like hummingbirds." He wanted to hold her and rock her and tell her everything would be fine. But first he'd have to convince himself of that, and he wasn't particularly convinced.
Amanda found her key and unlocked the entrance to the building. "Prepare yourself for a valentine blitz."
Will surveyed the hallway with amazement. "Wow. This takes me back to my days at Taft Elementary."
"Which is no coincidence. My neighbor Mavis Endicott used to teach third grade. She lives for holiday decorations."
"She did all this?" Will had a mental image of his third-grade teacher, Mrs. Nadworthy, running up and down this hall slapping hearts and doilies on everyone's door. He could picture it.
"She cons everyone into decorating. Or shames them, depending. Her methods work for everyone except Chester and me. I don't have time, so I let Mavis do my door, but Chester objects on principle. He ... I'll be damned."
"What?"
"There's a big red heart in the middle of Chester's door. I wonder if he knows?"
Will felt as if he'd fallen down Alice in Wonderland's rabbit hole. "She would tape a heart to his door without his permission?"
"I didn't think so, but it looks as if she did. The war must be escalating." Sticking her key in the door, Amanda turned it. Then she wiggled it. Still nothing happened. "Darn thing sticks."
"Let me."
"Be my guest." She handed over her set of keys.
Will worked with the key and finally felt it turn in the lock. "You need some graphite. I can pick some up tomorrow."
A portly woman with bottle-red hair opened the apartment door on his right. "That sounds promising." She walked toward them carrying several brownish lumps on a flowered plate. "Do we have a handyman among us?"
This had to be the woman who'd snagged the red vibrator. Will prayed for self-control, but he could already feel himself wanting to laugh.
Amanda turned, completely deadpan. "Hi, Mavis. This is Will Sloan, the man who—"
"The man who did not send the secret valentines!" Mavis shifted the plate to her left hand and reached out with her right. "I'm so pleased to meet you. I've heard wonderful things."
My Nerdy Valentine Page 18