My Nerdy Valentine (Nerds, #7)(15)
Author: Vicki Lewis Thompson

Loaf and Leaves was a trendy little place with small oak tables and chairs, lots of hanging plants, and a menu of salads, soups, and sandwiches served cafeteria-style. Most of the customers arrived after noon, so he had no trouble getting a table in the far corner away from the bank of windows along the front of the restaurant.

As he waited for Amanda, he became aware that he was breathing too fast. Sinking back in the chair, he drew in several deep breaths. Anyone would think he’d never had a lunch date before.

Well, he wouldn’t have one now if Amanda hadn’t received another valentine. He wondered what she’d do once he’d convinced her he wasn’t the culprit. He’d love to help her find out who it was, but she might not let him do that. If he had even the slightest chance of helping her, he’d have to forget about that kiss and concentrate on the problem at hand. That wouldn’t be easy.

The minute she pushed open the front door, he could feel the anxiety radiating from her. Her quilted jacket, which still had a coffee stain down the front, couldn’t hide the rigid set of her body. Her full mouth, the one he longed to kiss all over again, was a slash of repressed emotion, and a deep frown had settled into the space between her eyebrows.

She marched over to him, pulled an envelope out of her purse and put it on the table. "If this is you, you are one sick puppy," she said. Then she pulled something else from her purse and put it down next to the envelope. "This came with the valentine."

It was a heart-shaped cookie from Starbucks. "Was it cracked when you got it?"

"No, I broke it when I dumped it back in my desk so Gloria wouldn’t see it."

"Good thing you didn’t eat it," he said. "It could be laced with something."

"I know. And as much as I hope it is you so I don’t have to be scared, I’m even more afraid it isn’t you."

"Maybe we should cat lunch while we talk about this."

"I’m not here to eat. I just want to know whether or not you sent this valentine, and then I’ll be on my way. I have work to do. And if you didn’t send this, then I probably should contact the cops."

He decided against mentioning how ineffective that would be. She wasn’t even being threatened by this person, so it would be difficult to work up any interest among Chicago’s finest.

"You don’t think they’ll care, do you?"

So she was able to read him. "No, I don’t think so. They have murders and drug lords to worry about."

"Then I’ll… I’ll think of something."

And he wanted desperately to help with that. "Let me take a look at what you got." He picked up the envelope. "And by the way, I brought a sample of my printing to compare with this." He opened the flap.

"Take it out under the table." She glanced around the restaurant as if making sure they hadn’t been recognized.

Because they’d attracted a few curious stares, he did as she asked, although he thought that would only make them more conspicuous. He put the envelope in his lap, pulled the card out and read the greeting on the front. Then he opened it. And closed it very fast.

"Amanda, I’m sorry." Shoving the card into the envelope, he laid it on the table.

"Not as sorry as I am."

"I’m sure. I hate that you were subjected to that." He pulled the stationery out of his jacket pocket and spread it out on the table next to the card. "Please sit down. Let me prove once and for all that it isn’t me."

Her gaze focused on the page where he’d printed her name, then swung to the envelope. Turning both the envelope and the Cooper and Scott stationery to face the chair opposite him, she sat down, but she didn’t take off her coat.

"Those two things weren’t written by the same person," he said.

"I’m not so sure." She leaned her arms on the table and scrutinized his sample and her name on the envelope.

"Yes you are. Mine is in black ink, which is the only color I like to use. That other one’s in blue. I write in caps. I’ve done that ever since I escaped from the handwriting Nazis in elementary school. This guy, and I’m assuming it’s a guy, writes in both upper and lower case."

She continued to stare at the two versions of her name. "The ink color and the upper and lower case could be on purpose, to fool me."

Although he admired her dogged determination to prove that she didn’t have a stalker, clinging to that hope was getting in her way. "Then I’ll demonstrate how I have to force myself to print in upper and lower case. You’ll see how awkward it is for me." Reaching inside his jacket, he took out a pen.

"You could fake that, too."

He sighed. ‘Amanda, I think you’re perceptive enough to be able to tell the difference if I’m doing it right in front of you."

She shoved the stationery across the table with some reluctance. "I guess it can’t hurt anything."

‘Thanks for giving me the chance to convince you." He leaned over the paper and concentrated on an unfamiliar way of writing. Twice he made a capital letter when he’d meant to write in lower case. He wrote both her name and the Your Secret Valentine signature that he thought was inside, although he wasn’t about to open the card and double-check the wording.

When he was finished, he glanced up. "Did that look natural to you?"

She looked uncertain. "Not exactly, no."

"Are you willing to believe maybe I’m not the one sending these?"

"I’d like to compare your writing with the inside of the card."

He should have known it wouldn’t be that easy. She could imagine herself dealing with him, but being forced to believe she was being stalked was a whole other thing. "How are you going to do that?" he asked.

"Not right here, obviously. Let me take them both into a bathroom stall." She pushed back her chair and stood. "If you’re hungry, please go ahead and get something while I’m gone."

"I’ll wait. Listen, why not leave your coat and purse here?"

She shook her head. "If I decide you didn’t send this after all, I won’t be staying."

"That’s when you should stay, so I can help you come up with a strategy."

She hesitated. "I’ll be back soon." Then she turned and walked toward the hallway that led to the restrooms.

Frustrated with all this wasted time, he watched her go. But her stubbornness was an important part of her makeup and probably what had taken her this far. Without that stubborn streak, she wouldn’t be the person who fascinated him so much.

Settling back in his chair, he prepared to wait. The food smelled good, and if she’d just hurry up and agree that he was innocent, they could enjoy a decent meal together. They could spend it strategizing a way for her to uncloak this weirdo. After seeing the pop-out penis, William was convinced they were dealing with a nutcase.

"I thought that was you sitting over here all by yourself! I have this fascinating article from the Wall Street Journal that I’m dying to discuss with you."

With a sense of impending doom, he glanced up to see Gloria heading in his direction. Except she looked very different. She’d done something strange to her hair, and she was wearing glasses. Sure enough, a copy of the Wall Street Journal was tucked under her arm.

For one wild moment he wondered if she was wacko enough to send these valentines to her assistant as a joke. The way things were going, anything was possible.

Amanda sat on the toilet seat with the stall door closed and opened the pop-up card. Although it wasn’t easy to ignore the wiggling penis, she did her best so that she could study the writing underneath it. Then she held up William’s version of the same words.

Deep down, she’d known what she’d find. William had not been sending the valentines. In a way she was relieved to discover she hadn’t been such a terrible judge of character. She was embarrassed that she’d falsely accused him, though. He deserved a huge apology. First she’d refused to go to lunch with him and now this.

Embarrassment wasn’t the only emotion she was dealing with, either. Uneasiness, even a touch of fear, was edging out embarrassment. If William hadn’t sent the valentines, then someone else had. Whoever would leave a pop-up penis card in her desk drawer was not the sort of person she cared to meet… ever.

Tucking both the card and the folded stationery in her purse, she left the bathroom. She was so busy preparing her words of apology that she almost missed seeing Gloria sitting in her seat at the table. She and William both had food in front of them and the Wall Street Journal on the table between them. Fortunately, Gloria had her back to the hallway leading to the restrooms.

William saw Amanda, though. He’d probably been watching for her. His gaze flicked up and flashed a warning before he returned to his conversation with Gloria. Her stomach rumbling with hunger, Amanda edged toward the front of the restaurant while keeping her attention on the table in the back.

When she’d reached the door, she decided that she wasn’t leaving without food. All she had to do was pretend to be coming in instead of going out and she could join William and Gloria for lunch. Yes, it would be a nauseating experience, but as famished as she was, she could handle it.

At least she hoped so. Gloria was working her nerd schtick to the max. She kept adjusting her glasses and fooling with the pencil stuck in her bun. Every once in a while, she’d reach over and touch William’s arm as if to help make a point.

That touching ploy irritated Amanda more than a little. If anybody should be touching William, it was her, not Gloria. No, that was wrong. Amanda had no business touching him, either. She just didn’t want Gloria doing it.

Smiling broadly, she approached the table. "Hi, there, you two! May I join you for lunch?"

William blinked, but to his credit he handled her move with admirable grace. "Sure thing. I’ll get you a chair."

Gloria wasn’t quite so welcoming. "Considering your schedule, do you really have the time? I believe you have some client billing to take care of." Her tone clearly said, Don’t butt in.

"I need to take the time. I didn’t get breakfast and I’ve been surviving the day on a Starbucks muffin."

"Well, in that case." Gloria didn’t look very happy, but she wasn’t enough of a witch to deny Amanda food if she was hungry. "William and I were just discussing an amazing article on the prime interest rate. I don’t suppose you get a chance to read the Wall Street Journal." Her glance told Amanda she’d better pretend ignorance.

"I don’t read it much. Just happened to see it today, though, and I’d love to talk about the prime interest rate." Maybe she imagined it, but she could have sworn Gloria made a little snarling sound. Amanda sat in the chair William brought over and smiled at him. "Thanks."

The smile seemed to take him by surprise, and he flushed just the slightest bit. "Anytime."

That flush was very endearing. Now that she knew he wasn’t her valentine stalker and he’d abandoned the hat with the earflaps, she was running out of reasons not to like him. And then there was the kiss, too brief yet full of potential.

On top of that, her list of reasons to like him was growing exponentially. He’d handled her suspicions about him with good cheer. He was loyal to his friend. He was discriminating enough not to fall for Gloria’s obvious come-ons.

And then there was the matter of his thumbs, which were large and capable looking. Amanda wasn’t the kind of shallow woman who insisted a man be huge in that department, but then again, all other factors being equal, it didn’t hurt, either. And with Gloria constantly turning her thoughts to libido issues, Amanda admitted to being highly curious about the thumbs theory, especially after the previous night’s liplock in the hallway.

Or maybe this sudden obsession was only a function of being hungry. Food might satisfy the sexual curiosity she felt every time she looked at William. She hoped so, because food was a lot less trouble.

"If you’ll excuse me, I’ll get something to eat," she said.

"Yes, do that," Gloria said. "And let the waitress know I need another cup of coffee."

"I will." Amanda thought the order had been given to remind her of her place. Gloria was the one in charge here.

Amanda couldn’t deny it. She needed Gloria’s blessing and good intern evaluation in order to graduate, and if that meant standing by while Gloria put the moves on William, she’d have to do exactly that. In the meantime, she’d love to hear William’s opinion about the rise and fall of the prime rate. Someday she intended to have money to invest, and she’d worked too hard to fritter it away out of ignorance.

But when she returned to the table with a turkey sandwich and a Caesar salad, she could see that rational discussion of the prime rate might not be possible. You could put nerd clothes on Gloria all day long, and she’d still be focused on her topic of choice.

"So, in essence," Gloria said, "the prime rate expands due to external stimulation."

Amanda glanced at William and choked back a laugh. He had a trapped-animal look.

"I suppose that’s accurate." He took a huge bite of his sandwich, as if eager to finish it and leave.

"So then, as the prime thrusts upward, the economy experiences friction." Gloria toyed with a button on the bodice of her shirtwaist, slipping it back and forth through the buttonhole.

Amanda didn’t dare meet William’s gaze or she’d lose it. "Interesting way of describing financial change," she said.

"Yes, well, I’m trying to put the concepts into terms that I understand. So continuing along those lines, I’d guess the friction caused by the rising prime could be pleasurable for those who know how to respond." She pinned William with a hot stare. "Would you agree?"

He nodded and took another big bite, chewing vigorously.

Gloria leaned forward. "I never realized that economics could be so exciting." Her voice lowered to a soft purr. "Do you find it exciting, too?"

William swallowed, coughed, and adjusted his tie. "I, uh, suppose I do." He glanced at Amanda as if looking for a lifeline. "By the way, I’ve had that turkey sandwich you ordered. It’s really good. The Reuben is good, too, if you ever—"

"William." Gloria drew out his name, accenting the yum at the end.