My Nerdy Valentine (Nerds, #7)(27)
Author: Vicki Lewis Thompson

He noticed that her nose was adorably shiny. She’d been working hard tonight, and her makeup was fading. He wanted to kiss the tip of that shiny nose and then move on down to her mouth, which had lost all traces of lipstick. She’d be great to wake up to.

"I appreciate what you’ve been trying to do," he said. "But Gloria is nothing if not resourceful. Her new plan involves—"

"Here’s Justin!"

Will turned on the revolving stool as Gloria appeared, one hand on Justin’s shoulder as she propelled him forward. Justin looked mildly potted.

"Boyfriends ‘R’ Us," Gloria said. "He’s ready for his assignment, aren’t you, Justin?"

"Yeah." Justin nodded. "You were Gloria’s first choice, buddy, and I’ve decided I’m not ready for the big time yet. You go for it. I’ll fill in as Amanda’s boyfriend this weekend, okay?"

"No, not okay." Will wondered if this could get any more complicated. "We’re not playing musical boyfriends."

"That’s for damned sure," Amanda said from her position behind the bar. "Thanks, anyway, Justin, but I’m sticking with Will."

Gloria blew out a breath. "That’s not very accommodating, Amanda. You only need a token nerd, so what difference does it make whether you have Justin or Will?"

"It matters," Amanda said.

Will felt a warm glow in the pit of his stomach. She’d chosen him. That counted for something.

"I know what," Gloria said. "We’ll toss a coin. Whoever wins the coin toss gets her choice of nerds."

"Nope, sorry." Will eased off the stool. "Thanks for the thought, Justin, but Amanda and I have a plan, and that’s what we’re going with."

Gloria tossed back the rest of her martini. "Well, fine. I can be flexible. As a point of fact, I’m extremely flexible. Justin, are you coming home with me, then?"

Justin hesitated. "You know, Gloria, I think we need to get to know each other better before I have sex with you."

"If that isn’t the most provincial attitude I’ve ever heard." Gloria rolled her eyes. "I should have known better than to get myself mixed up with a couple of nerds."

Justin cleared his throat. "We could have lunch tomorrow."

Will started to interrupt and remind Justin of some imaginary racquetball game they had scheduled. He caught himself before he did that. Justin was acting with amazing self-control, and there was such a thing as being too protective.

"I’ll think about lunch." Gloria folded her arms, tapped her toe on the wooden floor, and gazed at the ceiling. Then she looked at Justin. "I can’t decide right now. Call me."

"I don’t have your number."

"Got a pen?"

"Got a BlackBerry." He reached into his pocket and pulled out the palm-sized database.

Gloria waved it away. "BlackBerrys aren’t sexy. I want a pen."

"Okay." Justin took one out of the breast pocket of his shirt. "But I don’t have any paper."

"I didn’t expect you to." Gloria clicked the ballpoint. "Hold out your hand."

Justin obliged, and Gloria wrote her number on his palm.

"That feels … good."

Gloria handed him the pen. "That’s only a small sampling of the delights I can offer you."

As Justin stared at her with complete devotion, Will knew it was no longer if but when. Will couldn’t save his buddy from this disaster.

Gloria walked to a nearby table and grabbed her fur coat from the back of a chair. Will wished he could avoid his early training, but it ran too deep. He stepped toward Gloria and helped her into her coat.

"You are a treasure," she said in a low voice. "Once this business with Amanda’s stalker is over, we’ll get together, you and I."

"Don’t count on it."

"Oh, I’ll count on it, all right. But in the meantime, I’ll amuse myself with your friend." She raised her voice. "Justin, the ball’s in your court. Be sure you copy that number before you give yourself a hand job tonight, or you’ll smear the ink." With that, she swept out the front entrance of Geekland.

All the way home on the bus, Amanda babbled about the customers at Geekland, identifying potential suspects in descending order. She didn’t really believe any of them were guilty of sending her valentines and playing songs on her answering machine, but going through the exercise distracted her. Sitting next to Will on the mostly deserted bus, she was all about distractions.

With his arm wrapped around her and his thigh brushing hers, he was way too potent. She should be exhausted after one sleepless night, but she had a feeling that she was in for another one. There was a remedy for her insomnia, of course. Certain activities were guaranteed to relax her and ease her into slumber.

The bus arrived at her stop long before she was prepared. Will helped her down and kept her hand in his as they walked through the biting cold toward her apartment building.

"Do you plan to study tonight?" he asked.

"I should, but I’m beat."

"I’m sure you are." He squeezed her hand. "You work very hard."

That little squeeze started her heart pumping faster. A squeeze wasn’t a requirement of the charade. Anyone watching them wouldn’t notice something that subtle, which meant Will had done it for her, not for show.

But she pretended not to notice the extra helping of tenderness. "Thanks for not saying I work too hard."

"That’s a judgment call, and I’m not qualified to judge."

They reached the entrance door and she dug out her key. He was quite a guy, this Will. She thought about the girlfriend who’d cheated on him and wondered if he still loved her. If he did, that would help keep the lid on any emotional involvement.

Yeah, right. She was already in this emotional swamp up to her chin, and the alligators of lust were circling, waiting to make mincemeat of her. Funny how pretending someone was your boyfriend and having him hold your hand a few times could trick a girl into thinking she was really part of a couple. That extra squeeze he’d given her had been the cherry on top of her fantasy sundae.

She’d told herself earlier that she didn’t want to know about his ex. but that was a lie. Hell, yes, she wanted to know. He might not want to tell her, though, so she’d have to approach the subject indirectly.

"I probably do work too hard." She unlocked the door. "But sometimes a person has no choice."

‘True." He made sure the door was shut and locked behind them.

"I’ll bet you had to work pretty darned hard to get where you are today." "Uh-huh."

Amanda started down the Hall of’ Valentines. Now that they were inside the building, he didn’t have a reason to hold her hand, but he was doing it, anyway. She decided not to remind him that it was unnecessary.

He wasn’t taking the bait regarding hard work and sacrifice, though. Maybe he was so wounded by his ex that he couldn’t bear to talk about her anymore. Or maybe he was just tired. But the more she thought about it, the more she itched to know if the flame still burned.

So she tried again. "Sometimes people in our lives don’t appreciate how hard we have to work to get ahead."

"Sometimes."

Well, this line of attack wasn’t getting her anywhere. As they approached her door, she checked to see if either Mavis or Chester were peeking out. Both apartments appeared to be locked, which was normal for this time of night. Both Mavis and Chester lost power after nine in the evening.

She shoved her key in the lock of her apartment door and wiggled it. "But then you have to wonder if those people who object to your dedication really want the best for you."

"Right."

As she opened the door into the dimly lit apartment, she gave her investigation one last shot. "If they looked at it from your perspective, they would see you were sacrificing short-term pleasure for long-term gain."

He closed the door and twisted the dead bolt into place. "Okay." He turned to face her. The living room lamp didn’t shed much light in the entry hall, so his face was in shadow. "I get it, Amanda."

"Get what?" Confused, she paused in the middle of unzipping her quilted jacket.

"You don’t have to belabor the point. Go ahead and work as hard as you want." He took off his jacket and laid it over the arm of the couch. "I won’t interfere with that."

She stared at him. "I wasn’t talking about you not understanding that."

"Sure you were. You were reminding me not to get in the way of your program. And I won’t."

"I was talking about your ex-girlfriend."

"Helen? What does she have to do with you and me?"

Caught. "Nothing." She jerked the tab on her zipper and got the damned thing stuck on the placket. "I was just making conversation." She tried to pull the zipper up the other way, but she’d wedged a piece of nylon in there good and tight.

"You were making conversation about Helen?" He sounded bewildered.

"I was making the point that she probably didn’t understand your dedication to your goals." She struggled with the zipper, which now seemed welded in place. "So you can’t blame yourself. It wasn’t your responsibility that she ended up in bed with someone else."

"Interesting theory."

The stupid zipper refused to budge, so she kept talking. "The way it looks to me, there was a lack of empathy on her part, maybe even a lack of self-confidence and maturity."

"Hm." His voice softened. "Need some help with that?"

"Thanks. I’ve got it." Nothing budged, and her fingers hurt from tugging on the metal tab, but she’d put herself in this fix, and she’d get herself out of it.

"That’s what you said right before the bag ripped the other day."

"That was an embarrassing moment." She glanced up. Now that her eyes had adjusted to the dim light, she could see his face better.

His gaze had become as soft as his voice. "You handled that bag-ripping incident with style."

"So did you." Turning away would be smart, but she couldn’t make herself do it.

"Thanks." His expression went from tender to something more potent.

Unless her coat was causing her to overheat, she was responding to that potency. She was afraid the coat had nothing to do with it. "I think you’d better stop looking at me like that."

"Sorry. Can’t help it. You’re something else, Amanda Rykowsky. So damned independent, so determined to do everything by yourself."

Her throat muscles weren’t operating any better than her zipper, and she still couldn’t seem to break eye contact. "That…that works for me."

"Does it?"

Her heartbeat thundered in her ears. "M-mostly."

"Let me fix that zipper." Without waiting for a reply, he dropped to his knees in front of her and began gently wiggling the metal tab.

She wondered if any of Gloria’s sex manuals would consider this move foreplay. Highly unlikely, and yet… the longer Will fiddled with the zipper, the more she imagined him paying that kind of attention to parts of her that had become incredibly moist and warm all of a sudden.

A woman had to be seriously deprived if a guy could make her dream of orgasms as he fooled with the zipper of her coat. Or maybe his kneeling position had something to do with her fantasies. She longed to comb her fingers through his hair, cup the back of his head, and guide him to the X-rated spot where her sexual frustration lived.

If a man could manage to unstick one zipper, he could certainly get past a second one, one that had no known problems. Her damp cotton panties would be no challenge at all, and then …

"Nearly there."

The small whimper was out before she could swallow it. "Amanda?"

Flooded with embarrassment, she manufactured a cough.

"Sorry. Got something in my throat." When he didn’t respond, she had the distinct impression he hadn’t bought that line.

The zipper came free, and he slowly drew it down. "Fixed." The word came out rough around the edges, and he hadn’t quite let go of her jacket.

"Th-thanks."

Still on his knees, he drew in a deep breath. "God. You smell… amazing."

She would walk away. Any second now. All she needed were two functioning legs to replace these wobbly rubber ones.

He took another breath and groaned. "You’d … you’d better go to … bed."

"Uh-huh."

"Unless…"

She felt dizzy. "Unless?"

His low chuckle was filled with regret. "Never mind." He pushed himself to his feet and turned away. "You probably want to handle this by yourself, too."

She began to quiver. He was being strong, being good, being noble. And she was none of those. Not anymore. She’d been worn down to the point of surrender. "No, I don’t." Her blood raced through her veins at breakneck speed. "I—-I need your help."

TWENTY-ONE

Will’s mouth went dry. Slowly he turned back to her. He could blame powerful pheromones, that arousing scent that had reached out and captured him on a basic, irrefutable level as he’d knelt in front of her. But there was more going on here.

She’d portrayed herself as an impenetrable fortress, a bastion of self-sufficiency that would never be breached, especially by the likes of him. And for this sliver of time, she’d let down the drawbridge. He couldn’t walk away from that, no matter how he might regret the decision later.

For once in his life, he knew exactly what to do, and exactly what not to do. This moment called for action. If he voiced any doubts, if he asked even one question, she might change her mind. She’d asked for help, and he had no trouble guessing what kind of help she wanted.

After tonight, she might never let him touch her again. When she’d had some sleep, when she’d had time to collect herself and gather her resources, she might pull that drawbridge back up and lock it in place. He wouldn’t worry about that now.

His next move wouldn’t be elaborate. She needed direct intervention, and he was happy to provide that. He wouldn’t pretend it was the beginning of anything, because it wouldn’t be. It was what it was—a woman craving an orgasm, one she didn’t want to give herself. He could live with that.