My Nerdy Valentine (Nerds, #7)(35)
Author: Vicki Lewis Thompson

So they were doing it, right under his nose. Hidden in the snowy bushes outside Amanda’s living room window, Harvey shivered as a breeze whipped around the comer of the building. He was so cold he’d bet his nuts were the size of grapes.

Moving around to stay warm was out because someone might hear him. So he had to hold still, and his fingers and toes were practically frozen. He wouldn’t be surprised if he ended up with frostbite, and it would be all Amanda’s fault.

He’d listened to them talking in there, talking about him. That Michael Jackson song had been perfect, and they deserved it, too, after the way they were acting. When they hadn’t started hav**g s*x the minute they’d walked in the door, he’d hoped, like a dummy, that he’d been wrong and they were only good friends. Ha.

He’d kept that hope alive when they’d gone into the kitchen to make coffee. Except they hadn’t stayed in the kitchen. Before long they were back, and Harvey had known exactly what was going on in there. He’d recognized those sounds—the heavy breathing, the moans, the steady creaking of whatever piece of furniture they were using, probably the couch.

Then he’d heard them both come, and that had made him so mad he’d been ready to go in there and do something drastic. Except he hadn’t brought any of his tools tonight. He hadn’t thought it was time.

Now he knew different. Next time he was bringing everything—the glass cutter, the knock-out gas, the gas mask for himself. Next time Amanda would find out what it was like to do it with a guy who knew what a woman liked and how she liked it.

How could she treat him that way? He’d had it all planned out. He was pretty sure that until today, Amanda had been going without.

The way Harvey had figured it, Amanda would be starved for a good poke. Nothing like a woman who hadn’t had any for a long time. Harvey liked to think Amanda had been saving herself for him.

But here came this nerd, taking advantage of Amanda being sex-starved. It wasn’t fair, when Harvey was supposed to be the one giving her what she really needed. He’d thought of enjoying Amanda for a few nights before arranging it so Louise would find them together and be properly impressed.

With the nerd around, that plan was in the dumper. There was no point in waiting until Valentine’s night, either. Amanda had ruined everything because she just couldn’t wait. Now he’d have to change his plans.

The nerd shouldn’t be all that much trouble. Harvey could gas him into unconsciousness along with Amanda. Then he’d get her in the Mercedes and have some fun with her, except she probably wouldn’t be all that much fun, now that she’d already had sex.

He might as well drop some hints to Louise, too, because he might have one chance to make Louise sit up and take notice of how studly he was. To be on the safe side, though, he probably should hide the shotgun shells.

Those two were acting so cozy in there, all nice and warm while he was out here freezing his ass. He would go home soon, but first, they deserved another scare.

Over coffee and Ding-Dongs served in her little dining nook, Amanda tried to help Will brainstorm ways to make the apartment safer. The brainstorming wasn’t going well, because she didn’t have much on hand that would be useful. No little bells, no thin wire, no rope, and no bungee cords.

"I’ve been denying that I had a real problem," she said. "If I’d admitted it earlier, we could have gone to the hardware store today and picked up a few things."

"Don’t blame yourself. We’ll go tomorrow." He glanced at the clock. "It’s already after two. It’ll be daylight before you know it."

Despite the coffee, Amanda could barely keep her eyes open. She’d had a busy day, including some powerful sex. Now she was ready for sleep, but Will had wanted to go over their options for jerry-rigging an alarm system, and that seemed easily as important as sleeping.

She forced her tired brain to come up with another suggestion. "We could line a bunch of cans along the windowsill, so they’d make noise if someone tried to come in." She covered a yawn.

He put down his coffee mug. "I’ll do it. You go on to bed. And take that knife on the counter with you. Leave it on the bedside table where you can reach it."

All thoughts of sleep disappeared as her tummy started to churn. "Uh . . . how about you being in charge of the knife? I’m more into beating someone over the head with the collected works of Freud."

"I doubt the collected works of Freud will scare anybody."

"That’s where you’re wrong. Freshmen psych students quake in their boots at the sight of it. Some have been known to faint."

"Very funny. You need to take the knife."

"I’m really good at swinging a vacuum cleaner wand, too. You should see me. Just like Tom Cruise in The Last Samurai." She made a chopping motion with one arm. "Hee-ya!"

Will laughed. "Come on, Amanda. I can’t see that thing doing much damage, either."

"I’m not good with knives. Once when I thought I might actually cook something, I bought a whole chicken to cut up and fry. Couldn’t dismember the chicken. Fried the whole thing, instead, which didn’t work out all that well."

"The thing is, I planned to sleep on the couch, so you need some sort of real weapon."

"The couch?" She didn’t like that idea at all. "Why?"

"You even have to ask after what just happened? There’s no way I can lie quietly next to you all night. It would start with one little touch, and then we’d be kissing, and then—"

"I get it." All he had to do was talk about it and she was primed for liftoff.

"Yes, you would. Passionately and often. I can’t seem to help myself."

She leaned her chin on her fist. "That’s not all bad."

"It is when I want to keep my attention on something else, like this valentine wacko. There’s no telling…" He paused. "Did you hear something?"

"No."

"There it is again."

Dread trickled down her spine. She held her breath and listened. Then she heard it, a steady tapping, like a woodpecker was clicking his beak on the living room window. But it was night, and besides, all the woodpeckers had flown south for the winter.

"That son of a bitch." Will shoved back his chair and headed for the front door. He grabbed her keys and jerked the door open. "Morse code."

"Will!" She raced after him. "Don’t! You—"

"Lock the door!" He slammed it behind him.

Sick with fear, she ran back to the kitchen counter and grabbed the knife. The handle felt so cold and hard. But Will was out there, alone and unprotected.

She sprinted down the hall while hysterical laughter bubbled in her throat. Her mother had taught her never to run with knives. It was dangerous. Someone could get hurt. No shit.

Wrenching open the front door of the building, she stepped into the freezing night air and gasped with the shock of it. She whipped her head around at the sound of running feet and ice cracking on the pavement. Will was tearing down the sidewalk, arms pumping.

At the corner he slowed and looked both ways. Then he leaned down and braced his hands on his knees. Heart thudding fast, she hurried down the steps and started toward him. As she drew closer, he turned and spotted her.

He began to jog in her direction, and his breath fogged the air. "Hey!"

She stood next to a street lamp and waited. No point in meeting in the middle, like a couple in a movie slow-motion shot. Damn, it was cold out here.

When he reached her, he was breathing hard. "What in hell do you think you’re doing?"

She didn’t need a degree in psychology to figure out he was very angry. She held up the knife. "Coming to your rescue."

"That’s crazy." His eyes glittered in the light from the street lamp. "I told you to stay there."

"No you didn’t. You told me to lock the door. You didn’t say anything about staying put. And you ran out with no coat and no weapon. Don’t talk to me about being crazy."

He looked at the knife in her hand. "I thought you didn’t do so great with knives."

"Yeah, well." She shrugged.

His angry scowl eased. "Thanks."

"I’m not saying I could have stabbed anybody."

"It’s the thought that counts." Putting an arm around her shoulders, he steered them both back toward the apartment building.

She’d been all prepared to be brave and stuff, but walking back to the building with Will’s arm around her was more her style. "Did you see him?"

"Only from the back. He had too much of a head start on me. When I got to the corner, a bus was pulling away about a block down. I’ll bet he was on it."

"So maybe … he won’t be back tonight." The adrenaline rush was gone, leaving her weak and shaky.

"Let’s hope not."

"Could you tell anything at all about him?"

"I’d say maybe five ten, a hundred and eighty pounds or so. But that’s about it. He was all bundled up. Couldn’t see his hair, let alone his face."

She sighed. "So he could still be anyone."

" ‘Fraid so. Damn it, I was too slow! That’s what I get for letting myself get fat and lazy."

"You’re not fat, and after our various physical activities today, I can also testify that you’re not lazy."

He was obviously not going to be mollified. "I’m not talking about sex."

"I was."

"Sex is easy."

"If your talents lie in that direction." He blew out a breath. "I used to be able to run faster than that. Five years ago I would have caught the bastard." "And then what?" "I would have punched him out."

She gazed up at him. "Do you do that kind of thing a lot? Because somehow I can’t imagine you punching someone out."

"I didn’t think you’d come to my rescue with a knife, either. You’re a psychology major. You tell me what makes us act out of character."

Love. That wasn’t the scientific answer, but it felt like the right answer. She and Will had accidentally fallen in love. It might be a temporary infatuation that would burn itself out, or it might be something deeper, something that would cause her a whole lot of trouble in the end.

She might have found the love of her life, and she wasn’t ready for that yet. Someday she would be ready, but Will wouldn’t be around then. No guys these days waited years for a girl to make up her mind.

But she chose not to say any of that. "Fear of loss can make you act out of character."

"Hm."

She wasn’t sure how she’d respond if he asked her to elaborate on her answer. If they were each afraid of losing something, or more specifically, someone, that pointed to that very emotion she’d rather not discuss.

So she changed the subject. "The Morse code thing, would that be any kind of clue?"

"I wish, but I doubt it. Some guys learn it in the Navy, but lots of kids pick it up in Scouts or just for the fun of it."

"I never did."

He gave her shoulders a squeeze as they started up the steps of the apartment building. "Just as well." "Why? What did he say?"

He fished in his pocket and pulled out her keys. "Never mind."

"After all this, I think I deserve to know." "He said I will f**k you"

"Oh." Her shaking got a whole lot worse. Maybe she shouldn’t have insisted on knowing, after all.

TWENTY-SEVEN

Between lying on Amanda’s lumpy couch and worrying about some loony-tunes coming in the window, Will didn’t get much sleep. He wore his dorky flannel pajamas to remind himself he wasn’t supposed to have sex with Amanda, in case he sleepwalked his way into her bed.

No such luck. He stayed on the couch like a good boy, tossing and turning. Toward morning he finally conked out. The phone interrupted an outstanding dream that featured Amanda lying nak*d on a deluxe king-sized bed.

His reflexes weren’t completely shot, because he made it to the phone before the answering machine kicked in. He had no doubt who was calling this morning, and he decided to use some intimidation tactics of his own.

"Listen, you a**hole. Forget about playing one of your creepy songs, and stay the hell away from this apartment, because the next time I’ll beat the shit out of you. I have a black belt, and I know how to use it. Got that?" The part about the black belt was a lie, but the rest was absolutely true. He’d had it with this jerk.

"Will Sloan, you lying nerd! Justin says you’re hav**g s*x with my intern!"

It took him several seconds to get his brain around the fact that Gloria, not the valentine weirdo, was on the line. "Justin doesn’t know what he’s talking about." Amanda was going to kill him.

"Oh, yes he does. She was the mystery girl who gave you that hickey!"

Amanda was really going to kill him. But if Amanda let him live, he would make it up to her by killing Justin. "Was he drunk? Because he’s been drinking a lot lately, and you can’t believe a guy who—"

"He wasn’t drunk. He didn’t want to tell me, but I had something he wanted desperately, especially after I’d teased him for about an hour. Confessing your sins was his only way of getting it."

The apartment was cool on this winter morning, but Will began to sweat. "Look, none of this is Amanda’s fault. She needed someone to scare away the stalker, but I’m the one who came up with the idea of staying here. Then I took advantage of her vulnerable situation."

"But why? She’s not nearly as attractive as I am!"

Will felt a headache starting at the base of his skull and working its way up his scalp. What to do, what to do. Admitting to his attraction wouldn’t go well for Amanda.

He grasped for something to say that wouldn’t get Amanda thrown out of Gloria’s office. "For one thing, she’s not a client."

"Oh, for God’s sake. I can see it all, now. I aroused your sleeping libido and she got the benefit because she’s not a client. Well, I’m leaving you so we can have sex. Deal with it."

"What about Justin?"

"My social calendar has room for at least two men."

Will sighed. This was turning into a nightmare. "I won’t be one of those two men."

"Ooo. Now that’s sexy. You’re demanding exclusivity, then? I usually don’t agree to that, but for you I might make an exception."