Nerd Gone Wild (Nerds, #3)(11)
Author: Vicki Lewis Thompson

About a minute later, Mitch sighed. “Four.”

Four, it turned out, was Betsy’s limit, at least for this particular coupling. Mitch clenched his jaw as they were treated to Clyde’s delayed, and definitely well-deserved, bellow of satisfaction. Then silence reigned.

Mitch was afraid to say anything, because the silence was so complete that the slightest shuffle of their feet would echo through the lodge. He hoped Betsy and Clyde hadn’t killed each other with passion. He waited, breath held, for signs that they’d recovered.

With luck they wouldn’t lie there until morning, but it was always possible. Even when they roused themselves, they’d probably crawl on hands and knees into Betsy’s red parlor. Neither of them were exactly spring chickens. Still, Mitch had to award grudging respect to Clyde’s performance, and unless Betsy had been faking, she was one hell of a woman.

Finally, signs of life issued from the lobby.

“Get off me, Clyde. I can’t breathe.”

That was greeted with more muffled mumbling.

“Yes, yes, it was terrific. You’re a stallion. Now move before I suffocate.”

Mitch smiled. Betsy might take the sex, but she wasn’t going to give her heart to the first guy who presented her with four on the floor. He had to admire her style.

After several groans and a considerable amount of thumps, rustling, and gasping, another door clicked shut.

“I think it’s safe to move.” Mitch kept his voice low.

“Okay, I’m heading out,” Ally said. “Don’t drop anything.”

“I won’t.” Mitch followed her into the dim light of the lobby. He didn’t look over toward the entryway, just in case Betsy and Clyde had left items of clothing scattered around. Or in case Betsy had left Clyde lying there, his weenie waving in the breeze. She was one tough lady.

“We probably don’t have to worry that they’ll hear us,” Ally said. “And even if they did, I doubt Betsy would have the energy to come out and investigate.” Ally started up the stairs. “I certainly wouldn’t.”

Mitch wished she hadn’t said that. Now he wanted to know if she’d ever had multiple orgasms. It seemed to be the order of the day in Alaska. Lurleen had left Rudy because he couldn’t provide them, and Betsy seemed to accept them as her due.

In Mitch’s experience, multiple orgasms were a cooperative deal. The guy had to have some skill and staying power, but the woman had to be open to the idea. The combination had only worked out a couple of times for Mitch. Although the sex in each case had been great, he’d had nothing in common with either woman besides this particular achievement. Nice as it had been, it hadn’t been enough to make him want to hang around.

All that had taken place pre-Madeline Jarrett. Since Madeline had hired him, he’d been too involved with the job and its heavy responsibilities to have time for women. And the heaviest of his responsibilities, despite her gorgeous little figure, was climbing the stairs ahead of him for the second time tonight. And he wanted her more than ever.

* * *

Ally opened the door to her room and walked in, leaving the door ajar for Mitchell. For good or bad, they’d just shared something that few people ever did. She felt a kinship with him.

She’d also be willing to jump his bones, but she didn’t trust that feeling. She might have been willing to jump any guy after the boinkathon they’d been privy to. So she’d concentrate on food, instead. Maybe that would take the edge off.

“I’ll make the sandwiches,” she said.

“I could make the sandwiches.”

“I know, but making the sandwiches seems like an integral part of the refrigerator raid, so I’ll do it.”

He glanced at her. “Do you know how?”

She put her pile of food on the dresser and turned to him. “I may be filthy rich, but I’m not totally incompetent.”

“Sorority living,” he guessed.

“Exactly.” She went into the bathroom, grabbed a hand towel and spread it on the dresser. Then she took out bread and started in on the sandwiches.

Mitchell sat on the edge of her unmade bed and picked up the book lying there. “Tanya Mandell. I’ve heard of her.”

“She’s only the best wildlife photographer in the world, in my opinion.”

“I never could understand how they get some of these shots, like this one of the bear on its hind legs, without being—”

“Noticed?” She arranged slices of meat on each sandwich.

“I was thinking mauled.”

“You learn those things. That’s what I’m here for.”

Mitch closed the book with a shudder. “Let’s talk about refrigerator raids, instead. Didn’t you ever swipe food from the kitchen when you were a sorority girl?”

“The truth is, I never got past the pledge stage.”

“Why not?”

“Oh, one afternoon I overheard a couple of seniors talking about me.” She tried to sound as if it didn’t matter, but thinking of the conversation still hurt. “One said, ‘Thank God she’s not a real pain,’ and the other one said, ‘I know. Because we’d have to keep her, regardless, after all the money her grandmother gave us.’ See, I hadn’t known about any money changing hands.”

“So you de-pledged.”

“Uh-huh. You should have seen how hard they tried to talk me out of it, too. I should have made those girls clean the sorority kitchen floor with their tongues.” She used the carving knife Mitchell had brought up to cut slices off the wedge of cheese and put them on the sandwiches.

“I wish you had.”

“Actually, I was determined to hit them where it would hurt the most. I wanted Grammy to take back the money.” Slapping another piece of bread on top, she picked up both sandwiches and handed one to Mitchell.

“Thanks.” He took the sandwich in both hands. “Did she?”

“No. Instead she wrote them a note saying it was a shame they’d treated me so callously, but because money seemed to be more important to them than gracious behavior, they could keep it.”

“Hm.” He bit into his sandwich, chewed and swallowed. “I have no idea what this meat is.”

Ally sat on the edge of the bed beside him and took a bite of her sandwich.

He glanced at her. “Do you recognize the taste?”

She shook her head, still chewing. Then she swallowed. “A little gamey.”

“Then we probably don’t want to know what it is.” He lifted the bread and studied the meat. “Are you going to eat it?”

“Are you kidding? This is my refrigerator-raid sandwich. You bet I’m going to eat it.” She took another big bite.

“Me, too.” He tucked into his sandwich with gusto. About halfway through the sandwich he got up and opened both beers, twisting off the caps with his fingers.

“Nice job.” She accepted the beer, impressed at the way he’d opened it. “I’m beginning to think you have hidden depths, Mitchell.”

“Because I can twist off the top of a beer bottle?”

“No, because you can manage my grandmother’s estate and twist off the top of a beer bottle. That combo is hard to find.”

“Not so much.” He grinned at her. “If I could twist it off with my teeth, that would be saying something.”

“I’ll bet Rudy can.”

“Which could be another reason he’s missing a few of those pearly whites.” Mitchell took a swig of his beer. “So how did that work for you, that your grandmother let the sorority keep the cash?”

Ally considered that. “I thought it sucked.”

“Yeah, me, too.”

“I mean, maybe they all had an attack of conscience and are still feeling guilty, but I doubt it. But that was Grammy. She never wanted to descend to petty behavior. Which is why I never could understand that she—” Ally caught herself just in time. The new-found comradely with Mitch had made her forget that some topics were better left alone. Like Kurt.

She would love to know if Grammy had said anything to Mitch about Kurt, but she didn’t want to ask. Grammy hadn’t known that Kurt was up here in Alaska, and there was no reason for Mitchell to know, either.

If Mitchell left when the snow cleared, that might be about the time that Kurt would drive up to see her. She hoped he’d bring her mentor, the person who would teach her the ropes. They might pass Mitchell going the other way, headed for the airport, which would be perfect. If Grammy had mentioned Kurt at all to Mitchell, she wouldn’t have had anything good to say.

Grammy had to be embarrassed about her rejection of Kurt. When Ally had tried to get her to talk about him, her usually poised grandmother had turned bright red. She’d refused to discuss Kurt and had forbidden Ally to mention him again.

“I take it you’re not going to finish that sentence?” Mitchell said.

She turned to find him watching her and knew she’d have to come up with some plausible ending to her comment. “Oh, she fired one of the staff over some little detail. But I have no right to judge. I’m sure she had her reasons.”

Ally hadn’t agreed with her reasons, though. A maid had put through a call to her grandmother from Uncle Kurt. Apparently the young woman had been bold enough to say that she couldn’t see the harm in a stepmother talking to her stepson on the phone. Grammy had sent her packing that very day.

“She did demand loyalty.”

“Yes, she did.” Which meant Ally had battled feelings of disloyalty from the moment she’d started communicating by e-mail with Uncle Kurt. Grammy would have hated it. But Uncle Kurt understood Ally’s need for adventure and Grammy never had. He’d encouraged her to live life to the fullest and not become a pampered society type. All this time he’d been her lifeline.

Ally decided to see if she could derail this discussion of Grammy, a discussion she’d been dumb enough to start. “Ready for some of that blackberry pie?”

“Sure.” Mitchell set his beer on the floor, walked over to the dresser and picked up the pie plate. “How about forks?”

“I didn’t get any.”

“Neither did I.”

As they looked at each other, both of them obviously considering whether it was worth going back to the kitchen, a muted moan of ecstasy drifted up from the first floor.

Mitch’s eyes widened. “Again? These people are practically senior citizens! Have they no shame?”

Ally laughed. “I guess all that tap dancing has kept the guy in shape.”

Escalating cries penetrated the floorboards.

“In shape is one thing.” Mitchell shook his head. “I think the guy’s mainlining Viagra.”

“Whatever he’s on, you won’t catch me trundling down to get the forks.”

“Me, either. The way this thing has been going, I wouldn’t doubt they’re doing it on the kitchen table. I’m staying upstairs until morning, and even then I don’t know if it will be safe to go back down.” He cocked his head as Betsy trumpeted the news of another cli**x. “That’s five.”

“Don’t you have to start over with number one?”

“Any way you count it, those two belong in The Guinness Book of World Records. And the night’s still young.”

“Which leaves us with the problem of a blackberry pie and no forks.”

“I’m afraid so.”

“We could eat it with our fingers.” She didn’t believe for a minute that Mitchell J. Carruthers, Jr., the guy who wouldn’t tolerate crumbs in his bed, would go for that. Even she knew it would make a big mess.

“Okay. Why not? It’s no crazier than all the other staff we’ve been involved with today.”

“But we need bibs if we’re really going to do this.” Ally went back into the bathroom, grabbed both bath towels and gave one to Mitchell. “Let’s sit on the floor and tie a towel around our neck. And I strongly suggest you roll up your sleeves.”

Mitchell sat down on the braided rug and put the pie plate in front of him. “There’s two-thirds of a pie here. Once we dig into it, no one else will want to touch it.”

“Then we’ll have to finish it, won’t we?” She sat across from him Indian-style and tied her towel around her neck. Then she rolled up the sleeves of her flannel pajama top.

Mitchell followed suit, pushing his sleeves up past his elbows.

To her surprise, his forearms looked muscular. Inviting, even.

He glanced at her. “After you, madam piggy.”

“I have to say, Mitchell, that this is turning out to be a most excellent refrigerator-raiding experience.” For all the anger she’d felt when he’d shown up this afternoon, at this moment she was kind of glad he was here.

“Even with the unplanned entertainment?”

“It added that extra challenge.” She realized that without Mitchell here, she might not have raided the refrigerator, and she could easily have ended up in her room all alone, listening to Betsy and Clyde go at it.

“It’s been a unique event, that’s for sure.” He paused to listen to the sounds from the first floor. “That’s either two or six, depending on which way you want to keep score.”

“I don’t know how I’m going to face her at breakfast in the morning.”

“Who says they’ll be finished in time for breakfast? We might be on our own for days.”

“Then we’d better fortify ourselves.” Ally dug her fingers into the pie and came up with a gooey handful that smelled heavenly and dripped purple on her white bath-towel bib.

Pushing her fingers into the pie turned out to be an extremely sensuous experience. The thickened juice oozed through her fingers and the pebbled surface of the blackberries rolled against her palm in a moist caress. Add in Betsy’s climactic vocalizations, and it was almost enough to give Ally an orgasm on the spot.