Nerd Gone Wild (Nerds, #3)(15)
Author: Vicki Lewis Thompson

Mitchell stared at her. “He got big money for an outhouse?”

“He was in it at the time. Claimed all sorts of injuries, including the fact that he now has fear of elimination, due to the trauma. Anyway, all this gossip isn’t getting the snow shoveled. When you get to the front door, give us a little jingle-jangle on the doorbell so we know Clyde’s got access to the street.”

“But won’t his front door be piled high with snow, too?” Mitchell asked.

“Dave will probably be out there clearing a path to the Top Hat. Feel free to help him out if you get finished and he’s still working. Here in Porcupine we generally do for one another like that. Well, except Ernie, who marches to a different drummer. But even Ernie’s been known to help out in a pinch. There’s nobody in Porcupine who’s all bad.”

“Who’s Dave?” Ally didn’t remember anyone by that name working at the bar. Then again, in her condition she might have missed somebody, or half the town, for that matter.

“Oh, that’s right. You didn’t meet Dave. We were in a hurry to get you back here for your private meal.” Betsy’s eyes took on a gleam of anticipation. “If you don’t run into him while you’re shoveling, I’ll make sure you meet him tonight. You’ll want to get to know Dave.”

Now Ally was curious. “Why?”

“Oh, honey, once you’ve laid eyes on the man, you won’t ask why. He’s the hottest thing to hit Porcupine in years. Does chain-saw sculpture by day, tends bar for Clyde by night. A chain-saw sculptor.” Betsy sighed dramatically. “How’s that for the perfect combination?

The soul of an artist and the tools of a manly man. Rrrrrowww.”

“So does he sell any of that chain-saw art?” Mitchell asked.

Ally rounded on him. “How typical of you to ask. In your book, nothing’s worth doing if it doesn’t make money. Maybe he does it for the joy of creating something beautiful.”

“It’s a reasonable question.” But Mitchell’s jaw was set at a belligerent angle. He was spoiling for another fight, and she was just the woman to give him one.

* * *

Chapter Eleven

“Okay, Viv, time to get into your photog duds.” Kurt snapped his cell phone closed. “The snowplows are clearing the roads.”

Vivian continued to flip through the elaborate coffee-table book she’d been studying as she sprawled on Kurt’s white leather sofa. Books on wildlife photography lay scattered on the floor and two very expensive cameras sat on the table beside her.

Impersonating Alaska’s reclusive wildlife photographer Tanya Mandell had been Vivian’s idea after Kurt had told her Ally admired Tanya’s work. Kurt had to admit the impersonation idea was brilliant. Tanya’s photographs were famous throughout the world, but the artist herself stayed out of the limelight, a person no one would recognize on the street. Vivian had bought a bunch of Tanya’s books, plus two very nice cameras, plus a wardrobe that fit the occasion.

As Tanya Mandell, Vivian would be able to talk Ally out of huge chunks of money. At least that was Plan A. Kurt didn’t want to think about Plan B, although Vivian had forced him to map it out, just in case. She’d insisted that he consider the fact that removing Ally from the picture would allow him to inherit everything.

Vivian had done her research and had reported to him that if Ally should happen to die, the trustees would have to give him all the money, because he’d be the only surviving relative. But Kurt didn’t want anybody getting killed. He had every confidence in Plan A. Equipment, lessons, even a joint publishing project could have Ally writing checks like crazy, all to a special account Kurt had set up for this purpose.

“Did you hear me, Viv?” he asked a second time. “Let’s pack up and go. We can leave for Porcupine.”

She didn’t look up. “I heard you.” She untied the sash of her black silk robe and let the lapels hang open. As she continued to glance at the pictures, she carelessly fondled herself. “I’m not finished.”

“You can read those on the way up there.” He tried to ignore the way she flaunted her body. She knew it distracted him, which was why she did it, to keep him constantly off balance. “We need to get on the road.”

“I didn’t mean I wasn’t finished reading.” Her gaze locked with his as she settled into a more focused program, her burgundy-tipped finger moving steadily over her clit.

He started to get hard. “We don’t have time for that.”

“I do.” She sighed and adjusted her position so that he could see her better.

“I don’t.” But he couldn’t look away. “I’m going to get the suitcases.”

Her voice sharpened. “Stay right where you are. I want you to watch.”

“Viv, you know what that does to me.”

“Yes, I do.” She smiled. “And it’s painful, isn’t it?”

“It is when you won’t let me finish.”

“Good, because that’s how it will be this time. You were ordering me around just now, and you know how I hate that.”

Kurt groaned. “I didn’t mean to order you around. I just want to get going.”

“When I’m ready, we’ll leave for this backwater place called Porcupine. I’m not ready yet. Now unzip your pants and show me what’s happening with your little swizzle stick. I want to make sure you maintain your self-control, like a good boy.”

His heart drummed faster as he fought not to get aroused. But humiliation always aroused him. “Viv, no. Please.”

Her eyes narrowed and her breath hissed out. “Do it!”

He unzipped his pants, reached in and pulled out his dick, which was stiff as a walrus tusk. He knew better than to disobey her when she got like this. She was right—he’d been too demanding, and now he had to pay for it. If he didn’t pay now, it would cost him more later.

“Now don’t you dare look away,” she said. Her eyes were like lasers, making sure that he stood perfectly still while she made herself come. She deliberately took her time about it, drawing out the moment and putting him through exquisite torture.

Watching her busy fingers as he’d been told, listening to her moan and gasp, he clenched his whole body against the urge to erupt. He’d developed amazing control, and yet every time she put him through this, he was sure he’d never make it.

At last, with a throaty groan, she shivered and was still. Then, with a sly smile, she raised her hand to her mouth and began to lick her fingers. “I should do it again,” she said. “Just because you’ve been such a bad boy.”

He held his breath, ready to burst. If she went for round two…

“But I won’t.” She rose languidly from the sofa and walked toward him. Curling her forefinger under her thumb, she released it with a snap, flicking her nail against the head of his penis.

He bit the inside of his cheek and managed not to come.

“Very good, Kurt, baby. Now stand like that while I go change into that ugly photographer’s outfit. God knows why this woman always dressed in khaki. It’s so unattractive.” She started out of the room, but then she turned, put her finger against her chin and looked him up and down. “You know what? This whole photography gig is giving me ideas.”

“What do you mean?” He watched nervously as she wandered back to the table and picked up one of the cameras.

“Say cheese.” She pushed a button and the camera flashed.

“Did you really take a picture?” He thought briefly of the blackmail possibilities, but she already had so much on him she wouldn’t need a picture of him standing with his ding-dong hanging out to blackmail him. They’d been planning this caper for two years, ever since he’d hooked up with her at a Vegas S and M club and had mentioned that his wealthy stepmother had a brain tumor.

“Of course I took a picture.” The telephoto eased out with a little whine and she pointed it right at his crotch. “Oh, my, we seem to have some shrinkage. Don’t tell me you’re camera shy.”

“Don’t do this.”

She lifted her eyebrows. “Did you just give me another order?”

“No. Not an order,” he said quickly. “A suggestion. Only a suggestion.”

“I’m so glad it wasn’t an order. Now get it up again for mama, so I can take its little picture.”

“I can’t. Not when you have that camera pointed right at it.”

“Sure you can. All you have to do is think about last night, and how you felt when I slapped those reins against your buns, and then how you enjoyed the fun you had later on, after you fetched that joystick in your teeth. Remember how much you liked what happened next, and how much you’d like that to happen again?”

He clenched his teeth.

“Ah, there we go. That’s better. Much perkier. Now you’re ready for your close-up.” She clicked the shutter several more times.

At last she lowered the camera. “There. I’ve taken my first wildlife pictures.” Then she walked into the bedroom, leaving him standing there with his own personal telephoto fully extended.

* * *

Mitch stepped out the back door onto crunchy white stuff that he’d hoped never to deal with again. As he proceeded to shovel a path to the shed where the giant shovels lived, he thought about the new danger posed by Dave, the chain-saw sculptor. Nothing like a starving artist to prompt a woman like Ally to empty her pockets, and her pockets held a considerable amount of moolah.

At least Kurt Jarrett and his fifth wheel would be delayed if the roads into Porcupine wouldn’t be plowed in the near future. Good old Ernie could stay soused as far as Mitch was concerned. Given a choice, Mitch would rather tilt at his windmills one at a time.

“Mitchell, look!”

“What?” Mitch’s head came up and he switched immediately into fight-or-flight mode as he glanced warily through the trees. Ally might promise that the grizzlies were taking a long winter’s nap, but nature always had exceptions to the rule.

“There! Look at the mountains!”

His shoulders sagged in relief. She was pointing out scenery, not a thousand-pound combo of big claws and big teeth. He looked at the horizon, and sure enough, the landscape was one big postcard. The sky had cleared to faded-denim blue, and jagged peaks dressed all in white reminded him of the whipped meringue on a lemon pie.

“That takes my breath away,” she said. “Well, that’s obviously just an expression, since every time I talk, I can see my breath. I could probably blow smoke rings, there’s so much breath to see.”

He turned to glance in her direction as she tried to do exactly that and was ambushed by pink cheeks and smiling Hps as she tried to puff out perfect little rings. Damned if she hadn’t reverted from being a pain in the ass to someone he desperately wanted to kiss.

“Can’t do it,” she said. “But really, doesn’t the view leave you speechless?”

“Not exactly.” He had to remember that he wasn’t supposed to see that well. “It’s kinda fuzzy, but I guess it’s pretty.” He’d rather look at her any day.

“Maybe you should dig out your glasses so you can see it better. Pretty doesn’t even come close.”

No, it doesn’t, he thought, completely absorbed in watching her. Pretty was a word for a girl in a nice dress, one with a measured smile and carefully styled hair. Ally had none of that going for her.

She wore a bulky parka that eliminated all curviness, a knit cap pulled down over her ears, and a grin that made her seem more alive than any woman he’d ever cared about. She wasn’t pretty. She was gorgeous.

“You know, I came out here ready to have an argument with you about the value of art for art’s sake, like Dave with his chain-saw sculpture.” She continued to gaze at the mountains, which were beginning to glow pink where the sun touched them.

“I’m not against art.” Every sentence was accompanied by little puffs of fog. It was far too cold out here. “But I think a guy like Dave, who’s scraping along on tips from the Top Hat Bar, might think of you as a sugar mommy. I’d hate to see anyone take advant—”

“Stop right there.” She held up a hand. “I said I came out here ready to argue, and you’re tempting me, but I don’t want to fight. Not in the face of that view. Even you have to admit that it makes our problems seem tiny.”

He chose to ignore the even you part of her comment. After all, she was supposed to think of him that way, the kind of guy who deserved an even you now and then. “I know what you’re saying, but I think you and I have a different perspective on snow.”

She turned back to him. “You mean because you grew up in Chicago and I grew up in Bel Air?”

“Uh-huh.” And he remembered too well the frozen eyelashes and numb fingers and toes. “I shoveled snow for my folks. I shoveled snow for my grandma who lived two blocks away. I shoveled snow to save money for—” He caught himself before saying the police academy.

“For school, right?” she said.

“Right. For school. Anyway, when I finally was in a position to choose where I would live, I came to Southern California and vowed I would never shovel another flake of snow or go out in weather where I could see my breath.”

She looked him straight in the eye. “Mitchell.”

“What, Ally?”

“Go home.”

“Can’t.”

“Of course you can. I will be fine. I love this snow! And what could possibly happen to me?”

“A million things.” Above them, the house seemed to creak and groan as it cast off the buildup of ice and snow. Surely she could see what an alien environment this was. She had to understand that guys would covet her money, even if they didn’t know the full extent of her wealth. She obviously wasn’t a pauper and many of the residents of Porcupine… well, they weren’t exactly in league with the Kennedys.