Nerd Gone Wild (Nerds, #3)(28)
Author: Vicki Lewis Thompson

“Mitchell, we’re in the middle of the street.”

“We’re in the middle of the street in Porcupine, Alaska, which is not the same as being in the middle of the street in Los Angeles, California.” He reached for her zipper.

She brushed his hand away. “Stop it, you crazy man. We’re leaving our coats on.”

“Okay, but I hope you realize that if everybody had to wear these coats all the time, the human race would die out completely.”

That made her smile.

“Your teeth are greenish, too.”

“You say the sweetest things. No wonder I crave your body.”

“You do?” He grabbed her hand and nibbled on her fingers.

“That’s not saying I’ll give in to that craving.”

“Give in, Ally. Let’s indulge in some cheap, tawdry, meaningless sex.”

“I couldn’t do that to you, Mitchell. I—”

He groaned. “I know. You respect me too much.”

“It’s true! You got me through the bad time after Grammy died, so how can I repay you by hav**g s*x and then tossing you aside like a used condom?”

“At least that condom had its moment of glory.”

“You do realize that you’re thinking with your—”

“Probably, and I never realized before how smart my buddy is. He’s a Zen kind of guy, wants to live for the moment.”

Ally shook her head. “You’d hate me later. And we have to maintain a working relationship, don’t forget.”

“Okay, I’ll draw up a binding contract that absolves you of all responsibility for my state of mind during the act itself and for months afterward. How’s that?”

“Mitchell, be serious.”

“I’m as serious as a heart attack. Tell me what it would take for you to feel guilt-free about this.”

“Nothing.” She wiggled out of his arms. “I’d be worried about it forever.”

“That’s a long time.” He wondered if she was strong enough to take a pass. Maybe. “Okay, what are the alternatives to hav**g s*x, now that we’ve made our escape from the Top Hat and Tanya, who seems obsessed with my crotch?”

“Understandable obsession.”

“Now you’re teasing me.”

She sighed. “I am, and I apologize.”

“Don’t apologize. Go to bed with me, Ally.”

She gazed at him for a long time, obviously still struggling with her decision. “I thought we were going to play cards.”

“I never intended for us to play cards, and you know it.”

“Well, I did intend for us to play cards.”

He decided the skirmish could continue more productively inside than out here. “Okay. How about your place? Mine’s a mess.” He didn’t want her in there prowling around and finding things like a tracking system for the microtransmitter he’d put in her backpack. And there was the little matter of his gun. That might freak her out a bit.

“It’s a date. My place.” She started down the sidewalk toward the Loose Moose.

“You’re on.” He glanced back at the northern lights, which were still waving and dancing in the night sky. He would never choose Alaska as his favorite spot in the world, but snowmobiling had been excellent, and the northern lights were cool. Oh, yeah, and the nights were long in Alaska. If he could spend them fooling around with Ally, Alaska would be tolerable.

He followed her to the Loose Moose. So they’d play cards. Maybe the card game would lead to something else. Maybe not. But he needed to remember, regardless of where the card game led, that Ally was rich and he was not rich. She would most likely spend her life in Alaska building a reputation as a wildlife photographer, and he would return to tend the books in Bel Air.

But first he had to make sure she didn’t fall prey to Kurt Jarrett, although she seemed pretty savvy about the guy already. Mitch felt the need to stick around, though. And while he was sticking around watching out for Ally’s interests, he might get lucky. And he wasn’t talking about the poker game.

* * *

Ally breezed into the lobby, shrugged out of her coat, and sat down on the bench to take off her boots. “I think we should get some beer out of the refrigerator and take it upstairs,” she said. “You always have beer at poker parties, right?”

“Sure.”

She was feeling a little reckless, and that probably wasn’t a good thing, considering the fact that she was about to spend time in a room that contained both Mitchell and a bed. But strange as it seemed, she felt safer with Mitchell than she had with Uncle Kurt and Tanya.

She knew instinctively that Mitchell wouldn’t hurt her, but she couldn’t be sure about Uncle Kurt or Tanya. She’d had such high hopes, and yet now it seemed she’d have to learn her craft from a woman she respected professionally but couldn’t stand personally. That sucked.

“I’ll get the beer.” She tucked her boots under the bench and walked toward the kitchen in her socks. “Meet me in my room with the cards.”

“Okay.”

She glanced at him sitting on the bench, one boot off and one still on. He might be a dork, but he was a really cute dork, and at least he was the person he claimed to be. “I need to say one thing, and I never thought I’d say this. But I’m glad you came to Alaska.”

“It was my job.”

“No it wasn’t. Nobody could interpret your job as needing to run up here and check on me. But I know that’s what you decided to do, and I appreciate it.”

He looked uncomfortable with the praise. “Listen, it was no big deal. I know I’ve complained a few times, but I—”

“Mitchell, accept that you did a good thing by coming up here. You didn’t know there would be this major attraction between us. That was totally unforeseen.”

“Not exactly.” He’d put his glasses back on and now he was regarding her with touching sincerity. “I’ve felt that tug-of-war from the first time I met you. I’ve been fighting it, but I knew it was there.”

She flushed with pleasure. It was shallow of her, but she couldn’t help it. He’d been drawn to her all along. “So that’s why you flew up here?” Maybe the original story, that he had a crush, was actually the true story.

“No. At least not consciously. I flew up here to make sure you were okay. Madeline… would have wanted me to.”

“Probably she would have, if she’d known I had such a wild adventure planned.” Ally had a sudden thought. “You don’t suppose that Grammy meant to throw us together?”

He shook his head. “I’m sure she hoped you’d find somebody in your league. I’m not, Ally. We both know that.”

“I don’t know that. I don’t know anything about leagues.” She was impatient with the whole concept. “What am I supposed to do, find some exotic foreign prince?”

“That’s the general idea.”

“Well, I’m not in the market for a prince, or a husband, for that matter. So if you’re hoping to safely marry me off so you don’t have to worry about me anymore, forget it.”

His eyes flashed with unmistakable anger. “I’m not hoping to marry you off.”

She couldn’t tell if he was angry with her or himself. “I’m glad we got that straightened out, then. No wedding. I’ll get the beer.” As she walked into the kitchen and flipped on a light, she remembered the refrigerator raid they’d staged the night before, and getting caught in here while Betsy and Clyde made whoopee in the lobby.

She’d had some great fun with Mitchell in the short time he’d been here. Although she’d worried that he’d become an anchor around her neck, it hadn’t worked out that way. She would miss him when he left.

His reaction to the marriage topic was strange, though. Logically, he should be thrilled if she found the right guy, settled down, and started having babies. Then he wouldn’t have to worry about her marrying a fortune hunter. He might also believe that a husband and kids would make her think twice before taking risky trips into the wilderness.

Yet he hadn’t seemed as overjoyed with the marriage prospect as she would have expected. No matter how she sliced it, she kept coming to the same conclusion—Mitchell had a crush on her. Although he didn’t believe she could ever be his, he didn’t want to think about her marrying someone else. A crush would explain everything.

Given the probability of that, she had no business hav**g s*x with him, not tonight, not ever. He wouldn’t be practical about it, as she’d projected earlier today. He would get in deeper and be hurt worse.

Pulling a couple of beers out of the refrigerator, she closed the door with her hip. Sure, Mitchell might be willing to take whatever crumbs she’d toss his way. That’s how a guy would react if he had a hopeless case.

But for her to get his hopes up by giving in to her own selfish urges—that would be cruel. So it looked as if she’d be playing poker tonight and then going to bed. Alone. Thinking of that, she went back to the refrigerator and pulled out two more beers.

* * *

Mitch discovered that his bathroom door was still MIA, apparently being repaired by Clyde in his spare time. Since the door from the bathroom into Ally’s room could only be locked from the bathroom side, Mitch had instant access to her room. He decided to get the bug out from under her bed before she came in.

Scooting under the bed on his back, he took off his glasses and stuck them in his pocket as he peered around, trying to remember exactly where he’d attached the damned thing. Was it on the inside of the left leg at the end of the bed, or the right leg? If he weren’t thinking so much about sex right now, he’d be able to remember.

As he was searching for it, the door opened.

“Mitchell?”

Dammit. “Yeah.” How in God’s name would he explain this? In the process of fumbling to get his glasses back on and wiggling out from under the bed, he banged his head on the support rail.

“Ouch! You hit your head! Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” He rubbed his head and sat up.

Holding a pair of beer bottles in each hand, she regarded him with great suspicion. “Okay, now that I know you’re fine, please explain what the hell you were doing under my bed.”

* * *

Chapter Twenty

Mitchell scrambled for an explanation. “I thought I saw something.”

Clearly she didn’t believe that for a minute. “Usually when someone sees something under the bed and goes to investigate, they crawl under on their belly. Scooting under on your back makes no sense.”

God, he was so screwed. He pushed his glasses more firmly onto the bridge of his nose, buying time.

“Well, Mitchell?”

“Okay, Ally. I wasn’t going to let you know about this, because I thought it might freak you out. But I think your bed is bugged.”

She stared at him. “What do you mean, my bed is bugged?” Are we talking creepy crawly things or are we talking little electronic things?”

“Little electronic things.”

Now she was looking at him like he was crazy.

“Mitchell, did you see that movie a while back, A Beautiful Mind? It’s the one where Russell Crowe plays the genius guy who has imaginary friends and thinks there’s some sort of conspiracy he has to untangle.”

“I saw it, but—”

“Because that’s who you’re sounding like—that guy. And never mind about the bug situation. You’re freaking me out.”

“Hold on a minute.” He slid back under the bed, finally saw the device he’d planted and pulled it loose. This time when he came out from under the bed he was careful not to whack himself on the head. He already had enough problems without adding a concussion to the list.

“What’s that?” She crouched down and studied the microtransmitter.

“A bug.”

She continued to gaze at it. “Boy, I owe you an apology. It sure looks like one. But why would anyone put a bug under my bed?”

“Well, I have a theory.” Which he would pull right out of his ass. “This lodge would have been the perfect out-of-the-way rendezvous for double agents during the Cold War. I mean, think of it. Russia is right across the Bering Strait.” If she believed this woolly tale, he should take up fiction writing.

Her eyes got round. “You think double agents stayed here?”

“Could be.”

“So this bug isn’t here for me. It’s been around a while.”

“Probably.” Was there a chance he’d get away with this?

“Looks pretty new. Not even dusty.”

Or maybe he wouldn’t get away with shit. “When I was under there, I wiped it off to make sure of what I was looking at.”

“Wow.” She set down two of the beers on the floor beside her. “Can I see it?”

“Sure.” He dropped it into her hand.

“Fascinating.” Then she glanced into his eyes. Hers were very green, and very skeptical. “Now tell me how you happened to know that this was an electronic bug instead of some little doodad that helps hold the bed together.”

“I’ve watched tons of spy movies. Tons.”

She nodded slowly. “I can believe that. All right, so you can recognize a bug when you see one. That still doesn’t explain why you were under the bed in the first place. And don’t tell me you had a hunch there was a Cold War bug under there, because if that’s the way your mind works, it’s frightening and I don’t even want to know about it.”

Finally he came up with the story he should have gone with in the first place, if he’d been thinking straight. Except then he might not have been able to remove the bug, and he’d really wanted to do that. “I was checking your springs,” he said.