Nerd in Shining Armor (Nerds, #1)(16)
Author: Vicki Lewis Thompson

"Hang on. I didn’t say anything about going back. I just wanted you to know. We have Lincoln with us."

She turned and looked down at her son bobbing his head in tune with Harry Connick Jr. Surely she wouldn’t be expected to risk Lincoln to save Genevieve. "Are we in danger yet?"

"Not yet." Matt leaned over the wheel and peered at the clouds. "But we need a plan. We’re headed toward Maui, but I think maybe we should put in at Molokai instead of going all the way to Maui. I should be able to make it there before the water gets too rough."

"I need to ask Lincoln."

Matt’s jaw dropped. "Excuse me?"

Too late she realized that wouldn’t make any sense to him. Even explaining might not do any good. She had to be careful how much she talked about intuition and psychic connections, or Matt would take her right back to Oahu and call the men with the butterfly nets. "What I intended to say was, I need to ask Lincoln if he wants us to go back to the harbor or not."

Matt shook his head. "You need to decide that for him. A fourteen-year-old won’t know whether it’s

safe to go on. They think they’re invincible."

"I meant whether he feels seasick."

"Oh." Matt looked nervous. "Uh, do you feel seasick?"

"No." And even if she did, she’d wouldn’t let a little thing like that stop her. "Let me go check on Lincoln, though."

"Listen, if you think there’s any chance that he’s gonna get seasick, then I think we should take him right back to the harbor. Matter of fact, maybe we’d better all go back. The storm will probably pass over in

no time, and then we can—"

"Never mind about Lincoln getting seasick, then." She began to panic at the idea that he might seriously think of turning around. "Just head toward Molokai."

"Look, we’re closer to home than to Molokai, and I don’t want to be fighting through heavy seas with your kid puking his guts out down below. For all I know both of you are prone to seasickness."

"We’re not. And Lincoln will be just fine." She wished she’d never brought up the subject. Come to think of it, her stomach was feeling like she’d just eaten a spoiled batch of crawdads.

"But you just said—"

"He’s never been seasick." Which was absolutely true. You couldn’t get seasick if you’d never been to sea. She made a shooing motion with her hand. "Let’s just go. Pedal to the metal. Or whatever you do with a boat. Just goose it."

He mumbled something under his breath. She figured he wasn’t happy, but that was just too bad.

"Hang on," he said as the engine roared and the boat shot forward.

She grabbed hold of Matt because he was the closest solid thing. And he felt wonderful, all warm muscles and broad shoulders. Plus he smelled good. After all her years in a beauty parlor with the perfumes and lotions women liked, she’d forgotten the pleasurable scent of a crisp aftershave. Maybe a vibrator and a good mechanic didn’t cover all her needs, after all.

But that wasn’t what this boat ride was about. She let go of Matt the minute she found her balance. "Excuse me," she said. "I’ll just go talk to Lincoln."

"You do that." He sounded like a bear with a sore paw.

"I will." She hurried down the steps, eager to get away from him. He didn’t like her and she didn’t care. Just because he felt nice and smelled good didn’t matter a hill of beans. All she needed him to do was drive this boat.

* * *

Matt had made some dumb moves in his life, but letting Annabelle talk him into renting a boat so they could search for her daughter was the granddaddy of all dumbness. He should just turn the boat around and head for the harbor, no matter what she said. As he considered doing that, a picture of Annabelle staging a mutiny flashed through his head. Yep, she’d be up for that.

She was a fiery woman, and he was inappropriately excited by that. Now wasn’t the time to be thinking about sex, and he felt like a first-class sleaze because whenever he looked at Annabelle, that’s what he thought about. She was one luscious woman. When she’d grabbed him by the shoulder just now, he’d reacted instantly to her touch. He hadn’t wanted her to take her hand away.

Well, he’d better put a lid on those thoughts immediately. If he couldn’t, he’d be obligated to take her back to Oahu and find her someone else to ferry her around. He didn’t want to do that, couldn’t trust that someone else would see this from her perspective and understand why she needed to be out here.

He didn’t have any kids, but after the first shock of discovering that the plane was missing, he’d been able to set aside his own fears and imagine hers, which had to be huge. Maybe he was especially sensitized after his night with Celeste. No matter how bold and brash young women like

132 Vicki Lewis Thompson

Celeste and Genevieve pretended to be, they were more vulnerable than they knew. Vulnerability always tore down all his defenses.

So he was out here for Annabelle’s sake, and for Genevieve’s, but he also was out here because he felt more useful doing something. She’d been right about that—sitting around waiting for word would have been torture. Bucking eight-foot swells with two green-to-the-gills passengers wouldn’t be a picnic, but at least he’d have taken some action.

However, under the current weather conditions, they needed to exercise some caution or the Coast Guard would be adding them to the list of the missing. Matt was willing to risk his safety, and Annabelle had the right to risk hers, but neither of them should endanger a fourteen-year-old kid, no matter how obnoxious his hair color. They’d weather this storm in Molokai and then cruise around Maui to see what they could see. Maybe they’d chance upon something. Stranger things had been known to happen.

And he’d keep his libido in check. For God’s sake, she even had her kid with her, and yet he still found himself thinking how he’d love to get her nak*d. He was a sorry specimen.

When it came to Lincoln, Matt thought Annabelle was too lax. Obviously the kid’s father wasn’t anywhere around or that hair color wouldn’t be happening, and the earring wouldn’t be winking in his ear, either. The black T-shirt that said You Got a Problem with That? was pretty typical—all the kids had attitude these days. But if Matt had a son like Lincoln, the hair situation definitely would be under control and they’d find an alternate way to fly the colors of the flag.

He glanced over his shoulder to where Annabelle and Lincoln were deep in conversation. From their hunched posture Matt figured they had to be freezing their asses off, what with the wind and the spray. When you were out on the water, a summer storm could bring your body temperature down in a hurry.

Finally they must have had enough, because when Annabelle started up the steps toward him, Lincoln followed. The kid looked pale. Nobody enjoyed being seasick, but Matt figured Lincoln would hate it more than most. Spending the first part of the voyage hurling would put a big dent in that macho swagger he had going on. Matt felt a moment of sympathy for him. Being fourteen had never been an easy job, and having your sister missing wouldn’t make it a hell of a lot easier.

"Lincoln needs to use the facilities," Annabelle said. "Is that okay?"

"Certainly that’s okay. Is he sick?"

"No, I’m not sick. Definitely not sick." Lincoln sounded weak but defiant.

Matt was too busy handling the boat to study him more closely. "Go ahead down below, and just be aware that we’re tossing around quite a bit, so hold on to something to keep steady."

"Well, duh.w

"Lincoln Roosevelt Terrence! Apologize to Mr. Murphy this second!"

"Sorry, Mr. Murphy."

"No problem." That was some name Annabelle had saddled him with. The kid was supposed to run for high office, apparently. "And call me Matt."

"Yeah, but my mom said—"

"Lincoln, go on downstairs," Annabelle said. "Now."

"And help yourself to some Seven-Up if you want," Matt added. "That sometimes settles a queasy stomach."

"Thanks, but my stomach’s good."

"Glad to hear it."

"See you guys later." Lincoln stumbled going down the steps, but that could have been due to the pitching of the boat.

"Maybe you’d better go with him," Matt said.

She lowered her voice. "He would never forgive me if I did."

Matt nodded. He’d been fourteen once, too. "Okay, but if he isn’t back out in a few minutes, you’d better go tap on the door. I don’t want him to hit his head and knock himself out in there."

Annabelle drew in a sharp breath. "Then I’ll sneak down after I’m sure he’s in there, and I’ll listen. Oh, and Matt, I apologize for Lincoln’s manners. I’ll speak to him."

"Don’t, Annabelle. He’s a lot more polite than most kids I’ve seen. Don’t ride him on my account."

She sighed. "I’m so afraid if I let things slide, he’ll get mouthy like his friends, but today it’s a little harder to be strict with him."

"Exactly. This is an unusual circumstance. And I can take care of myself. If I think he’s getting too much of an attitude, I’ll tell him."

"Good. That’s good." She hesitated. "Matt, I need to tell you something. Lincoln and I don’t think Genevieve’s in this direction."

"What do you mean in this direction Nick was on his way to Maui, which is definitely in this direction."

"I know, but we don’t think that’s where she is. We think we’re going farther away from her, not closer."

Matt could smell her perfume mixed with the salty breeze that had been blowing through her hair. He wanted to nuzzle the side of her neck and sniff his fill of that combo. "And what are you basing this on?" He was afraid to ask.

She hesitated. "I don’t suppose you’d just take my word for it that we need to turn around."

"Nope. And we’re not turning around. Not until this storm passes over. We’ll hole up in Molokai. You

can see what it’s like out there."

"Yes."

He heard the sound of her swallow, even over the wind and the engine. He gave her a quick glance. "You’re about to upchuck, too, aren’t you?"

"No."

"Annabelle, go do it. Use the sink in the galley if Lincoln’s still in the head. You’ll feel better if you get rid of what’s in your stomach."

"Will you … go the other way once it’s safe?"

"You haven’t told me why." But he already had a good idea what she’d say. She’d claim some hocus-pocus like her daughter was beaming waves of consciousness at her. Maybe Lincoln was picking up the transmission through his hair.

"I can’t explain it so you’ll understand! Will you do it?"

"If you don’t get below, you’re going to throw up all over me." He was demented. Even knowing she was seasick, he still wanted her, right this minute.

"Promise me, Matt Murphy!"

"Okay, damn it! We’ll turn around and start back the other way once the storm’s over! Now go throw up, will you?"

She was already heading down the steps.

Great, just great. Nothing beat taking a boat ride with a couple of puking, psychic passengers, except having the hots for one of them and knowing he wouldn’t be able to do a damned thing about it. When

he finally got his hands on Nick Brogan, his partner would have a hell of a lot to answer for.

Chapter 10

Genevieve knew she should be worried about her perilous circumstances, and she hated to think how upset Mama was by this time. But other than worrying about Mama, she was having more fun than she’d had since the days of playing in the mud down by the crick. In the Hollow she’d only had other kids to boss around, but here she had Jack, who did pretty much whatever she wanted him to.

She stood back and admired the three-sided shelter they’d decided to build using the cliff face as one wall and the overhang as a roof. They’d managed to find enough driftwood and lava rocks to put up two more walls. Well, she’d found the materials and Jack had hauled it all over. He’d wanted to do all sorts of elaborate calculating before they started building and kept using words like schematics, but the clouds rolling in had finally convinced him to just let her tell him how to do it.

Jack folded his arms over his chest and nodded. "Not bad. Not bad at all. Should provide a fair bit of protection from the elements."

She got a kick out of his man-triumphs-over-nature attitude. A half hour ago he’d been complaining that this would never work. "I’ll bet you never built a hideaway when you were a kid in Nebraska."

He paused and adjusted his glasses, as if trying to remember.

"If you have to think about it, then you didn’t. I can tell you exactly what my hideaway was like. We dug it out under the roots of this giant tree right beside the crick. Every year we dug out more and added rooms. We had frog races down there and everything. It was great until the year the crick overflowed."

"You’re right, I didn’t have anything like that. One summer I wanted to put up a tent in the backyard, but I gave up the idea when my grandmother wouldn’t let me run the extension cord outside so I could plug stuff in."

She shook her head. "You’re not supposed to have electricity, for pity’s sake." Not that she always had that option in the Hollow, anyway. "You’re supposed to act like you’re completely on your own, with no grown-ups. You can’t have a blessed cord running from the house to your hideaway. That’s a dead giveway as to where you are."

"So what?" He seemed totally mystified.

"So if the grown-ups can’t find you, you can do all the things they would tell you not to." She was beginning to wonder if Jack had taken a single chance as a kid. "That’s how I learned to start fires with my glasses. Do you think my mama would have wanted me out in the woods doing that?"

"Guess not."

"Bet your britches she didn’t. But I did it anyway, and now I can make us a nice fire, lickety-split." She walked over to the small pile of driftwood chips she’d been hoarding during the construction. "Let me have the glasses."

"There’s no point in starting a fire when it’s going to rain pretty soon."

"That’s why we’ll start it now, when we still have some sun, and then we’ll transfer the fire inside the shelter."