Nerd in Shining Armor (Nerds, #1)(22)
Author: Vicki Lewis Thompson

Once Matt had dreamed up this stroll on the dock, she’d known that sooner or later they’d get around to this subject. She really didn’t mind. Arguing with Matt about her decision not to have sex, other than the battery-operated kind, helped fill the pit of worry she was threatening to sink into.

But instead of arguing with her, Matt sighed. "I suppose it’s just as well that you feel this way, for a couple of reasons."

So he was giving up. Well, that was good. One less complication to worry about. "What reasons?"

"First of all, this is the worst possible moment to be thinking of romance, with you worried sick about your daughter. I’m worried, too, although I don’t claim to be in your league."

She nodded. He was right about the bad timing. He also sounded more sincere than any man she’d come across. She didn’t trust her judgment when it came to that, because being attracted to a man always fried her brains. But having a man like Matt hold her during a time of crisis didn’t seem like the worst idea in the world. It probably was, though.

She’d never known a sailor before, and she had to admit Matt looked good standing on the dock, his hands shoved in the pockets of his slacks, while in the background were all those expensive boats. In this light, she and Matt could be characters in a classic black-and-white movie, two doomed lovers saying their last good-byes while the waves lapped away under their feet.

"What’s the other reason?" she asked.

"I have no business getting involved with anyone, no matter what the circumstances. I let something that happened last night fool me into some magical thinking, but the truth is, I have nothing to offer right now."

Her mouth fell open. "Nothing to offer?"

"That’s right." He met her gaze. "Theresa cleaned me out. More than cleaned me out. When the court ordered me to pay her a quarter of the value of Rainbow, I went into debt up to my eyeballs. I may not get out of debt in this lifetime. I can’t ask any woman to get involved in a mess like that."

Annabelle was flabbergasted. Being broke had never stopped a man from trying to seduce her. Both Genevieve’s and Lincoln’s daddies had seduced her and taken every nickel she’d put aside, to boot.

Then she thought of something else. "I shouldn’t have asked you to rent the boat. I didn’t know you were up against it, and this morning I might not have cared. But now I do. Let me know how much they charge you, and I’ll pay you for it."

"No, you won’t." He took her by the shoulders. "I—"

As if suddenly realizing he was touching her, he let go and backed away. "Sorry."

She stepped toward him and put her hand on his arm. "It’s okay, Matt. Don’t feel funny about doing something that comes natural. You’re a decent man, and I know you’re not trying to take advantage of me."

He glanced down at the spot where her hand rested on his arm. "Oh, but I’d like to, Annabelle." He raised his head and looked into her eyes. "You see, that’s the problem. I would love to take advantage of you."

Her pulse skittered around like a drop of water on a hot griddle. She should move her hand, but she liked the feel of his warm skin, and she really liked the way he smelled. "What happened last night?"

"You don’t want to know."

Her grip on his arm tightened. "Yes, I really do."

"Okay, but I’m not bragging about this, just so you know. The only reason I brought it up is that maybe that’s why I’m thinking along lines I shouldn’t be. Or maybe it’s not. I might have wanted you regardless of last night, but—"

"Great balls of fire, are you going to tell me or not?"

"I was propositioned by a twenty-three-year-old."

"Oh." She drew her hand back.

"See, now you think I’m a dirty old man."

"No, I don’t." She was thinking he was a mighty fine specimen, to be attracting the attention of a girl that young. "Did you—"

"Yes, I’m afraid I did. So you can see how I might be all full of myself today, thinking I’m some kind of stud and forgetting I’m basically the same middle-aged, penniless man I was yesterday."

"Surely you don’t think a man should be measured by the size of his bank account."

He shrugged. "That’s the way Theresa measured me. As for Celeste, she’s young, moving back to the mainland at the end of the summer to finish college, so she doesn’t care if I have money or not."

"How did you meet her?" Annabelle had taught herself not to envy others, but this very minute she desperately wanted to be Celeste, a girl who used men for what she wanted instead of letting them use her.

"Who, Theresa or Celeste?"

"Celeste. Theresa doesn’t sound worth wasting our breath on."

Matt smiled. "You’ve got that right, but come on, Annabelle. You can’t really be interested in this."

She was fascinated, but if she let on, he might figure out she was softening toward him. "It’s a dang sight more interesting than a baseball game."

He studied her for a moment and finally nodded. "Okay, I can see your point. If my midlife foolishness entertains you, so be it. I’ve been wishing I had someone to talk to about this, because I’ve been trying to figure out if I should feel guilty or not. I mean, she’s young enough to be my daughter."

"But she started it, didn’t she?" That was the part that captured Annabelle. She’d always been a sitting duck, waiting for a smooth-talking man to come along. Maybe if she’d done the choosing her life would have turned out different. Not that she regretted having Genevieve or Lincoln. Never that. But it would have been nice not to have to work so danged hard all the time.

"Yes, she started it," Matt said. "I tried to talk her out of the idea, but I didn’t work very hard at it. Theresa had demolished my ego, and having this sweet young thing hot for my body was more than I could resist."

"Matt, I can’t imagine any red-blooded man who wasn’t getting any being able to resist a prospect like that. Unless he was one of those holy men you read about. I guess they could resist Dolly Parton dancing buck-naked with a rose in her teeth."

Matt laughed, the sound rolling up from his chest in a satisfying wave. "Now, there’s a picture. Well, I’m no holy man, Annabelle. Not by a long shot."

"I don’t know any holy men myself." She’d made him laugh, and that pleased her no end. A good sense of humor got to her every time, but she hadn’t had much call to check out Mart’s. They’d been involved in too much anxiety to have cause to laugh together. "But you still didn’t tell me how you met this Celeste person."

"While I was up to no good, as usual." Mart’s smile lingered. He was obviously having a better time now that they were joking around a little. "She’s a cocktail waitress, and she’d watched me coming in every night to drown my sorrows."

"So you knew each other, then." Annabelle didn’t drink hard liquor and watched out for those who made it a habit. Growing up around moonshine had made her careful. But she had to believe Matt wasn’t a natural-born drinker, or he would have brought some on this trip, crisis or no crisis. People sometimes tried to cure unhappiness with a bottle, and she wasn’t one to judge.

"I was a customer of hers, and that was about it. I’m not sure exactly what caused her to decide to change the relationship."

Annabelle had no trouble picturing what caused that. If she’d watched a man like Matt night after night, seeing how lonely he looked, she would have thought of the same exact idea. That was another good reason to work in a beauty parlor instead of a bar.

"Maybe I was an interesting challenge for her," he said. "Maybe she wanted to see if she could take a stodgy older guy who’d had nothing but married sex for twenty years and teach him a few new tricks."

One fact stood out in that statement of his. "You were faithful to your wife all that time?"

He looked puzzled. "Why wouldn’t I be?"

She thought of all the tales she’d heard over the manicure table and began to understand what a rare duck Matt Murphy was. Rare and wonderful. "From what you’ve said, your wife wasn’t very nice to you."

He didn’t deny it. "That’s no excuse for cheating. I probably should have asked for a divorce years ago, because you’re right, she wasn’t nice to me. But she had me convinced it was my fault because I spent too much time at the office."

"Did you?"

He rubbed the back of his neck and stared into the darkness. "Yep. I could say it was in order to afford all the material pleasures she wanted, but that wouldn’t be fair. I didn’t know her well enough to marry her, and when I got to know her better, I didn’t much care for her."

"So you hid out in your office."

He nodded. "I had a ball building that business, and I tried to bribe Theresa into being happy by giving her stuff instead of my time." He blew out a breath and glanced at Annabelle. "I’ve never admitted that to myself, let alone someone else. I’ve been playing the victim, pretending Theresa didn’t love me enough, when the fact is, I didn’t love her enough."

"Now, don’t go putting all the blame on yourself." She shouldn’t take sides when she didn’t know his ex-wife at all, but the woman had to have a head full of straw. Any fool could see Matt was the kind of man who didn’t come along every day, a man worth hanging on to. Annabelle would have met him at the front door wearing nothing but an apron if that would have made his home life more interesting. Surely he hadn’t been all that hard to please.

"Not all the blame, but my share. People get in ruts and

186 Vicki Lewis Thompson

they can’t get out. She didn’t want kids and I went along with that. I shouldn’t have, but she brought up all the disadvantages—the late-night feedings, the teething stage, the terrible twos, finding decent baby-sitters, teenage rebellion, paying for college."

"All those things are real enough," Annabelle said. "I couldn’t pay for college for Genevieve, and I don’t think I’ll be able to pay for Lincoln, either. I regret that."

"But you have these two great kids, and you’ve been able to watch them grow up. Wasn’t that an amazing thing to do?"

Annabelle smiled. "Yes. Yes, it surely was. I’ve had my share of worry, but it’s been worth every minute." She paused, thinking about the past few hours of misery. "Even counting today."

"We’ll find her," Matt said. "And she’ll be fine."

"I know." Annabelle looked at him and knew what she wanted right now. It wasn’t much to ask. After all, young women of twenty-three were bold enough to ask for a lot more. "I don’t mean to start any trouble, Matt, but I was wondering if you could see your way clear …" She hesitated, drained of courage.

"What is it?"

"I sure could use … a man’s arms around me, just for a little bit. Because I know we’re going to find my Genevieve, but that doesn’t mean I’m not powerful scared."

Without a word, Matt opened his arms, and Annabelle stepped inside. As his arms dosed around her, she sucked up all that male strength, all that warmth and comfort. She didn’t pretend there was nothing sexual about it, because there was a lot sexual about it, and that was comforting, too. She closed her eyes and sighed. Surely this wasn’t a terrible thing to do, just to hold each other like this.

"Mom!" The dock shook as Lincoln came running toward them. "Stop hugging and come inside! They’re talking about Gen on TV!"

NcrJ in Shining Armor 167

Annabelle ran down the dock, nearly slipping on the wet surface. Somebody had found Genevieve. Leaping to the deck of the boat, she nearly fell, but when Matt tried to help her, she shook him off. All she cared about was getting down into the cabin to see what was on that TV.

Gasping for breath, she grabbed the edge of the table and stared at the screen. There was a picture of Genevieve, the high school graduation picture Annabelle had given the authorities before heading out to this boat to meet Matt. And there was a picture of Nick, and the computer guy, Jackson Farley.

The blood rushed in her ears so fast she had trouble hearing, but at last she made out the female announcer’s words.

"… still missing. The private plane disappeared on its way from Honolulu to Maui. Search efforts will resume at dawn, according to a spokesperson for the Coast Guard."

The three pictures were taken off the screen and replaced by the anchor desk and the red-haired woman Annabelle recognized as a regular on the news show, although she hardly ever watched it. "In other news," the reporter said, "gas prices continue to rise and more people in Honolulu are taking to bicycles. We’ll have more on that when we return."

Annabelle gripped the table and stared at a commercial for some drug that was supposed to cure anxiety. She could never understand that. If you had anxiety, then something must be wrong, and you didn’t want to take a drug that made it so you didn’t care about whatever was wrong.

Matt had asked her if she wanted to see a doctor about taking some tranquilizers before they left. She’d said no. She hardly ever went to doctors and surely wouldn’t go to one now, when she needed all the anxiety she could get to keep her sharp. But as the news report echoed in her ears, she wished, for the first time ever, that she drank hard liquor. From listening to Uncle Rufus, she’d learned that a quick

snort could dull pain. Not much, but enough so that a body could stand it.

* * *

Jack awoke to pale light filtering into the hideaway. His stomach growled like a disk drive gone bad. He and Gen were down to one energy bar, plus the guavas, and he had to admit the thought of guavas sounded better this morning than it had yesterday. All the sex probably had made him hungrier than he would have been without it. But he didn’t care. He’d gotten it up four times during the night. No, five, counting the bl*w j*b.

Gently untangling himself from Gen, who was still zonked out on the beach towel, he crawled out of the hideaway wearing nothing but his glasses. During the energy bar break halfway through the night, he and Gen had sampled some of the rainwater they’d caught in their various shell containers. On his hands and knees in the doorway of the hideaway this morning, he surveyed what was left and knew it wasn’t enough to last the day, so he told himself he wasn’t all that thirsty and ignored the water.