Nerd in Shining Armor (Nerds, #1)(28)
Author: Vicki Lewis Thompson

Smiling grimly, he came within six inches of reaching one bobbing nipple.

She scooted back out of reach, out of sight. "All the way, big boy, all the way!"

Panting, he fumbled for the top of the ledge.

"That’s it," she called. "Come on up."

A little more. Just a little, and—his foot slipped. Gen’s scream stabbed his eardrum as he clutched at the rocks and she latched onto his arm.

Her fingernails dug into his skin as she hung on. For one long, agonizing second, he thought he’d pull them both to a dusty death. They’d be swallowed up by the sand, like a scene out of The Mummy. And he would no longer be her knight in shining armor.

That thought alone gave him the strength to grip the rock with his free hand and shove his feet into places that probably weren’t even places. "Look out!" he bellowed. "I’m coming up!"

He wasn’t even sure how he did it, but moments later he was lying facedown at the top of the cliff, his cheek pressed against a very sharp rock.

Gen’s breathless voice came from somewhere above him. "Move away . . . from the edge." She dragged at his arm.

He managed to struggle to his hands and knees and crawl a few feet before collapsing again. The suitcase bumped along with him.

"Jack, are you hyperventilating? Roll over so I can see."

With a groan, he rolled to his back and the suitcase flopped onto his stomach. "Just. . . ventilating. Nothing hyper." He closed his eyes against the sun’s glare.

"Here, let me take that thing." She managed to work him free of the suitcase. "Thank you, Jack. Thank you for bringing that all the way up here."

"You’re welcome."

"It’s so strange, you being scared of heights, when you aren’t scared of flying."

Gradually his head stopped spinning. "And you’re scared of flying but not of heights. Go figure."

"I guess it’s a good thing we’re both not scared of the same things, huh?"

"Guess so." He opened his eyes and used his hand to shade his face as he looked up at her.

She was kneeling beside him, her br**sts still bare, her hair tousled, and his glasses perched on her nose as she gazed down at him with concern. "That was too close for comfort."

No other woman could look so adorably sexy and so earnest at the same time. He thought of the way she’d instinctively grabbed him, hanging on even though she didn’t know if he’d eventually pull her over the edge and down with him. His stomach lurched again. "You shouldn’t have tried to catch me."

"You would have done the same for me, and you know it."

That much was true. Still, he didn’t want her sacrificing herself. "I think you saved my life. If you hadn’t grabbed me, and I hadn’t been so scared that I’d pull you with me, I might have given up."

"I wouldn’t let that happen." And then she did the most amazing thing. She cupped his bearded chin in both hands, leaned over him, and kissed him soundly on the mouth. It was a quick kiss, one he’d barely registered before she leaned back and took her hands away.

He stared at her, dazed by the affection in that kiss. It hadn’t been about lust. Well, mostly it hadn’t been about lust. There had been a slight hint of tongue there. "What was that for?"

"I’m, urn—" She cleared her throat. "I’m glad you didn’t go splat, is all."

"So am I." And suddenly he didn’t want to use the last condom, after all. He wanted to save it, in case they spent another night marooned on this island. He wanted to have one more time to look forward to. But he wasn’t sure how to explain that to her.

She glanced at the suitcase, as if she might be thinking of the condom, too.

"Let’s save it," he said, hoping she’d understand.

She looked back at him and nodded. "Yes, let’s," she said softly.

"It’s so rocky here, and I’d like the last time to be … special. Not rushed."

She swallowed. "Me, too."

"There could be another beach, with a slope down to it instead of a cliff."

"I guess there could be another beach, Jack."

"Absolutely." His heart thudded in anticipation. Something was happening between them, and he shouldn’t get his hopes up, but he was doing it anyway. She was hoping for another beach.

She pushed herself to her feet and retrieved her bikini top from where she’d thrown it onto the rocks. "We might as well look around before we make our big X."

"Might as well." He sat up and gave himself the pleasure of watching her put on the bikini top, arching her back as she fastened it between her shoulder blades. He liked the idea that she’d put it back on, because it would give him great pleasure to take it off again.

When he finally struggled to his feet, he longed for the sand instead of this rocky surface. It was about the size of four football fields, and from here he couldn’t tell if there was a gentle slope anywhere. He sure hoped so, because he wasn’t going back down another cliff like the one he just climbed, no matter how inviting the beach.

Nothing grew up here, but the view was incredible. Scary, too. The ocean stretched endlessly all around them, unmarked by land or boats. Even a whale spout would have been welcome. Nothing.

Way off to the east he thought he could make out another island, but it could be shadows from the clouds hovering near the horizon. He glanced over to where Gen stood looking around, her mouth hanging open.

"Jack," she said, almost whispering. "We are out in the middle of the frigging ocean."

"I know it looks like that, but there has to be land to the east of us. We didn’t fly west for that long. My best guess is we’re on one of the Leewards."

"The Leewards. I read about them in a bird book. There are some interesting birds out here." She glanced around. "If we’re lucky, we might even see an albatross."

"If we’re even luckier, we’ll see an airplane." Jack started walking gingerly over the rocky terrain. It was hell on his blistered feet, even with the saltwater treatment he’d given them this morning.

"Your feet still hurt, don’t they?"

"It’s not so bad."

"Your mouth is all scrooched up like a catfish, so I know they hurt."

"Don’t yours, walking on these rocks?"

She shook her head. "I’ve gone barefoot all my life. What I hate is putting on shoes to go to work. This

is heaven."

"Could have fooled me."

"Then why don’t you just sit on the suitcase and let me look around?"

"Because then you’ll think I’m a wuss."

"No, I’ll think you’re smart to take advantage of the strengths of your partner."

Partner. He liked the sound of that word. And his feet were killing him. "You talked me into it." He hobbled over to the suitcase. "Are you sure it’ll hold me?"

"It’ll hold you. It may not be stylish, but it’s tough. I’m surprised the handle came off, but I guess those wet clothes weighed more than a full barrel of moonshine."

Jack eased himself down on the suitcase, and when nothing seemed to be giving way, he put all his weight on it and stretched out his legs.

"Perfect." Gen smiled. "Now relax and I’ll go out on patrol."

She was the best-looking patrol he’d ever seen as she strolled the perimeter in her tiny bikini. He’d let her keep the glasses, and she should have them since she was doing the walkabout instead of him, but he wished he could see her better. It wasn’t every day you watched a goddess walking barefoot on the moon.

On the far side of the plateau she turned and made a megaphone of her hands. "Jack, guess what? There is a beach on this side, and the way down isn’t bad at all!"

"What’s your definition of not bad!"

"There’s a sort of trail running down it! You’ll be fine!" She started back in his direction.

A trail. Hot damn. They could make their giant X on the top of the island and saunter back to the beach. And this time, when they used the last condom, he planned to make it about more than sex.

* * *

A grayish bird perched on a rock at the edge of the water. Nick wasn’t sure what kind it was and didn’t much care. Whatever it was, it was a dead bird. He crept up slowly from behind, a baseball-size rock in his hand. He’d tried and failed so many times to kill one of these damned things, but this time he’d make it.

At first he’d thought maybe he could grab a fish with his bare hands. Then he’d tried using his shirt as a net and had accomplished nothing but ripping his shirt on a piece of coral and gashing his toes on a seashell. So no sushi for him.

If only his .357 were dry enough to risk firing it, he’d have a meal in no time. He hoped to hell it was dry by the time the idiots picked him up, »/they ever picked him up, or he’d have to swipe one of their guns in order to kill them both. It was an added glitch, but not insurmountable. He could always fake it with his gun until he could trade for one of theirs. In the meantime, he had to get something in his stomach, or he’d be too weak to outsmart even those morons.

At first the thought of eating raw meat hadn’t appealed to him, but as the day wore on, he got a lot less picky. This bird was going to give his all for the cause. Nick eased closer, his arm cocked. He’d been a decent pitcher in high school. He could do this.

Taking aim, he held his breath and hurled the rock as hard as he could. The effort threw him off balance. As he landed facedown in the sand, he heard two things—the splash of a rock falling harmlessly into the waves and the vigorous flapping of wings. This was turning into a really shitty day.

Then he heard a woman scream. At least that’s what he thought he heard. Maybe the sun was frying his brain. Or maybe one of the birds flying around this godforsaken place made a noise that sounded like a woman screaming.

Spitting sand, he got to his knees. Lack of food was making him a little dizzy. He’d found a puddle in a rock that had captured some of the rainwater from the night before, but he’d long since finished that off. He barely had enough spit to rid his mouth of the sand.

His pickup men had to show today. Maybe he should forget about food and conserve his energy for when they arrived. They’d have water on the boat, and probably some food, too. Once they plucked him from the island, he’d be on his way to a perpetual feast. He couldn’t lose sight of the goal. He—

A shout immobilized him. That was no bird. Chills ran through him as he heard a shouted reply. He’d thought this little piece of volcanic rock was too isolated to attract anybody. Besides, he’d intended to be long gone by now.

They could be hikers. Or bird-watchers. They’d have a boat. They’d have food. And once he’d taken charge of both, he’d have no need of the people. He got quietly to his feet and moved to the spot where he had his .357 drying in the sun.

Chapter 17

Annabelle hadn’t counted on how much she’d love steering that boat. As she sent it plowing through the waves to rescue her daughter, she felt like the whole blessed cavalry riding in to save Gary Cooper from the Indians. Once Matt turned over the driving to her, she didn’t want to give it up.

Having Matt stand behind her seat so she could breathe in the scent of him was part of the thrill, of course, but she would have enjoyed herself without him being there, too. Maybe enjoy was the wrong word. She couldn’t very well enjoy anything until Genevieve was back home safe and sound.

But driving this boat. . . she hadn’t felt this powerful since the day she’d stepped off the plane in Honolulu eleven years ago. At the time she’d promised herself to find more challenges—not in the area of airplanes, which were completely unnatural—but she’d thought about taking one of those classes where folks broke boards with the side of their hand.

She wasn’t sure what all the kinds of martial arts were and she got the names mixed up with Chinese food. Kung fu sounded like something you ate and Kung pau sounded like breaking boards with your hand, but she thought maybe she had that backward. At any rate, she hadn’t done it, or any of the other projects that had flitted through her mind, like going to one of those karaoke bars to see if she could still sing like she used to be able to back in the Hollow. Then there was tap dancing. She’d always dreamed of being able to tap dance like Donald O’Connor or Gene Kelly.

Oh, she could try blaming it on lack of money. Honolulu was an expensive place to live, and she’d struggled to make ends meet. But Lincoln had a friend who could break a board with the side of his hand, and one of Genevieve’s girlfriends from high school was a tap dancer. Annabelle had gone to a school musical to see her perform. Those kids would have taught Annabelle the basics if she’d had the nerve to ask.

Instead she’d let herself get into a rut, and that was the truth of it, pure and simple. She’d moved from one rut in the Hollow to another rut in Honolulu. It might be a fancier rut, and at least her children had more to work with here, but as for Annabelle herself, she hadn’t grown a lick. Once they found Genevieve, she’d do something about that.

She couldn’t expect to be allowed to drive boats, though, no matter how much she believed she’d found her second calling. Boats were for rich people, and she never expected to end up in that category. So she’d have to make the best of this chance.

Matt leaned down close to her ear. "You look like you were born to do that."

"Hardly. If a body is born to do something, don’t you think the good Lord would provide a way for them to actually do it?"

"You’re doing it right now, aren’t you?"

"This is a special circumstance, and you know it."

Matt chuckled. "Are you saying that you know when the good Lord has a hand in something and when

he doesn’t?"

He had her there. But she hoped the good Lord hadn’t seen fit to create this problem with Genevieve just so Annabelle could drive a boat. In that case, she would need to have a talk with the good Lord.

"Well, just keep doing what you’re doing," Matt said. "You’re a natural at driving a boat. I’m going to confer with Lincoln and see if he’s getting any Genevieve signals from Kauai. Because if we’re going beyond that, we need to fuel up so we’re at full capacity when we leave there."

"You believe he’s getting signals?" That would comfort her some, if Matt was convinced about Lincoln’s special abilities.