Nerds Like It Hot (Nerds, #6)(12)
Author: Vicki Lewis Thompson

"You don’t look very happy about the basket," Bernie said.

Neil sighed dramatically. "Oh, you know how it is when someone is very enthusiastic and you’re… not."

"Actually, I don’t know too much about that." Bernie looked forlorn. "I’m usually the enthusiastic one who doesn’t get the time of day."

"Oh." Neil weighed his options. He wanted to look over the ship, but he couldn’t start planning anything for sure until he’d identified Gillian McCormick. That couldn’t happen until passengers started to mingle at the captain’s cocktail reception at five.

He had about an hour to kill, and what better way to kill it than bonding with his roomie? In order for him to keep his identity a secret and promote his plan, he needed a roommate who would forgive him long sessions in the bathroom and comings and goings at strange hours of the night. Basically, he needed a roomie who was indebted to him.

Replacing the card in the envelope, he sat on the edge of the other twin bed. "Bernie, would you be offended if I gave you a few teensy-weensy suggestions to improve your look?"

Bernie’s eyes grew round with surprise. "You would do that?"

"Why not? We’re roomies, aren’t we? That’s what roomies do."

"Not the roomies I’ve had! We all told each other we didn’t care about superficial things like hair and makeup. Then a couple of my best friends went the lesbian route, but that’s so not me. I’m twenty-six, and I want a boyfriend. But I don’t have the first idea what to do with myself to get one."

"Honey, you’ve come to the right place."

"I can see that." Bernie’s glance was admiring. "You have it together."

Yes, he did. And taped and tacked, besides. "I think we should start with your name. What’s your full name?"

"Bernice June Thigpen."

Neil swallowed a laugh. No wonder this poor girl couldn’t get a date. She’d been marked from the day she was born. "Would you consider going by June instead of Bernie?"

"I don’t feel like a June."

"Okay, do you feel like a BJ?"

Bernie’s expression brightened. "Maybe, a little bit. Except I don’t look like a BJ."

"Don’t worry, sweetie. By the time I get finished, you will look exactly like a BJ."

AFTER LEX AND DANTE LEFT TO SETTLE INTO THEIR cabin and get ready for the cocktail party, Gillian turned to Cora. "I don’t know if I can do this karaoke thing or not. I’m basically an introvert."

"Marilyn used to be scared, too." Cora patted Gillian’s arm. "In fact, I don’t admit this to very many people, but when I was on Broadway, I would throw up before every performance. Lots of actors and singers do. Look at Streisand. She’s petrified of going out in front of that audience."

"But that’s how they made their living. They had to. You had to. I don’t have to."

"I think you do." Cora met her gaze. "You have some big challenges ahead, and the only way you’re going to meet them is to believe you can do anything. I know singing karaoke scares you. So much the better. Conquer that and you’ll be stronger, ready for the next test that comes your way."

Gillian couldn’t counter that argument. What Cora said was true enough. "Damn Neil for killing Theo and ruining my life," she muttered.

"That would fall into the water-under-the-bridge category, now wouldn’t it? What do you say we get ready for the cocktail party? I brought a dyn**ite red dress for you to wear."

"You brought clothes for me? But I have plenty in that rolling bag. I really don’t need more."

"I know you didn’t think so." Cora walked to the room’s only closet situated right across from the small bathroom. "So I made some decisions for you. I couldn’t possibly wear everything I crammed into that giant suitcase." She opened the closet door and pulled out a red chiffon cocktail dress. "Try this on. It’ll give you karaoke courage."

Gillian hesitated. Once she took that dress, she’d have committed to becoming a blond bombshell tonight, one who would walk up to that karaoke stage as if she knew what the hell she was doing. But the dress was beautiful.

"Go ahead." Cora held out the dress. "You know you want to."

"You’re turning me into a wardrobe junkie."

"And I’m loving it. I never had a daughter or a granddaughter to play dress up with. Let’s go out there looking like a couple of divas. If you’ll do my makeup, I’ll do yours."

Gillian couldn’t back down from the challenge in Cora’s bright eyes. "You’re on."

"That’s my girl. We’ll do makeup first, then hair, then put on our finery." She whipped a dress out of the closet that looked as if it were made of spun gold. "This is my ammunition for Dr. Benjamin Lawrence." "Nice."

"I hope he thinks so. I want to conquer him first, ask questions about his moral character later. I do hope that he— What’s that noise?"

"Your walkie-talkie?"

Cora grabbed it off the bed and clicked a button. "Screen Goddess, here."

"Screen Goddess, this is Italian Stallion."

"Yes, yes. I know who it is. What do you want?"

"We’re standing here in bow ties and really ugly jackets. I know this is part of the assignment, but I don’t know if I can appear in public like this. I’m thinking we could at least— Hey! I’m talking on this thing, Lex! Don’t—"

"Cora? This is Lex. Ignore the pansy-ass. If Gillian can sing karaoke, then we can dress like dorks."

After some crackling that indicated a struggle over the walkie-talkie, Dante came back on. "I didn’t say I looked like a dork. I’m just not quite as cool-looking as usual. And I wondered if we could leave off the bow ties. Over."

Cora spoke into her walkie-talkie. "I think the bow ties are a nice touch, Dante. Over."

More static indicated that Lex had resumed control. "We’re wearing the bow ties, Cora. No worries. Over."

"I admire your can-do spirit, Lex. By the way, Gillian is definitely singing karaoke. Wait till you see her in the red dress I brought for her. Over."

Lex’s rich baritone seemed to fill the tiny cabin. "I can hardly wait Over and out" The walkie-talkie was silent.

Gillian rubbed her arms, which were covered with goose bumps from listening to Lex on the walkie-talkie.

"I guess that’s another reason I need to do whatever it takes," she said. "Everyone else is stepping out of their comfort zone to help me. The least I can do is prove I’m worthy of the effort."

"You don’t have to prove that," Cora said. "We already know you’re more than worth the effort. But stepping out of your comfort zone will serve you in the long run."

"Right." Gillian escaped into the bathroom. She was picturing herself in front of the microphone, and she had the strongest urge to throw up.

Nine

LEX HAD TO ADMIT THE WALKIE-TALKIES WERE Useful. He refused to use the stupid code names that Dante thought were so cute, but he liked the idea that he could radio either Cora or Gillian whenever he wanted to. Yes, they could have telephoned Cora’s cabin to find out if the women were ready to head down to the cocktail party, but using the radio was a good habit to get into.

He’d been forewarned about Gillian’s red dress and thought he’d steeled himself against displaying any emotion when she appeared. But the minute she walked into the corridor on impossibly high heels, he heard the sound of his quick breath. She’d probably heard it, too. Well, she might have expected a reaction like that, considering the dress and the woman in it.

Or rather, the woman who was partly in it. The neckline revealed more than it concealed, and the hemline showed a generous amount of knee. He had to work hard to keep his gaze focused at a gentlemanly level. He could guess that Dante was ogling, and he didn’t want to look at his partner and confirm that fact, because then he’d have to smack him Worse yet, they were about to enter a roomful of people, and logic told him that about fifty percent of them would be male.

"Does that come with some sort of jacket?" he asked as the four of them stood in the corridor assessing each other’s choice of clothing. He’d rather she put on an overcoat, but that was probably asking too much. He was so preoccupied with Gillian’s dress that he’d forgotten about his ludicrous bow tie and ugly brown tweed jacket. Dante’s green plaid jacket was worse, though.

"I’d be happy to give her my jacket," Dante said. "I’m willing to go with the short-sleeved shirt I have on under it. Bad as it looks, the jacket’s worse."

Cora gave a little huff of disapproval. "No one is covering her up. Our Gillian is gorgeous."

"I didn’t say she wasn’t." Lex wouldn’t have stopped with gorgeous, either. He’d have added stunning, and breathtaking, just for starters. She was, as they used to say in the old days, a knockout. And he was mentally down for the count. "I only thought she might be cold."

"Lexter, she is the exact opposite of cold," Dante said. "Gillian, that’s a great look. I don’t really want to spoil it with my jacket. I was selfishly trying to improve my look, but as that’s a hopeless cause, we might as well proceed to this cocktail party. Considering the way we look, nobody will believe a couple of babes like you showed up with a couple of losers like us."

"I keep trying to tell you," Cora said as they walked down the hall toward the elevators. "Women are less concerned about looks these days. They want a man who has some ingenuity in the bedroom, and a nerd—"

"I hear a rumbling," Gillian said. "Do you think they’re starting the engines?"

Lex glanced at his watch. "We should be shoving off soon, so I’m sure they’re revving up for that."

Gillian looked up at him. "I want to do that bon voyage thing. The one where you stand at the rail and throw little streamers at the people you left behind on the dock."

He was totally charmed. "Did you leave someone behind on the dock?"

"I hope so." Her brown eyes sparkled. "I’d like to think I left all kinds of people behind on the dock."

"We should all go," Cora said. "Only I forgot to bring those streamers they gave us at check-in."

"I picked yours up." Gillian opened a little silver clutch purse. "I have enough for all of us."

"Then by all means," Dante said. "Let’s do the bon voyage thing."

So instead of turning left to go to the elevators, they turned right and walked through the double doors and outside to the railing. Lex took the little bundle of colored streamers Gillian gave him and stood beside the railing as the ship moved slowly away from the dock. The ship’s horn bleated in a salute.

Only a handful of people lined the dock, their faces turned up toward the departing ship. The small group was spotlighted by sunbeams that were still strong at six in the afternoon. In the movies it was usually a crowd of well-wishers, but Lex hadn’t expected that sort of send-off for a four-day cruise.

As he stood beside Gillian in her flame-red dress, he realized this was probably stupid. If anyone on the dock had a high-powered rifle and knew where to aim, she’d be a perfect target. But as he scanned the people on the dock, he didn’t see anybody who was armed, thank God.

He did see a man dressed in black, a man who looked for all the world like Phil Adamo. Surely he wouldn’t come down here. He’d send his flunkies. If it was Phil, though, he was here because he’d put one of his employees on board this cruise ship. Lex had too much respect for the guy’s network to think that was impossible.

"Throw your streamers!" Gillian tossed out a blue one that arced and curled down to the churning water below.

In his concern about potential gunmen on the dock, he’d forgotten why they were here.

"I know it’s silly," she said in an undertone. "But I’ve never been on a cruise before, and I’ve always imagined what it would be like to do this."

"It’s not silly." He tossed an orange streamer over the railing and watched it dance on the wind. "I’ve never been on a cruise, either."

She threw another streamer, a green one this time. "Don’t you wish we could be going just for fun?"

"You have no idea." He tossed a yellow steamer and then a white one. The streamers looked so festive, especially when Gillian threw her purple one and they all cascaded down together. In a perfect world, he and Gillian would be sailing off on a special vacation. They would be sharing a cabin, and he wouldn’t have to fight his reaction to that low-cut red dress.

But the more he looked at the man standing on the dock quietly watching the ship depart, the more he thought that man was Phil Adamo. Which meant that an assassin had booked passage on this ship.

* * *

NEIL WAS PROUD OF THE JOB HE’D DONE WITH BJ, even if it had made them a tad on the late side for the cocktail party. As he walked with her toward the lounge where the captain was hosting the party, he could tell that she felt prettier and more confident.

She should. He’d used a curling iron and gel on her hair and done a masterful job on her makeup, if he did say so himself. She had no contacts, so she was stuck with her thick glasses, but he’d loaned her a short, flirty skirt and demonstrated how to pad her bra. When it came to that particular skill, Neil was an expert.

Come to think of it, he could open a business teaching plain women how to make themselves over into babes. If he could transform himself, considering all the physical obstacles he faced, he could transform anybody. So much could be accomplished with the right accessories.

BJ wore earrings with attitude tonight, big hoops that gleamed in the light. Neil had loaned her a necklace, too, a tribal sort of piece that screamed sex. But his job as Pygmalion was over. She had to take it from here, although she acted as if she wanted to cling to him for support.

"Strike out on your own," he told her as they approached the room buzzing with conversation. "Don’t hang around me. You don’t want me as competition, anyway."

She glanced at his killer outfit, a sequined dress in hunter green that showed off his legs. "I see what you mean. I wouldn’t stand a chance next to you."