Nerds Like It Hot (Nerds, #6)(3)
Author: Vicki Lewis Thompson

"No." Her father had been the one who’d craved excitement—from climbing mountains to diving with Great Whites. His addiction to thrills had exhausted her mother with worry and frightened Gillian to death.

He’d made quite a name for himself as a daredevil. He’d tried wing-walking one sunny fall day, and the roller-coaster ride had been over, for all of them. "I like things calm," Gillian said.

Cora gazed at her in sympathy. "That’s too bad. I don’t foresee a lot of tranquility in your immediate future."

"Me, either." Gillian had tried not to think about what lay ahead, but everything about it frightened her. She didn’t know the first thing about running off to a foreign country and creating a whole new identity. "Cora, I don’t even speak much Spanish."

"You’re a smart woman." Cora patted her arm. "You’ll pick up what you need. Once you’re settled somewhere, you can contact me."

"But won’t they trace me through you?"

"Not if we use my lawyer’s address. I’ll keep you up-to-date on the case. As soon as I think it’s safe for you to come home, I can let you know."

Gillian nodded. Cora expected her to be brave, so she’d be brave.

"Right now, we need to get your wardrobe together," Cora said.

"Should I try to go back to my apartment?"

"Absolutely not. You’re staying with me until we sail. We’ll get someone to sneak in and grab whatever you need, like your passport."

"I actually have that in my purse. I like carrying it as an extra piece of ID, just in case. I wouldn’t mind having some of my other stuff, although I don’t know who we can send over there. I don’t want to risk asking one of my friends, in case someone’s … waiting." The idea gave her cold chills.

"I wouldn’t ask any of your friends."

"Then who?"

"Oh, I have some ideas. Anyway, when I was talking about your wardrobe, I meant it’s time for you to choose from what I have." She walked over to a closet and drew back the bifold doors to reveal a long rack of clothes arranged by color. "I don’t have the figure for these anymore, but you do."

"I don’t know, Cora. I’m not a skinny person."

"You are not a fat person, either. A size ten, right?"

"Yes, I am most definitely a size ten." The booze had loosened her tongue. "And every day I work on women who are a zero! Or if they’ve retained water weight, they might move all the way up to a two, perish the thought. And then they complain about being a balloon."

"Anorexic, the lot of them. Pay no attention to them, Gillian. Did you know that if Marilyn could waltz back in here today at the age she was when I knew her, she’d wear about a ten or maybe even a twelve?"

Gillian thought of Marilyn stretched out on that red drapery, the famous nude shot. She’d been perfect. "You’re just trying to make me feel better."

"I am, but I’m also telling you the God’s truth. And it’s not speculation. I worked with her. We were friends. We wore the same size and we traded clothes sometimes."

"That’s … amazing." To Gillian, Marilyn was some sort of mythical creature. She couldn’t imagine her as a real woman who swapped clothes with friends. "Do you have something in there that belonged to her?"

Cora nodded. "One dress. After she died, and there was all the hullabaloo about her, I thought of selling it but I wasn’t sure how to authenticate that she’d worn it. I didn’t really want the hassle of trying to prove what I knew to be true."

"Which one?" Gillian shouldn’t be feeling so starstruck. She worked with famous people all the time. But a dress that Marilyn had worn . . .

Walking to the closet, Cora took out a garment bag and unzipped it. Inside was a silver sheath studded with rhine-stones around the scooped neckline. "This one. I think you should wear it on the cruise."

"I couldn’t do that." Gillian grabbed her glasses from the dressing table and put them on. Even blurry, the dress looked incredible, but once it came into focus, her mouth watered with dress lust. Mostly she didn’t care about clothes, but this dress called to her.

"I’m not offering to let you take it to South America, but I would love to see you wearing it at the captain’s dinner on the cruise."

"I don’t think so, but it’s amazing of you to offer."

Cora laid the dress, still in its garment bag, on her king-sized bed. "You have until tomorrow night to decide. In the meantime, let’s move on to some of the other outfits. We’ll start with the basics. I have several bathing suits. Let’s see which one shows off your assets to best advantage."

"Cora, in case you don’t remember, I’m not trying to attract attention on this cruise. I’m trying to blend in."

"I don’t think you understand my strategy. If you try to blend in, you’ll look exactly like what you are, a timid makeup artist hoping to be inconspicuous."

"I’m not either timid! I’m conservative!"

Cora looked amused. "Semantics, darling. One person’… timid is another person’s conservative. In any case, if Phil Adamo’s men track you down, I want them to find someone who couldn’t possibly be Gillian McCormick. You’ll be too flamboyant, too blond, too out there to be the woman they’re looking for."

"I may need a personality transplant."

"I’m not so sure about that." Cora smiled at her. "A few months ago, I researched your father, since you’ve been so adamant about not mentioning him. The Internet is a beautiful thing."

Gillian flushed, as she always did whenever someone connected her with Duke McCormick. He’d demonstrated to the world that he was both self-centered and foolish. -Well, I’m nothing like him!"

"You’re too smart to believe that. You know there’s a part of you that’s very much like him, which is what you’re so afraid of." Cora’s voice softened. "Don’t fight that part of you. It may be what keeps you alive."

Gillian didn’t want to hear that. She’d tried so hard not to think about the fact that her life was in danger. She held out her glass. "I think I’ll have another martini."

"Of course." Cora took the glass, but instead of leaving with it, she reached into the closet and unhooked three hangers. "While I’m gone, try these on."

Gillian had to admit the one-piece bathing suits in jewel tones—one red, one peacock blue, and one purple— had babe potential… on someone else. "Thanks, anyway, but I don’t want to get into the whole bathing suit scene."

Shaking the hangers, Cora made the suits shimmer and dance. "You might not, darling, but the person you’re going to be on the cruise definitely would. She’d prefer the red. Start with that one. I’ll be right back with your drink."

Gillian accepted the trio of bathing suits. "Better make it a double."

"Don’t be silly. You’ll look marvelous. I’ll be right back." Cora swept through the bedroom door and closed it after her.

"I’ll look like a ripe tomato," Gillian muttered as she dumped the suits on the bed. Then she took a deep breath. Okay, she’d squeeze herself into the red suit to make Cora happy. But there was that silver dress lying there, too, the dress that had once belonged to Marilyn.

She wouldn’t agree to take that dress on the cruise, not when it was so valuable. But if she didn’t take it, then she’d never have a chance to try it on, because she’d be hiding out in some peasant village in the Andes plucking chickens for a living, or whatever peasants did to earn money in the Andes.

When she thought of what her life might become once she left the cruise ship, she became very depressed. A depressed person who was also feeling a wee bit fat would be crazy to try on a bathing suit in that condition. No, instead she should zip herself into a silver sheath that had once belonged to Marilyn, who had worn her size.

Although Gillian looked for a tag, she couldn’t find one. That made sense. The dress was probably custom made. The thought gave her goose bumps. Without a tag, she had no idea what the material was.

Taking off her glasses, she laid them on the table and pulled the dress over her head. As it slid smoothly onto her body, she imagined that the material had been woven from some magic substance that had no name. It hugged her h*ps as if it had been sewn just for her. She really was Marilyn’s size, and that thrilled her to her bare toes.

Pulling the side zipper up without sucking in her breath, she adjusted the scooped neckline and walked over to the free-standing floor mirror in the coiner of Cora’s bedroom. Marilyn. She stared in disbelief. She really looked like Marilyn Monroe. Same hourglass figure, same generous bust, same soft blond hair.

Bracing her hands on her knees, she leaned forward so she could see better. Glasses would min the fantasy she had going. Puckering her lips the way she’d seen Marilyn do in film after film, she let her eyelids droop in that slumberous, sexy way that was all Marilyn.

Then she ran her tongue slowly over her red lips. This whole gig was turning her on. If a man were to walk in the room right now, she’d put the moves on him, no problem.

Was that Cora’s doorbell ringing? Gillian was so fascinated by her new Marilyn persona that she couldn’t bring herself to care. When she shifted her shoulders, the dress undulated just enough to show off her cl**vage. No wonder Marilyn had been able to transfix every man in the room. In a dress like this, Gillian could, too. She would be unstoppable.

"Gillian?" Cora knocked on the door. "Are you decent?"

Gillian snapped out of her trance and visions of Marilyn disappeared like smoke. "Why?"

"There’s someone out here I’d like you to meet. If "you’re wearing the bathing suit, you can throw on a bathrobe."

"You want me to meet someone?" That made no sense. "I thought I was supposed to be hiding out."

"You are." Cora hesitated. "I’ve hired a couple of bodyguards to go with us on the cruise. I didn’t consult you because I know you wouldn’t have wanted me to spend the money, but I have plenty stashed away, and I—"

"Bodyguards?" Gillian began to shiver. "You really think the Mob will follow us on the cruise?"

"Probably not, but—"

"You do!" Gillian walked over and wrenched the door open. "The cruise isn’t that safe a getaway, after all, is it?"

Instead of answering the question, Cora stared at Gillian. "My God, you were made for that dress. It’s astonishing how much you look like her."

"Do I look enough like her to keep from getting killed?" Adrenaline shot through Gillian’s system, making her feel reckless. "Because if you hired two bodyguards, you must think that’s a distinct possibility!"

"Not at all. I just believe in covering all our bases."

"Maybe I should forget the cruise. Maybe I should just get in my car and drive … somewhere. I could go up into the mountains, or head for the desert. I could crisscross the country, never staying in one place more than a night."

"Gillian, you—"

"No, listen. On my own, in the car, I could bob and weave like a rabbit. I think this cruise will turn me into a sitting duck!"

Cora grabbed her by the shoulders and gave her a little shake. "Hey! Get hold of yourself. You don’t want to take off on your own, with no one to look out for you. That’s crazy."

Gillian didn’t really want to run away by herself, but what if she ended up trapped out in the middle of the ocean with a hit man on board? "Who … who are these guys you hired? Are they any good?"

"They’re pure gold. I’ve known Lex and Dante since they were kids. I would trust them with my life, and you can trust them with yours."

"That sounds better."

"Of course it does. Now come out into the living room and meet them, so we can start making plans."

Gillian glanced down at the dress she’d put on. "Like this?"

Cora surveyed her with a loving eye. "Yes, darling. Exactly like that."

"Let me get my glasses." She started back toward the dressing table where she’d left them. "The better to see them with."

"Humor me, Gillian." Cora walked over and took her hand. "Every time I look at you, it’s like having Marilyn back again. Leave the glasses off a little while longer,okay?"

Truth be told, Gillian was curious about what sort of reaction she’d get from the bodyguard types when she walked into the room. Without her glasses she wouldn’t have a real clear idea, but she’d hear if anybody gasped. She’d like to make a man gasp at least once in her life.

"Okay." She squeezed Cora’s hand. "I’ll humor you."

Three

LEX HAD NO IDEA WHAT HE SAID DURING THE Introductions. He was too busy taking in the view of then-newest client, who had actually made him catch his breath when she’d walked into the room. Lex liked to think he had better control than that, but not tonight, apparently.

Whatever he’d expected from Gillian McCormick, it hadn’t been a blond-bombshell routine. She was a babe straight out of the detective shows Dante loved so much, and Lex was ready to play Magnum to her damsel in distress. Especially the sexy parts.

He’d always laughed at the idea of instant attraction, but it wasn’t so damned funny right now. She was pulling reactions out of him where he’d never had reactions. Besides the usual groin-tightening, accelerated pulse, and excess saliva, the back of his neck felt hot. What was up with that?

Those big brown eyes of hers should be registered as dangerous weapons. Ditto her cl**vage. She was quite obviously a bottle Monde and he didn’t care at all. He, the guy who had always maintained he liked his women natural, thought this fake shade of platinum was gorgeous.

The dress, the hair, and the ruby red lipstick all made her seem exotic and slightly dangerous. His fabled detachment crumbled more with every second he stayed in the same room with her. This assignment had the makings of a complete disaster.

Dante was the first one to break the silence. "You didn’t say we were guarding a Marilyn impersonator." He sounded pleased as punch about it, too.

Personally, Lex thought Gillian was prettier than Marilyn, but he kept that opinion to himself. "We … uh … might need to rethink this, Cora."