Talk Nerdy to Me (Nerds, #5)(20)
Author: Vicki Lewis Thompson

He couldn’t move fast enough to prevent it. "No looking!" he said.

"I won’t." She kept her head turned away from him. "I’ll always play fair with you, Charlie." And she rounded the corner, her heels clicking on the hardwood floor.

Once she was gone, Charlie wasted no time getting himself together. He planned to duck into her bathroom for a quick cleanup, and then he’d be bedroom bound. He’d loved the slinky-dress routine, but he was looking forward to a completely nak*d experience. Looking forward? Hell, he was like a power surge waiting to happen.

As he gave the door one last check to make sure the hinges would hold, his cell phone rang. His mother’s ring. Damn it. She was calling from the bakery. That wasn’t unusual. Many times the two women were down there late at night baking and ran into a problem with one of the ovens or the large dough mixers.

Charlie tended to stay up late, so they thought nothing of calling him in to handle the electrical emergency. But he didn’t want to go now. Not tonight, a night that might never be repeated.

Flipping the phone open, he answered the call. "Hi, Mom."

"I hope I didn’t wake you." His mother always said that. She didn’t want to be a problem to him, but sometimes she couldn’t help it.

He needed to find her a good electrician before he left town. "I’m awake," he said. "What’s up?" Then he swallowed the laughter that almost gave him away.

"The mixer quit. I hate to bother you, but if we don’t get it going, we won’t have a good supply of booby buns. And they’ve been selling really well recently."

So the booby bun craze hadn’t died. If he didn’t go down there and repair the mixer, he’d feel responsible if sales were slow at the bakery tomorrow. But if he did repair the mixer, he might regret missing the opportunity with Eve for the rest of his life.

As he stood there trying to come up with a solution, his mother spoke again. "Charlie, it’s okay. I shouldn’t call you all the time. Myrtle and I can probably figure out how to fix it."

He had grisly images of the two widows electrocuting themselves while they labored over a machine he could repair in ten minutes. "No, don’t do that." He thought of the guys he worked with and wondered if he could call in a favor.

It was after midnight. That was some favor, to ask somebody to leave a cozy home in the middle of winter so that the citizens of Middlesex could have their booby buns. Besides, Charlie wasn’t crazy about the guys at work discovering firsthand the new direction the bakery was taking.

Eve appeared in the hallway wearing a white silk robe. "What is it?" she asked softly.

The robe clung to her in all the right places, as if to advertise what he would miss if he went down to the bakery. Besides, Eve had been through a shock. The door would probably hold, but he didn’t want to leave her alone with her imagination right now. She had one powerful imagination, and she wouldn’t sleep a wink as she tried to figure out who had pried open her door and stolen her notes.

"Mom, can you give me a second?" Putting his thumb over the mouthpiece, he glanced at Eve. "There’s an electrical emergency at the bakery, but I’m not going."

She looked upset. "I hope that’s not on my account. We can … take a rain check."

He wasn’t so sure about that. Once the spell was broken, they might never recapture what they had tonight. But that wasn’t the only issue. "I don’t want to leave you alone." He tipped his head toward the back door. "All things considered."

"Then don’t. I’m not crazy about being by myself tonight, either. Let me get dressed and I’ll come with you."

"You have no clue what the repercussions of that would be. My mother would book the church."

Eve shook her head. "Doesn’t matter. You and I know that’s not going to be the outcome, and I can make sure she knows that."

"Good luck."

"It’ll be fine, Charlie. And after you’ve fixed whatever needs to be fixed, we can come back here."

He could see that he wouldn’t get away with refusing his mother’s request, not while Eve had anything to say about it. And he had the prospect of continuing where they’d left off once his duties were completed. "All right," he said. "Want to take the motorcycle?"

"Charlie, I would love to ride on your motorcycle."

"You would?" That pleased him.

"I would. Tell your mom we’ll be there in fifteen minutes." She hurried back down the hall.

Charlie put the phone to his ear. "Hey, Mom? I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. And I’m … bringing Eve." His announcement was greeted by silence. "Mom? Are you there? Did you hear what I said?"

"I most certainly did, Charlie. I was just taking a minute to thank God for my blessings."

Chapter Fourteen

Eve was determined not to stand between Charlie and anything—not his dream of Hoover Dam or his obligations to his mother. He’d had enough obstructions in his life and she wasn’t about to become another one. Once she saw the conflict in his expression she knew they’d be making a trip together down to the bakery.

Throwing on jeans, a sweater, boots, and her quilted nylon jacket, she was good to go. Charlie had insisted she wear a helmet, so she’d put it on to please him, but she would have liked speeding down the dark streets with her hair flying out behind her. She would have liked to nestle her cheek against Charlie’s broad back, but the helmet had a face guard that got in the way of doing that.

Still, she got to wrap her arms around his waist and hang on. She would have loved the sensation of riding with Charlie even before they’d had sex, but after they’d had sex … oh, baby. The crisp air laced with the scent of leather and fine machinery was an aphrodisiac.

Instead of resting her cheek on the back of his leather jacket, she leaned forward to murmur in his ear. "Want to know one of my fantasies?"

He had to yell his response. "What’s that?"

"I’m nak*d, and you’re wearing nothing but these chaps." She stroked his leather-covered thigh.

Charlie swerved abruptly to the side of the road and squeaked the tires as he stopped and put both booted feet on the pavement. Then he sucked in air. "God, I almost wrecked."

"Whoops. Sorry."

He glanced over his shoulder. "And here I was thinking you were the girl-next-door type."

"I am the girl-next-door type …with ideas."

"No kidding." He blew out a breath. "Sex in leather chaps. I honestly believe you’d like that."

"I honestly believe I would, too. Am I shocking you?"

He made a sound low in his throat. "No, but you bring up a good point. You’re way too wild to hang out at my mother’s bakery."

"Oh, for heaven’s sake. I would never embarrass you in front of—"

"I’m going to call and tell her I can’t make it, that something has come up and I have to take you home ASAP." He unclipped his cell phone from the pocket of his jeans and started to take off his helmet.

"Wait." Laughing, she caught his hand before he could punch any cell phone buttons. "I can’t have that on my conscience."

He brought her hand up to his mouth, took off her glove, and started nibbling on her fingers. "I don’t know how you expect me to repair my mother’s bakery equipment when I’m thinking about sex and leather."

"Then think about something else, because this repair needs to take place. What would take your mind off sex?"

"With you and your ideas hanging around? Absolutely nothing. Ever since I walked into your kitchen Monday night and saw that purple underwear, I’ve been thinking of nothing but sex. With you."

"You have?" She shivered as he sucked on her index finger. "I thought you were all engrossed in my stainless steel converter."

"With your purple bra dangling five inches from my nose? Not likely." He licked the space between her index finger and ring finger. "Don’t get me wrong. The converter’s a masterpiece of engineering. But so’s the purple bra, and I’m just a guy, after all."

His tongue felt so warm compared to the cold night air—another contrast to fall in love with. But she’d have to be careful not to fall in love with the guy himself, because he wouldn’t be around long. "Charlie, we need to get going. Your mother is waiting."

"I don’t have a plan yet for behaving myself while I’m there."

"My fault. But there must be some mental trick to keep yourself from getting an erection in your mother’s bakery. Think hard, Charlie."

"Thinking soft would make more sense."

"Ha, ha. Come on. This is serious. How about the multiplication tables?"

"Too easy. I could have an entire round of sex while mentally reciting the multiplication tables. But you’re on the right track. I’d forgotten that trick. When I was younger and didn’t have great staying power during sex, I’d take a number, any number, and figure it to the twelfth power so I wouldn’t come too quick."

As heat surged through her, she moaned and hugged him tight. "Thanks. Thanks a whole hell of a lot. Now all I’ll be able to think of is you and your well-developed staying power."

His voice grew husky. "I didn’t demonstrate that so well tonight, did I?"

"Wasn’t needed. Ever since Monday night, I’ve been thinking about sex. With you."

"Want me to call my mom and cancel?" he asked softly.

"No. I would feel incredibly guilty."

"I’ll bet you’d feel just plain incredible. At least I thought so the whole time I was—"

"Stop it, Charlie. Point this hog of yours toward the bakery, okay?"

"Okay." With one last brush of his lips over her fingertips, he released her hand. "And don’t touch the chaps."

"Because you’re a hunk of burning love ready to go up in flames?"

"You’ve got it." Charlie revved the motor and took off down the deserted street.

As Charlie drew close to the bakery, he tried to get his head on straight. He knew Eve had been kidding when she’d thrown out the "hunk of burning love" comment, but she didn’t know how close she’d come to the truth. He’d been in love a couple of times in his life. It hadn’t worked out either time. Cindi had been way too young, and Mariah had hated his plan to move to Nevada.

After Mariah, he’d told himself to be careful about this love business. But along came Eve. Maybe because of her appealing nerdiness and her most excellent brain, he hadn’t remembered to be careful. And sure enough, judging from the signs, he was coming down with the beginning stages of lovesickness.

The evidence was all there. To begin with, he’d volunteered to work on the hovercraft, but he’d spent more time learning about her than her invention. Totally uncharacteristic. Then he’d allowed his sexual frustration to turn him into a reckless driver tonight. Also unlike him.

Those were the big things, but there were a million little things. He’d noticed just now that she didn’t wear rings of any kind, and he’d started wondering what kind of wedding band she’d want. He got a real charge out of every time he made her smile, and when she laughed, especially if he’d had something to do with that reaction, he felt warm all over. Yes, the sex was amazing, but he also remembered how cute she’d looked trying to hide the fact she’d been gathering up condoms, just in case.

He’d begun to catalog the small things—the graceful gestures she made as a result of runway training, the soft wisps of hair that grew at the nape of her neck, and the little indentation her glasses made on the bridge of her nose. She was working her way into his heart, and he didn’t know what to do to stop that from happening.

Abandoning the relationship wouldn’t work, not when she needed him to help her with her invention and potentially keep away whoever was trying to horn in on it. That crowbar job on the door looked more like a man’s work than a woman’s, but a woman who kept in shape might be able to accomplish it. One thing was fairly sure—it hadn’t been a professional thief. A professional would have picked the lock.

Or maybe it was a professional and they’d used the crowbar to make it look amateurish. When Charlie considered that, he realized that he didn’t know much of anything about who had broken into Eve’s house. The missing notes, if in fact they were missing, were the only thing connecting the break-in to the hovercraft. Someone even might have broken in by mistake, figured out they didn’t have the right house, and left.

All Charlie could do was stay close and try to keep it from happening again. That meant that he was leaving himself wide open to the onset of lovesickness. He thought of it as a disease, one he didn’t want to catch right now. But it didn’t seem as if he had much choice.

Guiding his bike down an alley and steering around the shoveled mounds of slushy snow, he parked in his usual spot behind the bakery, right next to his mother’s Volvo. His mother and Aunt Myrtle would have left the back door open. They weren’t much better about locks than Eve.

Eve climbed off the bike and immediately Charlie missed the contact of her thighs and br**sts. Why did this bakery gizmo have to malfunction tonight? No matter how quickly he fixed it, and he planned to do it at warp speed, he’d still lose a good hour with Eve. And it would have been a good hour, too.

"What should I do with the helmet?" She took it off and tossed her head so that her hair fell loose around her shoulders. The back door light reflected off her tumbling hair so that sections of it turned the color of burnished copper.

Charlie sat on his bike and took in the show, unable to stop staring. He ached to bury his fingers in all that glorious hair, to have it rain down around his face as she leaned over him, to watch it bounce and wiggle as they writhed on her round bed.

"Charlie?" She held out the helmet.

"I love your hair."

She looked startled. Then she adjusted the fit of her glasses. "Thank you. It’s just hair."

"That’s like saying Hoover is just a dam. Your hair is amazing."

"I never thought so. I always wanted to be a blonde."

"Then why aren’t you?" He’d dated several blondes in his life. Three he knew for a fact weren’t natural blondes. The others were an unknown—the relationship hadn’t progressed to the bedroom stage where he’d inevitably find out. But all the women he knew, including his mother and his aunt, had whatever color they wanted.