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"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."

  "Not yet, sweetheart," he said. "Give yourself time. Before long you'll be mowing men down with the best of them." His implication was clear. He was among the best of them, and he knew it. Men couldn't seem to resist him. That was the delicious part of this charade.

  "Okay, then, Nance." With a little wave, BJ walked into the room.

  Neil hung back, lingering behind a potted palm so he could survey the situation.

  And what a situation it was—a parade of the fashion-challenged. It made his eyes hurt. Many in the room clearly owned no evening wear. Neil saw everything from plaid and khakis to T-shirts and sweats. But those who wore sport jackets or, in the case of the women, cocktail dresses, hadn't fared much better in their attempts to make a statement.

  Neil had two goals—to avoid Jared Stevenson the Third, and to locate Cora Bledsoe. Wherever he found Cora, Gillian McCormick couldn't be far behind. Neil couldn't imagine what Cora was doing on this nerd cruise, but maybe she'd decided to play matchmaker for her little nerdy friend. From Joanie's description, Neil had a fair idea what to expect from Gillian.

  Joanie was a catty woman, a quality Neil admired greatly. In this case it had proved both entertaining and useful. Joanie had given Neil a vivid picture of his target. He expected Gillian to have a lot in common with BJ, except that Gillian was supposed to be filled out in a way that kept her from wearing the latest fashions gracefully. No low-rider jeans for her.

  He glanced around, trying to spot Cora. It should be easy. She might be an old lady, but she was no nerd. In the process of scanning the crowd, he noticed something that had escaped him before, probably because many of the outfits were unisex.

  But as he looked closer, he noticed that just like in junior high, the guys had drifted to one side of the room and the girls to the other. Geeks to the right, geekesses to die left. Cross-dressers down the middle? Give him two minutes and he'd get this party started. But he had other fish to fry.

  His protegee, BJ Thigpen, should have easy pickings if she headed for the male side of the room. Out of curiosity he tried to find her, and there she was, surrounded by nothing but females. Honestly. After all his work, she'd reverted right back to a wallflower. There was no helping some people.

  Then the crowd shifted, and he saw Cora, all in gold. Vintage Oscar de la Renta—he'd lay money on it At least someone in this sartorial swampland knew how to dress. Oh, wait! There was another bright spot, literally. That red number was also vintage, and he'd guess... Versace. Yes, definitely Versace. What a surprise, a fashionista nerd.

  But where was the mousy little makeup artist? Neil decided he'd have to chat up Cora and see what he could find out At least he'd be able to admire her gown while he was at it. He left his potted palm and was partway into the room when a geek came out of the pack on the right-hand side and ambushed him.

  "Nancy Roth!"

  Neil paused, his gaze flicking over the doughy man holding a champagne flute. His ill-fitting navy blazer looked nautical and might even be Ralph Lauren, but it was way too small. Neil wondered how the guy had known his name, and then he remembered the tacky nametag he'd been forced to wear, a hideous thing on a red cord that totally clashed with Nancy's dark green sequins. He would have left it in the cabin, except BJ had insisted they couldn't get into the cocktail party without it.

  The doughy man beamed at him like a first-time lottery winner.

  Nancy got that kind of reaction all the time, and Neil never grew tired of it. Basking in the admi
ration, he preened a little. "And you would be?"

  The man's pale blue eyes became glassy with excitement. "Jared Stevenson the Third. Welcome to the Sea Goddess, Nancy. It's such a pleasure." He held out his hand.

  "Oh, Jared." Shitfire. He wasn't ready to deal with this turkey yet. But he didn't want to turn him off, in case they were destined to get naked and naughty before this cruise was over. Jared might be pudgy and prematurely balding, but he came from money, and that was always a promising quality. Some fun, some games, some blackmail. It was all good.

  Jared's hand was damp and soft. "How did you like my basket?"

  "Simply charming." Neil squeezed Jared's hand and got almost no resistance. That worked. He'd be infinitely moldable. But not now. Neil had places to go and people to see. "Especially the banana, you devil, you."

  Jared gulped. "There was a banana in there?"

  "Silly man, pretending you didn't know that. I'm sure you chose that banana personally."

  "Oh, right! Picked the best one I could find."

  "I could tell. And I love bananas." Neil tickled Jared's palm with his thumb. "Especially long firm ones."

  "Mmph." Jared's throat worked, but no actual words came out.

  "Hold that thought," Neil said. "I have some people I need to meet." He started to pull his hand away.

  "Wait!" Jared tightened his grip. "What time?" "Time?"

  Jared stepped closer and lowered his voice. "In my cabin. Tonight."

  "Oh, dear. I might not make it tonight." Teasing was such a huge part of the game.

  "No?"

  "I'm simply exhausted from all these last-minute preparations." Neil ran his tongue over his mouth in a way that usually drove men wild. He loved flirting, loved putting men through their paces like this. "I'm sure you understand."

  "But... but..." Jared looked as if he might start to cry. "Well, I'll try," Neil said. "I truly will try. No promises, though."

  "Cabin 106 on A Deck. I'll be waiting. And just so you know, I have a suite."

  Neil winked at him. "I'm sure everything you have is sweet."

  "Omigod." Jared groaned. "You are so damned hot."

  "So they tell me." Neil made his escape and was starting toward the corner where he'd spotted Cora when first seating for dinner was announced over the intercom.

  Neil was almost knocked off his Manolo Blahniks by a nerd stampede. Most of the room apparently had first seating, and woe to the person who got between them and their food. Neil got tired of trying to swim upstream and let himself be carried along by the crowd surging toward the dining room at the end of the next hall.

  In the process he got stepped on several times, and once he thought somebody pinched his butt, but he couldn't be sure if it was on purpose or an accident. When the hallway widened at the middle of the ship, he worked his way free and dashed for the elevators. What barbarians! Much more of that and he'd start shedding sequins.

  Time to retreat, check the cruise schedule, and freshen up for the second seating in the dining room. At least he knew Cora was on board, and he was absolutely certain she'd choose the second seating. Most civilized people would. He'd be able to spot that makeup artist during dinner. After that it was only a matter of time before he'd make her disappear.

  gillian sighed with relief when she discovered the sparse crowd in the karaoke bar. A DJ was playing tunes, but nobody looked eager to get up and perform. And she sure as hell wouldn't be the first.

  "I don't think it's important to do this tonight, after all." She followed Cora, Lex, and Dante to a table. "Hardly anyone's here."

  "No big surprise," Lex said. "It's logical that nerds wouldn't be big on karaoke."

  "So there's really no challenge in me getting up there. Let's forget it." Gillian relaxed into her cushioned chair. "Maybe we should discuss the people at the cocktail party. I think—"

  "Gillian, even if the crowd's small, you should still try your wings," Cora said.

  Gillian felt like a little kid at a piano recital. "I don't wanna."

  Cora glanced at Lex. "Maybe you'd be willing to break the ice and sing first?"

  Lex shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "Are you suggesting that as a friend or an employer?"

  "As a friend."

  "In that case, I have no desire to break any ice whatsoever. I sound like a bullfrog in a bucket. Maybe you'll have better luck with Dante."

  "I'm not such a bad singer," Dante said, "but nobody likes to be the first one up there. Even me."

  "See?" Gillian had found allies. "Lex and Dante don't want to do it, either."

  "They're not trying to change their image," Cora said. "You are."

  Gillian sent a pleading glance in Lex's direction. "Do you think I need to sing?"

  "I hate to say so, but I can see Cora's point."

  Gillian groaned.

  "Okay, I'll go first," Cora said.

  Dante grinned. "I would pay to see that."

  "I'm horrible. I sound like a rusty hinge in a gale-force wind, but I'll do it if that's what it takes to get the ball rolling. I'll be lucky if I'm not hooted off the stage."

  "We would never let that happen," Dante said. "We'll drown them out with whistles and stomping. Hey, check this out." He picked up a card lying on the table. "A prize for the best solo number, but there's an even bigger prize for the best duet. I might be roped into a duet with someone who can actually sing."

  Cora threw up both hands. "That lets me out."

  "I'll do a duet with you." Gillian was ready to do anything to avoid going up there alone.

  "You can sing a duet later," Cora said. "First, the solo. Do you know 'Diamonds Are a Girl's Best Friend'?"

  Gillian would love to deny it, but she was an old-movie buff and she loved that song. "Umm, I guess. But I think I should start with a duet. What do you want to sing, Dante?"

  '"Endless Love'."

  "Okay." Gillian pushed back her chair. " 'Endless Love' it is."

  "No," Lex said.

  Dante frowned. "What's wrong with 'Endless Love'?"

  "Nothing, except that Cora's right. Gillian should sing the solo. A duet isn't going to do much of anything except waste time."

  "Not true," Gillian said. "It'll help me get over my stage fright. Come on, Dante. And would somebody please order me a martini for when I get back? I have a feeling I'm going to need it." Before she had more time to think about what she was doing, Gillian marched up to the DJ and told him that she and her friend would be singing "Endless Love."

  "We judge the results by the applause meter over here." The DJ, who looked like something of a nerd himself, pointed to a device that registered decibels. 'To win a prize, you have to score higher than a five."

  "But the place is almost empty," Dante said. "All eight people in here could stage a riot and we'd only get about a three reading."

  The DJ shrugged. "That's what they told me. I don't make the rules."

  "It's okay, Dante." Gillian wasn't interested in prizes so much as she wanted to get the whole thing over with. "Let's just do it."

  "I think we should have a chance at the prize, is all."

  "It's really not important, you know."

  He grinned sheepishly. "Guess not." He turned to the DJ. "Maestro, on the downbeat, if you please."

  The music started and they launched into the song. Gillian discovered that Dante wasn't quite the karaoke whiz he'd pretended to be. He had trouble with phrasing and he stumbled over the lyrics. As he tried to cover up his goofs, he was so funny that Gillian forgot to be scared.

  The worse the singing got, the more Dante hammed it up, sweeping Gillian into a dramatic embrace and gesturing wildly with his free arm. The two of them ended up doubled up in laughter, and toward the end they had to hold on to each other to keep from falling over in hysterics.

  When it was over, Gillian was too busy laughing and wiping her eyes to pay attention to the applause meter, but Dante informed her they'd only registered a two. As they staggered back to the table, Cora c
lapped enthusiastically and kept shouting "Bravo." She seemed completely entertained by the performance.

  Lex, however, did not. For some reason he was fidgeting in his chair and scowling at Dante. He looked for all the world as if he'd love to pick a fight with his partner.

  Dante clapped him on the back. "Hey, lighten up, old buddy! We weren't that bad!"

  "No, you weren't bad at all." Lex stood, mumbled something about getting a bowl of peanuts, and left.

  Dante stared after him. "What's his problem?"

  Cora smiled. "You two were so cute and seemed to be having so much fun. I'll bet he would have liked to be up there in your place, Dante."

  "But he said he didn't want to!" Dante said. "He could have done it instead of me. I was only trying to help."

  "I know, darling." Cora glanced at Gillian. "And I doubt he would have been willing to sing the duet, which is part of what's bothering him. The truth is, our Alexander is jealous."

  Ten

  LEX STOOD BY THE BAR WHILE THE BARTENDER Rustled up a bowl of peanuts that Lex didn't need and no one else at the table had asked for. He wasn't very proud of himself. He didn't have the guts to sing a romantic ballad with Gillian, but he couldn't stand watching Dante do it.

  The performance had been about as romantic as a sponge toss at the county fair, but that wasn't the issue. Even when Dante had made a mess of the whole thing, Gillian hadn't minded at all. She'd appeared to have a terrific time.

  Maybe she preferred a guy like Dante, somebody who could let loose like that in public. Just because she'd enjoyed a couple of kisses from Lex didn't mean that he had the kind of personality she looked for in a man. He was probably too boring for someone so creative and beautiful.

  That red dress of hers was driving him insane, and he hated, absolutely hated that Dante had recently had his hands all over it. His hands had been all over Gillian, too, although to be fair, Dante had not groped during the song.

  Lex had watched carefully. The first sign of a grope and Lex would have been out of his chair.

  No, Dante had behaved himself. That made everything worse, somehow, because Dante was doing a better job of ignoring Gillian's charms than Lex was. Lex had been the one handing out instructions on this matter, and now he was so conscious of Gillian's charms that he was concerned about being an effective bodyguard.