The Nerd Who Loved Me Read online

  So Lainie and Rona would bond, and then Rona would get all mushy over Dexter and start making broad hints about the grandchildren she might never live to see. Oh, yes. Winging was not his style, and this was why. In no time he'd created chaos.

  But he couldn't let Lainie try to escape in her black-fendered car with its I hope you dance bumper sticker, not after listening to the fury in her ex-boyfriend's voice while he banged on her door. Maybe she'd kidnapped Dexter and brought him to Vegas. Maybe Harry was aid­ing and abetting a criminal. Well, some things were worth breaking the law over.

  A car cruised by him on the way out of the parking lot. Harry glanced casually at the driver and discovered it was a woman, one of the cleaning crew. He waved and continued toward his car. He was parked six spaces away from Lainie's vehicle. Without looking directly at it, he let his gaze wander around the area. He didn't want to appear as if he might be surveying the lot, in case Joey happened to be there watching for anything suspicious.

  A blond guy climbed out of a gold late-model sedan. Could easily be a rental. Harry's heart hammered as the guy approached, a friendly smile on his face. He was about Harry's height of six-three, but he was built like a linebacker, while Harry was built like... an accountant.

  "Evening," the guy said, looking at Harry's grimy clothes.

  "Evening." Harry's instincts went on alert. If this was Joey, and he'd figured out that Dexter and his babysitter had gone out the window, then Harry's grass-stained clothes could be very incriminating.

  "You work here?"

  "I do. Groundskeeper."

  "Ah. The grounds must have put up a bit of a fight to­day."

  Harry laughed, as if Joey had made a great joke. "I'll tell my wife that. Maybe she'll forgive me for being so dumb as to try trimming the palm trees in the entry with an extension ladder instead of calling in the cherry picker." Harry held out both arms. "As you can see, the ladder fell."

  "Don't casino employees wear uniforms when they do that kind of stuff?"

  "That's the other reason I'll catch hell from the little woman. I was off duty, doing a little gambling, and one of the supervisors came over and started in about the palm trees. So I told him I'd take care of it. I'd had a couple of beers, so I thought I could take care of it, if you know what I mean."

  The blond guy nodded. "Been there, done that."

  "I mean it, man. My wife is going to kill me for ruin­ing these clothes. They were a birthday present. Well, better go find my car. I never can remember where I've parked the damned thing." Harry started off across the lot, away from his Lexus.

  "Good luck," the blond guy shouted after him. "Say, do you happen to know a dancer named Lainie Terrell?"

  Harry nearly passed out. So it was Joey. Although he wanted to run, he made himself pause and scratch his head. "Is she a redhead?"

  "Nope. At least not last I knew."

  "Then I guess I don't know her. I'm a married man, you know. I'm not allowed to check out the dancers."

  "Sure you are. What your wife doesn't know won't hurt her."

  "Yeah, but she knows everything. Well, see ya."

  "Right." Joey turned and started toward the back door.

  Harry kept walking in the opposite direction, but he located his electronic key in his pocket. Once he heard Joey knock and the door open, he turned and sprinted to­ward the Lexus. When the lock popped open he threw himself inside only to discover it was hard to start a car when you were shaking. He forced himself to slow down and managed to get the engine going. With a moan of re­lief, he yanked the car into reverse, backed out with a squeal of rubber, shifted again and floored the gas pedal.

  Cars honked as he ploughed his way into heavy traffic.

  A quick right, and he pulled under the casino's bright por­tico where Lainie and Dexter stood waiting. They hopped in the back seat.

  "Duck down, both of you."

  They obeyed, while Harry maneuvered past a white stretch limo and scanned the portico for Joey.

  "Come here, Dexter, and let me buckle you in," Lainie murmured.

  "Why are we hiding?" Dexter asked. "Is Daddy try­ing to find us?"

  "I'm sure he is," Lainie said.

  As Harry pulled into traffic, still with no sign of Joey, he sighed in relief. No point in telling Lainie that Joey was so close. "Okay, I think it's safe to sit up now."

  "Daddy scares me," Dexter said. "He roars like a dragon. Why does he do that?"

  Harry waited for Lainie's answer, wondering if she'd smear Joey's name.

  "I think it's because nobody taught him that he shouldn't," Lainie said.

  "You mean like his mommy? She didn't teach him?"

  "His mommy or his daddy. In any case, he missed out on some lessons when he was growing up."

  Harry's admiration for Lainie soared. She was put­ting the best light she could on a bad situation, for Dex­ter's sake.

  "Well, somebody should tell him to stop," Dexter said. " Cause nobody will play with you if you act like that. Mr. Harry, can we listen to the radio, like we did before?"

  "Sure." Harry flicked on the radio, which was on the station Dexter had picked after much changing of chan­nels on the way to the casino. Instead of music, Dexter had settled on an all-talk-show station. Twenty minutes ago the topic had been training your pet. Harry hoped it still was.

  "... dealing with erectile dysfunction. Most men re­spond to direct stimulation of the pe—" Harry hit the button and got country music. "I think we need some tunes! Right, Lainie?"

  "Tunes are a great idea!" She sounded as fake and jolly as he did. "Let's sing along. Come on, Dexter. You know this one. We—"

  "What's 'erectile dysfunction,' Mommy?"

  Harry choked. The kid had even pronounced it cor­rectly.

  In the back seat, Lainie cleared her throat. "Well... um, it's not something you have to worry about, Dexter. You know, I really like these new shorts Mr. Harry bought you."

  "Me, too. Why don't I have to worry about erectile dysfunction? They said 'most men,' and I'm going to be a man when I grow up, right?"

  "Right. But—"

  "My mother has a dog," Harry blurted out. It was the first thing he could think of.

  "A dog? Dexter's voice rang with excitement. "What kind of dog?"

  "A cute little guy named Fred. He loves to lick your face."

  Dexter giggled. "I like it when dogs lick my face. It tickles. Mommy, can I play with Fred when we get to Mr. Harry's mommy's house?"

  "If you're very gentle," Lainie said. "Fred might not be used to children."

  "Fred loves everybody." Harry was very pleased with himself for coming up with a subject to distract Dexter. "He has a little rubber ball, and he'd be so happy if you'd roll it across the floor for him."

  "I can do that. I would love to do that. But I still want to know ... what's erectile dysfunction?"

  "Hey, we're here!" Harry pulled up in front of his mother's two-story condo and noticed that Leo's Jaguar sat in the driveway, its pearl finish gleaming in the light from the street lamp. Oops. Apparently this was Leo's night to pay Rona a visit. Harry had meant to call on his cell, but he'd been too busy getting away from Joey and dealing with Dexter's preoccupation with erectile dys­function.

  "The downstairs looks kind of dark," Lainie said. "I hope she isn't in bed already."

  Harry figured that was exactly where Rona was, but not alone. "Oh, she likes to save on electricity. But let me give her a quick call, so we don't scare her when we ring the doorbell."

  "Harry, I think maybe we'd better—"

  "No problem, no problem. I'll just call her," Harry said as he punched in the number.

  His mother answered, letting him know she'd checked her caller ID when she called him by name. "Hello, Harry," she said in her "This had better be important" tone.

  "Hi, Mom! Hey, listen, I hate to bother you, but—" "Then maybe you'd like to call back tomorrow? I'm, shall we say, somewhat indisposed at the moment." "I know."

  "Yo
u do? How could you know that?"

  "I'm in your driveway."

  "Oh, for pity's sake, Harry. You're calling from the driveway? Didn't I teach you better manners than that?"

  "Yes, you did. But this situation came up all of a sud­den, and …. well, I'm here with Lainie Terrell, one of the dancers at the Nirvana, and—"

  "Say no more. We'll be done in two minutes."

  "Thanks, Mom, but there's something else you need to know. She—"

  "Rona?" Leo said in the background. "Is Harry in some kind of trouble?"

  Harry's mother didn't bother to cover the mouth­piece, which meant that she wanted Harry to hear her. "We can only hope so, Leo. He's there with a showgirl, which is a good sign. And if my luck is running, he's knocked her up."

  Chapter Three

  Mommy, what does 'knocked up' mean?"

  Lainie sighed as she unbuckled Dexter's seat belt. "It's a grown-up expression."

  "So I can't use it?"

  "No, I'm afraid not." She helped him out of the car.

  "Sorry about that," Harry said. "She didn't know Dexter was there."

  "I know she didn't," Lainie said. "It's okay. This hap­pens all the time, so don't worry about it." She took Dexter's hand and started toward the front porch where a light glowed.

  "So I won't use it, then," Dexter said. "But I still want to know what it means."

  Lainie decided this term wasn't quite as tricky as "erectile dysfunction," so she launched into an explana­tion. "Remember when I told you how a daddy and a mommy get together and make a baby?"

  "Yep."

  "Well, if they actually make that baby, and the mommy is pregnant, sometimes a grown-up will say she's knocked up. But little boys can't say that."

  "Mr. Harry's mother hopes that you're pregnant?'

  Harry groaned. "I'm really sorry."

  "I think Mr. Harry's mother was making a joke, sweetie."

  "You mean like knock-knock jokes? Only this is a knock-up joke?"

  "No, I mean—" Lainie was interrupted by high-pitched barking erupting from inside the condo.

  Immediately Dexter lost all interest in the conversa­tion. "It's Fred." He began to tremble with excitement. "I'll bet he's glad we're here to see him. I'll bet he's very, very, very glad!"

  Fred was probably the only one in favor of this inva­sion, Lainie thought. She couldn't decide which was more embarrassing, interrupting Harry's mother and her lover, or walking into his mother's living room wearing the "Fever" costume and her raincoat. She'd stuffed her clothes in her oversized purse, but asking for a place to change would seem as if she planned an extended stay. This was such a bad idea, but she didn't have a better one.

  The door was opened by a tall woman wearing a black silk robe studded with rhinestones, a robe obviously de­signed for entertaining the man she'd left upstairs. Her short red hair was tousled and she looked a little flushed, but her smile was wide and welcoming as she scooped up a pint-sized dog. "I'm Rona, and I— My God, Harry! You look like you've been shot out of the cannon at Treasure Island!"

  "Mr. Harry and me, we climbed out of the window and slid down a tree," Dexter said.

  Abruptly Rona's gaze lowered to Dexter. Her eyes widened even more, and then she crouched down, still holding her wiggling dog. "And who have we here?"

  "My—" Lainie began, but Dexter stepped forward, earnest and eager.

  "I'm Dexter," he said. "And I really, really think Fred wants to play with me."

  "Well, I expect he does!" Rona tucked Fred against her side, stood and held out her hand to Dexter. "Come with me, Dexter." She shot Harry an "I'll deal with you later" kind of look. "I have a cup of cocoa with your name on it. And maybe even a cookie."

  "We have cookies at home." Dexter slipped his hand in Rona's as if they'd known each other for years. "But we couldn't bring them because we had to leave so fast."

  "And it would be so hard carrying them if you're slid­ing down a tree." She started toward the back of the house. "You can tell me more about that while I'm get­ting your cocoa ready."

  "She likes kids," Harry murmured to Lainie as he guided her inside and closed the door.

  Lainie nodded as she fought a sudden lump in her throat. Watching Dexter and Rona reminded her that Dex­ter had missed out on so many things, including a set of loving grandparents. Joey's family didn't know about Dexter, and as for her folks—her unwed-mother status had been another disappointment to add to their list, which included her ignoring the idea of college and be­coming a showgirl right out of high school.

  They'd allowed their disapproval of her lifestyle to get in the way of loving Dexter, which was their loss, but also his. After Lainie had paid a few visits to their little house in Brooklyn and received very little welcome, she'd given up trying to get them to act like grandpar­ents. Although Harry's mom had taken to Dexter imme­diately, she didn't have any history to deal with.

  Rona's condo looked like Rona—elegant with a touch of pizzazz. Sleek leather furniture and Tiffany-style lamps made it the kind of room Lainie had always longed for and had never been able to afford. Rona was an interest­ing mom, no question. Dexter wasn't the only one curi­ous about Rona's wish that Harry had knocked up a showgirl. Sounded like Rona wanted a grandchild, and Harry wasn't cooperating.

  "Want me to take your coat?" Harry asked as she started to follow Dexter back to the kitchen.

  "No!" She clutched the lapels. She'd sweat it out, lit­erally, before she'd sit in Rona's kitchen wearing only her tiny red costume. "I mean, no, thank you. I'm fine. Dexter and I won't be staying long, anyway."

  "Where would you go?"

  She turned to gaze at him. "I have a few ideas." She had zip.

  "Good. Because I didn't want to say so in front of Dexter, but I think you need to keep far away from Joey until he calms down. Do you ... have legal custody?"

  "Yes."

  "Whew. I'm glad to hear it, because—"

  "To a point. Joey knew I was taking Dexter to Vegas, but I never got him to sign anything official giving me permission. He just said okay, so I left."

  "Oh." His expression indicated that he thought she'd made a big mistake handling things that way.

  So maybe his life was in perfect order and hers was unraveling like a cheap sweater. She couldn't help that right now and frustration made her abrupt. "I know it's a mess, and I don't expect you to get involved." She winced at the coldness in her voice. "That sounded wrong. I mean, you've been wonderful, but I can't ask you to do more than this. You've already put yourself out tremen­dously."

  "So you'd rather handle things on your own."

  Because he looked so disappointed and rejected, she stepped closer and put her hand on his arm, so he'd know that she appreciated all he'd done for her and Dex­ter. She didn't remember ever touching Harry before, and she was surprised at how warm and solid he felt.

  An old song went through her head—Streisand war­bling "he touched me." Apparently it worked even better in reverse, when the woman made the first move. Touch­ing Harry was giving her a real lift.

  Too bad she couldn't keep doing it. "I think it's best if I take care of things from here on out," she said, and removed her hand.

  An emotion stirred in his eyes, an emotion that whis­pered of heat and longing. "Okay."

  He wants me to touch him again. Cool. She was close enough to catch the scent of his aftershave, and she real­ized that scent had been part of her recent fantasies about him. The longer she stood next to him, the more those fantasies put on a show in her head. Bad timing, though. Better bring the curtain down on that extravaganza. "We should go see what's happening with Dexter."

  "Right."

  She liked the sound of his voice. As she turned and started for the kitchen, she realized his voice had also been part of her fantasies. The longer she hung around him, the more she was liable to become susceptible to whatever sexual thing was going on between them. Af­ter Dexter had finished his cocoa and cookie, she was calling a c
ab.

  Then she walked into Rona's yellow and white kitchen and saw Dexter on the floor giving Fred a dog biscuit. Boy and dog were having a regular lovefest, and she wondered how she'd ever drag her son away now. Fred chomped the biscuit in no time. Then he climbed onto Dexter's lap and started licking whatever skin he could find—hands, face, ears. Dexter's giggle made Lainie smile, in spite of everything.

  Rona closed the door on the microwave and glanced down at them. "If you don't want him to lick, you can tell him no."

  "I like licking." Dexter wrapped his arms around the enthusiastic dog. "He can lick me all he wants."

  "Well, maybe your mother wouldn't appreciate—"

  "It's fine," Lainie said. "I wish Dexter could have a dog, but the apartment doesn't allow pets."

  Rona nodded as she punched buttons on the mi­crowave. "Most don't. I remember what that's like, try­ing to raise a boy in an apartment. It's not easy. Would you two like coffee or cocoa?"

  "Oh, nothing for me, thanks." Lainie was torn be­tween wanting to stay for Dexter's sake and needing to leave because she had to separate herself from Harry before she started depending on him.

  Dexter already had some major dependency issues going on where Harry was concerned, but Dexter was a kid, and therefore flexible, thank God. Then there was also the fact that by staying, they were imposing on Rona. Lainie had a thing about not imposing on anyone. .. ever.

  "I'll take coffee," said a raspy male voice from the kitchen doorway.

  "Hey, Leo." Harry turned.

  "Hey, yourself, kid." A gray-haired man with a com­manding hook to his nose and a Sicilian burnish to his skin grasped Harry's arm with one hand and gave him a playful poke to the jaw with the other.

  Lainie imagined she heard "The Godfather Theme" playing in the background.

  "You look like hell, Harry," Leo said. "What you been up to?"

  "Climbed out of a second-story window." Harry seemed proud of the fact.

  "No joke? Playing at being a second-story man, huh? I didn't know you had it in you."

  "Neither did I," Harry said. "Leo Pirelli, I'd like you to meet Lainie Terrell and her son Dexter."