My Nerdy Valentine Read online

  "She won't like hearing that."

  "I don't suppose she will, but as you've probably noticed, she's interested in expanding our relationship beyond that of broker and client."

  "I've noticed." And if Gloria succeeded, that would let Amanda off the secret-valentine hook.

  "Does she do that often?"

  "I don't know, William. I've only been here since the first week in January."

  "Is she there? Maybe I need to speak to her directly."

  "No, she's gone home." Amanda thought fast. "Let me give you her home number and her cell number."

  "I have those on the forms she filled out. Maybe I will call her. But as long as she's not there, would you be violating any special trust by telling me exactly why she wants my home address and phone number? That would help me know how to handle this."

  Because she wants to jump your bones. Amanda took a deep breath. "She, uh, wants to send you something."

  "She could send it to the office. Or better yet, you could bring it down now, if you have time."

  "I don't think this is something you want to open in front of your colleagues."

  William groaned. "What is it, porn?"

  "No."

  "Then what?"

  Amanda thought fast. She wasn't about to describe what was in the package, but if she didn't get it to him somehow, there would be hell to pay in the morning. "I don't suppose you have a P.O. box?"

  "Nope. But if I get any more clients like Gloria, that might be a viable option."

  She laughed. She hadn't meant to, but what he'd said struck her as funny—William Sloan getting a P.O. box so he wouldn't be stalked by his female clients. Only Gloria, the reader of thumbs, would take a look at William and immediately think of mattress games. Well, maybe if a woman who'd never met him heard his voice on the phone, she might get ideas. Amanda found herself enjoying the firm resonance of it.

  "I guess you don't think I'm in serious danger of being overrun by women." He seemed amused rather than insulted.

  "Oh, no, I didn't mean that at all! It's certainly possible, and maybe a P.O. box would be a wise thing, so long as you're single. Women are getting more aggressive these days, and it might not hurt to take precautions."

  "Thanks, but I'll go with your original assessment, that it would be a silly thing to do. In any case, I don't have one, and I really don't want to give Gloria my actual address. What if I just run down there and pick up whatever it is? Would that solve the problem?"

  "I... well, I suppose it would." And create a host of new problems. But at least he'd have his gifts and she could tell Gloria they'd been delivered. The issue of address and phone could be handled later. Maybe William would be so enchanted by the items Amanda had bought that he'd decide to call Gloria and get chummy. One could always hope.

  "Then I'll do that," he said. "I'm finished for the day, anyway. I'll stop by there before I catch my bus home."

  "All right." As she said that, she came to a decision. She'd confront him about the valentine and make sure he understood she was not in the market. Maybe if he felt thoroughly rejected, he'd be more eager to take Gloria up on her offer.

  Getting William and Gloria together had multiple benefits. He'd no longer be trying to make an impression on Amanda with kitten-themed valentines, and Gloria should be in a perennially good mood if her seduction succeeded and her big-thumbs theory proved correct.

  "I'll see you in five minutes, then. Bye."

  "Bye." Amanda hung up. Then she had a strong urge to take out a mirror and reapply her lipstick. Obviously she got some enjoyment out of being the object of William's admiration, even though she was rejecting him. Well, she would stop enjoying it right now and forget about the lipstick. Wrong guy, wrong time.

  FIVE

  William walked down to Gloria's office carrying his briefcase and trench coat. The earflap hat was in the briefcase, out of sight. This might be his last chance to break through that barrier Amanda had erected around herself, and he didn't want to saddle himself with any handicaps.

  That meant he needed to turn on the charm. Being of a practical nature, he wasn't sure if he had a handle on charm, but he might if he could channel the French part of his ancestry. After all, his mother had been born in Paris. That should count for something.

  Maybe not much, though. He'd modeled himself after his very strait-laced, very military father, the parent who was so disgusted with Miles Sloan Jr., William's older brother. His brother couldn't seem to hold a job for more than a few months. There was no doubt Miles junior took after William's free-spirited mother, who loved being spontaneous.

  But William had French blood, too, and he needed to capitalize on that part of the gene pool right now. He believed that Amanda had a tight schedule, but most women, even ones with tight schedules, could fit in lunch or a coffee date. Something else was going on.

  Unfortunately, first impressions could be lasting impressions. He'd at least learned that much during the Cooper and Scott orientation. Amanda's reluctance could still boil down to the earflaps. He'd have to work extra hard on the charm to overcome her initial mental picture of him.

  He walked into the office, ready to make some witty comment. No matter that he wasn't the witty-comment type. For this occasion, he'd think of something. He was half French. It would come.

  "Hi." Laying his briefcase and coat on a chair, he looked into Amanda's blue eyes.

  "Hi."

  The longer he looked at her in her soft blue sweater, the more his brain seemed to be gunked up with some kind of warm honey that jammed the circuits. "How was your afternoon?" he asked. Wow, talk about witty.

  "Fine."

  God, she was pretty. But he couldn't let that distract him. He needed to pour on the wit and charm. "My mom's French. She was born in Paris." He couldn't believe he'd said that out loud. The plan was to act as if he had some French savoir faire, not baldly announce his one and only French connection.

  'That's interesting," Amanda said. "My mother was born in Gary, Indiana. I'm not sure she knew where France was, exactly."

  "That's too bad." Belatedly he realized she'd spoken of her mother in the past tense. "Then your mother's ..." "Deceased."

  "I'm sorry." He'd hoped to talk about something that would make her laugh, but this topic showed no promise whatsoever. Still, they weren't discussing Gloria, which was progress. "And your father?"

  "Also deceased."

  Boy, he was really ramping up the cheerful factor, here. No wonder she admired the determination of little hum: mingbirds. "That's tough."

  "It has been, yeah." She took a deep breath. "William, the kittens were cute, but I'll have to ask you not to continue with that kind of thing."

  "Kittens?" Completely disoriented, he glanced around as if a litter might come scampering out from under her desk. "What kittens?"

  She looked at him with what a generous person would call sympathy. Someone less generous might call it pity. "Nice thought, tucking a valentine in my desk drawer, and I'm honored, really. But you have the wrong girl."

  He scrambled to get his bearings. The conversation had taken a bizarre turn. "Someone tucked a valentine in your desk drawer?"

  "Come on, William. There's no use continuing this charade. I appreciate the effort, but I'm really not the right person for you."

  "There's no charade. If someone gave you a valentine, it wasn't me." He'd love to find out who had, though. If competition was in the vicinity, he wanted to know about it.

  "Okay, you don't want to admit it. I understand. We can leave it at that." She held out a paper bag. "This is the gift from Gloria. I know she's come on kind of strong, but if you give her a chance, you might find out she's not so bad."

  He took the bag gingerly, as if it might explode any minute. "What is it?"

  "I, umm, think you need to find that out for yourself." She moved the papers on her desk into a neat stack and pushed back her chair. "My bus is due any minute. I need to be going."

  That was c
ertainly a broad hint that she wanted him to leave, but he couldn't make himself do it. He might never be alone with her again. "I'm sure you do, but my curiosity is killing me." Although he had a feeling he'd be sorry, he reached in the bag and pulled out a black box. The label on the front read lighten up. In smaller letters underneath, it said Glow-in-the-dark condoms for that special event. Extra large.

  He glanced at Amanda. She'd taken a backpack out from under her desk and tucked her purse and the papers inside. Now she was headed for the coat tree and focusing on it as if it were the Holy Grail.

  He remembered her shopping trip earlier and had to ask. "Did Gloria pick these out?"

  She paused and faced him. "Not exactly."

  "You did?"

  She looked nervous. "She asked me to. I don't want you to read anything into it. I was only doing my job."

  "Okay." He swallowed. "But what made you decide on these?"

  She blushed. "Well, you're tall, and so I thought you might take ... that is, reason told me that your size would be ..."

  "Not the size." He could feel his face growing warm. "I meant the glow-in-the-dark part."

  "Oh." Her color was still high, but her gaze had softened. "I, um, thought they might intrigue you."

  "Well, they do. The concept is fascinating." He looked at the box. "I'm not sure how it works, considering that anything with a phosphorescent compound has to be introduced to strong light first."

  "I didn't look to see if there were instructions."

  He glanced up to see if she was making fun of him. But she didn't seem to be. He kind of wanted to check for instructions, but he'd be wise not to do that now. They were, after all, talking about condoms.

  "Anyway," he said. "Thanks." He pulled out the other box. A window of cellophane gave him a view of a dozen little chocolate tits. Justin would love those, but he'd also want to know where they came from. William wasn't sure he was ready to discuss his oversexed client with Justin. He'd never hear the end of it.

  "It's ... ah ... candy," Amanda said.

  He looked up. "I figured."

  "For Valentine's Day." "m-huh!

  "Look, there wasn't a lot to choose from that wouldn't be mortally embarrassing."

  "This is fine. I like chocolate."

  "Good."

  "You did well, Amanda. I appreciate the effort. Interesting stuff."

  "I'm glad you like it." She paused. "Gloria will be happy about that."

  "I'm not interested in Gloria."

  "That could change."

  "I seriously doubt it."

  "Whether it does or not, you should give up on me."

  Although the words were discouraging, William couldn't help noticing that something in her manner had undergone a subtle change. The barrier didn't seem quite as impenetrable.

  She took a deep breath. "Although I do appreciate that you took the time to buy a valentine and put it in my—"

  "No I didn't. The valentine came from someone else. I didn't even remember that Valentine's Day was coming up, if you want to know the truth."

  For a moment she looked as if she believed him. Then her expression became more resolute. "William, the condoms and candy are from Gloria, not me. I'm only the messenger. I urge you to call her. You two could have fun together. I really do have to be going. My shift starts in an hour, and I have to change clothes."

  "Shift?" Even though her words were unrelenting, her expression a few seconds ago had given him hope. Maybe if he gathered enough information, he'd break the code that would allow him access to Amanda.

  "I've told you, I'm very busy. I go to school, I intern with Gloria, and I tend bar six nights a week."

  "Where?"

  She opened her mouth as if to tell him. Then she seemed to think better of it and looked away. "If you're thinking that you'll come to the bar, then don't."

  "All right. You don't want me to come to the bar, I won't come to the bar." He put the condoms and the candy back in the bag. "But we need to get two things straight. I don't plan to become sexually involved with Gloria, and I didn't put a valentine in your desk drawer."

  "If you say so."

  He blew out a breath. "Sneaking a valentine into your desk drawer is not my style. If I wanted to give you a valentine, I'd give it to you, straight-out. There would be flowers involved, at the very least. I've never seen the point in secret valentine messages. They only waste time."

  A smile broke through her obvious effort to stay serious. "Now that's the first argument you've made that rings true. But I have to tell you, I don't have men pining after me. I've shut down any overtures during the past year or so. You asked me to lunch, and we work in the same building. Logic points to you. There's really no one else it could be."

  "But it's not me."

  "Right." She opened the door and gestured for him to go through it. "I have to lock up and leave or I'll be very late." She glanced at her watch. "In fact I've missed my usual bus. I'll have to take a different one and transfer."

  "Which one is that?" He didn't think it was his, or he'd have seen her on it before.

  "Fifty-nine."

  "Then we're headed in different directions, but we can still walk out together." "Yes, we can do that."

  She turned off the lights and locked the door behind her. Then she slung her backpack over one shoulder and started toward the stairway.

  "So you're a bartender."

  "It pays well for the hours invested."

  "Did you go to bartending school?"

  As she walked down the stairs, she shifted the weight of her backpack, which looked heavy. "I did. I'd waitressed ever since high school, didn't know what I wanted to do with my life. Bartending was a skill I could add to my repertoire. When I started school, it made for a good combination, classes during the day, bartending at Geekland by night."

  "Sounds like it." He didn't call attention to the fact that she'd just told him where she worked. It was a slip on her part, one he wouldn't take advantage of. She didn't want him in her life, so he wouldn't push.

  Interesting spot for her to work, though. The place was a joke with the cool crowd, but according to an article in the Trib, Geekland was wildly popular with its target audience. He'd never been there, because a person had to be a confirmed nerd and proud of it in order to set foot inside. William knew he had some of those tendencies, but he rejected the label.

  Amanda had some of those tendencies, too, but he didn't think that was why she'd taken the job. She didn't want to date, and a bartender as cute as Amanda would get asked out by the clientele. If she surrounded herself with geeks, she wouldn't be tempted to say yes.

  "Have you always wanted to be a stockbroker?" she asked.

  "No." They reached the small lobby and headed toward the revolving doors that led out to the street. "I wanted to be a fireman, and then I wanted to be a trucker or a pro football player. Couldn't decide which."

  "That's a long way from stockbroker."

  "Oh, I don't know. I protect people's future, which is kind of like a fireman, and I'm involved in the economy, which is part of a trucker's job."

  "And how about pro football?"

  "I'm in there dodging and weaving, hoping to score for my clients. I just don't get to wear the shoulder pads and the tight pants."

  She laughed at that, which gratified him. He might have no chance with her, but at least they could be pleasant to each other when they met in the hall. He let her go ahead of him out the door. It looked dark out there, and very cold.

  Bracing himself for the pain that would hit his unprotected ears, he pushed through the door and joined her on the sidewalk. Yikes. The wind had a bite like a Doberman.

  She pulled up her hood and glanced at him. "You're not wearing your hat."

  "Uh, no, I'm not." So she had noticed the hat the first time they'd met.

  "Did you forget it?"

  "It's in my briefcase."

  She gazed at him, as if trying to figure out what was going on. The whoosh of ai
r brakes on the bus half a block away made her turn. "Whoops, there's my bus! See you later!" She turned and ran for the bus, her backpack banging against her shoulder. Her hood fell back and her hair gleamed in the light from the street lamps.

  He didn't believe in love at first sight or anything dumb like that, but he couldn't shake the feeling that they could have had something good together. Unfortunately, making that happen would have taken some cooperation on her part. She hadn't been particularly cooperative.

  As her bus went by, he glanced up, figuring she'd already put him out of her mind. Instead he saw her face in the window, and she was looking down at him. She gave him a wave.

  He waved back. It would be risky to assign any special significance to that gesture of hers. He shouldn't get his hopes up because she'd taken the time and effort to locate him on the sidewalk and wave. But he was a stockbroker, and any stockbroker worth his salt took risks now and then. He let his hopes rise, just a little bit.

  Amanda lived on the ground floor of her apartment building, and when she was running late like this, she was grateful that she didn't have stairs to climb. Her only obstacle was Mavis Endicott, the retired schoolteacher who lived next door. With thinning red hair she colored herself and a plump figure that showed off her love of bakery items, Mavis was a cheerful person to have around.

  Amanda wished she had more time to spend getting to know her neighbors. Under different circumstances, she'd be thrilled to chat with Mavis, who must have been a dynamite teacher in her day. But Amanda had been forced to cut their conversations short. That didn't seem to deter Mavis, who always left her door open a crack at five-thirty so she could hear Amanda coming home.

  On her way down the hall tonight, Amanda noticed that everyone on her floor had decorated their apartment door for Valentine's Day with the exception of Amanda and her neighbor on the other side, Chester Ambrose. Mavis must have been at work organizing the troops. She treated this floor as if they were all back in third grade and holiday decorations were mandatory.

  Amanda always tried to participate. Mavis had managed to bring a sense of community to the first floor of the apartment complex, and in an urban setting that was an accomplishment. But Amanda had forgotten all about Valentine's Day, and even if she'd remembered, she didn't have the time to paste doilies on her door.