Nerd In Shining Armor Part 14

"Then relax for a minute." Jack was feeling a certain owners.h.i.+p of this fire now, and he wasn't about to let it go out. Rain had begun pelting the hideaway, so he doubted their little fire outside would be giving them any more live coals. He leaned down and blew the way he'd seen her do it, slow and gentle.

"That's good, Jack." She ran her hand up his back.

He nearly fell face-first into the kindling. "Th-thanks." He kept blowing, but it wasn't easy as she continued to stroke her hand up and down his bare back. If he told her to stop, he'd come off as some nervous virgin type. But if she didn't stop, he was going to get an erection. With no good solution at hand, he kept blowing on the coals.

At first she stroked up and down his backbone, but then she extended her territory and began making little figure-eights up and down his back. Only one thing could feel better than what she was doing. Well, maybe two things. Okay, three things, and all of them involved his increasingly stiff friend who wanted to get out of his jeans and party.

"I think that's enough blowing."

"Oh." He opened his eyes and stared down into the fire he'd created. "Guess so." He'd been so absorbed in the way she was stroking his back and the resulting effect on his p.e.n.i.s that he hadn't even felt the heat on his face. If she hadn't said something he would have singed his eyebrows clear off in another minute.

"Here." While continuing to rub his back, she reached in with her free hand and gave him a bigger piece of driftwood. "Put this on."

"Okay." His throat was dogged and he cleared it as he laid the wood across the flames. They licked the wood, which made him think of what else could be licking something critical right now, if he had the guts G.o.d gave a goldfish. "How's that?" Except for lifting his head up so he didn't catch his hair on fire, he didn't move an inch.

"Great."

"Are you . . . ready to teach me to whittle?" The instant the words were out, he knew that wasn't what a guy named Jack would say at a moment like this. A guy named Jack wouldn't give a d.a.m.n about whittling. Instead he'd casually put his hand on her knee, which was right within reach, and give her an encouraging squeeze.

"Is that what you want to do?" She'd begun kneading the muscles in his back now. "Whittle?"

"Uh, well. . . it's an idea."

She handed him another piece of driftwood, a bigger one this time. "It's ready for more."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes." She ma.s.saged the back of his neck.

His hand shook as he laid the second piece on. The heat from the fire was making him sweat, but moving away would end the status quo and a decision would have to be made-to whittle or not to whittle.

Then she said his name sort of slow and drawn out, with a question mark at the end.

"What?" His voice squeaked.

"Remember what I told you about hideaways, how they're good for doing secret things?"

He gulped. "Uh-huh."

"Whatever we wanted to do here, we could, and n.o.body would ever have to know."

"But us." And hers was the only opinion he was worried about.

"Well, naturally we would know, but I can keep a secret if you can."

He took a shaky breath. "I know what you're talking about, Gen."

"I surely hope so, Jack. Otherwise, computer genius or not, I'd think somebody dropped you on your head in the turnip patch."

He had troubled a.s.similating the information. Genevieve Terrence, the G.o.ddess he had wors.h.i.+ped from afar since the day he hired on at Rainbow, was coming on to him. This was the kind of scene he'd fantasized for months, yet like an idiot, he was hesitating. Jack the Confident had left the building, and only Jackson the Insecure remained to face the challenge.

She stopped rubbing his back. "I... I thought you were attracted to me."

He turned toward her then, not wanting her to doubt herself for a minute. "I am." Oh, wow, her nipples were making pucker marks in the material of her dress. She wasn't kidding about this. He forced his gaze up to her face. Sure enough, she looked upset. "I am attracted to you," he said again. Major understatement. His equipment was programmed and ready to roll.

"So?" Two little creases formed in her smooth forehead. "What's the matter?"

He could either tell her the truth or have her feel rejected. He settled for the truth. "What if I'm not as good at this as you are?"

The small wrinkles smoothed out of her forehead and she smiled gently at him, almost as if he were some little kid she was humoring. "I wouldn't expect you to be."

"You wouldn't?" He wasn't sure he liked her a.s.sumption that he'd be lousy at s.e.x. "I mean, I might be good at this."

She stroked his bristly cheek with the tips of her fingers. "Probably not, Jack. Be realistic. People improve with practice, and I can't believe you've had very much practice."

Her fingertips drove him wild. He wanted to suck on her fingers, her toes, anything that presented itself to him. "So how much practice have you had?" he asked a trifle belligerently.

She seemed taken aback. "Well, not that much, but more than you, that's for darned sure."

He thought again about the b.l.o.w. .j.o.b discussion. He was truly an imbecile not to let her have her way with him. Who cared if he showed himself up as less than studly? At least he didn't have murder in his heart like a former boyfriend he could mention.

"Since I figure you could use the practice," she said, "you can practice on me."

He blinked. "Practice on you?" He had an image of a CPR cla.s.s where everybody perfected mouth-to-mouth resuscitation procedures on mannequins. "What does that mean? You're gonna just lie there?"

"Of course not. But I can give you pointers, Jack. That way, when you get a serious girlfriend, you'll have a better idea what to do."

He jerked away from her and almost landed in die fire pit. "The h.e.l.l with that! I thought you were looking forward to having some fun, not engaging in tutorial s.e.x!"

"We would have fun!"

"Did you plan to draw a few diagrams in the sand first? Or maybe you could write a few instructions on yourself in lipstick. You know, with little arrows pointing to the spot in question."

"Now, Jack, you're getting yourself all riled up over nothing."

"Easy for you to say. You're the proclaimed expert and I'm the proclaimed s.e.xual dunce. Look, I may not be the best lover in the world, but don't feel you have to sacrifice yourself so that I can brush up on my technique!"

"I only thought-"

"That you could teach Jack a thing or two? Well, maybe you can, Gen. Then again, I might surprise you. Believe it or not, in my own b.u.mbling, inept way I have actually succeeded in giving a woman an o.r.g.a.s.m. Several times. I suppose she could have been faking, but from my limited experience, I don't think so."

She sank back on her heels and gazed at him, her expression filled with dismay. "I'm sorry, Jack," she whispered. "I didn't mean to insult you."

And just like that, his anger disappeared. It wasn't her fault that she didn't see him as a possible boyfriend herself. He'd overreacted because that's how he wanted her to see him, but the fact was, she didn't. "It's okay."

"I'm sure you're a wonderful lover."

"I wouldn't go that far."

She sighed and gave him a tiny smile. "No, you wouldn't, because you're a naturally modest person. And that means if you tell me you're a good lover, you're probably a great lover and I have no business trying to teach you a blessed thing."

"I wouldn't say that, either." He was beginning to regret that he'd lost his temper. She looked very appealing sitting back on her heels, her cheeks flushed and her eyes trying to bring him into focus across the short distance separating them. She'd spread her beach towel out across one wall, probably for them to use as a bed.

Her suitcase sat nearby, no doubt to keep the condoms handy for the activity she'd planned. His p.e.n.i.s twitched in frustration. If he'd played along, he might have learned a thing or two, relieved some of that frustration, and had a h.e.l.l of a lot of fun in the process.

"Jack, I can tell you're just trying to be nice, when the truth is, I've taken a belly flop in the hog pen and ruined the chance of us having s.e.x." She glanced at him. "Want to learn to whittle?"

n.o.body was an idiot all of the time, not even him. "No."

"No? I thought you said you'd like to learn?"

"I would." He cleared his throat and gathered his courage. "But I'd rather have s.e.x."

Chapter 11.

Annabelle decided she might live to see another day. After some hard thumps and b.u.mps that sounded like the boat hitting up against something, the rocking stopped and the engine was still. She raised her head from the tiny galley sink, grabbed the damp towel she'd been using, and patted her mouth.

The floor felt unsteady, but because the dishes weren't rattling in the cupboards, she concluded that her legs were quivering, not the floor. Rain drummed hard against the boat, but now that it wasn't pitching so wildly, the rain didn't seem as likely to sink them.

"Lincoln?" She sounded like a bullfrog in mating season.

"Yeah?" His feeble response barely made it through the closed bathroom door.

"You okay?"

A pause. "Define okay."

Annabelle smiled grimly. "Alive."

"Semi."

"It's a start." She ran a little water in a gla.s.s. "Do you want some water?"

"Not yet."

She took a sip of the water, intending to rinse her mouth and spit it back in the sink. Then she heard footsteps on the stairs and swallowed the water. It wouldn't do for Matt to see her spitting.

He appeared at the bottom of the stairs, his clothes soaked, his brown eyes wary. "How's it going down here?"

"You're all wet!"

"Somebody had to tie us up to the dock."

Embarra.s.sed that she'd been so little help, she straightened her spine. "Well, we're both fine. Thank you for getting us here safely."

He glanced over at the closed bathroom door. "How's Lincoln?"

"I'm fine, too," Lincoln called through the door.

That's my boy, Annabelle thought, more proud of Lincoln at that moment than she had been in a long time. Sometimes the boy had the manners of a government rev-enuer, but underneath all that swagger he had grit.

Matt didn't look convinced about either of them. "I can get a doctor down here if you need one."

"Absolutely not," Annabelle said. Then she forced herself to say the next part. "How soon can we get going again?"

Matt looked at her as if she'd lost her mind. "Annabelle, you-"

"How soon?"

He shook his head. "Even if you were ready, we have to wait until the storm pa.s.ses. From the weather reports that'll be a while, and it's getting late. Once it gets dark ..."

"Maybe the storm will lift early."

"I don't think so, Annabelle." His voice gentled. "I'm afraid we're stuck on Molokai for the night."

Annabelle dropped her gaze so he couldn't read the despair in her eyes. She'd been determined that they'd find Genevieve before dark. The thought of her child out there overnight terrified her.

He continued to speak, his voice calm and soothing. "I can call for a van so you and Lincoln can spend the night in a hotel. You'll be a lot more comfortable there, and then in the morning we can start out again."

She lifted her head and looked at him. "Thank you, but we'll stay right here on the boat. I want to start out at first light. Besides, it wouldn't seem fitting to be lolling around in some hotel room while Genevieve is ... is ..." She couldn't put the thought into words.

"She's okay," Matt said. "Nick Brogan may have some unpleasant qualities, but he's a survivor. I wouldn't count out Jackson Farley, either. He can be absentminded, but he's also stubborn, which could be a very good thing under these circ.u.mstances."

"Genevieve is fine," Annabelle said. "If she wasn't fine, I would know." That was the one thing keeping her going. She had no doubt that if anything happened to either of her children she'd know instantly. Her connection with her daughter remained unbroken, which meant Genevieve was alive. But she might be frightened or hurt, and Annabelle wanted to get to her as soon as humanly possible.

"So you want to spend the night on the boat?"

"Yes, please." She should probably encourage Matt to go to a hotel where he'd be more comfortable, but she didn't want him to do that. Once he was out of her sight, he could oversleep or be held up in some way.

"Then we'll all stay here and leave the minute we can see what we're doing."

She felt like hugging him, but she didn't move. Hugging Matt, considering how he disliked her, would be a very bad idea. "Thank you."

The bathroom door opened and Lincoln stood there holding on to the door frame. His face was the same color as the white streak running down the middle of his hair, and his earphones were hanging around his neck and not plugged into his ears. He looked like he'd been run over by the turnip truck, but he tried to act c.o.c.ky anyway. "Hey, wha.s.sup?"

Matt looked at him. "Not much more, if you're lucky."

Lincoln groaned. "That was heinous."

"Sorry. But you walked right into it."

"Yeah, I did, didn't I?" Lincoln smiled a little.

As Matt looked the two of them over, Annabelle could imagine what he was thinking. She and Lincoln hadn't turned out to be very good sailors.