Nerd In Shining Armor Part 23

"So am I." And suddenly he didn't want to use the last condom, after all. He wanted to save it, in case they spent another night marooned on this island. He wanted to have one more time to look forward to. But he wasn't sure how to explain that to her.

She glanced at the suitcase, as if she might be thinking of the condom, too.

"Let's save it," he said, hoping she'd understand.

She looked back at him and nodded. "Yes, let's," she said softly.

"It's so rocky here, and I'd like the last time to be ... special. Not rushed."

She swallowed. "Me, too."

"There could be another beach, with a slope down to it instead of a cliff."

"I guess there could be another beach, Jack."

"Absolutely." His heart thudded in antic.i.p.ation. Something was happening between them, and he shouldn't get his hopes up, but he was doing it anyway. She was hoping for another beach.

She pushed herself to her feet and retrieved her bikini top from where she'd thrown it onto the rocks. "We might as well look around before we make our big X."

"Might as well." He sat up and gave himself the pleasure of watching her put on the bikini top, arching her back as she fastened it between her shoulder blades. He liked the idea that she'd put it back on, because it would give him great pleasure to take it off again.

When he finally struggled to his feet, he longed for the sand instead of this rocky surface. It was about the size of four football fields, and from here he couldn't tell if there was a gentle slope anywhere. He sure hoped so, because he wasn't going back down another cliff like the one he just climbed, no matter how inviting the beach.

Nothing grew up here, but the view was incredible. Scary, too. The ocean stretched endlessly all around them, unmarked by land or boats. Even a whale spout would have been welcome. Nothing.

Way off to the east he thought he could make out another island, but it could be shadows from the clouds hovering near the horizon. He glanced over to where Gen stood looking around, her mouth hanging open.

"Jack," she said, almost whispering. "We are out in the middle of the frigging ocean."

"I know it looks like that, but there has to be land to the east of us. We didn't fly west for that long. My best guess is we're on one of the Leewards."

"The Leewards. I read about them in a bird book. There are some interesting birds out here." She glanced around. "If we're lucky, we might even see an albatross."

"If we're even luckier, we'll see an airplane." Jack started walking gingerly over the rocky terrain. It was h.e.l.l on his blistered feet, even with the salt.w.a.ter treatment he'd given them this morning.

"Your feet still hurt, don't they?"

"It's not so bad."

"Your mouth is all scrooched up like a catfish, so I know they hurt."

"Don't yours, walking on these rocks?"

She shook her head. "I've gone barefoot all my life. What I hate is putting on shoes to go to work. This is heaven."

"Could have fooled me."

"Then why don't you just sit on the suitcase and let me look around?"

"Because then you'll think I'm a wuss."

"No, I'll think you're smart to take advantage of the strengths of your partner."

Partner. He liked the sound of that word. And his feet were killing him. "You talked me into it." He hobbled over to the suitcase. "Are you sure it'll hold me?"

"It'll hold you. It may not be stylish, but it's tough. I'm surprised the handle came off, but I guess those wet clothes weighed more than a full barrel of moons.h.i.+ne."

Jack eased himself down on the suitcase, and when nothing seemed to be giving way, he put all his weight on it and stretched out his legs.

"Perfect." Gen smiled. "Now relax and I'll go out on patrol."

She was the best-looking patrol he'd ever seen as she strolled the perimeter in her tiny bikini. He'd let her keep the gla.s.ses, and she should have them since she was doing the walkabout instead of him, but he wished he could see her better. It wasn't every day you watched a G.o.ddess walking barefoot on the moon.

On the far side of the plateau she turned and made a megaphone of her hands. "Jack, guess what? There is a beach on this side, and the way down isn't bad at all!"

"What's your definition of not bad!"

"There's a sort of trail running down it! You'll be fine!" She started back in his direction.

A trail. Hot d.a.m.n. They could make their giant X on the top of the island and saunter back to the beach. And this time, when they used the last condom, he planned to make it about more than s.e.x.

A grayish bird perched on a rock at the edge of the water. Nick wasn't sure what kind it was and didn't much care. Whatever it was, it was a dead bird. He crept up slowly from behind, a baseball-size rock in his hand. He'd tried and failed so many times to kill one of these d.a.m.ned things, but this time he'd make it.

At first he'd thought maybe he could grab a fish with his bare hands. Then he'd tried using his s.h.i.+rt as a net and had accomplished nothing but ripping his s.h.i.+rt on a piece of coral and gas.h.i.+ng his toes on a seash.e.l.l. So no sus.h.i.+ for him.

If only his .357 were dry enough to risk firing it, he'd have a meal in no time. He hoped to h.e.l.l it was dry by the time the idiots picked him up, /they ever picked him up, or he'd have to swipe one of their guns in order to kill them both. It was an added glitch, but not insurmountable. He could always fake it with his gun until he could trade for one of theirs. In the meantime, he had to get something in his stomach, or he'd be too weak to outsmart even those morons.

At first the thought of eating raw meat hadn't appealed to him, but as the day wore on, he got a lot less picky. This bird was going to give his all for the cause. Nick eased closer, his arm c.o.c.ked. He'd been a decent pitcher in high school. He could do this.

Taking aim, he held his breath and hurled the rock as hard as he could. The effort threw him off balance. As he landed facedown in the sand, he heard two things-the splash of a rock falling harmlessly into the waves and the vigorous flapping of wings. This was turning into a really s.h.i.+tty day.

Then he heard a woman scream. At least that's what he thought he heard. Maybe the sun was frying his brain. Or maybe one of the birds flying around this G.o.dforsaken place made a noise that sounded like a woman screaming.

Spitting sand, he got to his knees. Lack of food was making him a little dizzy. He'd found a puddle in a rock that had captured some of the rainwater from the night before, but he'd long since finished that off. He barely had enough spit to rid his mouth of the sand.

His pickup men had to show today. Maybe he should forget about food and conserve his energy for when they arrived. They'd have water on the boat, and probably some food, too. Once they plucked him from the island, he'd be on his way to a perpetual feast. He couldn't lose sight of the goal. He- A shout immobilized him. That was no bird. Chills ran through him as he heard a shouted reply. He'd thought this little piece of volcanic rock was too isolated to attract anybody. Besides, he'd intended to be long gone by now.

They could be hikers. Or bird-watchers. They'd have a boat. They'd have food. And once he'd taken charge of both, he'd have no need of the people. He got quietly to his feet and moved to the spot where he had his .357 drying in the sun.

Chapter 17.

Annabelle hadn't counted on how much she'd love steering that boat. As she sent it plowing through the waves to rescue her daughter, she felt like the whole blessed cavalry riding in to save Gary Cooper from the Indians. Once Matt turned over the driving to her, she didn't want to give it up.

Having Matt stand behind her seat so she could breathe in the scent of him was part of the thrill, of course, but she would have enjoyed herself without him being there, too. Maybe enjoy was the wrong word. She couldn't very well enjoy anything until Genevieve was back home safe and sound.

But driving this boat. . . she hadn't felt this powerful since the day she'd stepped off the plane in Honolulu eleven years ago. At the time she'd promised herself to find more challenges-not in the area of airplanes, which were completely unnatural-but she'd thought about taking one of those cla.s.ses where folks broke boards with the side of their hand.

She wasn't sure what all the kinds of martial arts were and she got the names mixed up with Chinese food. Kung fu sounded like something you ate and Kung pau sounded like breaking boards with your hand, but she thought maybe she had that backward. At any rate, she hadn't done it, or any of the other projects that had flitted through her mind, like going to one of those karaoke bars to see if she could still sing like she used to be able to back in the Hollow. Then there was tap dancing. She'd always dreamed of being able to tap dance like Donald O'Connor or Gene Kelly.

Oh, she could try blaming it on lack of money. Honolulu was an expensive place to live, and she'd struggled to make ends meet. But Lincoln had a friend who could break a board with the side of his hand, and one of Genevieve's girlfriends from high school was a tap dancer. Annabelle had gone to a school musical to see her perform. Those kids would have taught Annabelle the basics if she'd had the nerve to ask.

Instead she'd let herself get into a rut, and that was the truth of it, pure and simple. She'd moved from one rut in the Hollow to another rut in Honolulu. It might be a fancier rut, and at least her children had more to work with here, but as for Annabelle herself, she hadn't grown a lick. Once they found Genevieve, she'd do something about that.

She couldn't expect to be allowed to drive boats, though, no matter how much she believed she'd found her second calling. Boats were for rich people, and she never expected to end up in that category. So she'd have to make the best of this chance.

Matt leaned down close to her ear. "You look like you were born to do that."

"Hardly. If a body is born to do something, don't you think the good Lord would provide a way for them to actually do it?"

"You're doing it right now, aren't you?"

"This is a special circ.u.mstance, and you know it."

Matt chuckled. "Are you saying that you know when the good Lord has a hand in something and when he doesn't?"

He had her there. But she hoped the good Lord hadn't seen fit to create this problem with Genevieve just so Annabelle could drive a boat. In that case, she would need to have a talk with the good Lord.

"Well, just keep doing what you're doing," Matt said. "You're a natural at driving a boat. I'm going to confer with Lincoln and see if he's getting any Genevieve signals from Kauai. Because if we're going beyond that, we need to fuel up so we're at full capacity when we leave there."

"You believe he's getting signals?" That would comfort her some, if Matt was convinced about Lincoln's special abilities.

Matt hesitated.

"Then you don't believe it." She hadn't really expected him to, so she shouldn't be so disappointed.

"At this point, I don't know what to believe," Matt said. "And I'm-"

"Just playing along?"

He sighed. "No. I have a feeling you wouldn't allow me do that."

"You've got that right, mister."

"I'm trying to keep an open mind, is what I'm doing. Can you live with that?"

"I don't have much choice, now, do I? I can't very well climb into your head and s.h.i.+ne a light into your brain, can I?"

"You know, Annabelle, sometimes I think that's exactly what you've done. When I look at you, it's like somebody turned a floodlight on in my head."

"That sounds downright unpleasant." It was a long way from saying you light up my life, and she'd always wished a man would tell her that. She thought it sounded so romantic, and it was one of her all-time favorite songs. Telling her that she caused a floodlight to go on in his brain wasn't the same.

"That's the best way for me to explain it," Matt said. "You make me look at things differently, like when I was talking to you about Theresa, I finally figured out that I'd just never loved her enough to be a good husband."

"Well, I guess that could explain why Genevieve's daddy and Lincoln's daddy both took off so quick. Maybe they just plumb ran out of love. And here I thought they were irresponsible, selfish good-for-nothings."

"They were." Matt said it with such feeling that it warmed her heart. "And I was selfish, too, hanging on to a woman and not giving her the love she needed. But leaving you with a baby ... I would never do something like that."

"I believe you. You didn't have to rent this boat, and now that I know you're not rich, I can see it was even more of an imposition. And I'm going to pay you back, if it takes me-"

"No, you are not."

"Oh, yes, I surely am."

"I don't want the money. But there is something I do want from you."

Annabelle's heart started thumping faster. She lowered her voice. "If you want s.e.x, then I take back all the nice things I've ever said about you."

Matt leaned closer, his breath tickling her ear. "Annabelle, if I didn't want s.e.x, there would be something seriously wrong with me. But I respect your reasons for not getting involved. So I'm wondering if we can be friends, you, me, and Lincoln. After this is over and we've found Genevieve, I don't want to go our separate ways."

Annabelle didn't want that, either, but she had her rules, and Matt was too good looking to be only a friend. "You want to come over for supper and gin rummy? Is that what you're thinking about?"

"I'd love to. I'd also like to take a boat out for the fun of it again, and I'd like you and Lincoln to go along. You could practice driving."

No fair. He'd picked the one thing that she couldn't do on her own. He was the only person she knew who could teach her all about boats. "Why should I care about driving a boat? I have as much chance of owning one as a mule has of winning the Kentucky Derby."

"You don't know that. You don't know what the future has in store for you. And you love being at the wheel of this boat. You might as well admit it, because it's written all over your face."

"I do love it," she said softly. "I didn't expect I would. I only took the wheel so Lincoln would get back to concentrating on Genevieve, but. . . there's something about being out here on the ocean, like we're dancing over the waves."

"I feel that way, too. Let me give you a chance to really enjoy it."

She hesitated. "Are we still talking about driving the boat?"

"Why?" There was laughter in his voice. "What else could we be talking about?"

Annabelle lifted her chin. "I may be a hillbilly, but I wasn't born yesterday. I know all about those double meanings."

"I'm sure you do." He cleared his throat. "I was talking about driving the boat. Let me teach you."

"I'll think about it."

"Good. That's a start. Now I'll go talk to Lincoln about our heading for the next few hours."

"I hate to see you ripping up your clothes," Jack said.

"I don't. This is about survival." Perched cross-legged on the South Park beach towel next to Jack, Genevieve opened a side seam on her dress with the hibiscus pattern on it and tore the dress apart without a single regret. Back in the Hollow she'd never worried about clothes. After this, she wouldn't let herself worry about them again. She had a whole new perspective on things.

Jack worked on the seams of his s.h.i.+rt. "Maybe we should have brought driftwood up to build a fire, instead."

"Oh, sure. I barely got you up here, let alone a bunch of driftwood."