Nerd Gone Wild (2 page)

“You are—”

“Grammy would spin in her grave if she knew you were wasting her money like this.”

He gazed at her steadily. “It’s necessary, Ally.”

“All right.” She didn’t believe it, so she decided to call his bluff. “What is it? Papers to sign?”

“Well, yes, and—”

“Get ‘em out. I’ll sign them right this minute, while Betsy’s checking on flights back to L.A. I wouldn’t want you to waste any more time than necessary. I know you’re eager to get back to warm, sunny California.” After all, he’d lectured her about the inadvisability of traveling to Alaska in February, so he couldn’t be happy about stepping into this deep freeze.

Betsy gasped. “You’re not expecting him to go home already?” She looked crestfallen.

“The sooner the better,” Ally said. “I’m sorry you felt the trip was necessary, Mitchell, but since you’re here, let’s take care of everything with the expediency you so cherish so you can be on your way.”

He gazed at her. “I’m afraid that won’t be possible.”

She tried not to panic. “What do you mean?”

“I came in right ahead of a blizzard. I was on the last plane they allowed to land at the Fairbanks airport. The man who brought me here—”

“That would be Rudy, our shuttle driver,” Betsy said.

“Right.” Mitchell nodded. “Rudy. Has a Ford Bronco.”

“By the name of Slewfoot Sue,” Betsy said. “And he also keeps chickens. Can you picture a big ol’ guy like Rudy raising chickens? He does, though. Keeps them in his kitchen during the winter, so they won’t—”

“Excuse me a minute, Betsy.” Ally needed more information, and she needed it now, before delving any deeper into the life and times of Rudy the chicken farmer. “I want to get something clarified with Mitchell. If a blizzard has shut down the Fairbanks airport, why don’t we have a blizzard here? We’re not all that far away.”

“Rudy outran it,” Mitchell said. “We had quite a wild ride getting here because he didn’t want to get caught out there in bad weather. I’m sure the storm will hit any minute.”

As if on cue, the wind began to howl through a crack in the front door. Ally wanted to howl right along with it.

“I think the storm’s here,” Betsy said, looking delighted. “There was mention of a blizzard coming in. This time of year, they can last for days.” She smiled at Mitchell and rubbed her hands together. “Well! I guess we’d better get you checked in!”

Days.
Ally stood rooted to the spot, still unable to comprehend that this could happen. Right now she could think of only one solution. “Is there a bar in town?”

Betsy managed to tear her attention away from Mitchell, who was calmly filling out a registration form. “Two doors down on your right,” she said. “It’s called the Top Hat. Clyde Hammacher runs it, and he calls it that because he used to dance on Broadway. Only he’s not gay. A lot of those dancers are, but Clyde—”

“Yes, I believe you mentioned Clyde.” He’d been the one who would love to get into something of Betsy’s. “Thank you,” she said, zipping her parka and putting on her gloves. “See you two later.”

“If you’ll wait a minute, I’ll come with you,” Mitchell said.

Ally closed her eyes. She was in hell. “Thanks, but I’m really thirsty, so I’m going over now. Besides, I think you should get Betsy to give you the parlor tour before you do one single other thing in Porcupine.”

Mitchell looked puzzled. “Parlor tour?”

“I was just showing Ally,” Betsy said. “It’s worth seeing, if I do say so myself. Did you know this used to be the most famous whorehouse in Alaska?”

Ally headed for the door, abandoning the field to Betsy. If Ally couldn’t get Mitchell to leave, then maybe she could get him to fixate on Betsy. Sure, he was a good fifteen years younger than their landlady, but when he got a look at that Murphy bed with the mirror in the ceiling, he might go wild. You never knew with nerds.

“I hadn’t heard that it was a whorehouse,” Mitchell said.

“Oh, yes. Just picture this place swarming with eager men, men who had been out in the gold fields with no female companionship for weeks. You can imagine how much they wanted—”

Ally opened the front door and a gust of wind and snow hit her in the face, nearly knocking her down. Betsy was right. Bulking up was important in this country.

“Be careful out there!” Betsy called. “Don’t get blown away!”

“I won’t!” Lowering her head, Ally shoved herself outside and somehow managed to haul the door closed again. Swirling snow cut her visibility to almost nothing. It was so cold that breathing made her chest ache.

She hoped to hell this blizzard wouldn’t go on for days. She had things to do and people to see. Trying to photograph wildlife in a blizzard didn’t make much sense, even to someone as inexperienced as she was.

Then there was Uncle Kurt, who was planning to drive up from Anchorage to see her. He’d found a wildlife photographer to be her mentor, although he was keeping the identity of the photographer a secret, which was so like Uncle Kurt, a man who loved surprises and spontaneity. She didn’t want Mitchell hanging around until then. Instinctively she knew they wouldn’t get along.

By shielding her eyes, she could just barely make out the red neon outline of a top hat on a sign jutting out from a building on her right. She wondered if a bar in Porcupine, Alaska, served Irish coffee. If not, she’d drink whatever they had that would dull the impact of Mitchell showing up here.

He’d already leaked information about the inheritance, although maybe Ally had stuck her thumb in that particular dike for now. Still, his presence here would make it seem that she was worth more than she’d let on. Even worse than that, he was mining her precious freedom.

Maybe by now Betsy had lured him into her parlor. But Ally stopped short of imagining what might happen after that. Some things were way too disturbing to contemplate.

Even if Mitchell allowed himself to fall under Betsy’s spell, he would be on the next plane out of Fairbanks if Ally had anything to say about it. As Grammy’s sole heir, she should have the power to send his royal nerdness right back where he came from. All she needed was clear skies.

M
itch figured out pretty fast that Betsy was eager to get chummy with any guy with a pulse. He hoped he wouldn’t have to be too direct in his refusal and alienate her, because she probably knew everyone in town. A person like that could come in very handy.

“So, would you like to see my parlor, Mitchell?” She eyed him coyly. “I guarantee you’ve never experienced anything so unique.”

“That sounds great, but I’d like to go up to my room first.” He pulled off his knit cap and reached for the room key she’d laid on the counter.

“Well, of course you would.” She beat him to the room key, snatching it from under his nose. “You’ve had a long trip, and those tiny airplane bathrooms must be cramped for a tall man like yourself.” She batted her eyelashes. “Come with me. I’ll show you the way.”

Just what he’d been afraid of. “If you’ll point me in the direction of room twenty-one, I’m sure I can find it. I hate to put you to any extra trouble.”

“It’s no trouble.” She came out from behind the registration desk, obviously ready to rumble. “Are you hungry? Technically I only serve breakfast, but considering you’ve come all the way from L.A., I’d be happy to make you something warm. A man needs good, hearty food, and the airlines aren’t serving meals the way they used to.”

In point of fact, Mitch was starving. But he had a feeling that allowing Betsy to cook him a meal would constitute foreplay in her mind. “Thanks, but I had something to eat during my layover in Seattle.” Still, his mouth watered at the idea of home-cooked food.

“I could warm up some moose-meat pie in nothing flat.”

Then again, maybe he’d survive on the hamburger he’d grabbed in the airport. He’d seen pictures of moose, and they didn’t look at all like the kind of creature he’d want to dine on. “Thanks, but I’m stuffed.”

“If you change your mind, let me know. I enjoy cooking for a man.” She started up the wooden stairs to the second floor.

Mitch hefted his suitcase and followed. So far this trip was about as nightmarish as he’d envisioned.

Betsy mounted those stairs without breaking a sweat or breathing hard. Mitch had to hand it to her. For a plus-sized woman she was in remarkable shape.

“Down this hallway,” she said, not even puffing from the climb.

Mitch didn’t puff, either, because he’d worked out every night in the Jarrett mansion’s fully equipped weight room. He’d had to pick times when Ally was occupied elsewhere, because keeping in shape wouldn’t fit very well with the image of him he wanted her to have. Better that she think of him as a weakling.

“Here we are.” Betsy opened the door with the metal key.

“Uh, if you don’t mind my asking, which room is Ally using?”

She gazed at him for a moment before answering. “I wondered if it was like that. You made it sound like business, but there’s more to it, isn’t there?”

“What do you mean?” Betsy couldn’t have seen through his nerd persona that fast. Ally hadn’t, and she’d been around him for months.

“A man like you doesn’t jump on a plane and fly three thousand miles for a few signatures on a piece of paper.”

Mitch lapsed into nerd-speak. “Of course I do. It’s my job. If everything isn’t accomplished in a timely manner, then—”

“You have a thing for her, don’t you?”

Mitch spotted a way to head off Betsy’s potential advances and grabbed it. “Okay, you caught me. I adore that woman. But please don’t tell her.”

“Oh, I think she already knows, or if not, she’ll soon figure it out. She’s a smart girl, and it doesn’t take a genius to see that when a man chases a woman all the way to Alaska, he has a serious case of the hots for her.” Betsy sighed. “Which is too bad, because I’m definitely in the market.”

“I’m honored to know that you’d be interested in me. If I didn’t have something going with Ally, you’d be at the top of my list.” God, if that didn’t sound stuffy and boring, but it was exactly the tone he was after.

Her cheeks turned pink. “I’ll take that as a real compliment, considering our age difference. But I want you to think about this—older women tend to be far more grateful for the attention of a man.”

Mitch managed to keep a straight face. “I’m sure that’s true, and that means I’m missing out, which is my misfortune.”

“And if you don’t mind my saying so, you have an uphill road with Ally. She didn’t look especially glad to see you.”

Now there was an understatement. “We’ve, uh, had some areas of disagreement.” Ally considered him a meddling geek, which is what he wanted her to think. If she ever found out that her late grandmother had hired him as her bodyguard, she’d have a fit. He’d never met a more independent spirit.

“Well, remember, if things don’t work out, I’ll be handy, for a shoulder to cry on or something more… comforting.” She winked at him and walked into his room. “So this is it. If you need anything, you’ll have to come down and ask for it personally. I have phone jacks, but I ended up taking the phones out. Too much trouble with people making long-distance calls.”

One less thing for him to plant a bug in. “That’s okay. I have my cell.” Following her into the room, he left the door wide open, just in case Betsy decided to lunge, after all.

“You’d be better off using the phone at the desk. Cell phone reception is terrible here in Porcupine.”

“I don’t suppose there’s a local Internet number?” Probably a dumb question. He took in the furnishings at a glance—old wooden dresser, double bed supported by an iron bedstead, lace curtains at a window covered in frost. The light had already started to fade. Night came early up here.

Betsy shook her head. “Nope. Not many Porcupinians bother with the Internet. Long-distance charges would eat us alive.” She leaned closer. “Besides, all that’s just an unnecessary distraction, don’t you think? Shouldn’t you be concentrating on what you came here for, instead of worrying about business?”

“Good point.” He couldn’t very well let her know that what he came here for could be better accomplished if he had good phone connections and easy Internet access.