Nerd Gone Wild (9 page)

Then he smiled. She was singing an old Bee Gees tune from
Saturday Night Fever
. She was way off-key and her fake falsetto was horrible, but the subject of the song was perfect. She was singing “Stayin’ Alive.” He’d drink to that.

Pulling his laptop out of its case, he took off the glasses he didn’t need, plugged a phone cord into the jack beside the bed and logged on to the Internet. The dial-up chugged along, taking forever, but eventually he got on. Sure enough, there was a message from Pete, the PI he’d hired in Anchorage to keep an eye on Kurt.

Through that contact he’d learned that Kurt lived with a woman named Vivian Altman. Vivian was in real estate and Kurt sold used cars. At least that was his most recent job. He’d never hung on to a job for long.

From purchases Kurt had made at an X-rated shop, Pete figured Kurt and Vivian were into S and M. Normally Mitch was ready to live and let live when it came to kinky sex, but the S and M connection fit in with Madeline’s estimation of her stepson, so it was important information.

He opened the latest e-mail from Pete as Ally wound down her rendition of “Stayin’ Alive.” He wondered if she added dance steps to the tune. After seeing her on top of the bar this afternoon, he wouldn’t doubt it. But the show was over, and she was rustling around, gathering something together. Moments later he heard footsteps indicating that she was headed into the bathroom.

The lock on his door into the bathroom clicked. Then the pipes squealed, followed by water drumming on the sides of the metal shower stall. And thanks to Betsy’s comments earlier, he now pictured Ally stripping off her clothes and stepping naked into the spray.

He forced his attention back to the e-mail, dated today.
Jarrett bought a new Dodge Ram truck, silver, and a fully equipped fifth wheel at 9
A.M.
Weather coming in should prevent him from taking it anywhere real soon. More later. Pete.

Now Ally was singing in the shower, and he didn’t need a listening device and receiver to hear it. She’d switched to the theme song from
The Secret of My Success
, “Walking on Sunshine.” She couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket, but what she lacked in skill she made up for in volume.

Damned if he wasn’t plagued with a vivid image of her soaping up in time with the song. He wondered if she used a washcloth or just the bar of soap. The bar of soap painted a far more erotic image, especially when she moved it down between her legs…

And here he sat with an erection and his long-distance minutes going right down the drain, along with Ally’s soapy water. With a snort of frustration, Mitch keyed in his response.
If Jarrett leaves Anchorage with truck and fifth wheel, call me at this number. Mitch checked his electronic daybook and typed in the number of the Loose Moose. Apparently cell phone reception lousy in Porcupine. Will have to use land line. Mitch.

He signed off, irritated to think he’d used Internet time to fantasize about Ally. He’d have to get a grip, and fast.

* * *

Before she stepped in the shower, Ally heard the click of computer keys in Mitchell’s room. Following her up here had probably played hell with his usual schedule, but if she knew Mitchell, he’d found a way to keep track of everything, even from this small town in Alaska. Even a serious infatuation wouldn’t alter Mitchell’s course for long.

She’d thought of bringing a laptop, but in the end she’d chosen to travel light, as Uncle Kurt had suggested. He’d promised to find her good deals on all the equipment she’d need—top-of-the-line cameras, a new laptop, and the right printer. He was researching good processing labs, too, for those times when she didn’t want to go digital.

But without a laptop, she couldn’t keep up her e-mail correspondence with him, and she missed that. They’d exchanged e-mails for years, ever since he’d paid that surprise visit during her sophomore year in college. She’d been fascinated to finally meet the mysterious Kurt, her grandfather’s son by his first wife.

Back when her grandmother and grandfather had married, Kurt had been eighteen, and Grammy’s son—Ally’s father—had been ten. Ally’s father had been adopted and given the Jarrett name, seemingly replacing Kurt, who’d chosen to live with his mother. Ally had always been curious about this stepuncle, but for reasons no one would talk about, he’d been banned from the Jarrett mansion long before she’d been born.

At last she could ask Kurt about those reasons. He’d explained that Grammy couldn’t bear to look at him because he reminded her that her beloved husband had once shared a bed with another woman. Because it was the only explanation Ally had ever been given, she had to believe it, although she thought it was horribly unfair.

Kurt still got a monthly trust fund allowance, and he’d admitted that he’d lose that if Grammy knew he’d come to see Ally. Not wanting him to be punished any further, Ally had suggested they keep in touch secretly through the Internet. They’d kept it up after she’d graduated.

Even though Grammy hadn’t shown any interest in the Internet, Ally hadn’t wanted to take any chances that someone in the household would figure out she was in touch with Kurt, so she’d arranged for him to use her college roommate’s e-mail address. After Grammy died, they’d kept the same routine out of habit. Together they’d planned her trip to Alaska so that she could follow her dream with Uncle Kurt’s help.

Now she just had to wait for Uncle Kurt to show up. She was eager to see him, but she’d love to get Mitchell out of town first. As she was contemplating the best way to do that, the water changed from hot to lukewarm. Uh-oh. She’d just lathered up her hair. She quickly rinsed it, but the lukewarm gave way quickly to cold, and then icy.

Without meaning to, she yelped.

Instantly Mitchell pounded on the bathroom door. “Ally! What’s wrong! Ally!”

She turned off the shower and grabbed a towel. “The hot water ran—” Then she screamed as wood splintered. With a huge crash the bathroom door flew open.

Mitchell stood in the doorway, breathing hard. “What’s… wrong?”

Gulping for air, she stared at him, unable to process what had happened. “You scared me to death!”

“You scared
me
to death! What happened?”

“Nothing that required breaking down a door! Good God, Mitchell. Betsy’s going to have your head on a platter.”

“But I heard you cry out!” His gaze flicked over her. “Listen, could you… wrap that around yourself?”

She glanced down at the towel she held in front of her and saw that it wasn’t quite covering the subject. “Um, sure.” She held it against her breasts and managed to get the edge of the towel around her and tucked in. But it wasn’t what she’d call a generously sized towel. The bottom hem barely made it past the salient points.

Then another fact registered. “You’re not wearing your glasses.”

His hand went to his face, as if he hadn’t realized it. “No, I guess not.”

“Well, there’s one good thing about this incident. You probably can’t see me very well.”

“Right, right,” he said immediately. “You’re really fuzzy. Extremely fuzzy.”

“Good, because otherwise this could be one embarrassing moment.”

“I think it still has potential. What was the yelp all about?”

She hated to tell him. “The hot water ran out.”

“That’s
it
? I broke down a door because you ran out of hot water?”

“I didn’t ask you to break it down, now did I? I had a natural reaction to ice water suddenly ending up on my… body, and then wham! Arnold Schwarzenegger crashes into the bathroom. I thought we were being invaded!”

“I thought you were in trouble!”

“You couldn’t have waited five more seconds for me to tell you about the water situation?”

“Sometimes five seconds is the difference between life and death!”

Ally sighed. She’d had no idea that Mitchell was wound so tight, but maybe all the talk about grizzlies and the Peeping Caribou had freaked him out. And it was sort of cute that he’d come to her rescue.

“Okay, I appreciate the effort,” she said. “But the thing is, Betsy’s door is busted, and we’re going to need a really good reason why that happened. I don’t think a little yelp from me is going to cut it.” She still couldn’t comprehend that Mitchell had done the busting, either. She hadn’t imagined he was that strong.

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Something could have gotten into the bathroom, for all I knew.” He shrugged. “Maybe even a mouse.”

Ally looked at the door hanging crazily by one hinge. Mitchell had really trashed that door. “Let’s say it might have been a mouse. I still think breaking down the door is a little over the top. Betsy isn’t going to be happy.”

“I suppose not.” Mitchell glanced over his shoulder at the door.

She took pity on him. “Tell you what. I’ll explain to Betsy that I screamed really loud when the water turned cold, and you were sure someone was in here murdering me, and that’s why you broke down the door.”

“That’s okay.” His grin was sheepish. “You don’t have to protect me from Betsy. I can take the heat. I’ll apologize and pay for a new door.”

She assessed the damage. “And a new doorframe, looks like. I hope that wasn’t historic.”

“God, do you think it was?” Mitchell turned and took a good look at what he’d done. “You know, that could be original. That’s probably why it gave way so easily.”

“It didn’t sound like it gave way easily. You made a horrible crash when you came through.” She peered at him. “How did you do that, Mitchell? It’s not like you’re into body building, or anything.”

“It’s adrenaline,” he said. “Like when a kid is pinned under a car and the mother comes along and lifts the car off the kid. That kind of strength.”

“And you summoned up that kind of strength to come and save me?” She was totally impressed.

“I would have done that for anybody I thought was in trouble.”

She gazed at him. “Okay.” But she didn’t think so. She thought he had a really bad case of unrequited love. “Well, in case you didn’t already know it, the bathroom’s available now.”

“Thanks.”

“That’s the good news. The bad news is, there’s no hot water. Guess I’ll go get into my jammies.” She turned and walked back into her room, closing the door between her room and the bathroom. Then she turned back, opening it a crack and peeking through. “Oh, and Mitchell?”

He was standing in the exact spot she’d left him, as if he’d been nailed to the floor. “What?”

“That system we worked out—it’s not viable anymore. Plus it seems to lead to extreme damage. We’ll have to come up with a different signal. We could try whistling. Good night, now.”

“Good night.” His voice sounded gravelly.

Yep, Mitchell was over the moon about her. And it made him do some very un-Mitchell-like things, like spontaneously book a flight to Alaska and break down a bathroom door. She hadn’t thought he was a very interesting man, but much more of this and she might change her mind.

M
itch gladly took a cold shower. After interacting with an almost-naked Ally, he was thinking he might need to stand in a cold shower all night long. But eventually his equipment returned to normal and he began to shiver, so he toweled off and headed back to his room.

As for the bashed-in door situation, he managed to prop the door against the frame, but the privacy factor was definitely compromised. Peekaboo spots all around the perimeter. Therefore he pulled on his sweatpants and sweatshirt in a hurry, in case Ally wandered back in the bathroom to brush her teeth.

So far all he heard from the bug under her bed was plenty of rustling around, and something that could be the pages of a book turning. He glanced at his watch. Barely ten.

He was a night owl, which left a lot of night left to owl around in… lots of time to think about Ally naked except for the haphazard drape of a yard of skimpy white terry. Between the excitement of breaking down the door and the rush of seeing her fresh out of the shower, he might not go to sleep at all.

So he’d overreacted. Better too much protection than too little, in his estimation. Besides, he’d never guarded someone in the wilds of Alaska before. For all he knew, there might be a brand of Alaskan mouse that stood three feet at the shoulder.