Gentlemen Prefer Nerds (10 page)

“I don’t suppose that woman is his sister, or cousin?”

“Probably some minor princess from an obscure principality,” Fabian said dismissively. “Eurotrash.”

Maddie did a slow burn, recalling how thoroughly she’d been taken in. “Rolf” smirked at the camera, as if he’d already stolen her diamond and was taunting her.

Fabian put the photo back in his pocket. “I’m offering you an opportunity for revenge. If you’re capable of such a low motive.”

Revenge. It had an appealing ring.

Most people assumed that beneath her vintage blouses and funky cardigans there beat a heart that was pure and innocent. Little did they know Maddie had imagined doing horrible things like…like trussing up Pixie with her own pink ribbons and leaving her lying helpless on Shirley Tamworth’s doormat. She wouldn’t, of course, because she loved animals.

But she’d thought about it.

Rolf Hauzenegger, or whoever he was, had made a fool out of her and then betrayed her. He’d stolen her diamond and jeopardized her aunt’s livelihood. He’d pretended to be a nerd like her. He’d probably been inwardly laughing at her all the time they’d been together. Not that she cared now what the jerk thought, but she’d believed in him.

“Oh, yes, I’m comfortable with revenge.” Maddie lifted her chin and steeled herself for the plane ride. “Let’s go.”

“Bravo, Maddie.” Fabian squeezed her shoulder.

Jack was moving around the twin prop plane doing a pre-flight check. Without his helmet, his brown hair sprang free in thick waves and he didn’t look so threatening. He dusted his hands on his jumpsuit and stood by the doorway to help Maddie climb aboard.

“This is a real plane, isn’t it?” she asked him. “It doesn’t run on AA batteries? Or a wind-up elastic band?”

“Solar power,” Jack replied deadpan. “If we hit a cloud bank, I may need you to flap your arms.”

She gave him a sick smile. “Ha-ha.”

Fabian sat up front in the copilot’s seat. Separated from the cockpit by a half wall were three rows of two passenger seats. Maddie settled into the first row where she could see and hear most of what went on in the cockpit. If this plane was going down, she wanted to know. Jack pressed controls and the engines started up with a powerful whine. The aircraft began to vibrate.

“Cruising speed for a Cessna 310 is three hundred kph,” Jack told Fabian. “We’re looking at eight hours’ flight time to Hamilton Island. This bird has just enough range that we won’t need to refuel.”

Eight hours? Maddie knew she shouldn’t have had the extra large coffee. “Is there a bathroom on board?”

“The head is behind the last row of seats,” Jack said over his shoulder.

Then he increased the revs, and the heightened thrum of the engines went right through her breastbone. Maddie tightened her seat belt, clamped her hands to the armrests and shut her eyes as they bumped along, slowly taxiing to the runway. At least no one was chasing them this time. Jack did a one-eighty and Maddie opened an eye to see a disturbingly short stretch of tarmac ahead of them. G-forces pressed her against her seat, and the bulkheads vibrated so hard she thought the Cessna would break apart at the seams with the strain of trying to lift off. Outside the window, cows and fence posts whizzed by. Seconds before the tarmac turned to grass, they were airborne.

Maddie opened the other eye. So far, so good. Fabian was talking to Jack in low tones. Black hair drifted over his high forehead before he pushed it back, highlighting an aristocratic nose and chiseled cheekbones. He was awfully good-looking. And those beautiful hands… But so not her type. She tried to listen for clues to his true identity—she didn’t believe for a second that bullshit about the civil service—but couldn’t make out more than one word in ten.

Giving up, she fell to worrying what was happening back in Melbourne. Had Billson released Grace after questioning her? As for herself—when William Franklin discovered she’d run away, would he believe she was guilty? Had Tiffany found a decent lawyer for when she eventually returned? She was under no illusions that her problems would be over once she came back with the Rose.

If she came back with the diamond.

No, she refused to contemplate even the possibility of failure. There was too much at stake. Grace’s jewelry shop, her reputation—no, screw that, her freedom was on the line. Plus she was furious that her diamond was in the hands of some nasty jewel thief.

Fabian got out of his seat and came down the aisle to offer her a bottle of water. “Once we get to Hamilton Island, things could get dangerous. Can you handle a gun?”

A flicker of excitement licked through her. She pictured herself, a modern Modesty Blaise, packing a Colt .42. She’d need to shave her legs if she was going to wear a black leather miniskirt. “I could learn.”

“Never mind,” Fabian said. “On second thought, I wouldn’t let you near a gun.”

Killjoy. “Then how will I get the Rose off the thief? And don’t say seduce him.”

“Besides jewels, he has two weaknesses—redheaded women and gambling. Are you a whiz at poker?”

“I play with Al and my brothers but they always win.”

“In that case, seduction is your only option.” Fabian frowned at her outfit—oversize glasses, vintage jacket and sweater vest-dress combo. “The question is, how?”

“No, the question is, why?” Maddie demanded, piqued by Fabian’s unflattering skepticism.

“People lose their judgment when they’re distracted by the prospect of sex. Look at you and Rolf.”

“I didn’t go out with Rolf for sex,” Maddie said. “I didn’t even find him all that attractive.”

“Didn’t you? He’s considered good-looking. Although in those wrinkled suits…” Fabian shuddered, clearly offended to the depths of his sartorial soul.

“Don’t forget the receding hairline.” Maddie couldn’t tell Fabian she’d wanted to find Rolf attractive because he’d seemed suitable and her aunt was on her case about finding a man. That would make her look stupid and desperate. Besides, it had become a moot point. Now that he’d stolen the Rose, she wanted him behind bars.

“Yet you let him kiss you.”

“Is kissing a crime? Because even Detective Sergeant Billson wasn’t going to charge me for that.”

“More sophisticated women than you have fallen for the Chameleon. He wines and dines them. He flatters them. I’m told he’s very good in bed.”

“If you think that sort of recommendation will tempt me into your odious plan, you’re mistaken.”

Fabian went back to his seat. The steady drone of the engine sent Maddie into a light doze. In her dream she was brandishing a chasing hammer as she ran after a giant lizard that kept changing colors. The scene then morphed into a sexually charged vision of herself in bra and panties with not Rolf but Fabian. She was attempting to seduce him while behind her back she gripped her toothbrush, ready to beat him off if he touched her. Desire gleamed in his dark eyes—and, infuriatingly—amusement. He slipped her black-and-white bra straps down off her shoulders…

“Maddie?” Fabian said. “Are you all right?”

Maddie opened her eyes. She blinked, still half in the dream state. A second ago she’d been nearly naked with Fabian at her feet. Now he stood over her, frowning.

“Sorry?” she said, shaking her head to clear it.

“I asked if you were all right. You were moaning in your sleep.”

Heat crept up her cheeks. “Did I say anything?”

“Nothing intelligible.” He studied her curiously. The fingers that had brushed her breasts now drummed the seat back in front of her. “Bad dream?”

A delicate shudder went through her. She’d felt so exposed, so vulnerable, so…feverish. “A nightmare.”

He touched her shoulder and her subconscious leaped with pleasure. Her eyes fluttered shut. It would be so easy to slip back into the dream…

Then his next words woke her like a splash of cold water. “Get ready. We’re about to land on Hamilton Island.”

Maddie strolled onto the deck of the two-bedroom villa, breathing in the balmy night air. Beyond the grassy lawn fringed with palm trees, dark wavelets lapped the sand. Farther down the beach in the marina village, lights from the waterfront restaurants shed a golden glow. Voices and laughter drifted across the dark water.

Fabian’s dog-whispering ability apparently extended to hotel clerks. While Maddie had lurked on the far side of the lobby keeping her face hidden, he’d bantered with the girl behind the desk, charming her with his killer smile. In spite of not having a reservation, he’d secured a premium villa right on the water. He’d registered Maddie as Brittany Montgomery—merely a cover, he’d explained.

Great. Pretending to be his wife was enough to ruin what little enjoyment she could get from this gorgeous setting.

Fabian poked his head out of the bedroom, his phone held against his chest. “What dress size are you—twelve?”

How did he know that? Had he checked the labels on her clothes while pawing through them?

“Eight.” Lying again, may God strike her dead. Not that she cared one iota what Fabian thought about her personal appearance. She
was
a twelve but only because of her height. Okay and her hips, shoulders and boobs. Everywhere else she was petite. Maybe her legs were more Amazon than stick insect but her wrists and ankles were positively delicate.

Maddie leaned on the railing. A steady procession of golf buggies, the resort’s only motorized transport, puttered along the narrow road that ran between the villa and the beach. If nothing else, she’d have a day or two in paradise before the police caught up with them and sent her back to Melbourne. Tomorrow she and Fabian would find Rolf—Roland—and somehow get the Rose back.

If she was glossing over the “somehow,” well, no one could think clearly on an empty stomach. It had been a very long time since that fast-food joint on the highway. Then she remembered the well-stocked bar fridge and went back inside to find something to eat. Roasted macadamia nuts, Swiss chocolate, King Island brie, handmade gourmet crispbread. Why couldn’t her fridge look like this?

She was tearing open the packet of macadamias when Fabian emerged from the bedroom.

He raided the fridge for a bottle of Veuve Clicquot, twisted the cork out and filled two glasses. “Don’t spoil your appetite. We’re going out for dinner.”

“I can’t go anywhere like this.” She’d taken off her vest and stockings but her dress was damp from perspiration and wrinkled from sleeping in it. Even Fabian’s crisp white cuffs were looking a tad soiled.

He handed her a flute of bubbly and gave her glass a perfunctory clink. “I asked Sam, the concierge, to bring us up a couple of outfits from the hotel resort-wear shop.”

Maddie swallowed too quickly and fizz burned up her nose. “You don’t know my…style.”

“Oh, I think I do. And I’m going to help you with that. The point is not what you like but what will attract Roland.” Fabian took out his cell phone and dialed. “Connor. How’s our project going?”

Maddie popped nuts into her mouth and stalked back through the bifold doors to the deck. Was there anyone he didn’t have in the palm of his hand? Pixie, Al, her brother, the hotel clerk, now Sam the concierge. She wished she could say she was immune to Fabian’s charm and good looks. That not even the romantic atmosphere of a tropical resort could make her forget how aggravating he was. But she’d be lying. He was hot. And she needed him as much as he needed her. She knew the Rose but he knew how to deal with Roland Price.

Fabian joined her on the deck. He’d taken off his jacket and cuff links, loosened the top buttons on his shirt and rolled up his shirtsleeves, revealing a smattering of dark hair on his chest and forearms. “According to Connor, Roland isn’t registered at any hotels on the island.”

What was it about a man’s forearm that was so attractive? Some women drooled over bulging biceps but she preferred the sinewy strength of a well-shaped forearm. Especially when they were attached to strong beautiful hands.

Maddie glanced away. “What if Roland didn’t actually travel to Hamilton Island? What if he bought an airline ticket to throw us off the scent then took a bus or a train? He could be anywhere.”

“Connor said Price was checked off on the manifest as having boarded the plane. He’s here on the island, somewhere. Maybe under an assumed name or renting a private home. It’s a small island. We’ll find him.”

There was a knock at the door. Fabian set his glass on the low table and went inside to answer it. A uniformed hotel employee delivered two hangers shrouded in plastic. Fabian took one and handed Maddie the other. “Try it on.”

“I have a bad feeling about this,” she muttered, glancing at the colorful scrap of silky material. Hoisting the hanger over her shoulder, she strode past him into the master bedroom. He was such a gentlemen, he could have the small room.

The hot shower was heavenly. Maddie’s spirits picked up as she freely indulged in the luxury toiletries that came with the opulent suite. She emerged clean and scented, a new woman. Then she removed the plastic from her dress and her heart sank. This was so not her style. She squeezed into the clingy, low-cut dress splashed in tropical print and stared at the horrifying vision in the mirror. This was so not her size.

Fabian knocked on her door. “Are you ready yet? I thought you were hungry.”

“You go. I’ll order room service.”

“This isn’t about food. We need to find Roland, and two pairs of eyes are better than one.”

“I’m not coming out.”

“Then I’m coming in.”

“You can’t!” she squeaked. “I’ll lock the door.”

“I’ll break it down.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Want to try me?”

Ooh, yes. No!
Sheesh. He was teasing her with that alpha male routine. He could get through the lock with a hairpin. “Just give me a minute. I’ll change back into my dress.”

The door opened before she could move. She tugged down the micro-miniskirt only to have the bodice dip, exposing most of her breasts. With a yelp, she hauled it back up. One arm across her chest and one hand on her skirt, she glanced down to see if her nipples were showing through the fabric because of course it was strapless and she couldn’t wear a bra. “I feel like a hooker.”

“Maddie, Maddie, Maddie.” He circled her, shaking his head. “I hope you’ve learned your lesson. You must never lie to me.” His new outfit fit perfectly—well-cut taupe pants and a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up.

“Call the concierge. Get another dress.”

“The shop was closing when I rang before.” He stopped and studied her a moment. “You know, you look rather sexy.”

“I don’t do sexy,” she snapped. “I’m the crazy cat lady, remember?”

“Stand tall. Believe you’re beautiful and you will be.”

“Who are you, Carson Kressley?”

Fabian gripped her shoulders and gently pulled back, forcing her to straighten. Her scantily-clad breasts jutted out proudly. “You can be sexy. You’ve just got to venture out of your comfort zone.”

“I didn’t mean I couldn’t be sexy. I just don’t want to look like a slut.” And what was sluttier than hardened nipples beneath a soft fabric? Or knees that wobbled from the heat of his touch? Or the quiver in her belly from his dark, hypnotic eyes? “I like my comfort zone,” she whimpered. “Why would I want to go anywhere else?”

“Excitement, adventure—” he dipped his head and touched his lips to the back of her neck, “—romance.” He spun her around, meeting her gaze in the mirror. “Don’t you ever long for those?”

Of course she did. And she would happily wear a black leather number because then she would look tough. Bad guys didn’t say no to a woman with a gun. But this girl in the flimsy dress, a girl who couldn’t seem to break eyelock with the Greek god standing behind her? She looked like the one who couldn’t say no.

“I just want to get the Rose and go home, back to my real life.” Turning, Maddie planted her hands on Fabian’s chest and pushed him out of the room. “Give me five minutes.” Shutting the door, she whipped the scrap of fabric over her head and put her creased, sweaty dress back on. She came out glaring at him, daring him to argue with her, then swept past. “Let’s get this over with.”

Sam, a snowy-haired, dark-skinned gentleman wearing a flowing shirt in the resort’s trademark red-and-white hibiscus print, stood behind a high desk at the revolving doors in the lobby. He broke into a smile when Fabian said hello, obviously recognizing the Englishman’s voice. To Maddie he nodded, giving her dress a polite “no comment” glance. “Can I get you folks a buggy? That’s how everyone gets around on the island.”

“We’d appreciate that,” Fabian said. “Thank you for organizing the clothes.”

“The dress was lovely,” Maddie said to Sam. “Just a touch too big. You know men,” she added with an exasperated-but-indulgent nod at Fabian. “They haven’t got a clue about women’s dress sizes.”

Fabian squeezed her hand with a wicked smile. “I should have asked you, shouldn’t I, darling?”

A young attendant brought them a golf buggy. Minutes later they were putting along the waterfront road toward the Marina Village. Shops and takeaway restaurants were bursting with customers. Couples and families ambled along the well-lit harbor, licking ice-cream cones or snapping photos. Music spilled out of the brightly lit tavern crammed with holiday-makers. In the marina, hundreds of sailboats crowded the pontoons or were rafted together. Lights twinkled on the mastheads, and a balmy breeze set up a gentle clanking of stays.

“Busy place,” Fabian observed as he motored slowly along the street. Ahead, a buggy pulled out and he deftly slipped into the parking space.

“We’ll never get a seat in a restaurant.” Maddie climbed out of the buggy and glanced around. “Let’s get some fish and chips and sit on the grass.”

“Or we could try in here.” Fabian tugged her in the other direction, to a restaurant overlooking the marina.

While Fabian spoke with the maître d’, Maddie discreetly studied a planter of tropical flowering plants, paying close attention to the arrangement of the stamens and pistils. How long before Wanted posters of her were pasted on telephone poles and in public restrooms?

“We have a table,” Fabian said. Maddie straightened cautiously and glanced around. He rubbed a dusting of yellow off her nose. “Helping the bees pollinate, are we?”

The maître d’ led them to a linen-clad table set with silver and crystal in a prime location on the outside deck. He casually whisked away a reserved sign and promised to send over the waiter right away.

“How do you do that?” she demanded of Fabian when they were seated and the maitre d’ had left.

“Do what?” Fabian enquired blandly. With his tanned skin and aristocratic bearing, he could have been a French nobleman or an Italian count dining out in the Mediterranean. At least five women in their immediate vicinity were stealing glances.

“Oh, never mind.” Maddie picked up her menu and studied the list of entrees. “Wow, look at these prices. Lucky for me you’re paying.”

Fabian leaned back in his chair and scanned the restaurant. “Stay alert. People are coming and going all the time.”

“It’s hard to know what to look for if the Chameleon keeps changing his appearance,” Maddie reminded him without lifting her head from the menu. “I’m going to have an appetizer and a main course. Maybe dessert, too. Being a fugitive and a hunter is hungry work.”

“Roland only disguises himself when he’s on a job. Off duty he’ll probably look very much as he did in the photo I showed you from the Monte Carlo casino.”

“I still don’t understand why he’s hanging around in a resort when he should be getting out of the country.”

“It’s easy to hide in a crowd. No one suspects him,” Fabian said. “Why shouldn’t he revel in the high life—boats, sun, beautiful women? The only thing missing for him here is gambling. He’s probably feeling pleased with himself right about now for getting away with the theft and is enjoying himself with impunity.”

“Why don’t we call the police and show them his photo?” Maddie asked. “Tell them he’s here on the island. They’d be able to find and catch him more easily than we could.”

“We’ve been through this.”

“And I’m not convinced.” Maybe Fabian just wanted to find the Rose and steal it for himself, or for his mysterious employer.

Fabian’s gaze sharpened. “Do you really want to involve the police? They’ll investigate things you might not want looked into.”

Maddie’s fingers tightened on the stiff cardboard. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“I think you do.”

“Do you represent the law in some form or other?”

“I’m not acting in any official capacity in Australia,” he answered carefully. “Even if I were, I have no intention of harming your family.”

Maddie cautiously let out a breath.

“In fact, I’m indebted to your father and brothers,” Fabian went on. “A more law-abiding family wouldn’t have been nearly so useful.”

But would he invite them round to his home to meet his posh friends and family? Not in a million years.

Their waiter, a young man with gelled brown hair, introduced himself as Rick and rattled off the daily specials. Maddie chose the prawns followed by lamb and, for dessert, tiramisu. Fabian ordered a rare steak and a bottle of pinot noir.

“Is it usual for so many boats to be in the harbor?” Fabian asked as Rick removed the extra place settings.

“It’s Race Week,” Rick said, looking surprised at the question. “Sailboats come from all over Australia and internationally to compete. It’s the biggest event of the year on the island.”

“We just arrived tonight,” Fabian said to explain their ignorance. “When does it finish up?”

“Tomorrow night at the Gala Awards dinner. Everyone who’s registered for the races or who’s volunteered or officiated—hell, everyone on the island practically—is going.” Rick gathered up their menus. “I’ll be right back with your wine.”

Fabian turned his gaze toward the marina. From their vantage point they could see the sailboats moored along the floating pontoons. “Roland might not be in a hotel at all.”

Maddie said nothing. Memories of one particular sailboat ride were making her feel ill. She pushed the thoughts away.