Gentlemen Prefer Nerds (12 page)

“Are you so familiar with him you can identify him even through his disguise?” she asked.

“If you look closely, he has a small scar through his right eyebrow,” Fabian explained. “It’s a dead giveaway.”

“I’ll remember that.” Lulled by the warmth and the crackle of the wood, Maddie sank a little deeper into Fabian’s arms. This was how lovers sat when they knew each other intimately.

“Do you trust me yet, Maddie?” Fabian spoke quietly, his hands stilled.

Suddenly wary, she said, “Things make more sense now.”

“Then tell me what you saw on the pontoon that frightened you.”

Maddie shrank in on herself, breaking physical contact with him. How did he always know? “What makes you think I was frightened? I had a queasy stomach and that pontoon was rocking.”

“We’d already been walking on it for ten minutes when your face went abruptly white. It didn’t look like seasickness to me.”

“It’s late.” She struggled out of the tangle of his arms and legs. “I’d like to go back.”

“If Roland is on a boat, there’s a good chance you’ll have to go aboard. If you can’t do that, I need to know now.”

Maddie knelt, her face averted. “I don’t like boats.”

Fabian pushed back a strand of her hair, peering at her face. “Any particular reason why not?”

“When I was eleven my mother died in a sailing accident.”

“I’m sorry. Were you with her?”

She nodded. “We were on a yacht she’d borrowed from her friend Thomas. He couldn’t go that day, so it was just the two of us.”

“Where was Al?”

“He doesn’t sail.” He’d stubbornly refused to, angry at Faith for hanging out with her crowd of rich friends.

“What happened?” Fabian asked.

“A storm blew up.” Maddie went quiet, remembering.

The boat had heeled way over. She’d been clipped to the boat in a harness, clinging to the steering wheel while Faith went forward on the pitching deck to take down the genoa and reef in the mainsail. She could still see her mother’s bright gold hair against the dark purple storm clouds. Faith hauling on the sheets, struggling with the sail. A wave of green water pouring over the bow. Picking her mother up as if she were a child…

“I saw her go overboard,” Maddie whispered.

“Did you throw her a life ring?” Fabian asked.

“Yes, but Mum couldn’t reach it.” Maddie’s voice had gone high-pitched, a child’s voice. “The water was too rough. She wasn’t a strong swimmer.”

Maddie hugged herself, shivering. Her mother had looked directly at her just before she went under for the last time. She could still see Faith’s big frightened eyes, the pinched skin white around her nose.

Her mouth open, screaming for help.

Maddie began to tremble. Fabian drew her to him and held her close. She didn’t cry—she’d cried buckets of tears as a child—but the memories still had power. She leaned into him and let his strong arms encircle that scared little girl, alone on a sailboat watching her mother drown.

Finally she gave a last shudder, eyes tightly closed.

Fabian brushed the hair off her forehead. “No wonder you’re terrified at the prospect of going on a boat.”

She had a terror of any physical danger, really. Life was fragile, easily crushed. Swept away in the blink of an eye. Far better to read about someone else’s adventures than to risk your own life.

“Anticipation is often worse than the reality. Maybe he’s on a boat, maybe not. We need to know exactly what we’re up against so we can marshal our forces.” Fabian rose to his feet and reached out to help her up. “Come.”

Again with the commands. Full speed ahead and damn the torpedoes. But his brisk manner helped her shake off the past as she scrambled to her feet. “Where to? We’re not going back to the docks, are we?”

“To the harbormaster’s office.” Fabian brushed sand off his pants. “It should be closed by now. I want to check the computer records, find out which boat Roland is on.”

“You couldn’t just ask the harbormaster?” Maddie winced at the thought of adding breaking and entering to her list of crimes.

He shook his head. “I don’t want anyone to know we’re looking for him in case they inadvertently tip him off.”

Being with Fabian had blurred the lines between fantasy and reality. This wasn’t one of her graphic spy novels, but if life was going to keep on imitating art she had to be brave. She should tell him her theory. But she couldn’t seem to make herself form the words. Probably she was in denial, just like Al with his heart condition, delaying the inevitable. Maddie was learning all sorts of disagreeable tidbits about herself on this trip. She was no Modesty Blaise.

“Why not call Connor and ask him to hack into the computer?”

“We can’t risk contacting your family again. By now the police will have taps on their phone lines. They might even confiscate their computers. But you don’t need to come. Go to bed. You need your beauty sleep.”

“Right, for when I seduce Roland.” That was so not going to happen. “I’ll stay by the fire for a bit then head back to the villa.”

“Hey, you two,” a woman called across the beach. “The dancing’s started. We’re going up to the pavilion.”

Uh-oh. The bride, flanked by the groom and the best man, was rounding up straggling wedding guests.

“We were just finishing dinner—” Maddie began.

“Wait a minute. Who are you?” The groom frowned as they got close. “Tina, are they friends of yours?”

“Never seen them before in my life,” the bride declared.

“Crashers.” The best man shook his head. “Drinking your expensive champagne and eating your food. I knew we’d have security problems having the wedding on the beach.”

“That’s why we hired the guards.” The bride flung back her veil and cupped her hands around her mouth. “Dicko! Bazza! Over here.”

The men in uniform started across the beach.

“On second thought…” Maddie tugged on Fabian’s sleeve and began to walk slowly backward. “I’ll come with you. Unless you plan to talk your way out of this one.”

“I like to pick my battles.” His strong fingers enveloped hers. “On the count of three.”

One, two…
Sand spurted up from their heels as they turned and ran. Maddie giggled like a schoolgirl but her laughter held a note of hysteria. The night wasn’t over yet.

Fabian scanned the darkened shop fronts either side of the harbormaster’s office as they approached twenty minutes later, cautiously and in silence. All was quiet. He’d covered his white shirt with a black jacket and, despite her grumbles about the heat, he’d made Maddie put on her purple stockings.

Removing his lockpick case from his pocket, he chose a pick and went to work, twisting the thin hooked metal rod in the mechanism and pulling on the handle at the same time.
Damn.
Didn’t budge.

“Do you think security guards patrol this area?” Maddie glanced around nervously. “What if someone sees us breaking in? Shouldn’t we have a story?”

“Walk casually away. Pretend you’re simply out for a stroll.”

“Walk away? That’s your plan?” she said, incredulous.

“Or I could pull out my gun and start shooting.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“Of course I’m kidding.” Fabian chose a thinner metal rod from the group dangling off the ring and wriggled the rod inside the lock. “The noise would attract far too much attention. And I don’t carry a gun.”

“How did you get into my workshop? Those little bits of metal wouldn’t work on the electronic alarm.”

“Trade secret.”

“You can tell me. It’s not like I’m going to turn you over to the police now.”

He shot her a narrow-eyed glance and had to suppress a laugh. She had that I’m-so-innocent look down pat. “I watched you with binoculars from an empty office on the second floor of the building across the alley. I made a note of the numbers as you entered the code into the electronic pad.”

“Jesus H. Christ!” Maddie whispered explosively. “You are bad. Very, very bad.”

Fabian twisted the pick and gave the door a shove. It opened. He grinned at her in the dark. “On the contrary, I’m very, very good.”

A long window let in enough light from the marina that they were able to move around the desk, guest chairs and filing cabinets without bumping into furniture. On one wall was an enormous whiteboard scheduling the various heats for Race Week. Elsewhere hung navigational charts of the Whitsunday Islands, tide charts and a notice board cluttered with handwritten ads, flyers and photos. An open door on the far side of the room led into a small kitchen.

Fabian relocked the door from the inside and sat at the desk to boot up the computer. “Keep watch,” he said to Maddie as the monitor began to glow. “If you hear anyone coming or see anyone looking in, let me know.”

“Right.” She stood to one side of the window and peered out. “So far, so good.”

Fabian tapped at the computer keys, trying various combinations of letters and numbers to enter the system. He wasn’t as adept as Connor but he had a few tricks up his sleeve. Getting in wouldn’t be enough, though, if Roland was using another phony name.

Maddie moved quietly around the room, studying the maps of the islands, reading the notice board. “This Gala Awards night is like a big deal. Dinner, dancing, white tie.”

“That sounds right up Roland’s alley.” Fabian gave a grunt of satisfaction as he hit the right key and entered the system. He started to search the site, scrolling down the pages of boats and owners registered for Race Week. Roland didn’t seem to be listed.

Maddie wandered across to look over his shoulder, drawing his attention away from the screen. She smelled like bath oils, salty air and champagne. The feel of her nestled between his arms and legs at the beach was still fresh in his mind. Distracted, he hit the wrong key, sending him back a page.

Behind him, Maddie made a quiet exclamation.

“What is it?” Fabian asked. “What did you see?”

“Nothing,” she replied too quickly, and then moved away restlessly, checking the window again. “I don’t like this. We should go.”

“Soon.” She was lying. And she still didn’t trust him. A pang quite separate from the needs of the operation pricked him. Forcing himself to ignore it, he concentrated on trying to figure out what she’d seen on the monitor. Frustrated, he clicked to other links, scrolling through lists. Nothing rang any bells.

“Roland’s name isn’t in the directory of volunteers or race officials, either. No surprise there. I’m guessing he’ll stick around until race week is over then sail off under cover of the racing crowd—”

“Someone’s coming!” Maddie hissed, dropping to her knees below the windowsill. “It’s a security guard. I knew it. I knew we’d get caught!”

“Shh!” Fabian stilled and listened. Footsteps sounded outside. “Quick, in the kitchen.”

With a few keystrokes he shut down the computer. He’d barely done so when a key was inserted in the lock. Soundlessly he darted after Maddie, silently closing the door. He swiftly assessed the options. Table and chairs. Sink, microwave and fridge. Tiny bathroom. A cleaning supply closet. Not a lot of places to hide.

In the outer office, boot soles scraped on the linoleum. A flashlight beam, visible below the door, was moving through the office.

Fabian pushed Maddie into the closet and squashed in after her. With his fingernails he pulled the door closed, unavoidably leaving it open a crack. A broom handle fell against his shoulder. Maddie’s breast brushed his forearm and her hip was jammed against his thigh. Now his groin. Jesus.

Next to her ear he said softly, “Could you please stop squirming?”

“I told you there’d be a security guard,” she whispered.

“Shh.” He put his arms around her, trying to hold her still. Bad move. Now he could feel all her curves and softness quivering against him.

The door to the kitchen opened. The flashlight swept past. Enough light seeped through the crack to briefly illuminate the top of Maddie’s head against a backdrop of mop heads and dustpans.

Slow heavy footsteps came closer. Fabian glimpsed a gray cloth sleeve with a security company emblem. The broom handle slipped off his shoulder. His hand flashed out and caught it before it hit the wall but there was a tiny sound of wood on flesh.

The footsteps stopped outside the door.

Every cell in Fabian’s body went into lockdown. Beside him, Maddie hummed with nervous tension. It radiated from her in nearly audible waves, filling the closet, crowding out air and room to think. He pressed his fingers against her lips. No talking. Unbelievably, her mouth opened anyway. He did the only thing he could think of to keep her quiet. He kissed her.

Her lips were just as full and warm and soft as he’d imagined on the few occasions he’d allowed himself to contemplate her mouth. He wasn’t given to lurid descriptors but one word popped into his mind—she was luscious—with all the life-giving, taste-tempting, juicy sweetness of a perfectly ripe mango.

Movement would have created sound so his splayed fingers had to be content with spanning the enticing dip in her waist and the outward curve of her hips. But then, oh Lord, she leaned in, pressing her full breasts against his chest, and his fingers dug into her with the effort of not groaning aloud. Heat and hardness mushroomed in a blinding haze of sensuality.

Then she was shoving at his chest. Pushing him away.

“Fabian,” she said, gasping.

“No talking,” he mouthed next to her temple.

“He’s gone. The security guard is gone.”

He blinked. Her words took full seconds to penetrate his lust-soaked brain. When they did, he mentally cursed himself. It was galling and unprecedented for him to lose awareness of his surroundings. “Right. Excellent.”

Taking a deep breath and another, he focused on regaining control. Blood cooling, body settling, mind transitioning from blurred back to rational thought processes, he breathed out and in again. System functions back to normal.

He listened. All quiet. He peeked through the crack. Darkness prevailed. He stepped out of the closet into the kitchen, avoiding Maddie’s gaze.

Maddie scraped her fingers through her hair and straightened her clothes without looking at him, as if embarrassed by her response to the kiss. No more than he.

In the outer office he replaced the computer keyboard and his chair exactly as he’d found them. Then made Maddie do the same with her chair. “Let’s get out of here.”

They walked back along the waterfront to where he’d parked the buggy. Muted conversation and laughter floated across the marina, mingled with creaking stays and the soft lap of water on hulls. Maddie was very quiet. Was she thinking about the kiss? It wouldn’t do for her to make anything out of what happened in the broom closet. Nothing like that must happen again. When he was on a case, he avoided entanglements lest emotion cloud his judgment.

“About that kiss…” Fabian began.

“Don’t worry. I know you just did it to shut me up.”

“Right, well, as long as we’re straight on that.” Perversely he found himself irked at her casual dismissal. “You managed to keep your wits about you.”

“I mentally recited the Periodic Table of the Elements so I wouldn’t get carried away by your manly charms while we were in danger.”

“And that worked?”

“Yup.”

“Which element did you get up to?”

“Beryllium.”

“Let’s see, that’s number—”

“Never mind.”

Number four, he recalled, pleased. She wasn’t as cool as she appeared.

Fabian forced his mind back to their quarry. “If Roland’s not in a hotel or on a boat, he must be staying in private accommodation. Tomorrow we’ll check local real estate agents for recent rentals.”

Maddie wrapped her arms tightly around her waist. Was the memory of her mother’s death still bothering her? It must have been hell for the child. He thought about putting an arm around her, then rejected the idea. No sense sending mixed messages.

“Don’t bother looking at apartments,” she said flatly. “He’s on a boat under a different name—Robert Pierce.”

Fabian stopped in the light of the street lamp. “How do you know that?”

“The sailboat at the end of the pontoon.
Beau Sancy.
”

“What about it?”

“The
Beau Sancy
is a celebrated four-hundred-year-old diamond. It’s been owned by numerous crowned heads of Europe.”

“That’s why you went pale. Who else but a jewel thief would name their boat after a famous gemstone?”

“It can’t be a coincidence.” Maddie rubbed her arms. “When I saw the owner’s name on the computer tonight, and he had the same initials as Roland Price, I knew it had to belong to the Chameleon.”

“Why didn’t you tell me before?”

Silently she turned to him, her eyes bleak.

Of course. He knew how she felt about boats. “We’ll find him at the Gala. If his boat is registered, he’ll be invited. Roland wouldn’t miss an event like that.”

“We don’t have invitations.”

“A minor detail, one I’m sure Sam can easily rectify for us.” Fabian thought quickly and came up with a plan. “You’ll make Roland’s acquaintance at the Gala. While you distract him, I’ll search the boat and recover the Rose.”

“How am I going to distract him looking like this?” She glanced down at her drab clothes.

“Tomorrow you’ll have a complete makeover. Hair, makeup, dress, shoes, jewelry. You won’t know yourself.”

A cautious smile lit her face. “Like Cinderella.”

Fabian swept a low bow, gesturing with outflung arm to the buggy. “Madame, your pumpkin awaits.”

* * *

“Good morning, Sam. Fabian Montgomery here.” He paced the small sitting room, his phone to his ear. “Would you please arrange for Brittany to have a spa treatment? Hair color and cut, facial, manicure, pedicure and as many other treatments as they can manage in, say, six hours. It has to be this morning. We’ll be busy later this afternoon.”

Out on the deck, Maddie eavesdropped as she filled her breakfast plate with fresh papaya and mango. Spa treatment? No way. Grace had dragged her to a health spa once and she still had mental scars.

Mind you, if it was just a soak in a bubble bath and a facial she could use the relaxation. She’d tossed and turned all night, reliving Fabian’s kiss and fantasizing about more. It had been all she could do not to claw his clothes off right there in the broom closet. He’d simply been trying to keep her quiet, but could a man kiss that passionately if he didn’t feel something for the woman he was with? He was capable of anything, she reminded herself. He was a Suit. Arrogant, cool, calculating.

Fabian strolled outside, the phone still pressed to his ear. He plucked a piece of papaya off her plate just as she was about to spear it with her fork.

“Hey!” Maddie said.

“Any luck yet with tickets for the Gala tonight?” he added to Sam. “No? Well, I’m sure you’ll find a way. You’re very resourceful.” He hung up and sat down, placing his phone on the table.

“What’s this about me having ‘the works’?” Maddie poured herself a cup of coffee. “You make it sound as if I’m a car going in for an annual tune-up. ‘Give ‘er a complete overhaul, Sam.’”

“I sound nothing like as vulgar as that.” Fabian appropriated her cup and took a sip. Grimacing, he said, “How much sugar do you take?”

“Two teaspoons. Sweet of you to want to remember.”

Scowling, he poured a fresh cup of coffee and proceeded to drink it black.

“I don’t want a spa treatment, thanks anyway,” she told him.

“You have no choice in the matter.”

“Has anyone ever told you you’re extremely annoying?” She didn’t expect an answer, nor did she get one. “What are we busy doing this afternoon, may I ask?”

“Buying your dress for the Gala.”

“Oh, goody. Clothes shopping,” she said, brightening. Then she regarded him severely. “You’re not coming.”

Fabian gazed at her over his coffee cup. “We’re using my credit card, remember?”

“Damn.” This morning Maddie had rolled her dress down to her waist like a skirt and was wearing the fuchsia mini as a top. She wasn’t going to win any fashion awards but at least she didn’t feel as if she was in a nightmare about being naked in public. “I could use a pair of shorts and a couple of tops for daytime, too.”

“Sam gave me the names of several boutiques. We should be able to kit you out adequately. The priority is a sexy evening dress to lure Roland.”

“Oh, right, I’m supposed to distract him using my feminine wiles. Did Sam tell you where I could buy some of those?”