Talk Nerdy to Me (22 page)

"Want me to go in the
other room?" "No! I love knowing you're there." He picked up another
hinge and positioned it halfway down the door.

"Why
don't you tell me about Lyle?" He sensed her hesitation. "Never
mind."

"No,
I'd like to tell someone who would understand. God knows, my friends and family
didn't. Which isn't completely their fault, because I'm not sure I completely
understood it until just recently."

"What
would Lyle have thought of you building a hovercraft?"

She
laughed. "That's a funny thought, Lyle coming upon me building this
hovercraft. He'd probably stroke out."

Just as Charlie had
suspected, Lyle had been clueless about this side of his girlfriend.

"The
fact is, I wouldn't have built a hovercraft if I'd stayed with Lyle," she
said. "He would have expected me to become like my mother, a society
matron who spends all her time with charity functions. I'm not knocking what my
mother does. She helps plenty of people and she works damned hard at it. But if
I had to live her life, I'd end up in a padded cell."

Charlie
was in awe of what he was witnessing. By moving to Middlesex and starting to
build her hovercraft, Eve had transplanted herself out of that confining pot
she'd been placed in. He was lucky enough to be around when she was finally
starting to grow.

He
forced himself to work on the damned hinges. "So Lyle's proposal was what
tipped you over the edge?"

"Absolutely.
You know how you can be vaguely dissatisfied, but you don't let yourself face
it because everyone tells you that your life is great? So you just convince
yourself they're right."

"Believe
me, I know." He dropped to his knees to drill the holes for the final
hinge.

"I
guess you would. Your Hoover Dam and my hovercraft have a lot in common.
Anyway, Lyle had planned the quintessential proposal. He took me to dinner at
Jean George's, and between the main course and dessert, he got down on one
knee, popped open a ring box just like they do in diamond commercials, and
asked me to be his wife. It was kind of embarrassing, to be honest. But Lyle likes
the grand gesture."

"I
take it Jean George's is fancy." Charlie drilled the holes with a
vengeance. He didn't like this image of some slick Wall Street type proposing
to Eve, but there was no point in pretending that he was worldly enough to know
all about Jean George's.

"Oh,
yeah, fancy. Lyle was in a suit. I was in a long, slinky dress, which I've
since given to the Salvation Army. Did
not
want
to wear that thing again."

"You
might not have had a reason to, anyway. There's not much call for a long, slinky
dress in Middlesex." All the screws were resting in their appointed holes,
so he switched the drill bit for a screwdriver attachment.

"To
be honest, that's one of the joys of living here, although I have a closet
full of clothes I may never wear again." She paused. "But that gives
me an idea. Would you like me to put one on?"

He glanced over his
shoulder. "Now?"

"Why not?"

He looked down at his
sawdust-covered flannel shirt and jeans. "Because I seem to have left my
suit at home."

"That
would make it more fun. Every time I've put on a sexy dress, I've either been
on the runway, in front of a camera, or headed to some fancy party or elegant
restaurant. I'd love to dress up for the benefit of one special person."

He
gazed at her and couldn't imagine her looking more desirable. "You don't
have to dress up to get my attention."

"That's
what would be so great about it. You don't require me to do that, so it's a
treat, a bonus ..." She paused and uncertainty flickered in her eyes.
"Unless you think I'm being vain? Trust me, looks aren't a big thing with
me. I wouldn't want you to get the impression that I need the ego boost."

"I'm
the one that would get the ego boost. I've never known a woman who would go to
the trouble of dressing up when I'm the only person who will see her."

Her
expression became luminous. "Then I'll do it. I'll be back in ten minutes.
Let's synchronize our watches."

Instinctively,
Charlie glanced at his digital watch, a marvel of craftsmanship calibrated to
stay within a split second of Greenwich Mean Time. He'd bought it for himself
a year ago.

Eve
laughed softly. "I didn't mean that literally, but ten minutes should be
about right. You should be finished by then." She started to turn away.
Then she spun back to him and reached in the pocket of her overalls.
"Here." She handed him three condoms. "What I have in mind
doesn't have pockets." Then she hurried down the hall.

Charlie wondered if he
could be dreaming this. In what reality did a gorgeous model hand him three condoms
before going off to change into something long and slinky? In Eve's reality,
apparently, and he was the lucky son of a bitch who'd stumbled into her world
of hovercrafts and high fashion.

Some
cool jazz drifted down the hall and snapped him out of the daze he'd fallen into
the moment she'd placed the condoms in his hand. He checked his watch. He'd
been standing there like a dork for a full minute. That left only nine minutes
to finish up this job so he'd be ready for... whatever happened after Eve
appeared in her slinky dress. He'd better start screwing.

Eve
was beginning to believe that tonight would be her one and only chance to have
a romantic interlude with Charlie, and she might as well capitalize on it.
Tomorrow Denise would arrive. If Eve could think of a way to keep her sister
from showing up, she'd do it. But Denise was a force of nature. Once she was
set in motion, nothing could stop her.

So
Eve would have to make the most of what little time she had left with Charlie
before Denise swept in and changed the dynamic completely. In her bedroom she
flipped on her CD player and chose soft jazz to provide some atmosphere. Then
she stripped down to her panties and started the transformation.

First
came the makeup. Charlie deserved the complete package tonight. She grabbed the
smudge-free stuff so he wouldn't get it all over him when they ... whew. She'd
almost jabbed herself in the eye with the mascara wand just thinking about
what would happen between them tonight.

In
less than five minutes she inspected the job in her magnifying mirror and was
reasonably satisfied with the results. If they ever had a time trial for makeup
application, she'd win hands down. Because she thought it was hideously boring
she'd taught herself to do it at warp speed.

Next she had to rummage through
the pile of clothes still in their dry-cleaning bags that covered her bed. Oh,
wait. She didn't want a pile of clothes on her bed. With any luck, things were
about to happen in that bed and she didn't intend to stage the event on a mound
of dry cleaning, although Eunice would probably have found a way to make
something kinky out of that.

She
found the dress she wanted, tossed it on an overstaffed chair in the corner of
the room, and gathered up the rest. Then she looked around for a place to put them.
Theoretically they should fit in her closet, but in the absence of clothes
being stored in there, other things had stacked up.

They
were not going back in the guest room. Once Eve had moved a pile of something,
she had a policy that it would not return to its original spot. She liked to
keep her clutter in motion, like airplanes in the pattern over JFK.

They couldn't go on the
floor, either. She and Charlie might trip on them during a critical moment.
Pratfalls hardly ever added to someone's sexual experience. In desperation she
finally hurried across the hall to the bathroom, pulled back her shower
curtain and dropped the whole pile in the tab.

Something
would have to be done about that when Denise came, but Eve decided to worry
about it in the morning. She had a slinky dress to get into and a date to keep.
On her way back to her bedroom she heard the rapid whirr of the drill spinning
those screws into place. Charlie sounded like a man on a mission.

And
she was a woman on a mission—a mission to make the next few hours unforgettable
for both of them. She hoped while Charlie was striding around the facility of
Hoover Dam he'd sometimes pause and think of her in this dress. The fabric was
an iridescent dark purple that in certain kinds of light looked black. But even
then, every time she moved the purple would flash.

One
thin strap held the dress up on her left shoulder. From there the neckline
swooped across and down, leaving her right shoulder bare. The material had
just enough Lycra to mold itself to her breasts, waist, and hips. Eve had never
worn a bra with it, and with a sense of daring she decided to forgo the
panties, too.

Stripping
them off, she stepped into the dress and wiggled herself into it. The slit up
the side of the skirt allowed her ease of movement and gave anyone looking a
view of her leg to mid-thigh. She'd always thought this approach was more
effective than a miniskirt. Now you see it, now you don't.

With
two minutes to go she'd zipped the dress and put on the deep purple five-inch sling-backs
she'd bought to go with the dress. She didn't have time to do much with her
hair, so she took it out of the pins and gave it several swipes with the
hairbrush. Rhinestone chandelier earrings, a touch of perfume at her throat,
and she was done.

No
glasses, no contacts. She knew the way down the hall, and if everything was a
little blurry, that would add to the gauzy, romantic effect. The soft jazz
followed her out the door.

The cordless drill had gone
quiet. Heart pounding, she started down the hall. Then she heard a slapping
sound and realized he must be trying to get the sawdust off his clothes.
Pausing, she waited for the sound to stop. It didn't. Instead the slapping was
now punctuated with muttered curses.

Laughter
bubbled in her throat. Poor Charlie. He had no idea that she found the matchup
of a sawdust-covered guy and this elegant dress exciting. She wasn't worried
about the dress. She was a favored customer at the Press 'n' Go, and they'd
clean it beautifully.

She
hoped that once Charlie caught sight of her he'd forget about the sawdust.
Taking a deep breath, she started down the hall, heels clicking against the
hardwood floor.

With
that sound announcing her arrival, the slapping and muttered cursing sped up.
Then she rounded the corner and he lifted his head. It took a second for the
impatience to drain from his expression, and then ...
there.
Even without her glasses there was no mistaking that look, a
look she would tuck away in the deep recesses of her heart... forever.

Over
the years Charlie had seen plenty of magazine spreads of models
in fancy dresses. He thought he knew what to expect when Eve rounded that
corner.
Not even close.

Now
he understood that expression about taking your breath away. Looking at Eve, he
felt as if somebody had rammed a basketball against his diaphragm. He struggled
for air and tried to remember the mechanics of using his lungs. Air in, air
out. Such a simple concept. So difficult to execute while this ...
goddess
stood before him.

"I
guess
you like it," she said.

He nodded, incapable of
speech.

She
took a step closer, and the shiny earrings dangling almost to her shoulders
swayed.

He
was semi-hypnotized watching the earrings move. But he still had some of his
faculties. "Wait." His voice sounded as if he'd swallowed a handful
of the sawdust he'd been futilely trying to get off his clothes.
"I
need
..." He could think of only one thing that would make him worthy of being
within ten feet of her in that dress. "A shower. I need a shower."

"Silly
man." She kept coming, walking in time to that smoky jazz in the
background.

"Seriously.
I'm covered with sawdust, and you—well, you're covered in something
dry-cleanable only. I'd lay money that won't go in the washing machine, not
that your washer is in any shape to clean anything after the job we did on it
with candy, and magazines, and your decluttering book, so I—"

"I
love contrasts." She moved in and reached for the cell phone he had
clipped to his jeans pocket. "You won't be needing this." Leaning
down, she laid it on the floor, giving him a glimpse of mouthwatering cleavage.