Nerds Are Freaks Too (9 page)

Roxanne gulped.
Constantine!

“Twelfth floor, sir,” the elevator operator announced, while
Roxanne deliberated over a course of action. With few options, she dropped her
purse. Since she carried everything except her kitchen sink in the vintage
Valentino hobo bag, it would be a decent distraction.

“Oh my,” she gasped loudly. Even though only a few items
tumbled out around her feet, it was better than nothing. She dropped to her
knees. “I am just a butterfingers today.”

She fumbled with a tube of lipstick while Constantine’s feet
hesitated on the threshold of the elevator. Wondering why he’d stopped, Roxanne
peeked over the top of her sunglasses—and her jaw dropped.

Light gray eyes, dark hair and an olive complexion reminded
her of a young Mel Gibson, circa
Mad Max
, before all the drinking binges
and anti-Semitic jokes.

“We don’t need another hero,” she whispered, unable to pull
her eyes away. She watched him reach inside his trouser pocket and pull a
twenty dollar bill from a silver money clip. He tried to give it to the
elevator operator, but the attendant waved him off.

“No tips, sir. Hotel policy. Enjoy your stay.”

“Thank you, I’m aiming to.” Constantine stepped off the
elevator, snapping Roxanne out of her trance.

Returning to the task at hand, Roxanne threw the rest of her
things back into her purse.

“You missed something, miss.”

Roxanne froze, her fist palming a half-eaten roll of breath
mints. She refused to look up even as he crouched next to her. Instead, she
concentrated on his black Gucci loafers.

Not only was Constantine a good tipper, he was a Good
Samaritan with big feet.

“Thanks.” Roxanne came to her feet the same time one
elevator closed and the other opened. Keeping her head down, she took the
eye-brightener pencil from him, noting his long, tapered fingers.

Roxanne gulped. Handsome. Tall. Big Feet. Long fingers. He
was definitely her type.

And yet in spite of all these positives, he had one glaring
strike against him.

He wasn’t Leo.

And he wasn’t the one who’d stirred up the little
butterflies now fluttering in the pit of her stomach.

Confident in her heart’s choice, Roxanne turned toward the
open elevator.

“Here, let me hold the elevator for you.” Constantine rushed
forward and stopped the elevator door with his hand. As she passed, she caught
a whiff of his cologne. Undoubtedly expensive, the scent tickled her nose and
teased her libido with a seductive mixture of bergamot and clover. Roxanne
hesitated only slightly. There was no better panty-dropping inducement than a
good-smelling man.

When his hand slipped from the door, Roxanne suddenly remembered
her manners and turned around. “Thank you, Constantine,” she breathed.

Roxanne immediately groaned at her slip-up.

“Any day, gorgeous,” he replied automatically, but then his
gray eyes narrowed. “Wait—”

The rest of his sentence was cut off by the closing elevator
doors.

“You
were
ready, weren’t you, miss?” the elevator
operator asked.

Noting the attendant’s slight smirk, Roxanne nodded.

Despite the six-foot-plus temptation, there was nothing here
for her.

* * * * *

Borrowing heavily from early 19th-century Art Nouveau
architecture, the Dorset Hotel was lavish and well deserving of its countless
accolades. The gas-lit lobby was five stories high, half a block long and
topped by a glass dome with intricate ironwork similar to a spider’s web. Cream
Italian marble covered the floors, and the walls, like all those in the
guestrooms, were wallpapered with iris-patterned damask in antique gold.

Unfortunately, Roxanne didn’t have time to appreciate any of
it. Once out of the elevator, she hustled across the lobby toward the hotel’s
revolving door.

“Can I get you a cab, miss?” Roxanne nodded at the valet
dressed in full uniform and white gloves. “Where are you headed?” he asked as
he walked her to the curb.

“West Confidential Street in Old Town, please.”

The valet flagged the first cab in the queue, a late-model
Volvo. “Enjoy the rest of your evening, miss,” he offered, stepping forward to
open the door for her.

Considering her life could change forever after tonight,
Roxanne rehearsed her, “I’ve been a fool and, oh yeah, I’m madly in love with
you” speech during the drive. “You don’t have anything to worry about,” Roxanne
reassured herself.
If
Leo still had feelings for her, and
if
he
wasn’t really trying to rekindle things with Vicky

Roxanne suddenly felt lightheaded and queasy.

Wound up and battling self-doubt, Roxanne didn’t realize
she’d reached her destination until the driver smacked the meter. “Time’s
money, lady,” he barked. “The fare’s six and a quarter.”

Roxanne fished in her purse for the fare then climbed out of
the cab and came face-to-face with the three-story mansion she’d helped Leo
pick out three years ago.

For Roxanne, the six-bedroom mini mansion had been love at
first sight. Leo, on the other hand, hadn’t been as smitten. If it were up to
him, he would’ve remained in his small, one-bedroom apartment the size of a
potato chip bag. He’d only given in because his six-hundred-square-foot rental
overlooking Wacker Drive hadn’t been conducive to entertaining his
ever-expanding client list, nor was it saving him from an ever-growing tax
liability.

Spread out over four levels, the limestone and brick home
had been custom built, but only eighty-percent completed before the owner found
herself in the middle of a bitter divorce.

Leo finished the construction, outfitting the place with a
few extras not included in the original design, such as voice-activated
lighting, a steam room, piped-in audio and Wi-Fi in every room. He’d allowed
Roxanne to make it homier, and she’d helped him create a chef’s kitchen with
stainless-steel appliances, selected Brazilian cherry hardwood flooring and
picked out practically all the furnishings.

He’d drawn the line at art, however, claiming it should be a
purely personal undertaking. Leo had opted for sepia-toned photographs of graffiti
ripped from the walls of Chicago’s grittiest neighborhoods. Having grown up in
Chicago’s Juneway Jungle, he’d commissioned the pieces to remind himself how
far he’d come.

Smiling fondly at the memory of the expression on the
photographer’s face when given the assignment, Roxanne bounded up the front
steps two at a time. Halfway up, her steps slowed. One light burned in the
downstairs office; the only other shining above the front stoop. The half-moon
outdoor chandelier illuminated oak doors adorned with a pair of lion heads.
Another of Roxanne’s personal touches; a nod to Leo’s name.

Even though she had a key, Roxanne opted for the doorbell.
After several heart-wrenching moments and punching the doorbell repeatedly with
no answer, Roxanne’s mind went into overdrive. Was he with Vicky at the moment?
We’re they officially back together? And when the hell had it happened, anyway?
God! She just bet they were in there right now…

Needing to confirm her suspicions, Roxanne rummaged in her
purse for the key.

“You are in no way a stalker,” she reassured herself as the
key turned in her hand. “You’re only going in to peek around.”

Once inside, Roxanne hurried across the foyer to the
chirping security system. Using the four-digit code Leo had given her, she disengaged
the system.

As she stepped back, she was suddenly shoved up against the
wall.

Chapter Six

“I wasn’t breaking in! I was just returning your—”

Roxanne’s words tumbled to a dead end. Something cold and
wet nuzzled the inside of her hand. Looking down, she met the familiar hazel
eyes of Leo’s chocolate Labrador retriever, Spiro.

Flooded with relief, Roxanne sank to her knees and welcomed
the two-year-old dog’s full-tongue greeting. “Hey there, big boy,” she cooed,
scratching his large, floppy ears. “Where were you when I rang earlier?”
Roxanne looked down at his wet paws. The doorbell must have summoned him from
the dog run out back.

“I miss you too.” And she meant it. Roxanne hadn’t gotten a
pet of her own because Spiro has always filled that need.

“So where’s your daddy?” Hearing the word “daddy”, Spiro’s
ears perked up. “He’s not here, is he, sweetie?” Spiro hugged up against her
hip as she stood, her gaze zeroing in on the foyer closet. Diagonal to the
front door, the huge closet had been converted into a glorified mud room that
allowed people to sit down to remove boots and coats. Leo’s favorite overcoat
was slung over the doorknob, as if he’d hastily changed his mind about wearing
it. Unable to help herself, Roxanne walked over.

Probably in a rush for an oh so important date with
Sticky Vicky
, Roxanne thought, fingering the coat’s navy-blue wool. Batting
back tears, she lifted the coat and folded it over her arm. She bent her head
to rub her cheek against the slightly abrasive material and inhaled.

Great! Not only am I a stalker, I’m a coat sniffer as
well.

Faint traces of heat clung to the coat’s lining, and his
signature scent lingered like an intoxicating invitation. Roxanne leaned
against the closet door for support. What she wouldn’t give to have his arms
wrapped around her right now.

Roxanne sidled over to the window. The street was as barren
and devoid of activity as when she’d arrived. Knowing she was operating on
borrowed time, she donned his coat, slipping it over her own.

The garment swallowed her whole. The sleeves dangled past
her fingertips and the hem brushed her ankles. None of this should have
surprised her since Leo stood almost a foot above her own five-six. Still, she
was struck by the difference, and the effect was staggering.

All these years she’d emasculated her best friend, never
looked at him as a man. Even the Adonis flirting with her inside the sex shop
hadn’t seemed real. But the simple act of wearing his coat brought everything
into perspective, made the man he’d become more tangible. The thought gave her
a natural buzz.

Speaking of buzz, Roxanne felt the familiar vibration of her
cell phone. Praying it was Leo, she dove inside her purse.

“Constantine,” she whispered, recognizing his number.

Constantine
: Cold feet?

Roxanne pulled on her earlobe. She didn’t need this right
now. Still, he deserved more of an explanation than the quick note she’d penned
in haste.

Roxanne
: I didn’t want to waste your time.

Constantine
: How’s that?

Roxanne hesitated. Her love for Leo was so new she found it
difficult to put it into words. She decided on straight and to the point. She
owed Constantine that much for leading him on and then standing him up.

Roxanne
: I’m in love with someone else.

His reply was a long time coming and then her phone beeped.

Constantine
: Really?

Roxanne
: It sort of hit me by surprise.

Broadsided me like a rush-hour bus.

Constantine
: 2 bad it wasn’t me.

Roxanne’s gut twisted with guilt. In the short time she’d
known Constantine, she’d actually come to like him.

Roxanne
: I’m sorry. You’re a super nice guy who’ll
make some girl very happy one day.

Constantine
: U2. Whoever he is, he’s a lucky man.
Take care.

Roxanne
: Bye…

Roxanne flipped her phone shut and dropped it back into her
purse. Shelving her current game plan, she took off Leo’s coat and draped it
back on the doorknob. After giving Spiro one more scratch behind the ear and
resetting the house alarm, she slipped onto the front stoop and locked the door
behind her.

Unsure of her next course of action, Roxanne remained rooted
just outside the door. In the stillness of a cold Chicago evening, all the
night noises seemed magnified. She could hear the metallic screech of CTA’s
elevated train several blocks away, the blaring squall of an ambulance siren
and the slam of a closing car door. She was so caught up in her silent reverie,
she didn’t notice the taxi cab ambling down the block until it rolled to a stop
in front of the house.

“At least something has worked out in my favor.” Roxanne
bounded down the steps, intending to snag the taxi. Before she could reach for
the handle, the back door swung open. She stepped aside to avoid being
broadsided by a carnation-pink Let Them Eat Cake bakery box and a pair of broad
shoulders.

Leo must’ve been just as surprised to see her, because he
stared down at her like she’d grown two heads. Neither his expression nor his
body language gave her any indication as to whether he was happy to see Roxanne
and her two heads or not.

Roxanne eyed the bakery box in his hand and her heart almost
skipped a beat. Leo’s sweet tooth went into overdrive whenever he was depressed
or lonely. Had things soured between him and Sticky Vicky already?

Unable to keep her hands to herself, she clutched his arm
and stepped forward, kissing him lightly on the cheek. “Hey, Leo.”

“Roxanne,” he replied flatly.

Where was the sexy-on-a-stick from Kandy’s House of Kink?
Roxanne’s ego would’ve nosedived if she hadn’t caught the way his eyes lingered
on her lips for a split second before they skittered away to some point over
her head.

“Coming from a hot date?” Roxanne knew she was being nosy,
but she didn’t care. She needed to know if she still had competition.

His gaze swung back to meet hers and he cocked his head to
the side, his blue eyes narrowing. “She was a no-show. What are you doing
here?”

Ruffled by his impersonal tone, Roxanne found herself
stuttering, “I-I…” She licked her parched lips before continuing. “I guess you
wouldn’t believe I was simply in the neighborhood?”