Her Man Friday(13)
Author: Elizabeth Bevarly

"No, just black," he stated proudly for the benefit of his testosterone.

When she extended the cup toward him, though, he hesitated a moment before taking it, then switched it from one hand to the other as he tried to figure out just how to hold the damned thing. Ultimately, he set both cup and saucer down on the desk, telling himself it needed to cool. Then he launched himself into a much-needed stretch, arching his back and curling his arms upward, flexing everything he needed to flex after spending hours in a chair that had been adjusted to the body specifications of someone else.

Oh, boy, that felt good.

Evidently, Miss Rigby thought so, too, because as he completed the action, Leo heard her utter a sigh of contentment much like his own. He snapped his gaze to her face when she did, but her expression belied nothing of what she might be thinking. Instead, she appeared to be even more indifferent than usual as she lifted her cup to her lips for an idle sip, and he figured he must have just imagined that soft sound of satisfaction.

"So…" she began slowly when she lowered the cup. "How’s the search coming? Have you found the problem you were looking for?"

He shook his head. "Not even close. But that’s not surprising. I was pretty much resigned to the fact that it could take several days. Possibly even several weeks, depending on the state of Mr. Kimball’s files."

She sipped her tea again, then said mildly, "Mr. Kimball’s files are a complete mess. You’ll be lucky if you can find his sangria recipe in there."

Leo smiled confidently. "Oh, I bet I could find it."

She smiled indulgently in return. "Oh, I bet you couldn’t."

He chuckled, then turned back to the computer. In less than five minutes, he had pulled up a screen. "One three-liter box of cheap red burgundy," he began. "One liter citrus soda, one can frozen peach juice concentrate, juice from one jar maraschino cherries—add cherries, too…"

Miss Rigby jumped up from where she had perched herself on the edge of the desk and rounded the big piece of furniture until she stood behind Leo. "How did you find that?" she demanded. "I’ve practically turned the computer upside down looking for that recipe."

He glanced over his shoulder at her and grinned cockily. "Well, Miss Rigby, I’m just that good."

The look she gave him in response struck him as odd. For some reason, she seemed worried about something. Certainly his comment could have been taken as sexually suggestive—and, naturally, that was the way he had intended it—but still. She didn’t have to look that anxious.

Her lips parted fractionally, as if she were about to put voice to her concerns, but all she said was, "Quick, print it up. I’m hosting my garden club next weekend."

He pushed the print button, and immediately, the laser printer hummed with activity. Miss Rigby set her tea down on Kimball’s desk and went to retrieve her prize, but her expression, as she scanned the recipe, still seemed significantly worried.

"Is there a problem, Miss Rigby?" Leo asked, curious about her reaction.

For a moment, he didn’t think she’d heard him, then she jerked her head up and looked at him. "What? Oh. No, no, there’s no problem at all." Her face cleared then of its clouds, and she smiled, but somehow the gesture seemed forced. "I’m just trying to remember if we have any maraschino cherries, that’s all."

Somehow, Leo doubted that was really what was on her mind at the moment. After all, what kind of self-respecting billionaire would run out of maraschino cherries? It was unheard of. No, he’d wager that Miss Rigby’s apprehension came from something else entirely, something that had nothing to do with sangria.

"Can I—" he began.

"Have a cookie? Why certainly, Mr. Freiberger," she cut him off. She circled the desk again and reached for the plate where someone had artfully arranged a half-dozen different varieties of baked goods. "Mrs. Kaiser is particularly proud of her springerlies," she said as she extended the plate toward Leo. "I’m sure you’ll love them."

Hoo-kay, he thought. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that she wanted to change the subject. And speaking of geniuses, that reminded him of something he wanted to ask her about.

"So what’s the deal with Mr. Kimball’s sister and IQs?" he asked as he closed the program housing the billionaire’s sangria recipe and reached for a cookie.

Miss Rigby chuckled. "You’ve met Janey, then, have you?"

He nodded. "A little while ago. She gave me a spelling test."

The secretary perched herself on the edge of Kimball’s desk, a posture that resulted in the hem of her already short skirt shrinking even more. Somehow, he suspected the gesture was deliberate, that by revealing a little extra thigh, Miss Rigby was hoping she might make him forget all about her odd reaction to the sangria recipe.

As far as Leo was concerned, she succeeded. Really, really well.

"Did you pass the exam?" she asked.

"Of course," he told her, reaching for his coffee again, but keeping his gaze trained on the smooth skin of her thigh. Wow.

"Janey suffers from second child syndrome," Miss Rigby said after sipping her tea. "And when the first child is someone like Schuyler, well… Needless to say, Janey was somewhat overlooked in her youth. Not only was Schuyler a hellion, but her IQ, you see, is terribly, terribly, just above average, something that didn’t alarm her teachers or her mother into taking drastic measures with her."

"And what’s so terrible, terrible, about being just above average?" Leo asked. Frankly, there had been times when he was growing up that he would just as soon have been terribly, terribly just above average himself. It would have made things a hell of a lot simpler. For everybody.

"Absolutely nothing," the secretary said, reaching for a cookie that was—somehow he contained his shudder of disgust—pink. "But Janey seems to feel diminished by it. She’s the only one in the family who doesn’t rank genius, and it bothers her enormously. Even Schuyler’s mother, for all her… eccentricities—"

"Eccentricities?" he interjected. "What kind of eccentricities?" This ought to be good.

Miss Rigby sipped her tea. "Well, for example, right now, Miranda is in her room having tea, too, except that her companion is much less, um… substantial than my own tea companion is."

"Substantial?" Leo asked curiously, not certain he liked the sound of that.

But Miss Rigby only nodded without elaboration.

"As in… skinny?" he asked.