Her Man Friday(23)
Author: Elizabeth Bevarly

Instead, she simply watched intently as her employer crossed the dining room toward where the two of them stood.

When Leo turned his attention back to Kimball, his frown deepened. Because the billionaire, too, was clearly far more interested in his secretary than he was in the extremely well-endowed, tightly sheathed-in-red woman at his side, the one who had fastened herself so steadfastly to the man that she appeared to be trying to absorb through osmosis. Kimball’s gaze never wavered from Miss Rigby as he paused before her, leaned forward, and, to Leo’s amazement, brushed a chaste kiss on her cheek that she in no way tried to discourage.

"Lily. Darling," he said as he pulled back, his attention still fixed on her face. "Who on earth have you invited to join our little soiree this evening?"

Leo’s amazement compounded. He honestly hadn’t thought Kimball had even noticed him. But now the billionaire turned to inspect him, letting his gaze wander over Leo’s person from head to toe. And for the first time since coming to Ashling, Leo worried that his cover was blown. Because Schuyler Kimball, for all his reputed eccentricities and self-absorption, seemed capable of staring right down into a person’s soul to find every little dirty secret that person held locked inside.

It was more than a little disconcerting.

Adjusting his glasses with feigned disinterest, Leo decided not to bother with the slouch he’d been ordered to maintain. Because even slouching, he’d still be taller than Kimball, if only by an inch or two. For some reason, the realization brought Leo some measure of reassurance.

"Leonard Freiberger," he said, extending his hand.

But instead of acknowledging the gesture—or Leo, for that matter—Kimball turned back to Miss Rigby. "Lily. Darling. Who is this man? More to the point, what’s he doing in my dining room?"

"He works for you, Schuyler," she said simply, showing no sign of intimidation where her employer’s clear dissatisfaction was concerned. "He’s an employee of Kimball Technologies. A bookkeeper. Evidently, there have been some problems with some of your files or something, and Mr. Freiberger is trying to get it all straightened out."

She turned to Leo, giving him the perfect opening to explain the fabrication of facts that was his sole purpose for being these days, but before he could utter a single syllable to explain his mission, Kimball slashed a hand through the air, closed his eyes, and shook his head. Vehemently.

"I don’t want to know," he said adamantly. "Don’t even bring up business to me tonight. It’s the absolute last thing I want to have on my mind right now. No business discussions tonight," he reiterated adamantly. "None. I need a drink."

No sooner had he uttered the declaration than someone pressed into his hand a martini glass filled nearly to the brim with something frosty and clear. His mother, Leo noted. Miranda Kimball was still looking after her boy, God love her.

"Thank you, Mother," Kimball said before lifting the drink to his lips for a long, hefty quaff. He sighed with undisguised glee after he swallowed. "Oh, that helps." He sampled the drink again, this time with a bit less gusto, then, almost as an afterthought, turned to his—hoo, boy, was she built—companion. "Everyone, this is…" He hesitated, thinking, then glanced down at his date. "I’m sorry, sweetheart, but I seem to have forgotten your name."

Leo couldn’t help the soft sound of incredulous surprise that escaped his lips at Kimball’s disregard for the woman at his side. He’d known some real pricks in his life, but Schuyler Kimball put them all to shame. Leo didn’t even know the woman who accompanied the billionaire, but he was ready to declare pistols at dawn on her behalf. No one should be treated so shabbily.

But she didn’t seem at all surprised or bothered by Kimball’s—to put it mildly—faux pas, and she won Leo’s admiration when she simply smiled at everyone and said, "I’m Valerie. Hello."

Kimball nodded as recollection evidently dawned. "Valerie," he said, disengaging himself from her to sweep his free hand carelessly over the small crowd that had gathered to welcome him home. "This is everyone. Everyone, this is Valerie. We met…" Another hesitation, then Kimball turned to the woman again. "I’m sorry, sweetheart, where was it we met?"

Leo’s fist clenched involuntarily at the second slight perpetrated against the undeserving Valerie, but she seemed to be not at all concerned with the rude dismissal.

"We were first introduced in the back seat of your limo," she said simply. "Right after you gave Miss Wisteria your platinum card and told her you only needed me for one night."

"That’s right," Kimball said with a slow nod, lifting his drink for another sip. "It’s coming back to me now."

Janey Kimball pushed through the throng and eyed Valerie with a look clearly meant to put the blonde on the defensive. "Do you know how to spell scopaphilia?" she asked Kimball’s… date.

The billionaire rolled his eyes heavenward and expelled a hiss of discontent. "Mother, I thought I told you to keep Janey away from the Oxford English Dictionary. Am I going to have to lock up every book in the house?"

"Do you know how to spell it?" Janey demanded again, though she threw her brother a look of grave concern when she heard his threat.

"Sure," Valerie replied easily. Then she made good on the assurance by quickly and accurately fulfilling Janey’s request.

"Do you know what it means?" Janey asked further.

"Yes, I do," Valerie told her. "But something tells me you don’t, asking the question in mixed and polite company this way."

Janey furrowed her brow with more concern. "What’s your IQ?" she asked anxiously.

Valerie lifted a hand to the permanent wave of silky blond that swept across one eyebrow. "It’s a hundred and thirty," she replied. Rather smugly, too, Leo thought. "I pull in a hundred more an hour than the other girls do, thanks to that."

Kimball gaped at his escort. "It’s what?" he demanded. "I told Miss Wisteria specifically that I didn’t want a woman in that range."

Valerie shrugged off his displeasure. "You also said you wanted someone who could, um…"

She pushed herself up on tiptoe and whispered something into Kimball’s ear that immediately had him smiling. And also shifting his weight from one foot to the other and back again, as if trying to dislodge something from his pants.

"And I’m the only one who can do that right," Valerie concluded as she returned to her regular stance. "Miss Wisteria figured you’d think that was more important than the IQ thing."