Her Man Friday(24)
Author: Elizabeth Bevarly

Kimball tugged impatiently at his tie and shifted his weight again. "Miss Wisteria was absolutely right."

Janey frowned in clear consternation. "Mother," she growled to the woman beside her. "Are you going to talk to Schuyler about this or not?"

Leo turned to the billionaire, curious as to whether or not he would indeed make good on his threat to lock up all the dictionaries, suddenly thinking it a very good idea. But Kimball only sipped his drink again and ignored his sister. Likewise, his mother said nothing in response to her daughter’s question, just looked a bit pained around the eyes.

Leo shook his head once again in disbelief. At the family. At Kimball’s… date. A hooker? he wondered. Billionaire Schuyler Kimball, who looked like one of Hollywood’s most successful leading men, had been reduced to hiring a hooker to be his companion for dinner?

Well, naturally, Kimball had probably hired her for more than just dinner, Leo thought further, but still. He’d always kind of liked to think that once a man reached a certain level of success in life—like, oh, say… billionaire—he stopped having trouble getting dates. And why the hell would Kimball bother with a hooker when he had Lily Rigby waiting for him at home, looking at him like… like…

He turned his attention to Miss Rigby—again—and frowned—again.

Like that.

Okay, so Valerie might have one or two qualities that Miss Rigby lacked. Like, for instance, Valerie would probably be able to perform page seventy-two of How to Leave a Man Groaning with Satisfaction Every Time correctly. But was that really important when there was another woman around who obviously had feelings for you?

Well, yeah, okay, page seventy-two was pretty important, Leo backpedaled. But still. Surely it was in bad taste to bring a hired woman home to one’s family and social secretary, even if one was an eccentric billionaire. Or was Kimball a billionaire eccentric? At the moment, Leo couldn’t quite decide which word should be the adjective and which should be the noun.

He was spared having to ponder the quandary further, thanks to the entrance of Chloe the Magnificent. And the befuddlement that had dogged Leo for oh, about two days now, ascended to the next level. Because where before Chloe had been a surly, snide nymphet of indeterminate criminal potential, there was now a quiet, unassuming young woman of almost startling beauty and grace in her place.

Without all the hardware and makeup, Chloe’s face was fresh and youthful looking, her complexion smooth, ivory, and flawless. She had somehow managed to contain all that dark hair in a short braid fixed at the end with a plain white ribbon. Her attire, to Leo, seemed appropriate for the teenage daughter of a billionaire—whether or not that was what Chloe was. A simple, sleeveless white satin dress, accessorized by a string of pearls and white satin flats. He could scarcely believe she was the same juvenile delinquent he had met that afternoon.

Then, "So we gonna toss chow or what?" she asked, spoiling the image completely.

Mrs. Puddleduck stumbled in behind her then, her face red, her knuckles white, her mouth open to utter language that was undoubtedly blue. Leo couldn’t help but wonder what had transpired between the two to create this kinder, gentler version of Chloe. To her credit, however, the nanny curbed whatever words—or expletives—she had been about to utter when faced with the crowd before her. But he noticed that she was eyeing the bar on the other side of the room with much affection.

Beside him, Lily Rigby smiled at the pair with what appeared to be genuine warmth. "Aren’t you going to say hello to Mr. Kimball, Chloe? Mrs. Puddleduck?"

"That’s Poddledock," the older woman returned. But she covered the distance necessary to greet her host—who replied with a benign "Hello, Mrs. Puddleduck"—then she hastened over to the bar to pour herself what looked like… a double Stoli straight up.

For a moment, Leo suspected that Chloe was going to stand firm and reply that hell, no, she wasn’t going to say hello to Mr. Kimball, why the hell should she? Then she dropped her gaze to the floor and moved slowly forward, pausing a good foot away from her… whatever it was Kimball was.

"Hey, Mr. Kimball," she said softly.

"Chloe," Kimball replied without looking at her. Then he enjoyed another sip of his martini and gazed at a trio of masks on the wall. "Lily, darling, one of those is crooked. See to it, would you?"

"Certainly, Schuyler," Miss Rigby replied readily. "I’ll have Mrs. Skolnik take care of it first thing tomorrow."

Evidently satisfied that everything was right in his world again, Kimball spun around and made his way to the head of the table to claim a chair that was much larger—and more thronelike—than the others. And wordlessly, everyone else in the room followed suit. Leo waited until the others had been seated to figure out where he should place himself, then was delighted to discover that the only vacancy was beside Miss Rigby.

He wondered if she had done that on purpose, or if the seating had simply been a result of necessity. Because on her other side was Chloe, who clearly needed an additional handler, and beyond Chloe, Mrs. Puddleduck. To Leo’s left, claiming the head of the table, was Kimball, and directly opposite Leo, on Kimball’s left, was Valerie. Beside Valerie was Janey Kimball, and beside her, as far from Kimball as she could be, was his mother.

Just how accurately, Leo wondered further, did the dynamics of their dinner seating reflect the politics of the Kimball family? It didn’t escape his notice that he and Kimball were the only two men present, nor did he miss the fact that they were both seated in the traditional places of honor at the table. This in spite of the fact that Leo was a virtual stranger, and, in his guise of bookkeeper, was more than likely the one with the lowest income. Doubtless Mrs. Puddleduck was pulling in a bundle for taking on the care and feeding of Chloe, and as for Valerie, well… It went without saying that if her usual customers were of Kimball’s ilk, she was pulling in a lot more than a lowly bookkeeper would be.

So clearly it was gender rather than wealth that Kimball valued more in a person. Yet he lived in a house surrounded by women. Then again, he spent much of his time away. Interesting. Leo still couldn’t quite dissuade himself of the idea that Kimball and Miss Rigby had more going on between them than the usual employer/employee relationship. Yet it was Leo, not Miss Rigby, who was sitting at Kimball’s right hand. And it was a prostitute, not a friend or family member, sitting on his left.

Interesting, indeed. Suddenly, Leo wasn’t quite so put off by the idea of hanging around Ashling for a few more days. There was just no telling what might develop among such a cast of characters.