Her Man Friday(29)
Author: Elizabeth Bevarly

But still he maintained his indifferent posture. With one shoulder pressed to the shelf, he stuffed his hands nonchalantly into his trouser pockets and met her gaze with a look that was, at best, incredibly bored. "And, I’m sorry… what is your position again?" he asked. "I’ve forgotten what it is you said you do."

She smiled dryly. "The hell you have."

A flicker of something—surprise?—lit his eyes for a moment, then dimmed again. "A teacher, or something, right?"

Caroline took a few steps toward him, thinking it might be best if she could at least appear to be on the offensive here. "I’m the headmistress of Chloe’s school, the Van Meter Academy. Where," she added, biting back the sarcasm that spurred her, "your young ward is currently enrolled in the program for extremely gifted children, studying literature, music, art, science, and philosophy. Or at least she would be, if she made it to class more than a handful of times a week and completed the required assignments."

Mr. Kimball nodded slowly, seemingly lost in thought. "That’s right," he murmured, his voice as soft and smooth as velvet. He met her gaze levelly again, mischief sparking his eyes this time when he did. "How could I forget? That’s one of my favorite words in the English language, after all."

She eyed him with confusion. "What word?"

He smiled the way he had smiled at his… playmate—she hesitated to use the word, though she wasn’t sure why, seeing as how that was essentially what his dinner companion of the week before had been. "Headmistress," he said, enunciating the word with much relish. "I love that word. It just seems to encompass so many wonderful things, doesn’t it?"

Instead of rising to the bait, Caroline ignored the remark. There was no reason for her to resort to adolescent comments. Especially since Mr. Kimball seemed more than capable of providing enough for both of them.

"Your ward, Mr. Kimball," she said, moving a few more slow steps forward, until she, too, could lean a careless shoulder against the bookcase, albeit a shelf lower than where he’d settled his own, "is an extremely gifted young woman. I don’t know if you honestly realize just how gifted."

His lips flattened into a line of clear disapproval where the change of subject was concerned. "My ward, Mrs. Beecham, is a troubled kid whose mother should have done better by her," he replied.

"Maybe it’s her father who should have done better by her," Caroline returned without hesitation. "It takes two to generate a life, after all. Why do people have so much trouble remembering that? Why is it always the mother who fails a child, and not the father, hmmm?"

But Mr. Kimball didn’t rise to her bait, either. He simply stated blandly, "Chloe is doing just fine, in my opinion, all things considered. Yes, she can be difficult at times, but she’s by no means any worse than a number of children her age. I don’t see where you need to trouble yourself with her welfare. Will that be everything? Lily can show you out."

Caroline inhaled a deep breath, releasing it slowly as she tried to keep a lid on her anger and decide how to proceed. Finally, ignoring his invitation for her to beat it, she said, "I have been working with gifted children for nearly twelve years, Mr. Kimball, ever since earning my master’s degree in child development. But I’ve never met a child like Chloe. Ever."

"Yes, well, you wouldn’t be alone in that regard," he interjected dryly. "She’s certainly one of a kind."

Caroline ignored that comment, too. "There are a lot of gifted children in the world," she continued, striving to keep her voice even, hesitant to succumb to the passion she felt for her subject matter. Something told her that Schuyler Kimball would react to passion—any passion—in a way she wasn’t prepared to deal with right now. "Musically gifted children," she went on, "linguistically gifted children, intellectually gifted children, emotionally gifted children, kinetically gifted children. But I’ve never met a child who combined so many gifts in one single package. Chloe is gifted in virtually every way imaginable. She could do or be anything she wants. Anything. Do you understand what I’m saying?"

For a long moment, the billionaire didn’t respond. He only stared at Caroline as if giving great weight to some very important matter. In many ways, he seemed not to see her at all, so absorbed was he in whatever had claimed his attention. His entire being seemed to hum with the process of dissemination, as if he were some sophisticated bit of machinery filing and sorting what she had just told him, drawing conclusions no mortal human would ever be able to fathom.

Although she didn’t alter her seemingly careless pose any more than he did, ultimately, Caroline had to look away. She suddenly wished she had kept her glasses on instead of leaving them in the car, even though they were only necessary for close-up work like reading and driving. At this point, she thought, any barrier, anything that might give the impression of distance between them, would be welcome. Such intensity on Mr. Kimball’s part, such focus, such utter fixation… It made her nervous. It made her anxious. It made her…

God help her, it made her hot.

She had been totally unprepared for Schuyler Kimball a week ago, and she was no more ready for him now. And it wasn’t just because of the simple matter that he was an extremely handsome, rawly sexy, man. Certainly she’d met plenty of handsome, sexy men in her time, and had been married to one for nearly ten years… before losing him.

But Mr. Kimball’s appearance went beyond dark good looks. There was something compelling about him. Something commanding. Something charismatic. It was something she’d never encountered in another human being before. He was the kind of man who could tell a person to do something outrageous, something ridiculous, something dangerous… and that person would do it without a thought for the repercussions of the action.

He was the kind of man who, if he had a mind to, could honestly own another person, heart and mind, body and soul. Maybe that was why Miss Rigby had granted Caroline an audience with him of only twenty minutes. Because to spend any longer than that in the man’s presence was to risk losing oneself forever.

He shifted his position slightly then, and she brought her head back up to glance at him. But only long enough to note that he had removed one hand from his pocket and was absently rubbing his open palm over his roughly shadowed jaw. There was something strangely intimate about the gesture, though, and she forced her gaze away again, focusing on the flame-colored trees that dotted the vast landscape outside the big Palladian window behind him.