Her Man Friday(35)
Author: Elizabeth Bevarly

She grinned, turning her body more resolutely to prevent him from locating his quarry. "Oh, all right, if you must know, it’s Heidegger," she told him. "Being and Time. I find it absolutely riveting."

Heidegger? he thought. She’d heard of Heidegger? But… but that was impossible. She wasn’t particularly bright. Okay, he conceded, so maybe she’d enrolled in Philosophy 101 in college for a humanities credit. That would make sense. Assuming, of course, that she’d gone to college. Did they offer programs for social secretaryism at any of the universities?

"Don’t give me that," he said, pushing his thoughts aside. He reached for the book again, lurching forward to rope his arm around her shoulder, hoping that might facilitate his hunt. "Nobody ever found Heidegger riveting. Not even Mrs. Heidegger. And you were definitely interested in whatever this is."

"It’s nothing," she repeated more adamantly this time, turning her body even more to thwart him.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I’ve read a few books like that myself. Come on," he echoed. " ‘Fess up."

With one final lurch forward, he felt the book in his hands. Unfortunately, his final push sent him right into Miss Rigby, who lost her balance and landed backward. Leo snaked out his other arm to catch her, but the result was that Miss Rigby was on her back and Leo was on top of her.

For a moment, he forgot all about the book that he had managed to free from her grasp and held firmly in his own. All he registered was the way her face was barely an inch away from his, how her pupils expanded to nearly eclipse the green of her irises, and the way her lips parted in surprise at their landing. Then, gradually, a few other things registered. He noted the way her lush br**sts felt pressed against his chest, and the way her legs, tangled with his, were such an incredibly comfortable fit. And then he felt the rapid-fire pounding of her heart that perfectly mirrored his own.

Then he heard the sound of faint, masculine laughter from behind them, and it was Marianne Gianelli all over again. Quickly, he scrambled off of Miss Rigby and parked his butt firmly on the grass. She, too, wasted no time righting herself, scuttling backward to settle herself against the tree trunk, and well away from Leo.

"Uh, sorry about that," he said.

She nodded quickly. "No problem. Can I have my book back? Please?"

Only then did he remember what had started this whole thing, and, remembering all the trouble he’d gone to to get it—not to mention the wonderful reward he’d received as a result—he held up the book to inspect it. He frowned when he noted the flowers and girlie stuff on the front cover and realized it wasn’t what he’d thought it was. Instead of grisly, bloody, true crime, it looked like Miss Rigby’s reading preferences were as dainty and innocent as she appeared to be herself.

"Looks good," he lied halfheartedly. Then he flipped open the cover and saw the colorful illustration inside that included two semi-clad people with a raging ocean and stampeding army off in the distance. The man’s face was nuzzled against the woman’s ample br**sts, and she appeared to be this close to having a shattering orgasm. "Whoa. Looks really good," he amended as he began to flip through the pages.

"Mr. Freiberger," she said with clear objection, reaching for the book.

But in his quick perusal, Leo’s attention had lit on the word nipple, and there was no way he was going to give the book back just yet. Scanning the rest of the paragraph, he realized that innocent and dainty were the last words he’d use to describe Miss Rigby’s reading preferences. Raging fever of desire was a more accurate description. Especially since it was right there in print, in the paragraph that followed the nipple business. And after that…

Good God. It was page seventy-two of How to Leave a Man Groaning with Satisfaction Every Time.

"Can I borrow this when you’re done with it?" he asked, still not looking up from the highly erotic prose. He wondered if there were many men who realized the kinds of things women were learning from romance novels, then thought maybe he should start a campaign to enlighten his gender. It could only benefit everyone.

"Are you serious?" she asked, punctuating the question with a soft laugh.

"Hell, yes, I’m serious," he assured her, turning the page to read more. He wanted to see if Melinda would achieve… satisfaction from her lover, Beauregard. Whoa. Yes, she did. Several times, in fact. Way to go, Beauregard. Leo made a mental note to try that trick himself next time he—

"It’s even better if you start from the beginning and do it a little more slowly."

He glanced up from the book to find Miss Rigby smiling at him. So he smiled back, hoping that in that single gesture, he managed to convey everything he was feeling at the moment—all the heat, all the hunger, all the lust, all the longing, all the fire, all the fury, all the—

"Reading, I mean," she qualified.

Reading? Just like that, his thoughts fizzled. He nodded slowly. "I knew that," he assured her.

But her soft chuckle told him she didn’t believe him at all. And that was when Leo decided that yes, it would no doubt definitely be a good idea to start at the beginning, as she had suggested, and to go slow, to see where things led. Because so far, with Lily Rigby, the path had been a bit winding. Now, however, Leo was beginning to think it was time to straighten things out.

"So, Miss Rigby," he began, glancing back down at the book in his hand, "you got plans for the afternoon? I, uh… I promise I’ll go slow."

Chapter Ten

There was little in life that Leo could imagine dreading more than having to face Kimball’s board of directors again. The only thing that made this incident worse than the first time was what had made it worse last week, too—on both occasions, he’d had to come clad in his persona of Leonard Freiberger.

And as he had the week before, when he’d given them his first report about the status of his work at Ashling, Leo felt strangely vulnerable, strangely violated, and thoroughly sick to his stomach. Not just because he had to be Lame Leonard Freiberger, but because he knew he was failing at the job he’d been hired to do. And failure, in any form, was something to which Leo was totally unaccustomed.

What was worse was that his inability to find the missing Kimball millions wasn’t the only place where he was failing these days. He’d struck out with Miss Rigby last weekend, too. Although she’d agreed to accompany him to a little coffee shop near the park, the only thing he’d managed to get from her was a brief span of idle conversation, the kind of chitchat that two vaguely acquainted people might share.