Her Man Friday(49)
Author: Elizabeth Bevarly

"Chloe," she said again. "We need to talk more about her, Mr. Kimball."

For a moment, she thought he would refuse, then, with clear reluctance, he nodded. "Fine," he said, sounding very, very tired. "We’ll talk about Chloe. But please," he added, "at least call me Schuyler. So few people outside my family do."

It was a bad idea, Caroline thought. But if it would help get him to talk about his daughter, she’d do it. "Fine. Schuyler," she said, surprised to realize that his name wasn’t so difficult to say at all, even more surprised to discover that she liked the way it felt on her tongue. "If you’d like to come back to my office, I have several suggestions for how we might go about helping Chloe."

Chapter Thirteen

The afternoon following that profoundly erotic, but not quite satisfying, grope in Schuyler Kimball’s pantry found Leo battling no small army of anxiety as he prepared for Lily Rigby’s arrival at his front door. He’d left Kimball’s estate early in the day—still having discovered jack about what he needed to discover—just so he could come home and get the place ready for Lily Rigby. But as he looked around, feeling strangely helpless, he wondered if he could possibly ever be ready for something like that.

He didn’t worry that the place offered any incriminating evidence of what he currently did for a living—namely, lying, sneaking around, and misrepresenting himself to a beautiful, luscious woman who may or may not have something to hide herself. In fact, his turn-of-the-century Chestnut Hill townhouse looked better than it had looked in some time. Maybe, he thought, it looked a little too good. A lowly bookkeeper for Kimball Technologies, Inc. probably wouldn’t pull in enough in salary to live in Chestnut Hill, let alone have acquired all the electronic wonders that made a single man’s life worth living, the way Leo had. Like that state-of-the-art sound system in the corner and that satellite TV system front and center. And the earth-toned leather furnishings and contemporary patterned rugs—not to mention a few pieces of original artwork—were probably also beyond the income of a working stiff like Leonard Freiberger.

Leo was even worried about what he was wearing. What he was wearing, for God’s sake. He still couldn’t believe he’d been reduced to standing in front of his closet, wondering what Miss Rigby would be wearing, concerned about giving off the wrong impression. Would they be staying in, or going out? If they went out, would they go someplace casual, or formal? If they stayed in, just how casual would the situation be? Jeez, next he’d be subscribing to Seventeen magazine and reading articles with titles like "Cool Ways to Hang with Your Hottie" or "Fashion UGHS!" Ultimately, he’d donned a pair of charcoal gray corduroys and a wine-colored sweater. There. Let her deduce whatever she wanted from that. At least he’d found some clean underwear.

For a moment, Leo wondered if he could pawn himself off as the laboring black sheep of a wealthy family. Then he remembered he’d already told Lily Rigby that he came from a long line of oystermen on Chesapeake Bay. Hmmm… Maybe he could tell her he’d just been kidding about that. Rich families were always eccentric that way, weren’t they? Lying and sneaking around and misrepresenting themselves? Hell, he’d fit right in.

He sighed heavily. He’d worry about explanations when Miss Rigby called for them. His best hope for the moment was that she would be as uncertain and confused about what was supposed to happen tonight as he was, and wouldn’t even notice that his home was way beyond the means of a lowly bookkeeper.

And while he was on the subject, he thought further, just what was supposed to happen tonight?

What the hell had he been thinking to let Lily Rigby come over to his place? Leo wondered, not for the first time since yesterday afternoon—or even the hundredth time, for that matter. Obviously he hadn’t been thinking. Not with his brain, anyway. His brain, after all, had a superior intellect that caused him to think and reason before acting. The rest of his body parts, however, weren’t so favorably endowed. Well, one part was pretty favorably endowed. Just not with any amount of smarts, that’s all.

A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts, a good hour too early for it to be Lily Rigby. When he opened the door and saw Eddie Dolan standing on the other side, Leo was amazed to realize that he’d completely forgotten about calling the guy two weeks before. Man, this whole Kimball thing had him way too preoccupied. What was worse, though, was that he wasn’t preoccupied with this whole Kimball thing.

"About damned time you got back to me," he chastised the other man anyway. No need to let Eddie think Leo was falling down on the job. "Just what the hell took you so long?"

Eddie pushed past him, unconcerned, a fat file folder tucked under one arm. "Hey, I ain’t even gettin’ paid for this," he reminded Leo. "You’re lucky I took the time out of my busy schedule to bother."

Leo closed the door behind the other man with a dry chuckle. "So, is your schedule busy lately with a blonde, a brunette, or a redhead?" he asked.

Eddie wiggled his eyebrows playfully. "All of the above."

Leo laughed harder. That was Eddie. The consummate ladies’ man. Which was actually kind of surprising, because he wasn’t the usual stereotype. Oh, he wasn’t a bad-looking sort, in a dark, brooding kind of way. But Eddie wasn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer, either. Sure, he had a knack for ferreting out all kinds of information about people, but when it came to disseminating that information, well… Eddie was much better cast as a hunter/gatherer than as the village wise man.

And then, of course, there was that tendency of his to commit crimes like distortion, fraud, and petty theft. Which, Leo couldn’t help but note, wasn’t that far a cry from lying, sneaking around, and misrepresenting oneself.

Ah, well. No one was perfect.

"I brought what I could find on the royal family," Eddie said, flopping himself down on the sofa. He unbuttoned his dark, double-breasted blazer, then hiked his feet up on the brass-and-glass coffee table, ankles crossed. "The royal pain family, ya ask me," he added parenthetically. "Man, what money will do to people. It’s a crime. They should give it all to me."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Just tell me the abbreviated version of the story for now. I’ll read over the whole file later."

Eddie eyed him with a critical study. "You got plans tonight, loverboy? Am I… intruding?"

"Not yet," Leo told him. "But you will be if you don’t hurry up. And get your feet off the table, will you?" he added, slapping the other man’s Gucci loafers as he passed. "I just dusted in here."