Read Babysitting the Billionaire Online
Authors: Nicky Penttila
Babysitting the Billionaire (2 page)
He caught up easily, the long-legged misanthropist. “And
third?”
“Third, fuck you. Sir.”
Suddenly his shadow on her shoulder vanished. She slowed
and turned—had he been raptured, right here at the airport? No, he’d just
stopped in his tracks, forcing people behind him to swerve out of the way. His
mouth had dropped a little open, exposing the nicest teeth orthodontia could
buy.
“Coffee?” she said sweetly.
He exploded in sound, rumbling deep. It resolved itself
in her ears into laughter. He was laughing at her.
Suddenly she realized what she’d said. She’d just tossed
it off, because it was always better to let go of anger rather than carry it
around. Well, maybe not always. Maybe not when you’re babysitting someone who
could get you fired in a split-second.
But he was laughing. The sound was so genuinely joyful
the tired travelers hauling their suitcases around to avoid him even smiled,
despite themselves. He wiped the corner of an eye.
“Right, coffee.”
He ordered, she paid, and they sat in the far corner
with his back to the crowd. He lifted the little paper cup in a toast to her.
“I haven’t had such a good laugh in ages. Thank you, Miss May.”
“Miss Reed. May Reed. You don’t look much like your handout
photos.”
He savored his first sip, eyes closed. His lashes were a
lighter brown than his brows. How did that work?
He opened his eyes, and she kept drinking him in. “I bored
of being sluggish and tired all the time. Now I have great stamina.” He winked.
Startled, she forgot to censor herself, “Why are you
here? I mean, thank you for the generous donation.”
“I believe in the work your foundation does. You do work
for the foundation?”
“Yes. I do its artwork and web design, stuff like that.”
“So that explains why mine was the only airport sign that
held a drawing instead of my name.”
May shrugged, embarrassed to be caught not being like
everyone else again. “You wanted to be incognito, right? And my Sharpie ran out
of ink.”
“Sharpie? Mine always last a long time.”
“Sure, if you put the cap back on.” He would not make
her feel uncomfortable, she sternly reminded herself. All he was, was a
brilliant, successful, newly-gorgeous hunk of manflesh.
She tried again. “I mean, thank you, but why did you
need to come to the announcement party? You don’t like publicity, and this
publicity especially, I can see that.”
“You can, can you? Don’t frown. I’m not patronizing you,
heaven forbid. Can it not be a case of me wanting credit for something I’ve
done, even if it’s from only a few people and only in private?”
She looked past the beautiful angles. His jaw was tight.
“No. There’s something else.”
He leaned back. She hadn’t realized how close he was to
her, but she felt his departure like a cold breeze.
Stupid airport air conditioning.
He tipped the cup and poured the last of the coffee
down. “Time to work,” he said, standing.
Now she had to race to keep up with him. But she nearly
ran him over when he stopped short at a collection of ceiling signs. “Taxi or
garage?”
“Taxi. Or rather town car.”
“You drive a town car?”
“I don’t drive. It’s a rental.” And it was right where
she had left it, thank the stars. The graying driver had put on his chauffer’s
cap for once, and ably loaded the rolling bag into the trunk. She let Kurck get
in first, with his industrial-strength computer bag, and scurried after him.
The car pulled smoothly away from the curb.
May was glad of the giant bag between them, even if it
did crowd her side.
“These town cars don’t have much leg room, do they?”
“I’m sure you’re used to that.” He looked a question at
her, and she shrugged. “Doesn’t everyone drive Trabants in
“Try
Germany
raised his perfect brows at her. “And your family, they are from
“
“American?” He seemed surprised.
“Both of them, yes.”
Shithead
paternalistic blowhard gearhead.
He grinned as if he’d read her mind.
“I see. So you’re adopted.” His grin grew wider as she
scowled.
“From
“I stand corrected.”
Now she felt petty. “I stand corrected, too.”
“Very pretty. Just for that, I’ll tell you what I need.”
“I’m here to help.” She almost made it sound sincere.
Why did he have her so, so—what? Discombobulated, her mother would say.
“You’re right. I didn’t come here just for some party. I
want to have a private conversation, preferably over dinner, with the junior
senator from
Jane Lindell. You’ll arrange it for me.”
“Why?” She lifted a hand to her mouth as if to catch the
word, but it flew free.
“So refreshing, the American woman. We met a few years
ago, a decade now. The acquaintance was severed at that time, and I’d like to
mend it.”
“So she won’t want to have dinner with you.”
“I regret that is the case.”
“And you do.”
“Just so.”
“So I’m supposed to lie and get her there, and spring
you on her?”
“Again, so refreshing.”
The senator might not even be in
if she was, May had no idea how to reach her, and absolutely no idea what could
persuade her to go to dinner with a stranger. But she had no doubt she would be
slapped on a threat list after pulling Kurck’s little bait-and-switch.
“You do know that having a meeting with an American
Senator is the opposite of staying below the media radar? She has to keep an
appointment calendar, and she’s very popular. She’d be recognized anywhere we
chose to meet, and likely you would, too.”
“A bit of a challenge, I agree. But your stalwart leader
does want his ultimate expedition funded. I’m sure you’ll find a way.”
May’s mind was racing, and everywhere meeting dead ends.
Something was missing. If he wanted to open shop in
“You’re not telling me something.”
“Okay, now that spirit of independence is getting
tiresome.”
“How am I supposed to help you if I’m working in the
dark?”
“Fine.” He crossed his arms. “I suppose you must know.
The acquaintance was a little more than an acquaintance. I proposed she marry
me, and she said no.”
He swung his arms open, as if brushing that past aside. “That
was then. Now, I’m here to change her mind.”
****
Since May had texted her, Sadie was on the lookout for
them at La Luna, a boutique hotel discreetly tucked into
hotel cardkeys and then stopped cold, staring at Kurck. With a visible effort,
she turned her gaze back to May.
“I need your ID. The room is in your name.”
“That’ll be interesting when I call down for room
service.” He seemed amused by her reaction. May looked at the floor hard, to
keep from rolling her eyes, and then performed the introduction.
“Mr. Kurck, this is Sadie, our team leader for public
outreach.”
“The flack.”
“Your English is impeccable,” Sadie said, holding out a
well-manicured hand. A hint of suspicion in his face, he shook it, Western
style. “Now, shall we go upstairs and talk things through?”
“I don’t see why. The internet works here, right?”
“Of course. And we have a backup personal wireless, as
well, right, May?”
Right.
May rummaged in her woven-basket purse, feeling like a lady dressed
for a flea market finding herself in
over the smooth egg of the device, she pulled it out and held it out, or rather
up, to the man. He glanced at it, and then glanced at her.
“We need to talk. Upstairs.” He turned and headed toward
the elevator. Sadie looked at May as if to say she was sorry to have saddled
her with this tyrant. Sadie didn’t know the half of it.
The hotel was built tall and narrow. Sadie, sliding into
her smooth tour-guide manner, waved at the elevator’s keypad. “The card unlocks
the elevator. Only these two cards will unlock the penthouse floor.” Kurck tossed
his head—just like a coltish girl, really, except it made May shiver. No, that
was the iced-up air conditioning. It could not be the sizzling presence of the
man beside her.
“I know how penthouses work.”
“Of course. But you don’t know how politics works. We
can’t just call the senator’s office and expect her to appear at our table.”
“Why not? I know she’s your sorority sister. Doesn’t she
love penguins?”
Sadie ignored his snide tone, but May couldn’t. “Leave
her be. She’s trying to help you.”
Kurck’s brow rose in a clean line, beautiful but
sarcastic. “Sounds like she’s making excuses for why you are going to fail.”
“And what was your excuse?”
Before he could respond, the elevator stopped with a
beep and a jerk. He stalked off, leaving his rolling bag behind. May pulled at
the handle, and had to pull again.
It must
be full of bricks.
In the foyer, Sadie grabbed her arm. “Watch your mouth.”
“He’s not listening, anyway.”
“You don’t know that. He was watching us both as if he
were going to eat us.”
“Swallow us whole, more like.” May shook off the arm and
looked around. The foyer was as big as her apartment. “Which way is the
bedroom?”
“Don’t go in his bedroom. Jeez, May. Just leave it by
the door, there.” Sadie pointed past the kitchen area. Kurck had taken over a
giant mahogany dining table and was pulling components out of his computer bag.
May tried to ignore him as she walked through the dining area toward what
looked to be a bathroom and bedroom.
He called after her. “There are two wings. I want to use
the other one.”
Of course.
She dragged his bag past him again on her way to the opposite
bedroom/bathroom wing. She didn’t look at him so she wouldn’t have to see his
grin.
Pigheaded, too much money, stuffed
shirt weasel.
Out of his line of sight, she sagged against the wall.
Why was she reacting so strongly? And why, why was he here four days before the
blasted party, if he wanted to be so secret? She was never going to get through
this assignment.
Nonsense.
Of course she would. Hadn’t she made it through Rhode Island School
of Design without crying? Okay, without crying in public. And she had mad art
skills, and people knew it. If she was no good as a babysitter, well, what of
it? It wasn’t her job.
Sadie caught up to her. “May, this is your job. Get a
grip.”
“You might be used to man-bitches, but this is new to
me.”
“It is not, either.” Sadie sighed, exasperated. She
would know; she reported directly to Edmondsson.
“What are we going to do?”
“Don’t worry.” Sadie was biting her lip. “I’m on it.”
“How?”
“One of the senator’s aides owes me a favor.” The way
she said it made it sound dirty. The story was that Sadie used to be a Hill
staffer, but left because of burnout. Or something worse.
“I’m sorry, Sadie. He really doesn’t even see me, but I
will try to be more grovelly.”
“You don’t have to grovel, sweets. With that perfect
China-doll face, all you have to do is stay quiet and they’ll assume you’re
docile.”
“Laotian.”
“Whatever. Just keep an eye on him.”
“Wait. I don’t have to stay with him, do I? I was just
going to leave him here.”
“Fine. But check in on him, and if he goes out, you go
with him.”
“And at night?”
“He should stay in at night. No, really, from what I
understand he’s going to want to work
up at three o’clock or something. He won’t be going out.”
“Until he sees the senator.”
“Right.” Sadie set her ruby-red mouth, turned on her
heel, and headed for the other bedroom. “Have to make some calls,” she said as
she passed the living room. Kurck said nothing.
May tip-toed back into the living room past the man, who
already had a recording studio’s pile of equipment set up on the table. She
sank on one of the very plushy sofas.