Authors: Elizabeth Bevarly
Tags: #Contemporary, #Fiction, #Romance, #General, #Mystery & Detective, #Man-Woman Relationships, #Love Stories, #Romance Fiction, #Embezzlement, #Women Authors; American, #Authors; American
Lily's room at Ashling was a lot like Lily herself, Leo noted the following day, when he entered her bedroom with all the stealth and silence of a sneaky little fink. As he closed the door behind him, he tried not to think about the fact that, in his need to perform his damned job, he might be potentially—and irrevocably—damaging any chance he had for happiness with Lily. Because if she caught him in here snooping around without her permission, especially after the night they'd just spent together, she was going to be just a tad surprised, just a tad peeved, just a tad totally unforgiving.
But it was four o'clock, he reminded himself, a time that she always,
always
, set aside for tea. Of course, usually, she enjoyed her tea perched on the edge of Kimball's big desk, flashing Leo with a breathtaking hint of thigh while he enjoyed a cup of coffee. But there had been a couple of occasions over the past two weeks when he'd been so immersed in his work, that she'd politely excused herself to take tea alone in the kitchen.
Today, he had feigned just such immersion. And now, he was going to take advantage of her absence—and her trust—to delve into—and violate—her private domain.
He tried to forget about the way they had awakened beside each other that morning to enjoy yet another sexual encounter—using their mouths to please each other that time, he recalled with a wave of almost unquenchable need. They had showered together and breakfasted together, then had driven to Kimball's estate together—well, with Leo following on her bumper every mile, which sort of constituted together, since they'd been on their cell phones the whole way—and then they'd snuck in the back way just before dawn together.
They'd been like two teenagers who had stayed out all night when they'd been expressly forbidden to see each other, he thought. He hadn't had that much fun since he was a kid.
And they had giggled like kids as they'd tried to maintain their silence through the garden, had been forced to stop more than once so that they could enjoy another fierce, all too brief, embrace. Leo had nuzzled Lily's neck as she'd fumbled for the key to the back door, and they'd almost tumbled to the floor once they were inside, tempted to make love one more time. Instead, they had brewed a pot of coffee before Mrs. Kaiser, the cook, had even come in to work. Then Lily had gone upstairs to change into her Miss Rigby clothes, and Leo had gone to work.
Work
, he muttered to himself now.
Lying and scheming and sneaking around
was more like it. Man, he was a creep.
Pushing the thought away, he crossed silently to the writing desk that was situated exactly where Halston Man had said it would be. Instead of being obscured by Beanie Babies, however, Lily's laptop was switched on and unfolded, as if she'd been using it very recently. It hummed softly in the otherwise silent room, the screen saver dancing almost eerily. It almost seemed as if she were inviting him to investigate, he thought, heartening some, as if she had absolutely nothing to hide.
He'd brought a stack of blank diskettes with him, just in case, and set them beside the state-of-the-art laptop before thumbing the mouse and scattering the screen saver. What appeared on the screen was a list of e-mails she had evidently recently downloaded, and he was surprised by the number and variety of senders. He shrank that screen and noticed that a variety of other programs were running simultaneously, and he moved the mouse to one titled
Receiving
, feeling sick as he did so. This was going to be too easy, he thought as the screen expanded.
And Lily was never going to forgive him for it.
His nausea doubled, however, when he saw what he had opened. He wasn't sure, at first, exactly what it was, but it appeared to be something pretty heavy duty for a social secretary to be concerned about. As he scrolled down, Leo's suspicions were confirmed. What Lily had running on her laptop was a list of Kimball Technologies' many suppliers, and all of the materials that were coming in that day. Okay, so that wasn't as heavy duty as he'd initially thought. It was still something that shouldn't concern a social secretary.
Curious, he pulled up her e-mail again and began to scan it, opening one or two for a flagrant read. The more he read, the sicker he became. Because he realized it wasn't Lily's e-mail he was reading. It was Schuyler Kimball's. Every last item was addressed to [email protected]. And although the majority of it concerned business, much of it was explicitly noted as confidential. Several items clearly did not involve a social secretary where their need-to-know status was concerned. Nevertheless, somehow, and for some reason, Lily had accessed her boss's mail. God alone knew what she was planning to do with it.
He shrank the e-mail program again and pulled up the other programs that were running. Along with the one titled
Receiving
, there were others titled
Shipping, Production, P&L
, and
Personnel
. None of them seemed like the kind of thing that would find their way into the busy day of a social secretary. But all of them seemed like the kind of thing in which someone interested in, oh, say… stealing fifty million dollars would most assuredly take an interest.
His pulse pounding in his chest, in his throat, in his ears, Leo tugged open the desk drawer and found it full of diskettes. Full of diskettes that were each clearly labeled with what appeared to be bank account numbers.
Oh, Lily. Oh, no…
It was then that Leo forgot all about what had happened the night before. He forgot about his certainty that Lily was an honest woman. He forgot about how much his instincts urged him to trust her. He forgot about the fact that he had fallen in love with her.
And, pulling up a chair to seat himself at her desk, Leo scooped her diskettes out of the drawer, unbanded the blank ones he'd brought with him, and then he went to work.
It was going on six o'clock when Lily, surprised that Leo hadn't sought her out before now, went in search of the bookkeeper to see if he wanted to join the family for dinner. A long shot, to be sure.
After all, why would anyone want to join the Kimballs for dinner if their paycheck didn't require it? And seeing as how Miranda was insisting on bringing both Laurel
and
Hardy to dinner tonight, it could only bode badly for the evening.
Then again, judging by the fury and concentration with which Leo had been working when she'd stopped by earlier to see if he wanted to join her for tea, he would probably need a break by now. Not to mention a good laugh. And heaven knew dinner with the Kimballs always delivered in that respect.
Recalling his decline of coffee that afternoon, Lily tried not to feel stung by his unwillingness to visit with her. He did have work to do, after all, she reminded herself. Even if she still had no idea what that work involved. And just because the two of them had spent the better part of the night locked in each other's arms, in each other's bodies, well, that didn't necessarily mean that their work habits would change the following day, did it?
It didn't matter, she told herself as she approached Schuyler's office, growing warm with the anticipation of merely seeing Leo again. All that mattered was that the two of them had finally acknowledged and accepted the fact that they were meant for each other, and that now they could work toward building a relationship that would ultimately include honesty and trust.
"Leo," she said as she pushed open the office door and strode through to find him—
—gone.
Well, it hardly seemed prudent to extend an invitation to dinner now, did it? Telling herself there must be an explanation for why he had left Ashling without even telling her goodbye, Lily started to close the door, then noticed his suit jacket still hung on the back of Schuyler's chair.
Oh.
So he
hadn't
left Ashling without telling her goodbye. Well, of course he wouldn't, she told herself now. How silly of her. She was just feeling a bit unsure about what had happened the night before, that was all. In spite of her certainty that the two of them did indeed belong together, their budding relationship was still too new, too fragile, for her to be utterly confident of his feelings for her. It made perfect sense that she would worry about his abandoning her, even if such a worry were totally unfounded. Right?
She closed the door behind herself and wondered where he'd gone. He was probably looking for her, she thought. And if that were the case, if they both took to wandering around Ashling trying to find each other, it could be years before they stumbled upon each other again.
Well. He knew the rules and regulations governing dinner at the estate, she reminded herself, so eventually, he would find his way into the vast African landscape known as the dining room. She might as well go upstairs to change her clothes now, so that when the two of them did meet again—presuming Leo could remember where the dining room was, which, admittedly, was a big if—she would look her best. But she still couldn't help wondering where he had gotten himself off to as she climbed the stairs to her bedroom.
Much to her relief—well, her initial, short-lived relief, at least—she found him in her bedroom a moment later. She smiled at seeing him again… until she realized she'd found him in a place where he really shouldn't be. Not just because she hadn't invited him to explore her private realm, but because he was hunched over her desk, working on something on her laptop which—just guessing here—probably
wasn't
Free Cell.
Had she stumbled upon him in her room without her permission, she would have liked to think Leo was sneakily fondling her underwear, or perhaps had a fetish about her shoes. Instead, he obviously had a thing about her laptop computer. She just wished she knew exactly what it was.
"Leo?" she asked tentatively.
At her softly uttered query, his entire body jerked in the biggest, most unmistakable flinch she'd ever seen. She knew then that whatever he had been doing, it had claimed his complete and absolute attention, and that he knew full well he wasn't supposed to be doing it. Her heart began to pound rapidly behind her rib cage, her stomach rolled with uneasiness, and her mouth went dry enough that she had trouble asking her next, and perfectly logical, question.
"What are you doing here?"
She had no idea where she found the strength or energy to manage it, but Lily took a few steps into the room, trying to see past Leo in an effort to discover what he was doing. As she approached, she noted the scattered diskettes on her desk, and in a few more steps saw what was on the computer screen. It was a record of one of dozens of bank accounts, accounts that didn't concern Leo or his investigation of tax problems, or anything else having to do with Kimball Technologies at this point.
He hadn't turned around yet, hadn't acknowledged her presence in any way, save that one big body flinch when she'd spoken his name. But as she drew nearer now, he stood and turned to face her, placing himself menacingly between her and the desk, as if he were worried that she might hurry over there and try to sabotage whatever he was doing. Even though she was utterly confused by his presence and his silence and the expression of profound repulsion on his face, even though she felt wary and cautious inside, she tried to smile, tried to let him know that she was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt when it came to explaining himself.
Evidently, however, he wasn't willing to extend the same courtesy to her. Because instead of smiling back—even sheepishly—or offering an explanation for his presence in her room—even a lame one about fondling her underwear—Leo only frowned and shook his head slowly, his expression suggesting he was disgusted by the very sight of her.
"What are you doing here?" she repeated when he didn't answer her, the vast emptiness inside her spanning wider, growing colder, with every moment that passed.
"I'm sorry," he finally replied. But there wasn't an ounce of apology in his voice. "I meant to be out of here before you found me. Time just got away from me, I guess. That's what happens when I get really, really,
really
interested in my work."
"But what are you doing here?" she asked a third time, feeling her patience and her willingness to be fair gradually slipping away.
But again, he didn't answer her question directly. All he offered in response was, "Then again, I don't see any reason why
I
should be the one apologizing here. That should be your job. Not that I think an apology will ever come close to making up for what you've done. There are other, considerably more effective, ways to deal with something like this."
"What do you mean?" Lily asked, even more confused now. "Of course you should apologize. You came up here without my permission, without telling me, and you're prying into my computer files. In spite of all the free and easy information readily available on the Internet these days, this still qualifies as a violation of privacy. Where I come from,
Mr. Freiberger
," she added pointedly, "that qualifies as an offensive action, one that requires an apology."
"And theft, Miss Rigby?" he replied easily, his expression completely impassive now. "You don't find that offensive?"
Her stomach pitched a bit at his question, but she still didn't understand. "What are you talking about?"
Apparently tired of dancing around his reason for being there, he hooked his hands loosely, yet somehow threateningly, on his hips and told her, "I don't see why
I
should apologize when
I'm
not the one who's filtered off millions of bucks from my employer's profits this year.
I'm
not the one who's made it a habit to filter off millions of bucks from my employer's profits
every
year."
Oh, so he'd found out about that, had he? Lily thought. Well, that rather complicated things, didn't it? But before she could say a word about his discovery, he started talking again.
"Now, mind you," he went on, "I haven't had time to dig as deeply or go back as far as I'd like to in all these nice records you so helpfully made to keep track of your activities, but just how the hell long has this been going on?"