Her Man Friday

by Elizabeth Bevarly

  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?"

  Lily didn't know what to say, wasn't sure what he wanted from her in response, had no idea what would be prudent when it came to explaining her actions. So she simply answered his question truthfully. "It's been going on since I started working for Schuyler," she said.

  He dropped his mouth open in obvious surprise, as if he hadn't expected her to admit it. But what was the point in denying it? Lily thought. If he'd been delving into the files and diskettes here in her room—where she had never once tried to hide or mask her activities—then he knew everything there was to know. There was no reason to contradict any of it.

  "It's been going on that long?" he echoed.

  She nodded. "Yes."

  "You've been filtering tens of millions of dollars annually from Kimball Technologies for a full decade?"

  "Well, no, not that much," she told him. "When Schuyler first started the business, I could only manage a few thousand dollars annually. It wasn't until a few years later, when the business really started to take off, that I was able to turn it into millions annually. And then even more years before I could bump it up into eight figures."

  For a moment, he only gazed at her in silence. Then, his voice reeking with amazement, he said, "My God, you actually sound like you're proud of yourself."

  She lifted one shoulder and let it drop. "Well, I suppose there's a certain amount of pride involved," she admitted. "I mean, it hasn't been easy taking a bit here and a bit there, where no one would miss it. But I managed."

  "You managed," he repeated tonelessly. Then, angrily, he added, "You managed to the tune of fifty million bucks this year."

  She shrugged again. "Well, the last few years, Kimball Technologies has turned such an enormous profit, I couldn't resist. I knew nobody would miss the money. Not really. Where was the harm?"

  "Nobody would miss it," Leo repeated, obviously extremely annoyed. "You thought nobody would miss the theft of fifty million dollars."

  It hit Lily, then, finally, what Leo was implying, what he thought he'd stumbled onto in her records. A huge fist seized her insides and squeezed hard, and a hot wave of disbelief nearly overpowered her. "You think I stole all that money?" she asked, shocked to her very core that he would be capable of believing such a thing about her.

  This time he was the one to shrug, but there wasn't an ounce of unconcern in his action. He gestured toward a pile of diskettes on the desk that Lily realized didn't belong to her. "I have every bit of evidence I need right there," he announced with absolute conviction. "All I have to do is take that to Kimball's board of directors tomorrow, and they'll have all the ammunition they need to fuel an investigation that will ultimately put you behind bars.
I hope you look good in prison orange, sweetheart. 'Cause you're gonna be wearing it for a loooong time."

  Lily shook her head incredulously, but all she could manage by way of a response was to repeat, more forcefully this time, "You think I stole all that money? From Schuyler?"

  "No, I know you stole it," Leo stated without a bit of doubt. "And I have all the evidence I need to prove it right here."

  She expelled a soft sound of distress. "Leo, you have no idea what you hold evidence of there. Just how far did you get while you were violating my personal files? Not far enough, apparently. If you'd just—"

  "Lily, I have an extremely good idea of what I have evidence of," he interrupted. "Ferreting out this kind of criminal activity is what I do for a living. And hell, you didn't even bother to try and hide your tracks, that's how cocky you've been during this whole thing. You might as well have bookmarked it all into your favorite places on the Internet."

  She expelled another soft sound of irritation, and tried again to explain something to someone who had clearly already made up his mind to convict her. "It was easy to find, because I wasn't trying to hide my activities," she told him. "There was never any reason to."

  "Because you were so confident that you'd never be caught," he said. "Man, your ego must be right up there with your IQ."

  She shook her head again, trying to ignore the sting of pain that knifed through her at his jab. "No, I never tried to hide what I was doing because—"

  "Because," he interrupted her again, "you know your boss is in love with you, and that he would never suspect you, should the theft, by some wild miracle, be discovered by some troubleshooter who was really good at his job."

  "No. You've got it all wrong. Schuyler isn't in love with me. He's never been in love with me, any more than I've ever been in love with him. Leo, listen to me. It was because—"

  "Because, dammit, you knew I trusted you. And that I… I cared about you, and you knew you could use that to your advantage."

  Lily snapped her mouth shut, wondering why she'd even bothered to try and explain. Leo had made up his mind about her, and obviously thought she was more than capable of stealing money from her boss, her friend. He was also clearly of the opinion that she was the kind of woman who would exploit a man's affections for her without caring at all how he felt.

  And here she'd been thinking he might be falling in love with her the way she had fallen in love with him.

  Honestly. She should have known something like this would happen. She should have realized from the start that, eventually, it would all blow up in her face. How had she not seen this coming? And she thought she was so smart.

  "You honestly think I've been embezzling money from Schuyler all these years and keeping it for myself," she said again, surprised that she managed to keep the bitter edge out of her voice.

  "Yes, that's what I think. It's what I know," Leo concurred readily.

  Too readily, Lily thought. He was going to accept the fact, utterly and resoundingly, that what he had uncovered in her computer was a network of embezzled funds that spanned nearly a decade. Embezzled funds that she'd kept for herself, because she was a greedy little pig who wanted more. He was going to accept without question that she was a thief and a cheat and a liar. That she wasn't to be trusted. That she cared only about herself.

  In spite of the fact that he'd already drawn his conclusions, she said softly, "Think about this for a minute, Leo. Think about what you've found. You're obviously still in the middle of things there, and believe it or not, I am sorry I interrupted you before you were able to finish."

  "Yeah, I bet you are."

  "Think about it," she instructed him again. "If I'd embezzled fifty million dollars for myself this year alone, do you honestly think I'd still be here working for Schuyler? Wouldn't it make more sense for me to be down in South America doing my 'Girl from Ipanema' impression? There are infinitely more appealing places to live than Ashling, in spite of its beauty and luxury. And there are infinitely more appealing people that I'd like to surround myself with. Read my lips, Leo. If I were a greedy, superficial bitch who had fifty million dollars to call my own, regardless of how I'd come by it, I wouldn't be here."

  Leo did read her lips. He couldn't help himself. He kept thinking about the erotic words those lips had whispered the night before, recalled the way those lips had felt skimming over every body part he possessed, over and over again. In spite of everything he'd learned about her that afternoon, he still wanted Lily Rigby. He still cared about Lily Rigby. God help him, he still loved Lily Rigby. He just wished like hell she were a different Lily Rigby. One who hadn't, oh, say… stolen fifty million bucks from her employer this year alone and lied her head off about God only knew what else.

  "No, I haven't completed the investigation I'd like to complete," he agreed. "But I have more than enough here now to take to Kimball's board of directors and get things rolling. I've got nearly three years' worth of records that show where and how you've stolen the money—and you're damned good when it comes to stealing, Lily, I'll give you that—along with records of the banks where you put the money, once you had it in your greedy little hands.

  "Of course," he continued, feeling his gut tighten when she made no effort to deny anything he said, "the money didn't stay in those accounts for long, and I haven't figured out yet what you did with it once it left. But a district attorney shouldn't have any problem at all getting the proper subpoenas to search the bank records for more concrete, more specific evidence.

  "And now that I know what I'm doing," he continued relentlessly, "I'll be able to figure out everything I need to know, everything I've been hired to find out. I backed up quite a few of your files on my diskettes, and when I get home tonight, I'll get to the bottom of the rest of this. I promise you that."

  "Someone hired you?" she asked, her voice lacking all life, all hope. Wearily, she added, "Will you at least tell me who?"

  "Kimball's board of directors," he told her. There was no reason to keep that knowledge from her.

  She nodded, as if the news didn't much surprise her. "I always told Schuyler they were smarter than he thought they were. That he shouldn't underestimate them. That a little knowledge was a dangerous thing where those guys are concerned."

  Her words puzzled Leo, but they weren't important. What was important was that he'd finally figured out what the hell was going on. What was important was that he'd been so sideswiped by a beautiful face and a pair of great legs, that he hadn't performed his job as well as he could have—should have—performed it. What was important was that he'd been bested by Lily Rigby. A liar. A thief. A woman he'd grown to love.

  "You're going down, Lily," he told her, gesturing toward the diskettes again. "It's over. Face it."

  She went stark white at his assurance, and he could see that she knew he was serious. And he was serious, too, dammit. He really would encourage the board of directors to have her arrested and charged with embezzlement and fraud and breaking a man's heart. She was a thief, he reminded himself. She deserved whatever charges were brought against her, whatever the highest court in the land handed down.

  He had to admit that he admired her coolness, though. Except for that one moment of fear that passed over her face, she showed no sign that she was worried. But then, she was a liar and a fraud, he reminded himself. Pretending and being a fake was what she did best.

  In a very soft voice, she said, "Leo, I'm going to ask you to do me a favor."

  He expelled a rough, heartless chuckle at that. "A favor," he repeated, unable to quite mask his amusement. "And what kind of favor would that be?" he wondered further aloud. "Although, I think I can probably imagine one or two things you might offer to do for me. Too bad for you, I've already had 'em done. By you, as a matter of fact. So don't be thinking you can bargain your way out of this by offering me sexual favors."

  Her responding smile was gritty and held not a trace of good humor. He didn't like this side of her, this hard-edg
ed, sarcastic, bitter one. Then again, he supposed he was the one responsible for bringing it out of her. No, that wasn't true, he quickly told himself. If she was feeling bitter and sarcastic, it was only because of the bad choices she'd made in life.

  "You weren't listening," she said. "I'm going to ask you for a favor, not offer one up for your dubious enjoyment."

  "Well, thanks for providing me with the opportunity," he said dryly, "but I don't do thieves and cheaters and liars."

  She ignored his remark and instead said, "I'd like for you to give me a couple of days before you take what you've found to the board of directors."

  This time Leo laughed outright. "Yeah, I bet you would. God knows you can't pack all this stuff up and clear out your accounts in a few hours, can you? It'd be hell trying to line up a moving van for that much money by tonight, wouldn't it?"

  "Actually," she told him, her voice surprisingly level in spite of the fact that he was doing his best to infuriate her, "very little of what's in this room—or in those bank accounts, for that matter—actually belongs to me, so packing and fleeing to a foreign country wouldn't be too much trouble for me. Especially if I cold-cocked you on the side of the head with a blunt object, which, quite frankly, holds a surprising amount of appeal right now."

  He only grunted in response to that.

  "But if you could hold off for a couple of days, you might learn something else of significance to add to your report," she said. "In fact, if you want to sit right down at the computer and keep going, I'll just turn right around and leave, and pretend I never caught you doing something so sneaky and underhanded in the first place. Because should you stay and investigate further, you might just be surprised by what you find."

  He almost took her up on her offer. He was itching to see what else she had in her files, especially the ones he hadn't had a chance to back up on disk, and was certain that, given only a few more hours, he'd have a wealth of information to incriminate her more fully.