Her Man Friday by Elizabeth Bevarly Page B

Kimball's desk and went about rearranging things more conveniently. The little teacups sat on little saucers with little spoons, and beside them were little plates hosting little sandwiches and little cookies. It was all so…
dainty
, Leo thought, squelching a vague shudder of distaste. He must really be consumed by lust for Miss Rigby if he'd go to such extremes just to spend a little time in her presence.
    And if this was the way he was behaving on day one, then God alone knew what he'd be reduced to in a week's time. He'd probably end up alongside her in the kitchen, cutting the crusts off those little sandwiches, and wearing an apron with cats on it.
    "Coffee, definitely," he said adamantly.
    She flinched a bit at his order, and he realized he must have spoken more loudly and forcefully than was necessary. Before he could explain or apologize, however, she finished pouring and asked, "Would you care for cream or sugar?"
    "No, just black," he stated proudly for the benefit of his testosterone.
    When she extended the cup toward him, though, he hesitated a moment before taking it, then switched it from one hand to the other as he tried to figure out just how to hold the damned thing. Ultimately, he set both cup and saucer down on the desk, telling himself it needed to cool. Then he launched himself into a much-needed stretch, arching his back and curling his arms upward, flexing everything he needed to flex after spending hours in a chair that had been adjusted to the body specifications of someone else.
    Oh,
boy
, that felt good.
    Evidently, Miss Rigby thought so, too, because as he completed the action, Leo heard her utter a sigh of contentment much like his own. He snapped his gaze to her face when she did, but her expression belied nothing of what she might be thinking. Instead, she appeared to be even more indifferent than usual as she lifted her cup to her lips for an idle sip, and he figured he must have just imagined that soft sound of satisfaction.
    "So…" she began slowly when she lowered the cup. "How's the search coming? Have you found the problem you were looking for?"
    He shook his head. "Not even close. But that's not surprising. I was pretty much resigned to the fact that it could take several days. Possibly even several weeks, depending on the state of Mr. Kimball's files."
    She sipped her tea again, then said mildly, "Mr. Kimball's files are a complete mess. You'll be lucky if you can find his sangria recipe in there."
    Leo smiled confidently. "Oh, I bet I could find it."
    She smiled indulgently in return. "Oh, I bet you couldn't."
    He chuckled, then turned back to the computer. In less than five minutes, he had pulled up a screen. "One three-liter box of cheap red burgundy," he began. "One liter citrus soda, one can frozen peach juice concentrate, juice from one jar maraschino cherries—add cherries, too…"
    Miss Rigby jumped up from where she had perched herself on the edge of the desk and rounded the big piece of furniture until she stood behind Leo. "How did you find that?" she demanded. "I've practically turned the computer upside down looking for that recipe."
    He glanced over his shoulder at her and grinned cockily. "Well, Miss Rigby, I'm just that good."
    The look she gave him in response struck him as odd. For some reason, she seemed worried about something. Certainly his comment could have been taken as sexually suggestive—and, naturally, that was the way he had intended it—but still. She didn't have to look
that
anxious.
    Her lips parted fractionally, as if she were about to put voice to her concerns, but all she said was, "Quick, print it up. I'm hosting my garden club next weekend."
    He pushed the print button, and immediately, the laser printer hummed with activity. Miss Rigby set her tea down on Kimball's desk and went to retrieve her prize, but her expression, as she scanned the recipe, still seemed significantly worried.
    "Is there a problem, Miss Rigby?" Leo asked, curious about her