Babysitting the Billionaire(2)

What did that mean? “He’s in mourning?”

“No. Where do you get these ideas? Is it an artist thing?” He said it as if the word tasted bitter. “He’s one of those tech geniuses. Just give him a big enough computer and wake him up for meals. Whatever. Just get him to the party on time, and we’re golden.”

The man pushed up to his feet again, and May and Sadie jumped to theirs. Dismissed.

The women walked down the stairs and into Sadie’s office in silence. After the ferocity of the boss’s lair, Sadie’s brutalist steel-and-glass furniture looked positively welcoming. She ushered May in first, then followed, closing the door behind her. She sat on May’s side of the desk, nearly knee to knee. May had to lean a little forward or her feet wouldn’t touch the ground. The world was made for six-footers, and five-footers could just swing.

Sadie handed her a folder, but May dropped it. They almost clanged heads stooping to pick it up. Sadie set it on the table instead. “I’m sorry you got dragged into this.”

“Why can’t you do it? How can we possibly keep some celebrity under wraps? Won’t everyone know at the party, when it’s announced?” Something smelled wrong.

“Slow down. He’s a recluse; practically nobody outside his field would recognize him. But we can’t take the chance that some business reporter might spot him.”

“Then why is he coming at all?”

Sadie looked as baffled as May felt. “Search me. But he wants to come, and no one says no to Beau.”

“Beau? Wait.” The pieces were starting to fall into place. She knew of only one Beau who would have the millions to drop a ton on some tiny foundation.

“Yes. Beau Kurck.”

“I’m a big fan of his apps.”

“So you see the problem.”

She did. Kurck, the biggest little app-maker in the world, had hit the big time with a wickedly addictive game of catapults.

Cranky Penguins.

****

The next Monday, May stood with the throng collected outside the customs exit at RonaldReaganNationalAirport. She’d spent the intervening weekend reading up on Beau Kurck and the penguin-hurling empire he’d built.

Tall and couch-potato soft, he had a reputation for stoicism, even among his own people, the not-known-for-talking Finns. The only child of two teachers, he’d done predictably well in school. A close-knit cadre of polytechnic friends formed the backbone of the company, Joki, which meant “river” in Finnish. She was surprised to learn the catapulting penguins strategy game was not the team’s first app, but its seventh. The first six had gone nowhere. So, Mr. Roly-Poly knew how to brush himself off and start again.

She scanned all the people exiting singly, focusing on the tall ones. TSA had helpfully stuck one of those height stickers on the door frame, perhaps in case she was called on to identify fleeing felons. He seemed to be taking forever to get through Customs.

She shifted her weight onto her other foot and lifted the sign she held a little higher. She was using the top edge as a chin-scratcher when a far too handsome man stopped directly in front of her. She froze in admiration.

Dark hair fell across a tall forehead, sweeping sharply angled brows. They crowned wide, blue-sky eyes, clear even as the skin around them was a tiny bit puffy from the flight. But the cheeks, and that chin, and that chest. May had heard the word chiseled used to describe men before, but privately had only ever used it for sculpture. This man could make her change her mind.

“Penguin Foundation?” His voice carried the trace of an accent, a hint of confusion, and a whisper of laughter.

This was Beau Kurck, the couch-surfer? May almost curtsied, he was so princely-pretty.

“A little joke, Mr. Kurck, sir. I’m May, and I’ll be showing you around.”

“You’re late,” he said, but he didn’t sound angry.

“Sir?”

“Isn’t it June already?”

So he was that kind of asshole. “Yeah, ha ha. I get that a lot. Could I take your bag?”

“How could you? You’re not even as big as my bag.”

She frowned, looking at the regulation carry-on sized rolling bag.

“First, I need a triple espresso, a decent one. Then I need at least broadband Net access and a quiet place to work. Then, an assistant who doesn’t patronize me.”

“Well OK, then, let’s head on over to Caribou, down the hall a ways.” May turned and started walking in that direction as fast as her little legs would take her. “Second, we made sure your hotel had double your required bandwidth as well as backup, so we’ll go there next.”

He caught up easily, the long-legged misanthropist. “And third?”