The Millionaire Affair(3)

"Of course!"

He recalled Kimber's unruly hair, braces, her affinity for Stephen King.  Surely living with her wouldn't be the same as living with Lissa.  Kimber wasn't his girlfriend, wasn't his lover, wasn't his anything.  He'd pay her to do a job, she'd show up to do it, and then they could  part ways and live their separate lives. Without exposing him to  humiliating YouTube videos popping up online and on his employees'  smartphones.

"Admit it. I'm brilliant," Angel said.

He smiled. "Never."

"Admit it and I'll ask her," she sang.         

     



 

"I could always give it one more day." He was kidding, but he wouldn't give in right away. Where was the fun in that?

A sound, suspiciously resembling a toy monster truck crashing through  the new sixty-inch LED television, came from the direction of the  bedroom. Followed by a penetrating silence and a quiet, Oops.

He trekked down the hall, mentally preparing himself for the electronic  carnage he would likely encounter. Lyon poked his head out of the  bedroom, shoulders down, eyes wide, a sickly expression on his face.

Landon managed a small, if not pained, smile for his rambunctious nephew, who looked everywhere but at him.

"Fine," Landon told Angel as he put a supportive hand on Lyon's little shoulder. "You're brilliant."

"Really?" she cooed.

"Really," he admitted. He held his breath, peeked in the room, and  confirmed that, yes, the LED had indeed met its demise. God rest its  electronic soul.

On a heavy exhale, Landon said, "Ask her."





CHAPTER TWO


Me? Babysit?" Kimber couldn't say the word without laughing. But seriously. Her with a child? It was ridiculous.

Angel lifted a turquoise silk shirt and held it up to her chest. "Does  this bring out my eyes?" She'd come into town for a meeting at Landon's  behest, and somewhere between the plane ride and a cab, managed to  convince herself that Kimber-who had no experience with children  whatsoever-should be in charge of her nephew.

Kimber took the top out of Angel's hands and hung it back up. "You know it does."

Angel rolled her eyes. "Anyway, it's not babysitting. It's a nanny position."

"Oh, that's so different." She turned to walk away.

"It is!" Angel followed. "Nannies are sophisticated."

And now her friend was reaching. Kimber plopped down onto the goldenrod,  button-top ottoman at the rear of the store. Angel stood over her,  hands on her narrow hips, the Downey look of determination lighting her  blue eyes.

Kimber would have to give her a reason. Angel was  terrier-with-a-chew-toy tenacious. And a little rabid when challenged.  "I can't leave Hobo Chic for an entire week." Which was so not the  issue. The issue was her …  with a kid. A kid she didn't know. That's not  the issue, either. It wasn't. Not by a long shot.

Her friend elevated her arms and did a neat little turn. "You're telling  me none of your employees can handle this place while you're gone? What  do they do when you have a day off? What did they do when you came to  visit me in Tennessee last month?"

"That was different."

"How?"

Kimber shook her head rather than fib again. Neil or Ginny, even Mick,  could handle this ghost town in her stead. Right now, across the street,  Jilly's bakery and the restaurant next door teemed with customers.  While she sat here in an empty shop and tried to use her powers of  telekinesis to move customers from the food shops to her store. Maybe  she should start offering a free pastry with every purchase.

"He'll pay you whatever you want." Angel knelt in front of Kimber, her eyes doughy.

"I don't need the money." Angel had mentioned a dollar amount right  after she suggested the position. An amount that had caused Kimber's  knees to buckle. True, Kimber may not need the money, but she sure could  use it. To fund Operation "Get My Ex-Boyfriend and Co-owner of My Store  Out of My Life For Good."

Removing Mick's name from the lease was a huge, huge motivator. But she  also had her pride. "I'm an only child," she said. "I have had zero  experience with siblings or babies or children of my own. Do you want to  entrust your only nephew with someone who has never changed a diaper?"

Angel laughed the next two words. "He's six. And well out of diapers."

"See?" She stood and paced to the other side of the store where she  straightened a rack that didn't need straightening. "I should have known  that." She slid a hanger into another with a shink sound. "More proof  I'm unqualified."

"You knew that!" Angel stopped the next hanger with her palm, her eyes  boring into Kimber's skull. A human lie detector, her friend.

"I know." Kimber crossed her arms. "I just …  feel uncomfortable."

She waved her off. "My nephew is a doll face. Like me." Angel batted her eyelashes.

"You know I know you're not really an angel, right?"

A loud, awkward cough sounded from the other side of the store. Angel's  eyes flicked over her shoulder where her husband Richie stood, arms  braced around his body, looking decidedly uncomfortable. At his side was  Mick, who was texting and doing his level best to completely ignore  him. Mick. What a jackass.         

     



 

"They seem to be hitting it off," Angel said dryly. "Need I remind you  why you'd like to speed up the process of getting Mick out of here?"

She didn't. Every day got harder than the last. But that didn't change  the other potentially bigger issue Kimber was worried about. "I'm not  opposed to being Lyon's babysit-" At Angel's stern glare, she corrected  herself, "Nanny."

Kimber could get through her discomfort, figure out how to handle a  six-year-old. The main problem with this whole scenario was that Angel  had said this was a "live-in" situation. And Kimber couldn't fathom a  world where she might live under the same roof as Landon "Sexy Pants"  Downey. Unless it was a fantasy world of her making.

Granted, she was a far cry from the teenager who had a mouth full of  metal and a nervous hyena laugh, but Landon was awfully …  GQ. She picked a  piece of lint off her secondhand capris and avoided Angel's  scrutinizing gaze. Kimber wouldn't even know how to behave around him.

Angel lowered her voice, though there was no need. Mick was paying no  one any attention, not even Richie who was supposed to be running  interference for this elusive talk. "I know you had a crush on Evan way  back then," she started.

It was a wrong assumption Kimber had never corrected when she was a teenager. Or since.

Angel smiled supportively before continuing. "But Evan won't be there,  so you don't have to be nervous about seeing him." A twinkle lit her  light eyes. "Unless you'd like to see him. He is single, and if you and  Lyon get along-"

"No." She halted her friend's speech, snuffing the hope that had begun  blooming in Angel's eyes. "I don't want to date Evan. The crush I had on  him"-Landon-"was over a decade and a half ago."

Angel blew out a defeated breath. "Fine. Sorry. Well, if you're worried about Landon, don't."

She nearly swallowed her tongue at the mention of his name. If Angel had  any idea about the debilitating crush Kimber had harbored for him way  back when …

"Would it make you feel more comfortable if I told you that Landon isn't  suffering any weird rebound or depression from Lissa leaving him for  Carson Whatshisname?"

Would it? A little. She liked to think he was over Lissa instead of pining for that awful woman.

"Landon and Lissa's relationship wasn't"-Angel scrunched up her face like she'd tasted spoiled milk-"normal."

Whatever that meant. Kimber wondered if he'd had some strange sex fetish  she didn't know about. Some weird room rigged up with chains and-

Ew. No.

"And his penthouse is about three times the size of my house, so it's  not like you won't have any privacy. Plus, it overlooks Lake Michigan."  She smiled.

Right. Because the view would seal the deal.

Angel lifted her purse off the counter and slipped it over her arm.  Richie picked up on her cue and started for the door. Mick may be able  to charm the ladies, but his bromance skills needed work. She lifted a  finger to let her long-suffering husband know she'd be another second.  "Landon is going to provide your meals and incidentals for the week."

"I can feed myself, Angel. He doesn't have to-"

"So don't argue with him when he calls."

Kimber felt her heart sink to her stomach. Or maybe her kneecaps. "What  did you just say?" Because it sounded like Angel said he'd be calling.

"It's a formality. He just wants to square away the details. He likes details."

"When?" she asked numbly.

"After lunch."

It may have been a long time since Kimber had seen Landon in person, but  she'd seen a picture of him six months ago in the Arts &  Entertainment section of the Chicago Tribune. In the photo, he and Lissa  were leaving the charity dinner after the infamous YouTube video of  Lissa making out with another man had gone viral.