A plump, proper woman with a British accent popped into his mind and he made a face. “You can’t be serious.”
Angel’s voice dipped conspiratorially. “What if she was someone you knew? Someone we all knew?”
He crossed an arm over his chest and narrowed his eyes at the lake view outside. She was up to something. Plotting and scheming as per her usual. “Spit it out, Angel.”
“You remember my friend, Kimber Reynolds? She came down to visit me last month and I mentioned she owns a vintage clothing store in Chicago.”
“The girl who stayed at Mom and Dad’s house one summer when we were kids.” The same summer his college girlfriend had given him the worst news of his life.
“Yes!” Angel said with game-show-host enthusiasm. She sounded proud he recalled who Kimber was. “While she was here she’d mentioned she could use some extra money. And since she lives not all that far from you…”
Kimber. He remembered bits and pieces about the girl who’d lingered in his peripheral for an entire summer. He remembered she had red hair, liked to read, and drank Mountain Dew. She’d offered to help him with his creative writing paper, the makeup assignment to save him from failing his college class after Rachel’s pregnancy time bomb. He recalled balking at first—what help could a sophomore be to a college senior?—but Kimber had insisted, and then surprised him. She was smart. Turned out she’d had some helpful advice.
“… sure she would be willing to help you out,” Angel was saying.
He blinked out of his daze and tuned his sister back in.
“Want me to use my three and a half minutes between stops to pay her a visit while I’m in town?”
He started to ask about Kimber’s credentials, then something Angel said earlier crawled out of his subconscious. “Wait, did you say ‘live-in’?”
“Of course.” He pictured her shrugging. “You’ll need someone to bathe Lyon and feed him dinner at night in case you need to work late at the office. And in the morning, you won’t want to wait for her to arrive. What if she catches a late train? Then your progress will be impeded.”
She was being a smartass, but she had a point. If Kimber were here with Lyon taking care of the day-to-day, Landon could focus on work and be home in time to play with Lyon or tuck him in. But a woman living in his penthouse? Not that his place was small. At six thousand square feet, it’d easily hold the three of them. Before Lissa had moved out following the video debacle, she and Landon could go hours without so much as running into one another. But living with a stranger?
“I don’t know, Ang. Has Kimber… done this sort of thing before?” Cared for the nephew of a bachelor workaholic millionaire whose fiancée dumped him for a D-list actor?
“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.