A Lyon's Share (16 page)

"I'm aware of your stubbornness," Brandt agreed grimly, "but I'm asking you to reconsider your decision. If you still feel the same way next week we'll discuss it."

"I won't change my mind," Joan warned.

"You're very complex. I wonder if I'll ever understand you." Then he sighed and bent over the set of official-looking documents spread on his desk. "Get Lang and Baines in here."

Joan never actually told Kay that Brandt hadn't exactly accepted her resignation. She had every intention of submitting another notice on Monday morning, so she told her room-mate that her two weeks' notice took effect on Monday week. Kay thought it was unfair and said so emphatically.

On Friday night, Kay began circling advertisements in the paper, insisting that there was no need for Joan to wait any longer. She should begin putting her applications in for other positions and Kay was determined that Joan would begin on Saturday morning.

There wasn't any plausible reason not to begin applications, but Joan didn't look forward to it, though she repeatedly told herself that a change of scene was the best idea and she should begin the transition as soon as possible.

Yet there was a strange mixture of relief when Ed Thomas arrived unexpectedly from Cleveland on Saturday morning and all of Kay's plans were set aside in favor of a weekend schedule that included Joan and Ed with her and John. Most of Saturday afternoon was spent in a friendly argument between the four of them as to where they would go for dinner and the evening's entertainment. Finally it ended in a wild compromise, that had Ed and John agreeing to cook an Italian dinner for all of them at the girls' apartment.

The incongruity of seeing the staid, quiet John in a frilly apron and his older, more aggressive brother Ed in a long bib apron from Joan's mother had both the girls laughing in near hysteria. The evening promised to be far from romantic, but to Joan, much more preferable.

Kay was rescuing the spaghetti noodles that Ed was trying to pour down the sink after nearly boiling them dry when there was a knock at the door.

"Don't tell me," John moaned. "It must be the apartment manager. He probably smelled the spaghetti burning and called the fire department!"

"Either that or he's coming to the rescue with a fire extinguisher," Kay laughed, waving at the vague scent of a scorched something in the air.

"Or worse," Joan said in a pseudo-whisper as she hurried to the door. "It might be that lady that lives down the hall. She's probably outraged that we're "entertaining" men in our apartment and has called the police."

There was a loud burst of laughter from the other three at that statement. Joan was doing her best to conceal a smile as she opened the door. Then all desire to smile was snatched from her chest as she stared at Brandt.

"Hello Joan." he said quietly, his gaze gently examining her face.

"Brandt? I—" Her head moved in a helpless protest.

"Who is it, love?" Ed's voice came ringing clearly between them.

The look in Brandt's eyes immediately hardened into something cold and withdrawn. Joan ignored Ed's question, knowing the door blocked Brandt from view.

"Did … you want something?" she asked in a lowered voice.

A slight frown drew his brows together. "I wanted to take you to dinner tonight." His piercing gaze shifted from her face to the room behind her. "I should have known when I couldn't reach you today that you were otherwise occupied."

Joan stiffened. "Why would you want to take me? Surely Angela had a prior claim on your company?"

His mouth tightened. "There were some things I thought we should get straightened out. Obviously I was wrong."

"What things?" she asked, desperately needing to know.

Brandt didn't answer as his bland gaze slowly studied her face, lingering for heart-stopping seconds on her parted lips. Her shoulders quivered lightly at the almost physical touch. He averted his gaze sharply, staring down the empty corridor outside the apartment.

"I wasn't going to invite you to my place, if that's what you're thinking." he replied grimly.

"That's not fair," Joan breathed. "I didn't think that at all."

"Didn't you?" he mocked harshly. "Weren't you already questioning my motives, the way you always have?"

"Brandt—" His name was spoken in a beseeching plea for understanding.

She wanted to explain that she couldn't trust him because she cared so deeply and knew he didn't reciprocate the emotion. For her an innocent dinner in his company would be torturing bliss. None of the thoughts was expressed. At that instant an arm draped itself possessively around her shoulder.

"I'm sorry about the noise," Ed was saying to Brandt. "I'm sure Joan explained that we'll keep it down." He saw Brandt's gaze shift with hard amusement to the pinafore apron Ed was wearing. "My brother and I are playing chef tonight and I'm afraid we had a bit of a catastrophe in the kitchen which started most of the laughter."

"Ed," Joan touched his hand, realizing that Brandt's air of authority had caused Ed to mistake him for the manager. "This is my employer. Mr. Lyon."

"I'm sorry," Ed smiled broadly at his own mistake. He took his arm from around Joan's shoulder and extended a hand to Brandt in greeting. "I suppose it was a guilty conscience that made me think you were the manager. I'm Ed Thomas. Joan has told me a great deal about you, Mr. Lyon."

Joan had seen the thorough inspection Brandt had made of the man beside her. At the last statement, his cobalt blue eyes shifted to her, glittering with hard amusement.

"Has she?" he murmured, shaking Ed's hand courteously. "Nothing complimentary, I imagine."

There was a quick flow of color into her face, but Ed only laughed easily. "Hardly. Joan has too strong a sense of loyalty. She has only spoken of you with respect and admiration." His head tilted to the side in an inquiring manner as he glanced from Brandt to Joan. "Was there some emergency problem?"

"There were a couple of questions I had to ask Miss Somers before Monday," Brandt replied smoothly. "I have my answers now, so please accept my apology for intruding on your evening."

"That's quite all right," Ed declared, magnanimously waving the apology aside. "If you don't have another pressing engagement, why don't you join us in a glass of Chianti? The noodles were more ruined than we first thought and dinner has been set back for us. I'm sure Joan would like to have you stay, wouldn't you, Joan?"

There was little else she could do but nod agreement. Brandt hesitated for a moment, then shrugged.

"If Miss Somers has no objection, then I accept."

When the apartment door closed behind the three of them, Kay called out from the kitchen side of the room, "Did you pacify Mr. Grady?" Then she glanced over her shoulder, her mouth opening in astonishment when she saw Brandt. It closed quickly like a trap, at Ed's following statement.

"Joan and I have invited Mr. Lyon to have a glass of Chianti with us," he announced.

Bright flashing brown eyes darted a fiery look at Joan as Kay silently questioned her if she had lost her senses. Kay had never seen the need to hide her feelings and there was open disapproval in her voice and expression when she greeted Brandt. Even John's acknowledgement was stiffly reserved. Only Ed seemed unaware of the undercurrents of extreme tension in the room.

As Joan passed around the glasses of Italian wine that John had poured, she was vibrantly conscious of the indifferently cool blue eyes that followed her every move.

Their apartment was noticeably lacking in casual chairs. Brandt was seated in the rocker and Kay was perched on the footstool drawn over in front of the couch where John sat down. Ed was sitting on the opposite end of the sturdy Mediterranean sofa. The only vacant seat for Joan was the cushion beside Ed, unless she wanted to completely alienate herself from the group by sitting in one of the chrome dinette chairs. That would be an admission that Brandt's presence unnerved her, so she chose the couch.

Ed's arm was resting on the back of the cushions. The suggestion of contemptuous amusement was expressed in the slight curl of Brandt's lip. Joan realized that to Brandt, the arm so near her shoulders indicated a familiar intimacy that was totally untrue. She sensed that Brandt was deriving satisfaction from the taut lines of obvious discomfort around her mouth. She was terrified, that he would deliberately linger over his wine to prolong her strain, but he finished his drink before the rest of them.

The smile pulling up the corners of his mouth looked quite friendly, but Joan had seen his true smile before and knew that this one was a bad imitation of what his genuinely warm smile was like. He thanked them all for their hospitality as he rose to his feet. She had half expected him to single her out to see him to the door when Brandt waved Ed back into his seat.

The only remark he addressed to her was "Goodnight. Miss Somers. I'll see you on Monday morning," delivered with a casualness that implied that, his purpose for seeing her outside the office no longer existed.

The very day that Brandt had torn up her first letter of resignation, Joan had typed another. On Monday morning she was glad she hadn't waited because she found herself strangely reluctant to submit it to him. If she had left the retyping of her resignation until that morning, she probably would have invented reasons to postpone it.

Her resolve that she was doing the right thing hadn't wavered, but Brandt's unexplained visit to her apartment had raised questions of hope that she couldn't entirely shrug aside. Scolding herself for being foolish. Joan kept wishing that Ed hadn't been there when Brandt had come. She would have liked to have known what it was that Brandt had wanted to discuss with her. Now she had the feeling that she never would.

Although she hadn't seen Brandt, Joan knew he was in his office. There had been sounds of paper and footsteps inside the room when she arrived. Following their routine, she picked up the day's appointment book and the mail and a pad for any special notes. At the last minute she included the envelope containing her resignation.

"What do I have scheduled this morning?" was Brandt's first utterance when she entered his office. There was no greeting, no alluding comment about the weekend or his visit.

In near record time, Brandt dictated what immediate replies were necessary from the morning's correspondence. His brusque manner invited no comment or query. That extreme air of remoteness made it difficult for Joan to find the words to bring up her resignation. In the end her courage deserted her and she rose to leave at his dismissal without submitting it. She was nearly to the door when Brandt halted her.

"Miss Somers," he said curtly, not glancing up when she turned around. "I'm prepared to accept your resignation whenever you have it typed. Contact our usual employment agency and have them submit a list of applicants and their references."

"Yes, sir," Joan murmured numbly. Her spirits sank as she realized she had been secretly hoping Brandt would try to persuade her to stay. Blindly she reached for the doorknob.

"And Miss Somers …" The sword-sharp gaze pinned her against the door. "Please make it clear that this time I want someone older, preferably in her late thirties and married. Someone I can rely on not to be carried away by ridiculous flights of fanciful imagination."

"Is that all?" she asked tightly, blinking back the tears.

"As soon as you've compiled a likely list of candidates from the applications, you can arrange interviews, hopefully for Thursday."

"Yes, Mr. Lyon." The agreement had to be forced through the constricted muscles in her throat.

A brow arched in cold question at her tone. "You are giving notice today, aren't you?" Brandt demanded smoothly.

Her trembling fingers sifted through the papers in her hand for the letter. As she withdrew it from the rest, her head lifted proudly. "I hadn't changed my mind. I have my resignation right here."

Brandt didn't glance at it when she placed it on his desk, but kept his studying gaze on her controlled expression. "I know I can trust you to find an adequate replacement," he said finally in dismissal.

Joan murmured a bitter thanks and fled the room, fighting back the waves of misery that threatened to engulf her. She had once told herself that Brandt would be glad to see her go, but, she hadn't truly believed it until today.

After surviving that day, she felt she could survive anything, even the day when she would ultimately walk out of the office for the last time. That dubious triumph gave her the strength to return the next day, determined to carry out her duties without succumbing to the misery that dominated her heart.

Her mask of efficient practicality seemed to be firmly in place and unshakable. Her voice hadn't trembled at all when the employment agency had called today for more specific information on their requirements.

She glanced at her watch. It was nearly eleven-thirty. Kay would be calling soon to go to lunch with her. Joan arched her back, stretching her tensed muscles as she drew the letter out of the typewriter and read it quickly over for errors she might have missed. The door to her office opened from the hall and she absently glanced up. She wasn't prepared for the vision of rose pink that floated into the room.

"They told me I could find Brandt here." The china-perfect features curved into a charming smile.