A Lyon's Share (3 page)

Wear something sexy, Kay had decreed, and Joan was going to do her best to fulfil the order.

The coffee pot stopped perking a few minutes after she was through with her bath. Sitting on the blue velvet sofa with her coffee cup on the scarred table, Joan began removing the pins from the coiled knot of her hair. It shimmered like molten gold over her shoulders, the overhead light picking out the sunny highlights. Vigorously she brushed it until it crackled and snapped.

Her father had once said the length of her hair was the only unpractical thing about Joan. With her hair down and curling about her shoulders, she always felt so feminine. A shorter hairstyle would have been a great deal more practical, but she had never summoned the nerve to have it cut off. Only long did the natural brassy shade of her hair look right.

When Kay, John, and his brother arrived, Joan was glad she had taken extra time with her appearance. Even John, accustomed to seeing her in denims and sweaters, looked twice. The coffee brown trouser suit accented the gold of her hair and the velvet shade of brown in her eyes. The clinging silk molded her full figure and the slender curves of her legs.

"Kay, you never told me your room-mate was a blonde." Ed Thomas was holding her hand, his hazel eyes roaming freely over Joan's face.

In looks, he resembled John, a couple of inches taller perhaps, but the same light brown shade of hair and similar bone structure. Yet John's face always gave the impression of gentle understanding and Ed's expression had a raffish air. Joan wasn't sure she liked that gleam in his eyes either. Then she immediately scolded herself for being so prudish.

Since meeting Rick Manville the wolf-type made her cautious. Their open admiration and profuse compliments usually were made to breach a girl's defenses. Joan managed a smile and pulled her hand free of his hold.

"Did you have a good flight … Ed?" she faltered slightly over his name as she took the white fun-fur coat that Kay handed her.

"It was on time, which in this day and age makes it an excellent flight," he joked, quickly taking the initiative to help her with the coat. Once the fur material was around her shoulders, Ed Thomas squeezed them gently and winked. "I had John make reservations for the best eating place around. We might have more to celebrate than their engagement."

"We'd better be going before we're late," John spoke, but it was more of a suggestion than a statement. "Pierre's won't hold your reservation if you're not on time."

Naturally John drove since he was the one familiar with the area and Kay sat in the front seat with him, which left Joan in back alone with Ed. She discovered there wasn't any need for small talk, at least on her part, since he was very willing to carry the conversation. He wasn't a bit boring, she decided as she remembered the uncomfortable silences that descended with most of her dates. He had the same facility to put her at her ease as Rick Manville had, but she had pined sufficient experience from Rick not to be swayed by Ed's undivided attention.

At the dinner table, Ed was even able to draw out long sentences from his brother John, who was generally less talkative. He had both Kay and Joan laughing with anecdotes of their childhood. From the restaurant, the two couples migrated to the lounge area where the mood was more intimate and the conversation was less boisterous.

It was nearly midnight when John suggested that they leave. Joan was smiling contentedly, unable to remember when she had enjoyed an evening so much. She still didn't altogether trust the flirtatious escort, but her ego had sublimely enjoyed being the center of his attention.

Only when they had risen from their table did Joan notice the couple on the small dance floor. The fragile blonde in a cloud of pink caught her eye first, being the epitome of everything dainty and feminine that Joan had wanted to be. Then she noticed the man holding her in his arms. It was Brandt Lyon, the masculine line of his mouth curved into a smile.

Her stomach turned over with sickening suddenness. She had always known there were other women in his life. With a man like Brandt Lyon, there were bound to be. On odd occasions, she had even taken messages over the telephone that would confirm it, but she had never seen him in the company of a woman.

At that moment the woman snuggled her head against his chest. Joan watched his gaze lazily sweep the room while he made some whispered comment to his partner. For a fraction of a second, his gaze lingered on her. She waited in breathless anticipation for his nod of recognition before his attention reverted to his partner.

Her teeth bit into her lips as she realized with a start that her boss hadn't recognized her. A wistful smile curled her lips as she wondered what his reaction would be if she identified herself to him. Would he revise his opinion about his efficient secretary or would he still doubt her ability to be attractive?

Then Ed's arm was curling around her shoulder urging her towards the door. His touch took her out of the world of make-believe and into reality. Her crush on Brandt Lyon had been over a long time ago. She had to end this foolish speculation. The truth was that even if he did suddenly see her as a woman, she could never compete with the likes of the blonde in his arms.

It was a waste of time to keep pining for someone who was out of her reach. Joan pushed aside the romantic dreamings and called upon the stronger, practical side of her nature. Ed Thomas was nice, much nicer than she expected. It was time she stopped comparing each man she met with Brandt Lyon. Men were individuals and she had to begin looking at them as such and stop trying to put them into categories.

Infatuations were all right when she was young. Now she was older, supposed to be wiser.

Chapter Two

KAY teased Joan unmercifully about her vow that she wouldn't entertain Ed the entire weekend. In fact, Joan had ended up going to the airport to see him off that Sunday. She decided that she had needed to see Brandt Lyon with another woman to completely kill the last of her infatuation. And Ed had been all too willing to fill the gap, not in any serious way, however.

Joan still believed he was something of a playboy, but she truly hadn't minded. Although she had to admit she was rather surprised by the flowers he had sent to her the day after he left and the telephone call from Cleveland on Wednesday. He had even made plans to fly back to Chicago the weekend before Christmas. It was obvious she had impressed him, and that filled her with confidence.

Outside her office window, flakes of snow were swirling in a light wind. The weekend promised to be white and Joan began to daydream about her plans for the following day. She and Kay were going shopping for the remainder of their Christmas gifts. She wondered if she should buy some small gift for Ed, nothing expensive or personal, but a little something.

The intercom buzzed commandingly. "Miss Somers," Brandt Lyon's voice sounded crisply over the speaker. "bring me in those figures Jenson left with you on the Danville hospital."

"Yes, sir," Joan responded promptly, flicking off the intercom switch as she rose from her desk.

She was nearly to the filing cabinets when the buzz of the intercom called her back. "Get Lyle Baines in here. The figures on this hospital bid don't look right. I want to go over them with him before we submit it."

The idle moments of the first hour of the morning disappeared as Joan found herself running back and forth from the filing cabinet to Brandt Lyon's office. An error was found in the computations for the hospital construction bid and now every item was being double checked.

At noon, Kay stuck her head inside the door asking Joan if she was going to lunch. Joan glanced towards the closed door and grimaced.

"I doubt if they know what time it is. Bring me back a sandwich." she asked her room-mate.

"I bet they haven't looked outside either," Kay smiled. "It's turning into a regular blizzard. You'd better put a bird on the boss's shoulder so someone will tell him that he'd better let us go home early." With a cheery wave. Kay closed the door.

Joan looked out the window. The gentle snowfall had turned into a solid curtain of wind-driven snow. The practical side refused to leap to conclusions as she picked up the telephone and dialed the weather bureau. Heavy snowfall and blizzard conditions were forecast. Another telephone call confirmed that some of the side streets were becoming impassable and the city government was recommending that those businesses that could close early, should.

Rapping once on the inner office door, Joan entered the private office. Brandt Lyon was bent over his desk, his brown suit-coat thrown across a side chair, his tie loosened. The top buttons of his white shirt were unbuttoned and the cuffs of his long sleeves were rolled back. The fingers of one hand continued their race over the keys of the portable calculator while he ambidextrously entered the results with his left hand.

"What is it, Miss Somers?" The leonine head didn't look up as he made his inquiry.

"I'm afraid we're in the middle of a blizzard, sir. They're recommending that all non-essential businesses close," Joan replied.

The burly figure of Lyle Baines was sitting at the small drafting table in front of the window. His head raised at Joan's words to look outside.

"Hell!" he exclaimed as he stared at the snowstorm beyond the window panes. Immediately the older man glanced at Joan. "Sorry. I forgot there was a lady around," he apologized then sighed heavily. "It's a first class snowstorm, Brandt. Hope this isn't a sign of what the rest of the winter is going to be like."

Brandt Lyon swiveled his chair towards the window to confirm their statements for himself. A furrow of concentration lined his wide forehead. Broken by a wayward strand of teak brown hair.

"Some of the side streets are already becoming impassable," Joan added quietly.

The strong fingers of one hand rubbed his chin and mouth as Brandt turned back to her. The blue of his eyes was intensified by the thickness of his brown lashes and the dark remains of his summer tan. Joan was drawn again by the strength and competency etched in the irregular features.

"Send everyone home, Miss Somers," he ordered calmly. The brown column of his neck turned his attention to the man at the drafting table. "We should be finished in another hour or so, Lyle."

"There's no reason for me to rush home," the man shrugged. "My wife's in Peoria with our daughter." Then he smiled proudly. "Our first grandchild arrived on the scene—a boy. I was going to drive there after work tonight, but that's out now, thanks to the snow."

Brandt smiled in sympathy, then raised a questioning brow at Joan. "You'll notify everyone?"

"Right away," she nodded, and turned to leave.

"Miss Somers," he called her back. One corner of his mouth was lifted in rueful apology. "I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to stay. I'll need you to retype this bid when we're done and to supply me with some more folders from your personal puzzle cabinet in the meantime."

Joan glanced out of the window, silently wondering how long the buses could keep running in this storm. "Of course I'll stay." It was unthinkable to refuse.

"You go home by bus, don't you?" Brandt asked, perceptively guessing the direction of her thoughts.

"Yes."

"Don't worry about getting home. I'll give you a ride when we're through," he stated, and leaned forward to resume his work.

Knowing there was nothing more behind his offer than thoughtful consideration, Joan nodded her thanks and left the room, glad that she was over her ridiculous infatuation and was beyond the time when she would have built up futile hopes at the thought of Brandt Lyon taking her home.

The building emptied quickly as the word spread that everyone was to leave. At one-thirty, Brandt sent Lyle Baines home, but it was going on three o'clock by the time Joan finished typing the corrected construction bid. While she covered the typewriter and straightened her desk, he affixed his signature and slipped the quotation into its envelope.

"It's worse, isn't it?" she murmured as she saw Brandt staring out the window.

Over his shoulder, he watched her tie the scarf around her neck, his expression grimly serious, but he gave no response to her question. His silence was a louder answer. Yet his dark vitality reassured her in some mysterious way.

Walking swiftly, they covered the distance of the corridors from his private office to the front door. The blast of wind nearly knocked Joan off her feet as they stepped outside. His arm circled her waist in support and guided her in the direction of the adjacent parking lot. Visibility had been reduced by the driving snow to only a few feet and Joan knew Brandt was guiding her to his car on instinct alone.

"This is ridiculous!" he snapped suddenly, and stopped.

In the span of a few seconds, he had turned her around and was leading her back to the building. Her teeth were already chattering from the subzero temperature when the door closed behind them. Almost unwillingly, she met his penetrating gaze.

"We're better off staying here," he said, "than taking the risk of being stranded in the car. At least, here we have food, heat and lights."

His eyes held hers for an instant longer before Joan broke away in self-conscious confusion. The weather forecast had stated that the blizzard would continue through the night and into Saturday, which meant she and Brandt would be together, for the next twenty-four hours or more.