Authors: Brooke Hastings
"Actually," she said, toying with her napkin, "it wasn't a
movie role at all. It was a man. But there was no point in telling my
father that. It only would have upset him."
"But it happens to everyone sometimes," Luke answered.
After what Randy had told Luke in Maine he surely must
have understood, but she explained the situation anyway. "The point is,
even though Dad's had his troubles with my sister he's never had to
spend a day worrying about me. I was always the sensible one, the good
one, the
backward
one—until I met a guy
in Los Angeles who wound up ditching me to marry someone else. I took
it harder than I probably should have. It's funny—I saw him
at a party when I was back in L.A., but the woman he was with wasn't
his wife."
"So you figure you were lucky."
"I suppose."
Randy was no mindreader, but Luke's searching look
virtually announced that he was thinking about who'd been up in Maine
with him. Perhaps he assumed it would be a waste of his time to ask
her, because he merely remarked, "I hear that your sister is dating
Roger Bennett these days."
Randy told him he'd heard right, adding that Linda and
Roger were in Paris at the moment and that Linda hoped to do some
buying for the store. "Lin seems to have straightened out a lot since
her last divorce," she said. "She's a little less frenetic and more
sensitive to people's feelings. I hope things work out with Roger,
because I liked him when I met him and I thought he was the right kind
of man for her. He's strong enough not to give in to her and he expects
the best from people."
"And what's the right kind of man for you?" Luke promptly
asked her.
Even if Randy had known the answer she wouldn't have
touched the question with a ten-foot pole. She'd told Luke enough for
one day. "Anyone but Sean Raley," she said with a smile.
After that they stuck mostly to business, talking about
the Dallas project and what would be covered in the meeting later that
afternoon. Randy listened far more than she talked, asking an
occasional question and discovering just how little she really knew.
Her liberal arts education, with its single course in economics and
lack of exposure to statistical methodology and computer science, had
evidently left her ill-prepared for a career as a modern corporate
executive.
The branch managers' meeting was being held in the company
conference room on the top floor of the C & D building. Luke
and Randy walked in fifteen minutes early and joined Rita Washington
and a group of executives by a sidetable laden with drinks, pastry and
fruit. Promptly at two-fifteen Luke invited the thirty-five-plus people
present to be seated and started the meeting. Randy was on his left
near the end of the table, while Rita had positioned herself halfway
down from the end in order to take notes.
Luke began by introducing Randy and welcoming the new
assistant manager of the Boston store. Then he asked everyone present
to give his or her name and title. The preliminaries attended to, he
gave a mock sigh. "Okay, let's take the complaints first. You don't
like the fall merchandise we pushed at you. It's all wrong for your
customers and the stuff you found on your own is ten times better."
There was a ripple of laughter. In fact, the managers were
pleased with the fall lines. Most of the merchandise was selected from
suggestions made by buyers operating out of headquarters, but an
important percentage came from buyers employed by the individual stores
and tended to reflect local taste. For several minutes the managers
shared names and addresses of their "finds", most of whom were local
manufacturers or even independent artisans.
The first item on the formal agenda was the financial
statement for the second quarter of the fiscal year. Balance sheets and
sales figures for the fifteen branch stores and the Manhattan store
were passed out and studied. With a few exceptions it had been a good
spring. One problem area was in White Hills, and another was in
Philadelphia. Luke questioned the manager of the latter store in a
low-key, unthreatening manner, but Randy caught a hint of steel in his
voice as it became apparent that his suggestions had been largely
ignored. The assistant manager of the same store sat there trying to
conceal her delight. Obviously she assumed that she was in line for a
promotion.
The discussion of quarterly earnings led to protests about
a new corporate accounting practice that Luke had put into effect. The
managers clearly felt that due to the change, store expenses appeared
to rise while corporate expenses dropped, whereas Luke argued that his
only concern was an accurate accounting of actual expenditures by the
central corporation. He promised to have the comptroller's office send
out a memo further explaining the matter, saying that if there were
still questions about it people could ask them at the next meeting. It
was obvious that he had no intention of backing down.
C & D had always stressed the value of training
its personnel, so Luke took half an hour or so to ask his managers'
opinions on what types of training their employees needed. The group
worked out tentative dates and locations for training seminars, and
Rita jotted down suggestions about content. The most frequent request
seemed to be for Luke's personal presence as a speaker, something that
impressed Randy as much as anything she would hear that day.
The next block of time was reserved for sharing successful
ideas in areas such as promotion, display, public relations and
management. Randy had expected a free-wheeling session full of
generalizations, but quickly realized that Luke Griffin would never
tolerate such a waste of everyone's time. His managers came fully
prepared with copies of advertising material, photos of displays, lists
of steps taken to implement their ideas and written summaries of their
presentations to pass out. Although the atmosphere was informal enough
to permit quiet trips for coffee and cake, there were no undercurrents
of conversation and no signs of restlessness.
As the meeting continued more and more senior company
executives wandered in to listen. Randy had known many of these men and
women since she was a girl and time and again she received a smile or a
peck on the cheek before they sat down in one of the extra chairs along
the wall. Eventually there were nearly two dozen observers in the room.
The final hour of the meeting was devoted to
problem-solving. The managers were specific and concise in describing
their difficulties, with Luke acting as a sort of catalyst to help them
pinpoint the real causes. Bill Dunne arrived just as this section of
the meeting got underway, so Randy gave him her seat and found another
by the wall. Just as Luke was wrapping up the meeting with a brief
summary of what had been covered and accomplished, Emily Dunne came
into the room to remind everyone that they were invited back to the
house for a buffet supper. It was typical of her mother, Randy thought,
that she would take the time to reextend the invitation in person.
Luke walked back to the apartment with Randy and her
parents, the two men slightly ahead of the women, discussing how the
meeting had gone.
A few blocks from the store Bill stopped and turned
around. "So what did you think, honey?" he asked.
"It was fantastic. I can't believe what they accomplished
in just three and a half hours. The meeting was disciplined, nobody
wasted time, everyone was prepared…" Randy's voice trailed
off when her eyes met Luke's. He was smiling the smuggest smile she'd
ever noticed on his face.
"So I finally managed to impress you," he drawled.
"I've
always
been impressed, Mr.
Griffin," Randy drawled back. "The problem is, nobody could possibly be
as impressed with you as you are with
yourself
."
Her gibe failed to find its target. "That's only because
no one knows me as well as I know myself," he laughed. "Would you care
for the opportunity to try?"
Randy rolled her eyes. "Suppose I said yes. What would you
say?"
"I'd say, 'Name the time and date'."
Determined not to let him have the last word, Randy
suggested archly, "How about now?"
He nodded, walked back to her and put an arm around her
shoulders. "Excuse us, Bill, Emily," he said. "Miranda and I will be
staying at my house tonight."
Randy's sheer blouse provided very little armor against
his touch. Aware that her parents were watching with amused interest,
Randy started to blush. When Luke pulled her away with him and whistled
for a cab, her eyes slid to the sidewalk in defeat.
"Luke, do leave her alone," Emily scolded. "She's no match
for you and you know it."
He complied with a knowing wink at Randy, leaving her
ready to sink through the concrete. At a minimum he knew that she
wasn't as innocent as her parents believed, and at a maximum he might
be aware that he himself had sampled her favors on more than one
occasion. Mercifully he didn't actually say anything, but merely walked
back to Bill and started to talk business again.
"I'm going to have to fire Heywood," he said as they
continued toward the apartment. "The Philadelphia store should be doing
five percent more business. I've given him as much help as I can, but
it's been a waste of our time and money."
"Eight to ten percent more business," Bill corrected, "and
I told you that a month after you came on board. I understand why you
wanted to wait, but I think you underestimate just how much respect
you've earned in this company. Have you decided who to replace him
with?"
Luke glanced back over his shoulder at Randy. "What do you
think, Miranda? How about the assistant manager, Sheila Kane?"
Randy hadn't cared for Sheila Kane and she told Luke why.
"She can't wait to get rid of him. Instead of working as a team for the
good of the company, I get the feeling that she's been standing around
with a sharpened knife waiting for opportunities to plunge it into his
back."
Luke nodded. "I agree with you. You get an A for picking
it up so fast." He turned his attention back to Bill. "I was thinking
of Don Jacoby, the assistant manager in Garden City. He's got three
kids, so if I'm going to make a switch it should be soon, before the
school year begins. I'll deal with Heywood and Kane tomorrow, then talk
to Jacoby afterward. I thought I'd take Miranda down to Philadelphia
with me for a couple of days next week to get a better picture of
what's going on."
They'd reached the Dunnes' building now and were waiting
for the doorman to let them in. "Would you like that?" Luke asked Randy.
"Very much." She realized that they'd be staying overnight
and wondered what the sleeping arrangements would be. Very proper, no
doubt—but would they stay that way?
As usual, Emily Dunne had mounted a major production, with
twin buffet tables piled high with cold cuts, salads, breads and
desserts. The first group of guests walked in some fifteen minutes
later to be followed by a dozen successive waves. Apparently word of
the dinner had filtered through the corridors of C & D's
executive offices, because eventually nearly seventy people found their
way to the apartment.
Randy mixed with the crowd, greeting those she knew well
with a hug or a kiss and introducing herself to the others. But
eventually the smoke and noise took their toll in the form of a nagging
headache, so she slipped into the kitchen for a glass of ice water and
some aspirin and- carried them down the hall to her bedroom.
She was lying on her bed with her eyes closed when two
quick knocks captured her attention. They were followed by the
appearance of a wavy, blond-streaked head of hair and concerned brown
eyes. Luke didn't wait to be invited inside; he simply closed the door
behind him and sat down on the bed.
"You looked a little pale," he said. "We were worried
about you, Miranda."
The situation was much too familiar for Randy's peace of
mind. The last time she'd had a headache was in Maine, and she
remembered all too well exactly how Luke had taken care of
her—not just during the afternoon, but all night long.
"I'm okay," she said. "I just have a slight headache,
that's all." She reached for the ice water and took a few sips, more to
have something to do than because she was particularly thirsty. It was
a serious mistake; her hand was trembling from nervousness, almost
causing the water to slosh out of the glass. Luke could hardly fail to
notice.
He removed the glass from her hand and set it back down on
the night table. "The first day we met you made it clear that you
weren't interested in me as anything but a teacher, but within ten or
fifteen minutes you started to broadcast the opposite message. You
can't have it both ways, Miranda. Just how do you feel?"
Putting him off was sheer self-preservation. "Does it
matter?" she asked. "You agreed with me, remember?"
He was searching her face in a way that both unnerved and
aroused her. Every part of her body seemed to be throbbing, her head
with pain and the rest of her with a mixture of tension and desire.
Staring into her lap, she was hardly aware of raising a hand to
absently rub the back of her neck.
If she hadn't been so wrapped up in her own emotions she
would have anticipated Luke's reaction. With a husky, "Here, let me,"
he brushed away her hand and started to massage the knotted muscles of
her neck, smoothing away the pain. Always the doctor, Randy thought to
herself, turning onto her side to allow him freer access.
Just like before, his fingers were firm and gentle as they
worked their way from her neck to her temples to her scalp. Randy's
eyes fluttered shut within moments, but she could feel Luke's muscular
thigh lodged against her back and hear the regular sounds of his
breathing. Her own breaths were coming a little too quickly now as pain
gave way to relief and then arousal. In time his hands dropped to her
back, lightly kneading it through the sheer material of her blouse and
then pulling the blouse out of the waistband of her skirt to slip
underneath and stroke the bare skin. She had no bra on, only a camisole
top, and his fingers occasionally approached the side of a vulnerable
breast as they worked their magic, heightening her anticipation.