A Lyon's Share (12 page)

"I hope you like it," Brandt prompted, twisting his head to the side to get a better angle at her face.

Joan pressed her lips tightly together, foolish tears of happiness filling her eyes. His gift touched her heart more than she wanted to admit. Since the very first day she had entered his office, the filing cabinet had been a private thing between them, sometimes the subject of disagreements when Brandt would mis-filed something in her absence or create an uproar when he was unable to fathom the system, but it had always subtly been there.

"It's perfect," she assured him in a choked trying to blink back the tears as she smiled tremulously at him. "Thank you."

A solitary tear slipped from her lashes. Brandt reached out and gently wiped it away with his thumb, letting his hand remain on the soft curve of her neck.

"You aren't going to misunderstand my motives for giving it to you, are you?" he mocked lightly. "You're still receiving your regular Christmas bonus the same as everyone else who works for Lyon Construction. This gift is from Brandt Lyon to Joan Somers, with only the Christmas spirit involved."

For a frightened moment, Joan thought he was warning her that the gift did not imply that his emotions were of a more serious nature. Then she realized he was referring to the scene she had made when he had paid her for the weekend they were stranded at the office.

"I understand," she murmured, still with a catch in her voice. Her finger touched the smooth chain of the bracelet. "From one friend to another."

The lines around his mouth deepened into a wide smile, but something held the smile back from reaching his eyes. "Let me help you put it on." he said, and reached into the cue for the bracelet.

Joan was beyond any protest as she offered her wrist to him. Deftly Brandt circled the bracelet around it and secured the clasp. Absently she wondered what a slave bracelet looked like, because he had just taken another portion of her heart and soul. Soon he would own all of her and she would never be free.

Staring down at the strong hand holding hers, she wondered if it would be so very bad to be one of Brandt's possessions, then flushed at her complete lack of pride. The silence had become unnerving and Brandt's eyes seemed to be probing too deep.

"I … I suppose we'd better go to the party," she suggested, then realized she had coupled them automatically.

"It's Christmas, a time for rejoicing," he said cryptically. At her puzzled frown, his mouth slanted sideways in a smile that wasn't a smile. "It's a time to let your hair down, Joan-literally. It's bad enough to have the boss around to spoil the fun, but a primly proper schoolmarm is really too much of a strain."

Her hand flew defensively to the smoothly coiled bun at the back of her neck. His gaze raked the full length of her form in critical appraisal. With a smooth swiftness that didn't allow time for a protest, he turned her around and slipped the box jacket of her green and gold tweed suit from her shoulders, revealing her curved figure.

"What are you doing?" she asked in a breathless demand as the pressure of his hand brought her back, around to face him.

For a brief minute, he ignored her question as his thoughtful look swept her figure again, minus the jacket. "You're going to a party," he said, and unfastened the top two buttons of her pale green silk blouse. "You should look like a woman instead of a model secretary. Will you take your hair down or shall I?"

She didn't doubt for an instant that he would, and stepped quickly backwards to be out of his reach while her fingers fumbled with the pins in her hair. She couldn't understand why she was giving in so easily to his demands. Perhaps it was because her intuition told her there was nothing more behind his request than the reason he had stated, that and the fact that she was reluctant to argue with him.

"Much better." His impersonal nod of approval was issued as the last hairpin was removed and the long molten gold flowed down her back.

All Joan could see in his eyes was approval. There wasn't even a glint of admiration. What had she expected? For him to break into a speech of flowery compliments?

Yet, strangely disappointed, she turned away. "I have a brush in my desk," she murmured.

Her shaking limbs wouldn't carry her very fast. She had barely removed the hairbrush from the center drawer of her desk when Brandt wandered into her office. His meandering pace carried him to the window where he remained, gazing silently outside, until he heard the desk drawer close.

"Are you ready?" he asked over his shoulder, hands clasped behind his back.

"Yes," she agreed, then more swiftly, "No." Reaching into the side drawer of the desk, she self-consciously took out the small gift-wrapped package.

"A present for me?" Brandt guessed, tilting his head to an angle of amusement. "From you?"

"From all of the employees!" A pale pink rosebud appeared in each cheek. "I … I didn't personally buy you a gift."

I didn't expect that you would." The corners of his mouth twitched briefly upwards. "If you had, I would probably have been very curious as to why you did." His gaze flicked to the package in her hand. "Did you pick it out?"

The red foil wrapping seemed to burn Joan's hand as she visualized the very expensive pen and pencil set inside. Considering the elegant bracelet around her wrist, she wished she had chosen something less impersonal.

"Yes." she admitted softly.

"Then I'm sure it's a very proper and appropriate gift for a group of employees to give their boss." Laughter lurked in the recesses of his low-pitched voice. "Come on." His long strides carried him to the front of her desk. "It's time I put in my appearance."

As she and Brandt entered the canteen, amateurishly decorated for the occasion, Joan was awkwardly aware of heads turning to stare. Brandt's hand, resting on the back of her waist, didn't ease her discomfort.

Several of the girls, besides Kay, had seen Joan after work and knew how truly attractive she could be. Among themselves they had often shaken their heads over her reasons for playing down her looks. The rest, including all the men employees, had never seen her in other than her self-imposed uniform. Their stares were more at her transition than at seeing her arrive with the boss.

After the initial stillness, there was a general gravitation towards them. Brandt's hand remained in the vicinity of her back, leaving it to shake someone's hand only to glide back before Joan could slip away. Her vague feelings of embarrassment grew as more now speculating looks were cast her way. Unable to carry on inane conversations, she was reduced to quiet "Merry Christmas and hesitantly smiling nods of greeting.

She had completely forgotten the small package in her hand until one of the girls nudged her, saying, "Give Mr. Lyon the gift."

Instead of delivering the little speech she was supposed to give, Joan held out the package to Brandt and murmured almost inaudibly, "This is from all of us at Lyon Construction. Merry Christmas."

"I wondered how long you were all going to make me wait for my gift," Brandt winked broadly to the group gathered around.

His hands were completely occupied with the bright foil wrapping and Joan used the opportunity to dip to the back of the group. Brandt seemed unaware of her departure and she wondered if he had really meant to keep her at his side or whether she had misinterpreted it.

The pleasure he expressed to the group when he opened the present sounded quite genuine, but with the tiny jingle of the bracelet around her wrist, she didn't experience any sensation of gladness. There was regret and a hint of inner sadness in her eyes as she gazed at the back of his head, slightly turned to give her a small view of his aquiline profile.

As if he knew where she was all the time, Brandt glanced over his shoulder. "You picked this out, didn't you, Miss Somers?" he said as if he didn't already know. The people in front of her stepped to the side as he turned to face her. "You have excellent taste."

"I … I hope you like it," for want of any other reply.

"You'll have to remind me not to loan them out," he smiled, complacently taking in her shattered composure at being the cynosure of everyone in the room.

"Of course," her gaze not squarely meeting his.

A sudden light glittered wickedly in his eyes as he glanced above her head. "I've never had a bolder invitation issued." said Brandt dryly. "I wouldn't be human if I turned it down."

His carious statement bewildered Joan until she too, glanced up. A ball of mistletoe was hanging from the light fixture on the ceiling. Her cheeks were stained crimson when she brought her chin sharply level. In the fleeting second of her look, Brandt had moved to her side. The room was agog with amused interest.

Helplessly Joan gazed into his bluntly carved face as her whispering plea broke the silence. "Brandt, no—"

A taunting smile split the hard line of his mouth. "Where's your Christmas, spirit, Miss Somers?"

Her lashes fluttered down in dismay as his fingers closed over her chin. Her pulse thudded loudly in her ears, her heart rocketing away. Then the warmth of his mouth was firmly covering hers, taking more than a chaste kiss under a mistletoe and stretching the kiss out longer than was necessary. Due notice of those facts was registered by the spectators.

When the kiss was over, Joan reeled slightly towards him, but his hands were lightly on her shoulders, steadying her for the brief seconds until she regained control of her senses. Her eyes opened in embarrassed resentment as she met his watchful gaze.

"Ah, Miss Somers," Brandt chuckled softly and with decidedly hard mockery. "I believe you would like to slap my face." She would have liked to, if only to save her own pride. "It was only an innocent Christmas kiss."

The feelings he had aroused weren't innocent, but Joan couldn't say that. There was very little she could say, so she opted for the easiest.

"Merry Christmas, Mr. Lyon," inclining her head as she moved her mouth into a false smile.

Then Brandt turned to one of the men in his estimating staff, subtly distracting the attention from Joan. Kay appeared at her side, took one look at Joan's strained expression, and began some non-sensible chatter, maintaining the monologue until Joan was able to respond. Slowly Brandt filtered through the groups, ending up on the opposite end of the room from her. The distance wasn't great enough to remove her intense awareness of his presence.

It was as though she couldn't take an unrestricted breath until Brandt left the party nearly half an hour later. She would have preferred to leave immediately after he did, but circumstances dictated her remaining a discreet amount of time longer. Suspicion had surfaced again within the ranks of Lyon Construction that something was going on between Joan and Brandt.

At his departure, the eligible male employees began drifting to her side. Joan couldn't tell whether they were attracted by her looks or curious to find out if she really was the boss's private stock. None of them had ever appealed to her, and their slightly leering looks did not improve her opinion.

Tom Evers was the one whose advances were the most persistent. He gave the impression that Joan should be rejoicing that he was favoring her with his undivided attention. He was still clinging tenaciously to her side an hour later. She flashed a silent signal for help to Kay, who responded promptly, diverting him long enough for Joan to slip away.

Her bus would depart in an hour and a half for her home town. She would just have time to pick up her overnight case and gifts at her apartment and catch a taxi to the bus terminal. The last thing she wanted was for Tom Evers to offer her a ride. In order for him to accept her refusal, she would have to be blatantly rude. This was not the time to make an enemy of one of her fellow employees.

Her suit jacket Brandt had laid over the back of one of the straight chairs in her office. She quickly slipped it on and retrieved her bag from the desk drawer, taking a precious few seconds to get the correct change for the transit bus from her purse. As she started around the desk, Tom Evers appeared in the doorway. His stocky but well-muscled build blocked her escape.

"So this is where you ran off to," he said, smiling at her suggestively. "You could have told me you wanted to go somewhere alone. I know a more comfortable place than this."

Joan hesitated for a fraction of a second, too aware of the length of empty hall that separated her office from the canteen. Then she walked determinedly to the coat-stand.

"I wasn't seeking a place to be alone. I'm leaving," she told him sharply. "I'm spending Christmas with my parents and I have a bus to catch."

He sidled closer. "I'll give you a ride home."

"No, thank you," responded Joan firmly.

"Don't come on with that cold act with me," he jeered.

Her eyes blazed for an angry second, but she swallowed the cutting retort and tried to step around him. Tom Evers had no intention of letting her get by.

"Don't I get a Christmas kiss, too?" he mocked.

If Joan had believed he would settle for one kiss, she would have gladly given him one just to get rid of him. But she knew he would interpret her agreement as a signal that she wanted more. His ego was simply too large.

"Let me pass." There was cool hauteur in her order.

"You like to play hard to get, don't you? I don't mind." Before she could guess his intentions, his hands shot out to grip her shoulders.