A Lyon's Share (2 page)

In the span of a few seconds, she was handing him the folder he had requested. The aquiline features were turned towards the folder so Brandt Lyon missed her prim smile of victory.

"Some day, Miss Somers," her employer spoke absently as he started towards his private office, "you are going to have to draw me a set of blueprints so I can find things in that metal monster of yours."

Her lips were pressed tightly together as the door to his connecting office closed behind him. His criticism had been uttered in a moment of exasperation and had not been meant as a slight to her ability. Still, the barbs did prick.

"You amaze me sometimes, Joan." Kay shook her head wryly.

"Why?" Joan walked around the desk to her chair and slipped her bag into the bottom drawer of her desk.

"Talking back to Mr. Lyon the way you just did. Imagine telling the boss to stay out of his own files!" she laughed. "No wonder you two don't get along."

"Mr. Lyon and I get along very well," Joan said stiffly.

"What I mean is you're hardly friendly. Everything is strictly business. For all the notice he pays you, you could be a fifty-year-old grandmother. And you're just as bad. You act as if he's fifty instead of a very eligible bachelor."

"I'm his secretary, not his mistress."

"Well," Kay sighed, "you'll never be his mistress, if you keep calling him Mr. Lyon all the time."

"That's what you called him," Joan pointed out.

"Yes, but look how seldom I see him. If I were his secretary, I sure would be making a play for him."

"And probably end up losing a well-paying job. Besides," Joan teased, slipping her glasses off, "what would John think if he knew you had eyes for the president of the company?"

"He would be jealous, wouldn't he?" Kay giggled. "But he knows I'm a big flirt."

"I sometimes think that's an understatement," Joan smiled ruefully.

"Speaking of John, what about tonight?"

The corners of her mouth turned abruptly down. "I'll go." she agreed with a resigned nod. "But I won't entertain John's brother the entire weekend. It will only be for tonight."

"Thanks loads!" Kay breathed. "We're coming straight to the apartment from the airport. We ought to be there around seven-thirty, so be ready when we get there."

"I will."

The intercom buzzer sounded. "Yes?" Joan answered.

"Will you come into my office, Miss Somers?" Brandt Lyon's voice responded.

Kay was halfway to the door to leave when she turned around to add a parting remark. "And wear something sexy, too!"

For a split second, Joan could only stare at the button she had pushed, holding her breath in hopes that her room-mate's words had not been picked up by the intercom speaker.

"I'll be right there, Mr. Lyon," she murmured.

Breaking off the connection, she slipped her glasses back on and gathered her pencil and paper. At the door to his office, she paused to straighten the tweed skirt of her tailored suit, then walked in.

The big leather chair swung around as she entered. The perusal of his gaze was very thorough as it swept over her. Joan guessed what he was thinking, knowing how deceptive the severe hairstyle and tortoiseshell glasses were. Brandt Lyon undoubtedly questioning her ability to appear sexy.

Then a shutter closed, blanking out the gleam of speculation, and his look was no longer personal but strictly business, employer to employee. With an efficiency that matched Joan's, he went through his schedule for the afternoon, handed her the cartridges from his Dictaphone containing the morning's dictation, and added a list of telephone calls he wanted her to make.

The impersonal business level had been re-established. No reference was made to confirm or deny that he had overheard Kay's comment. That swift appraisal of her when she had walked in the door might never have occurred.

Yet at five o'clock, Joan stepped into the doorway of his office to make certain there was nothing else he required of her before she left for the weekend. His casual remark stripped the doubt that remained.

"Are you going out this evening, Miss Somers?" Brandt Lyon inquired after assuring her there was nothing else he needed.

"It's Friday," she replied, trying to make it sound as if it was customary for her to have a date instead of a rarity.

"Enjoy yourself."

There was no mockery in his statement, nor any teasing barb, but she took exception to his indifferent wish. "I generally do, Mr. Lyon. Goodnight."

The wind had a bite of the cold north in its teeth as Joan waited on the corner for her bus. The late November snowfall had melted, leaving the ground frozen and barren on the first days of December. Dusk was encroaching on the grey skies, but the heavy overcast didn't permit the golden pink colors of sunset to peep through the clouds.

The weekends were generally quiet respites from work, punctuated by evenings with girl friends or the occasional date. In the rush of the Chicago traffic, Joan felt gloomy and lost. She knew the cause — that last indifferent comment from Brandt Lyon.

When she had graduated from the secretarial college, she had worked in a typing pool at a large insurance firm for nine months. Then she had seen the advertisement in the newspaper for a private secretary. On that day three years ago, she had gone to Lyon Construction to fill out her application. There she had met Kay Moreland who was there in answer to another advertisement for a vacancy in the computer section.

Two days later she had received a call to come for an interview. Brandt Lyon had been rummaging through the file cabinet looking for a folder that day, too. He hadn't wasted time with introductions as he had told her what he was looking for and asked her to find it. It had taken her only a few minutes to work out the system and produce the required folder.

By that time Brandt Lyon was talking to someone on a long-distance phone call. He held the call long enough to thank her and to ask her to make coffee. When that task had been completed, Joan had waited nervously in the outer office, a little stunned to find her prospective employer so young, or at least relatively young, since he had been in his early thirties. There had been such a positive air about him, a sense that he always got things done one way or another, that Joan had found herself smiling when she remembered that look of exasperation on his rugged face when he hadn't been able to find the folder he wanted from the cabinet.

At about that moment, he had stepped into the office. She had been uncomfortably conscious of the appraisal in his dark blue eyes and had wondered if he was the type that constantly chased his secretary around the desk. She had even speculated that it might be exciting to be caught.

"I had wanted someone older with more experience," he had said.

Joan remembered the way her heart had quickened at the sound of his quietly spoken but firm words. His voice was one that people listened to and automatically sat straighter without realizing it.

"I feel I am very well qualified for the position, Mr. Lyon," Joan had replied in her best professional voice.

"We'll see how you do." he had nodded, and turned away.

"Do you mean I have the job?" She had been so positive he was going to turn her down that she hadn't been certain that she had interpreted his statement correctly.

"You did apply for it, didn't you?" Brandt Lyon had answered with marked patience. Joan had moved her head in an affirmative gesture. "Well, you've got it, starting right now."

In the beginning, she had assumed that he had made a snap decision based on his need for an immediate replacement for her predecessor, who had been badly injured in an automobile accident. Gradually Joan learned via the office grapevine that he had investigated her background thoroughly before calling her in for the interview. Still, she secretly believed that her ability to fathom the filing system instantly had been the key to her hiring.

Kay had been hired only the day before and as the two latest additions to the Lyon staff, they gravitated towards each other despite the differences in their respective positions. Within a few months, they were sharing an apartment.

Joan readily admitted to herself that in the first few months in her new job she had developed a crush on her boss. Brandt Lyon was a dynamic individual. Rarely had Joan ever seen him ruffled by anything. Whatever obstacle or crisis that occurred was met calmly and solved, or removed from his path. His surname conjured up the image of a jungle cat and he was very much like the lion. His strength and power were only hinted at, roused only when there was need and not in anger. His ruggedness, the features that weren't handsome but compelling, increased the comparison.

Yes, she had nourished secret hopes in the beginning that he might look at her as a woman, but it had always been business. Joan herself had set the foundations for their relationship. She had been overly conscious of her youth, in his eyes, and had done her utmost to play it down. When she had started the job, her wardrobe had consisted of sweaters and skirts. Gradually she had revamped it into tailored suits, attractive but hardly eye-catching.

Her long amber-golden hair was no longer caught by a scarf at the back of her neck, but coiled into a severe style that darkened its shimmering color. The necessity for glasses merely completed the picture of a prim, professional secretary. Awareness that she was attracted to him made Joan all the more conscious of the way she addressed him for fear he might guess.

It was true that nearly all the employees were on a first-name basis with their respective department heads. Even the engineers and project superintendents referred to Brandt Lyon by his first name. But Joan had been afraid that someone might discover her hidden crush if she became too familiar and friendly with her boss.

A secret love can only be cherished for so long before it becomes inevitable that it must die from lack of nourishment. Brandt Lyon's total lack of interest in her life outside of the office and her duties made the death come more swiftly. Joan was grateful that the practical side of her nature had never allowed her to confide her secret feelings to anyone. Not even her room-mate guessed how close her teasing remarks had come to the truth.

Admiration and respect were the only emotions that Joan allowed to exist for her employer now. Yet he knew she was still overly sensitive to his indifference. There was a part of her that wanted him to see her as a woman and not a faithful secretary capable of fathoming a filing system he found impossible.

The bus stopped at her corner and Joan pushed her way through the passengers to the side door. The wind chased her to the apartment building, its cold breath trying to penetrate the scarf around her neck. Inside the building she bypassed the elevators for the stairs leading to the second floor and the apartment she shared with Kay.

Kay liked to describe the decor as "early leftovers" since the two-room apartment had been furnished with items neither of their parents wanted any more. It was a genuine hodge-podge of styles ranging from a heavy Mediterranean-style sofa to an Early American rocker. A sink unit occupied one corner of the front room. A white stove and a copper-colored refrigerator added to the incongruity of the apartment.

The second room of their apartment was the bedroom, with twin beds and a small adjoining bathroom. Joan removed her heavy winter coat and pushed it into the crowded wardrobe, then slipped off the jacket of her suit and tossed it on the rose-colored chenille bedspread.

She traipsed half-heartedly back to the kitchen area, trying to summon enthusiasm for the coming evening and her date with John's brother as she fixed a half-pot of coffee. Even though she knew she had got over her crush on Brandt Lyon, Joan knew she would compare Ed Thomas with him. In three years, she hadn't met any man in Brandt Lyon's class.

Not that she had dated often enough to compare him with many men. Joan had never been much of a social person, even in high school. She had generally been too tall for most of the boys her age. Once she was out of school, she discovered it wasn't as easy as she had thought it would be to meet single men. She wasn't comfortable going to night clubs in the company of other girls in hopes of meeting a new eligible face, which was the reason she spent most of her evenings alone in her apartment.

At the office, ninety per cent of the males were married and the other ten per cent Joan didn't care about. Besides, she had discovered that her position as Brandt Lyon's secretary was something of a handicap. She was either pursued or avoided because of her closeness to the head of the firm.

Joan glanced longingly at the half-finished book lying on the table beside the sofa, knowing she didn't dare pick it up or else she would become so engrossed in it that she would lose all track of time and not be ready when Kay returned. She had so looked forward to reading the rest of that book tonight, she sighed, then laughed. The sound of her laughter echoed in the room.

"That's a fine state of affairs," Joan chided herself aloud, "when I find reading a novel more enjoyable than my love life!"

Resolutely she walked into the bathroom and turned on the water taps to the tub, pouring a liberal amount of bubble bath in the bottom. Searching through her closet, she found the coffee silk trouser suit and laid it out on the bed, removing the gold metal belt from her jewel case.