Little White Lies

Miranda drew in a long, steady breath, just as she always did before entering the lion’s den.  In the three years she had worked as Holt Devlin’s Personal Assistant, she’d never once seen anyone pass through his doors without pausing first to gather a few extra ounces of courage.  Of course, in Miranda’s case it wasn’t courage she needed but strength; strength to keep the pitiful look of adoration out of her eyes, strength to refrain from shamelessly throwing herself in his arms and confessing she was hopelessly in love with him.

She’d seen the look of indifference on his handsome face every time the inevitable happened; his lover became too needy and demanded more than he was willing to give.  How many times had she heard the iciness in his voice whenever his woman de jour was foolish enough to show up at his office unannounced?  In that acidic tone of his, Holt would inform them he didn’t need a clinging vine and that any future plans they had made were permanently cancelled. 

Not that she had the slightest chance of becoming Holt’s lover, but the outcome would be the same if he ever discovered how she felt. He would find it distasteful to work with a woman who was mooning over him, and Miranda would quickly be transferred to another department. She couldn’t live with that kind of humiliation, which meant guarding her secret at all costs.

Holt didn’t even glance up when she entered his office and quietly closed the door, but then, no one but Miranda would dare come in without knocking.  She took the seat in front of his desk and waited with pen and pad in hand while he finished reading the last of the morning’s mail.  She loved this part of the day when she could just sit here and let her eyes soak up every masculine inch of him.  Firm jaw line, aristocratic nose, dark eyes and full, sensuous lips that rarely smiled; together they created the chiseled features that made Holt appear hard and unapproachable. 

So maybe he
was
curt in his responses and barked his orders more often than not, but it never ruffled her. She understood him in a way none of her predecessors ever had.  Devlin Shipping was Holt’s life and he took his responsibilities seriously.  What other’s took as arrogance, she saw as confidence, and what they thought was rudeness on his part was really just a dedicated man giving quick, decisive responses.  Yes, he had a rough exterior, but Miranda knew a side of him she doubted many people had ever seen.  

***

Holt pulled several letters from the pile and handed them to Miranda.  She didn’t look at them or ask any questions but merely tucked them beneath her notepad. He sent up a silent thanks to God, yet one more time, for his demure assistant.  Miranda was extremely efficient and self reliant, so there were never any worries about typos or whether the job would be completed on time.  Once he instructed her how to do something, he never had to repeat himself or waste valuable time checking her work.  She was every successful businessman’s dream, and knowing full well what a gem she was, Holt paid her handsomely for it.

He glanced down at the note on his desk.  “Willis reported there was a problem with one of the ships.”

“There
was
,” she replied pointedly.

Holt smiled.  “As usual, you’re one step ahead of me.  So it’s taken care of then?”

“The repair crew will be there first thing in the morning.”

“And the Thacker contracts?”

“Delivered an hour ago.”

“My mother…”

“Sends her regrets, but promised to join you for lunch next Wednesday.”

Holt leaned forward to check his schedule, certain he already had an appointment for that day.  “I thought…”

“Wednesday was the only day she could make it so I rescheduled Mr. Rosenberg for Thursday.”

He leaned back in his chair, giving her a nod of approval.  “If I wasn’t so afraid of commitment, I’d probably fall madly in love with you, you know that don’t you?”

A soft blush slowly worked its way up her neck.  “I’m just doing my job,” she said quietly, carefully keeping her eyes pinned to the notepad on her lap. 

Holt studied her for a moment, not entirely unaffected by the pretty flush that crept into her cheeks.  She wasn’t beautiful, at least not in the classic sense, but she had delicate features and her dark hair was quite a stunning contrast to the jade coloring of her eyes.  As for sexual appeal, his poor little Miranda was seriously lacking, but he wasn’t ungrateful for that.  

The severe bun she always kept her hair in, coupled with the sensible but less than flattering skirt and jacket ensembles, kept the men in his company from distracting her with idle flirtations.  She was reserved and respectful, proficient, never called in sick or complained when she had to work overtime, and she was completely devoted to him.  What more could he ask for?

“What about the New Year’s Eve party?” he asked.

“You’ll have to make an appearance, of course, and everyone will expect you to say a few words.”  She couldn’t quite keep the smile off her face when he groaned.  “Don’t worry. I’ve given the caterers very explicit instructions to have their people standing by with open bottles of champagne.  All you have to do is thank everyone for their hard work, wish them a Happy New Year, and tell them to drink up.  Three minutes tops and you’ll be out of the spot light.”

Holt let out an audible sigh.  “Thanks Miranda, what would I ever do without you?”

                        ***

Miranda was in pre-panic mode.  The party was supposed to start in just over an hour and she was still stuck on perma-hold with Customs.  Even assuming she could wrap it up in a few minutes, she still had to go home to change and there was no way she could make it back before the party started.  Holt was counting on her to make sure everything got kicked off properly and she just couldn’t disappoint him. 

She had no choice but to call her sister and beg her to come to the rescue.  If Brianne could pick up her dress and shoes and bring them to the office, she’d make it in plenty of time.  As soon as Miranda hung up with Customs, she dialed her sister.

“Bri, I need your help.  I’m stuck at the office and the party is going to start soon.  Would you be a doll and go to my house and grab my dress and shoes?”

“Oh, geez, Miranda, I’d love to except I’m running late myself.  Chad has reservations at the White Palace and I’m supposed to meet him there in forty-five minutes.  I’ll tell you what.  Why don’t I bring you something of mine to wear?”

Miranda grimaced.  “Nothing flashy, Bri, I mean it.  And nothing too low cut or anything that fits like a second skin.  Oh, and no animal prints.”

Brianne laughed.  “Well, that knocks out about three quarters of my wardrobe.  I’ll keep it tame, I promise.  I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

Miranda hung up, wondering if it wouldn’t have been better to be late.  She and her sister were complete opposites in just about everything, wardrobe included.  Although their measurements were nearly the same, Brianne’s taste in clothing ran a bit on the skimpy side.  She doubted her sister owned anything that could even remotely be considered conservative, and Miranda only hoped her flamboyant sibling wouldn’t bring anything too revealing.  Twenty minutes later she could only gape in horror when the garment was laid out across her desk.

“I can’t wear that!  It’s…it’s…”

“One of my favorite dresses, so watch what you say,” Brianne warned.  “Look, you have a gorgeous figure, almost as fabulous as mine,” she said with a grin.  “You need to show it off a little so you can catch yourself a good man.”

“No respectable man would have anything to do with me if I was wearing this,” she wailed.  “Oh, Bri, how could you do this to me?”

Brianne shrugged.  “I’m just trying to help you break out of that shell you’re hiding in.  I’d love to stick around and see how you look in it but I’ve got to run.”  She gave Miranda a quick hug.  “I hope you meet Prince Charming tonight, you deserve it.”

Prince Charming, aka Holt, was going to mistake her for a street walker in this get up.  Miranda just shook her head as Brianne dashed out of her office in a bright red mini skirt and snug blouse that left very little to the imagination.  She ran her fingers over the silky material of the dress, thankful that Bri had at least brought something that was a decent color.  Almost the same hue as her eyes, the green dress would probably be very flattering as far as that went, but the scooped neck and plunging back made her stomach a little queasy. 

One glance at the clock told her there was no time left to deliberate the problem so she scooped it up along with the matching high heels and the brown bag she assumed contained nylons and hurried into Holt’s private bathroom.  Stripping quickly, Miranda let out a groan when she opened the bag and pulled out a pair of silk thigh-high nylons followed by a French cut bra and black lace panties. 

Price tags on all the items assured her Bri hadn’t worn them before but that did little to ease the rising panic inside of her.  She’d feel positively wicked wearing these things under an already sinful dress.  Miranda bit her lip, wondering if she dared.  Yes, she thought with a determined lift of her chin.  Tonight she would be Cinderella and she really would meet Prince Charming.  It wasn’t as if she’d ever had a chance with Holt anyway so maybe it was time to break out of her shell as Bri said.

Once she had everything on, however, Miranda’s bravado began to slip.  The dress conformed to her figure like a glove, exposing quite a bit more of her ample breasts than she was comfortable with and the stretchy material was clinging to her rear end for dear life.  It fell mid-thigh, just three inches below where her nylons ended so any bending over at all would expose bare flesh. 

The back of the dress dipped all the way to her waist so almost her entire back was showing, yet she wasn’t completely appalled by the way she looked.  It made her feel sexy and gave her a little boost of confidence.  Dolled up in Bri’s dress, Miranda wasn’t the plain Jane everyone thought she was. 

An examination of the entire effect in the full length mirror brought a frown to her face.  Something would definitely have to be done about her hair.  It wouldn’t look right to have it pulled back, and she needed just a touch of mascara and lip gloss.  Yanking out the clip and pins that made her look a bit like an uptight librarian, Miranda let it tumble free.  It was long and straight so a few quick strokes of the brush was all it took to soften her features, and after applying the make-up, she was amazed at the difference in her appearance. 

She wasn’t even sure anyone would recognize her and secretly hoped that was so. She’d worked very hard to maintain her prim and proper image and didn’t want it to fall to pieces over a skimpy dress and fancy high heels.  Still, it wouldn’t hurt to show Holt there was a real woman beneath the dour office attire she always wore.