A Lyon's Share

by Janet Dailey

  "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.

  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.

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  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.