by Janet Dailey
"I … I'll fi-fix some coffee," she stammered.
She never made it to the kitchen counter. The hands sliding firmly around her waist brought her to an abrupt stop. She inhaled sharply as Brandt buried his head in the side of her neck. Her fingers closed over his wrists, but she didn't attempt to remove his hands from her waist.
"I don't want coffee," Brandt muttered huskily as his lips followed the route of her hammering pulse down the side of her neck. "I don't want tea or Coke or any of that. All I want is to make love to you. Is that wrong?"
"Brandt," she whispered. It wasn't a protest or an acceptance, but a strangely confused uncertainty that was partly "yes" and partly "no".
The pressure of his hands turned her around, molding her against the length of his body, ascertaining his need of her. Of their own volition, her hands slipped around his neck, the wild singing in her ears blocking out any other sound, and she was caught in the dangerous undertow of her love and swept along by the masterful tide of his kiss.
A key turned in the lock and the door was opened. A tiny, startled "Oh!" was magnified a thousand times louder as it penetrated Joan's consciousness a second after Brandt.
Her hands were pulled from around his neck and she felt the ragged beating of his heart as her fingers trailed over his chest. She still hadn't guessed the cause of the sound, her tremulously happy gaze rushing to his face. The cold, nearly angry glare of his eyes was directed at the door. Joan turned in bewilderment.
A red-faced Kay and John looked back, poised just inside the door. Like a child caught playing with matches, Joan stepped hastily the rest of the way out of Brandt's embrace, her hands behind her back as if to hide the evidence.
"I'm sorry, Joan," Kay murmured fervently. "I didn't guess that — that anyone would be here."
And most especially Brandt Lyon, Joan added silently, her cheeks flushing in scarlet embarrassment. She drew a shaky breath.
"It's all right," she said aloud.
"Yes." Brandt spoke crisply, a piercing look thrown at Joan, "I was just leaving."
His long strides carried him quickly to the couch where he picked up his overcoat to lend credence to his words. There was little else for Kay and John to do except to walk further into the apartment, silent apology still in Kay's eyes.
"Will you see me to the door, Joan?" Brandt inquired brusquely.
Joan hovered uncertainly for a split second. "Yes, of course," she breathed, self-consciously moving to his side.
Brandt didn't stop in the open doorway but continued into the hallway, reaching behind her to close the door. Incapable of meeting his discerning gaze, she stared at the carpet beneath her toes. The silence between them gnawed at her stomach. Brandt was several feet away, but she could feel his brooding eyes studying her.
"Will you come with me?" The quiet firmness of his request stopped her heart for an instant.
An outright refusal was called for, but she said, "Where?"
He didn't answer immediately, waiting until Joan glanced up. "To my apartment." His calmness was unnerving.
"No." She didn't trust herself to add more to her denial.
His sigh opened the wounds in her heart. "Why?" he demanded quietly.
She turned completely away from his searching gaze. "It was crazy for you to come here tonight."
She couldn't answer his question. She couldn't explain that she didn't want to be the means by which he soothed the hurt Angela had evidently inflicted. And logically she knew that had been the only motive behind his kisses.
"Then why didn't you tell me to go?"
"How could I?" Joan asked with a bitter laughing sigh.
"By answering honestly when I asked earlier," Brandt snapped impatiently.
The acid sting of tears burned her eyes as Joan forced the caustic words from her throat. "How does a person go about ordering their boss to leave?"
"I thought you were different." The lack of anger in his voice made his words all the more cutting. "I thought there was a spark of humanity in you. But you're as greedy and self-centered as the rest."
"Why? Because I didn't want to lose my job?" Joan fought back in helpless denial.
"Were you afraid of losing it, or did you see a means of keeping it?" Contempt lashed out.
"Don't … don't try to place yourself so far above the rest of us," Joan whispered. "You were no better than I! Your motive for making-love to me was to get back at Angela. I was a means of revenge!"
"What was I," Brandt returned. "A stand-in for Ed?"
Joan said nothing. Her heart was shattering into a thousand pieces like splintering glass. She could have suffered his indifference, but after tonight, Brandt would only regard her with loathing for the way he believed she had deceived him.
His hand gripped her shoulder and he turned her around, clasping her chin with a firm hold as his mouth punishingly covered hers for a white-hot moment. Then he released her, diamond blue chips cutting her to the quick.
"Happy New Year, Joan," he said cynically, and he was striding down the hall to the stairs.
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Chapter Eight
WHEN Joan returned to work after the New Year holiday, the air was so heavy that it could have been cut with a knife. On the surface, Brandt appeared as professionally businesslike as always, but his eyes held a suggestion of scorn whenever he glanced at her, which wasn't often. The whiplike flick of his gaze made tiny wounds in her thin skin.
At the end of the first day, Joan knew the situation was intolerable. There was no more reason to postpone her resignation. Brandt would undoubtedly be glad to see her leave.
Kay was more than sympathetic when Joan relayed her decision. The two girls had talked considerably over the holiday. Kay had bitterly opposed Joan's returning to work the second day of the new year. She insisted that there was no need for her to give Brandt notice after the despicable way he had used her to try to satisfy his physical desire. With her qualifications, she would have no difficulty in obtaining a new job elsewhere, and if she did, Kay assured her that with tight budgeting her salary would suffice for both of them.
Joan had remained adamant that she must give Brandt two weeks' notice, unless she was able to arrange for a suitable replacement in the meantime. Eventually Kay had accepted her decision, although she still believed that Joan was wrong.
Her intention was to type her letter of resignation as soon as she arrived at the office the next morning, but the instant she stepped into her office, there seemed to be a hundred and one things Brandt wanted done "yesterday". Joan hadn't a free moment until her lunch hour. Once it was typed and signed, she kept waiting for an opportunity to give it to him, but she had forgotten about his weekly meeting with the project superintendents. At leaving time, he was still in the conference room with them. Friday was as bad.
For the entire weekend, the resignation remained in her handbag. On Monday morning she entered the office with a fatalistic calm, determined that the first thing she was going to do was give the letter to Brandt. Taking the mail, the day's appointment book, and the all-important letter, she knocked on the connecting door and entered on his summons.
Brandt was on the telephone and motioned for her to sit down. She took a seat in front of his desk and shifted the letter to the top, wanting to get it over with the first thing. Her mind was going over all her well-rehearsed explanations, so she paid no attention to his telephone conversation. When he hung up, Joan took a deep breath in preparation for her speech, but she didn't have a chance to open her mouth.
"Is there anything important in the mail that has to be handled immediately?" Brandt demanded, already rising from his desk.
Her fingers closed over her letter. "No, but —" she began.
"Cancel my appointments for today." he interrupted, walking over to his coat. "If you need me, I'll be at the Chalmers Street site."
"What?" Joan murmured blankly, clutching the letter more tightly.
"That was Lang on th
e phone," he replied, knowing that Joan knew Bob Lang was the project superintendent on that building site. "There was a malfunction in one of the service lifts. It fell three stories to the basement and two of our workers are trapped inside."
As she rose from her chair to follow Brandt out of the office, all thought of the letter in her hand vanished. "Are they seriously hurt?"
"One is unconscious and the other man seems to have a broken leg." He was shrugging into his coat as he opened the hallway door. "I don't think I'll be back in the office today. Once we have the men freed, Bob and I will have to meet the safety inspectors. He's contacting them now."
Only when Brandt was gone and Joan was back at her desk preparing to make the necessary calls to cancel his appointments did she remember that she still hadn't delivered her resignation. Fate seemed to be conspiring against her and she didn't want any more time to reconsider her decision. In no circumstances was she going to tear it up and prolong her agony.
On Tuesday Joan learned that one of the workers had suffered concussion and the other man had broken his leg. Brandt made a whirlwind visit to the office and headed back to the site. And the letter was still locked in her desk drawer.
Brandt was not in the office the following morning when Joan arrived. This constant waiting made her nerves all the more raw and tense. Again she placed the letter with the morning's mail and the appointment book in preparation for Brandt's arrival. She was on the telephone when he walked in. Her heart constricted sharply at the lines of tiredness etched in his strong face. He paused beside her desk waiting until she was free.
"Bob Lang will be here in about ten minutes," Brandt told her. "I want Lyle Baines in my office when Bob and I go over the safety reports. Make sure he's available."
"Mr. Connelly is supposed to go over the accounts with you this morning," Joan reminded him quickly.
"I've already put him off until this afternoon." An impatient frown added to his preoccupied look. "You get Baines."
Joan picked up the receiver and dialed the extension number of his office while Brandt waited. From the corner of her eye, she saw him pick up the mail and appointment book with her letter of resignation sandwiched between the two.
As the ring sounded on the other end, Joan said quickly, "I'll go over those with you in a minute."
"That won't be necessary," he responded, and walked to his office door.
At that moment, Lyle Baines answered the ring and Joan was unable to stop Brandt. She had always intended to hand him her resignation personally, not have him discover it with the morning mail. The instant she had passed on his message to Lyle Baines, she rose hastily from her chair to try to intercept the letter before Brandt found it. Fate was against her again as the telephone rang to call her back. Her nerves screamed in frustration as she jotted down the lengthy message while the intercom buzzed loudly at the same instant that Bob Lang walked in the door, followed within seconds by Lyle Baines.
Unwillingly, Joan flicked on the intercom switch. "Mr. Baines and Mr. Lang are here to see you," she said quickly.
"Tell them to come back in half an hour, then get in here!" The leashed anger in his voice came clearly over the speaker.
Both men had heard his order, so there was no need for Joan to repeat it. She accepted their silent nods of agreement with an uncomfortable smile, tension knotting her stomach as they left and she was forced to comply with Brandt's order to her.
The connecting door had barely closed behind her when Brandt spoke. This time his voice was briskly cool. "I have an explanation coming, Joan." The letter of resignation was pushed to the front of the desk towards her.
"I'm sorry." Nervously she moistened her dry lips. "I had intended to give it to you personally this morning."
"It's dated last Thursday. Have you just now summoned up the courage to give it to me?"
Her chin tilted slightly. "I would have given it to you on Thursday except you were in conference all afternoon and I didn't want to leave it for you to find when I was gone." she explained crisply. "And ever since, you've been very busy or actually out of the office."
His finger tapped a corner of the letter impatiently. "You failed to explain your reason for giving notice."
Her gaze dropped to the desk, away from his penetrating look. Warmth began spreading over her face and she wished she had thought to put on her glasses to shield her eyes from his inspection.
"I thought it was obvious." she murmured.
"Not to me it isn't," Brandt returned smoothly.
"You can't expect me to stay working for you after — after —" Her initial outburst died away to an embarrassed whisper. Curling her fingers into impotent fists, she turned at a right angle away from the desk.
"After what?" he prompted.
"After the other night," Joan finished tautly.
"Which night are you referring to?"
"You know very well that I mean New Year's Eve," she burst out angrily at his deliberate obtuseness.
"As I recall," Brandt leaned back in his chair with complacent ease, "that night you were concerned about losing your job, and now you are intent on giving it up." Considering the lengths you were willing to go to keep it, you can understand my confusion now."
"It's a woman's prerogative to change her mind," Joan asserted.
"Do you have another job lined up?"
"I could not, in all conscience, seek another position before I had given notice to you," she told him sharply.
"I suppose you'll want to use my name as a reference." A thick brow arched in question.
"I believe my work has been satisfactory." A flash of pride in the way she tossed her head.
"Above and beyond the call of duty," Brandt smiled dryly.
"Would you stop making it sound as if I was the one who was cheap and disgusting?" Joan cried out bitterly at the implication behind his words.
"You were the one who allowed me to kiss you without making any protest, and not for the first time. Did you honestly expect me to ignore the invitation of your lips?" Again there was the mirthless smile while his gaze studied her intently.
"I … I think you were mistaken," she protested hesitantly.
"Was I? I believe I'm more experienced than you, Joan. I can tell the difference when a woman is being kissed or is kissing." The razor edge of his tongue sliced at her as he leaned forward to pick up the letter. "You've let your imagination run away with you, and I don't intend to lose a good secretary simply because you're foolish at times."
"I've given you two weeks notice." Joan stated.
"Have you?" One corner of his mouth quirked. With slow deliberation, Brandt tore the letter into quarters and tossed it in the waste basket. "I have no record of it."
"I'll simply type another one."
"I'm aware of your stubbornness," Brandt agreed grimly, "but I'm asking you to reconsider your decision. If you still feel the same way next week we'll discuss it."
"I won't change my mind," Joan warned.
"You're very complex. I wonder if I'll ever understand you." Then he sighed and bent over the set of official-looking documents spread on his desk. "Get Lang and Baines in here."
Joan never actually told Kay that Brandt hadn't exactly accepted her resignation. She had every intention of submitting another notice on Monday morning, so she told her room-mate that her two weeks' notice took effect on Monday week. Kay thought it was unfair and said so emphatically.
On Friday night, Kay began circling advertisements in the paper, insisting that there was no need for Joan to wait any longer. She should begin putting her applications in for other positions and Kay was determined that Joan would begin on Saturday morning.
There wasn't any plausible reason not to begin applications, but Joan didn't look forward to it, though she repeatedly told herself that a change of scene was the best idea and she should begin the transition as soon as possible.
Yet there was a strange mixture of relief when Ed Thomas arrived unexpectedly from Clev
eland on Saturday morning and all of Kay's plans were set aside in favor of a weekend schedule that included Joan and Ed with her and John. Most of Saturday afternoon was spent in a friendly argument between the four of them as to where they would go for dinner and the evening's entertainment. Finally it ended in a wild compromise, that had Ed and John agreeing to cook an Italian dinner for all of them at the girls' apartment.
The incongruity of seeing the staid, quiet John in a frilly apron and his older, more aggressive brother Ed in a long bib apron from Joan's mother had both the girls laughing in near hysteria. The evening promised to be far from romantic, but to Joan, much more preferable.
Kay was rescuing the spaghetti noodles that Ed was trying to pour down the sink after nearly boiling them dry when there was a knock at the door.
"Don't tell me," John moaned. "It must be the apartment manager. He probably smelled the spaghetti burning and called the fire department!"
"Either that or he's coming to the rescue with a fire extinguisher," Kay laughed, waving at the vague scent of a scorched something in the air.
"Or worse," Joan said in a pseudo-whisper as she hurried to the door. "It might be that lady that lives down the hall. She's probably outraged that we're "entertaining" men in our apartment and has called the police."
There was a loud burst of laughter from the other three at that statement. Joan was doing her best to conceal a smile as she opened the door. Then all desire to smile was snatched from her chest as she stared at Brandt.
"Hello Joan." he said quietly, his gaze gently examining her face.
"Brandt? I —" Her head moved in a helpless protest.
"Who is it, love?" Ed's voice came ringing clearly between them.
The look in Brandt's eyes immediately hardened into something cold and withdrawn. Joan ignored Ed's question, knowing the door blocked Brandt from view.
"Did … you want something?" she asked in a lowered voice.
A slight frown drew his brows together. "I wanted to take you to dinner tonight." His piercing gaze shifted from her face to the room behind her. "I should have known when I couldn't reach you today that you were otherwise occupied."
