Authors: Brooke Hastings
"Basic personality differences?" Luke repeated.
"Yes. Linda is restless and adventuresome. She needs
novelty and excitement to be happy. Randy is much calmer, sunny and
easygoing and much too likely to let people push her around."
Pat's description only confused Luke more. The woman in
Maine didn't fit either of those thumbnail sketches. He wondered
whimsically whether there were a third sister hiding out somewhere.
"Before you interrupted," Pat continued, leaning forward
slightly, "I was about to explain that Linda was the quintessential
Manhattan princess as a girl—rich, adorable and spoiled.
Maybe Randy would have turned out the same way but two things happened
in the meantime. Emily found out she couldn't have any more children
and the feminist movement started to gain ground and affect Bill
Dunne's thinking. Linda was twelve by then, and already a little
reckless and much too sophisticated for her age, but Randy was only
eight. I'd been working for Bill for about three years and I remember
how surprised I was when he started to involve Randy in the store.
After all, we had exactly no women executives back then and even
Emily—the boss's daughter—had almost nothing to do
with running C & D. At first it was only taking Randy to lunch
every month in the store restaurant or having her model children's
clothing in fashion shows, but as she grew up her involvement grew
also. I think that since Bill didn't have a son and considered Linda a
lost cause, he consciously began to groom Randy for a role in the
business. You're obviously aware of how many hearts she won. I'm not
sure just why she went to California, but maybe it was because Bill
pushed too hard. I don't think she was dying for a career in films. Now
she seems to have decided that a career at C & D is the right
future for her, and personally, I'm delighted by her decision. In my
opinion Randy's major problem is that she's put her private life on
hold. She would probably die before she'd hurt Bill and Emily by making
the kinds of mistakes that Linda's made. Unfortunately, of course, you
can't grow up and have real relationships without risking a little
pain. Randy is a wonderful young woman but she has a lot to learn about
people and about life in general." Pat sat back in her chair. "I've
already said far more than I should have, Luke. You're not getting
another word out of me."
As far as Luke was concerned there was no need to keep
probing. The person Pat had described was little more than a charming
girl and couldn't possibly have been the woman he'd known in Maine.
Only one thing continued to bother him, and that was Linda Franck
herself. He found himself wanting to see her again, wanting to make
love to her. Eventually he even tried to call, but her Cambridge number
was unlisted.
Luke wasn't sure why he picked up the phone again five
minutes later and called Roger Bennett, but guilt probably played a
role. He'd already swiped one of Roger's girlfriends and doing it a
second time when he wasn't really serious about the woman in question
would have been hitting below the belt.
Luke didn't want Roger to know that he was calling about
Linda so he opened the conversation by asking a favor—two
house seats to Roger's newest Broadway show, which was red-hot despite
the summer lull. The two men traded small talk for several more minutes
before Luke actually got to the point.
"By the way," he said, as if the thought had just entered
his head, "I hear you're dating my boss' daughter."
A gust of laughter came across the line. "I saw her first,
Griffin. I happen to be crazy about her, so keep your hands off."
There was no way Luke could tell him that it was far too
late to honor such an order. "I suppose I'd better do that, if I want
any more tickets from you. Her sister is coming to work for me," he
added. "Have you ever met her?"
"Randy? As a matter of fact, I have. She stopped in
Cambridge on her way back from New Hampshire last week—I was
visiting Lin at the time. I'll tell you, Luke, if she didn't wear her
hair so differently I might have found myself making love to the wrong
woman. The resemblance is pretty striking."
"So what did you think of her?"
"I liked her very much. She's a real charmer. If you're
worried about having to cope with a spoiled brat of a boss' daughter,
don't be. Anything else I can do for you?"
Luke said there wasn't and wrapped up the conversation. He
was disappointed by what he'd learned, but somehow relieved, as well.
As much as he'd known that it was foolhardy to become involved with
Linda Franck the memories of that night in Maine might have gotten the
better of him. Now Roger Bennett had given him an additional reason to
stay away—his conscience—and he knew it was all for
the best.
Tuesday morning was one of the longest mornings that Randy
had ever spent. The prospect of seeing Luke Griffin again had twisted
her inside out, and the only thing that was preventing an out-and-out
anxiety attack was the fact that he wouldn't know who she
was—or so she hoped. She changed three times, finally
selecting a feminine print dress in shades of green and ivory. The
neckline was a gentle U-shape that accentuated her tan; the short
sleeves and skirt were cut full to flutter gracefully over the upper
arm and down from the waist. She applied her makeup carefully, using
the skills she'd learned as an actress to subtly change the contours of
her face. When two-inch heels and a new hair style were added, she
looked substantially different from the woman Luke had known in Maine.
As she stood before a full-length mirror for a final check of her
appearance her eyes darted to the cross Linda had given her in
Cambridge. She hurriedly removed it and stuffed it into her purse.
Her desire not to be late caused her to arrive at her
father's office almost fifteen minutes early. Pat O'Donnell was away
from her desk, probably at lunch, and the sound of male voices was
filtering out from behind the closed door. After only a moment's
hesitation Randy walked over to Pat's desk and picked up the phone.
With any luck at all the microphone device would be switched on. In
fact, as soon as she pressed down the appropriate button the sound of
Luke's voice came through the receiver perfectly clear.
"… terrific, Bill. My only problem is that I
hate to clean them," he was saying. "You and Emily want some?"
"Sure. Bring them in tomorrow and leave them in the
restaurant freezer for me." There was a pause, during which Randy
pictured her father lighting his pipe. "Glad to see you had a good
weekend for a change. Rita told Pat you were something less than a
delight to work for after you got back from Cambridge."
Cambridge
? Randy thought. So her
father believed that Luke had been in Cambridge, not Maine. That
sounded more like the Bill Dunne she'd always known. But why had Luke
been moody when he got back? Because he'd taken the weekend far more
seriously than he'd pretended to? Randy wanted desperately to think so.
"The secretarial grapevine strikes again," Luke answered
wryly. "Sometimes I wonder just who runs this company."
"Then you'd better keep in mind that
I
do," Bill shot back. "So tell me, are you all set to tackle my
other
daughter?"
Randy almost lost Luke's answer—it was muttered
in a low, disgruntled tone. "I only hope I do better with Miranda than
with Linda."
"I thought you settled everything," Bill said. "You told
me…"
"I did. And now I'm looking forward to meeting Miranda.
Although after dealing with Linda it's a little hard to believe that
two sisters could be as different as everyone says."
"Believe it," Bill replied. "And make sure you remember
it."
"Oh, I will." The promise was drawled in a teasing way
that Randy knew only too well. "I understand perfectly. Your younger
daughter is as pure as the newfallen snow and I hope not as cold."
There was a slight pause followed by Luke's laughing question, "Tell
me, Bill, since you seem to think I'd make an acceptable son-in-law, do
I have your permission to pretest the merchandise?"
"No." Bill sounded seriously irritated.
"Come on, Bill," Luke chided. "You wouldn't buy a new car
without a road test, would you? Why should it be any different with a
woman?"
After several seconds' worth of silence Luke gave another
bark of laughter. "Okay, okay. Save the murderous looks for when the
profits go down. I promise you that I'll behave myself. It means revising my
game plan a little, though. I was planning to take her back to my
office and seduce her on the couch."
At this point it seemed that Bill Dunne decided it was
fruitless to overreact to Luke's gibes. He told Luke to go right ahead
and do that and then changed the subject to plans for a new branch of C
& D in Dallas.
If nothing else, Randy's eavesdropping had improved her
mood. Judging from the conversation, she'd gotten under Luke's skin in
Maine, just as he'd gotten under hers. A glance at her watch told her
she'd only be five minutes early if she went inside now, so she
replaced the receiver and switched the phone back to the first outside
line again.
Bill Dunne let her in a few seconds after she knocked,
affectionately pecking her on the cheek. "Hi, honey. I want you to meet
your new boss. Luke Griffin, my daughter Randy."
Ghosts seldom frequent posh New York offices, but Luke
paled so dramatically and stared so stupidly that one might have
assumed that he thought he was seeing one. "Is something the matter,
Mr. Griffin?" Randy asked, trying to keep calm.
"Uh—no. It's just that—I've met your
sister."
Randy had never heard Luke stammer before, but he quickly
recovered. "You look very much alike," he said, sounding a little
annoyed.
She knew he'd jumped to exactly the right conclusion and
felt a panicked temptation to confess. But there were too many
excellent reasons for playing this role through to the end.
"People are always taking us for each other," she said.
"But of course, Linda is older, Mr. Griffin, and much as I hate to
admit it, thinner."
" 'Mr. Griffin' is a little formal, honey," Bill remarked.
"Why don't you make it 'Luke'?"
"I'd be more comfortable with Mr. Griffin," Randy replied,
giving Luke a cool look. "That way neither of us will be likely to
forget our relationship is strictly business."
"I knew that phone call would get her back up," Bill told
Luke with a sigh. "He was only teasing, Randy," he added to his
daughter. "Why don't you forget it?"
When Randy didn't answer Luke plastered on one of those
wretchedly charming smiles of his and announced, "I have no intention
of being equally formal, Miranda. I hope you'll change your mind and
follow suit."
Randy didn't budge an inch. "I don't think so, Mr.
Griffin. Can we get to work now?"
"She's all yours." Bill shook his head in pretended dismay
and motioned toward the door.
Randy followed Luke down to his private office, stopping
for a moment to say hello to his secretary, Rita Washington. Rita had
joined the company while Randy was in her last year of college, so the
two women didn't know each other particularly well.
"You used to work for Oscar Levitan before he retired,
didn't you?" Randy asked.
"That's right, but I'm happy about the change. Luke's not
a bad man to work for—for a slavedriver, that is." Rita
glanced at her boss. "Elroy thinks we're having an affair, I spend so
many nights here."
Luke merely laughed. "Her husband is a former professional
football player," he explained to Randy. "When Rita works late he
usually walks over from the restaurant he owns a few blocks from here
and picks her up. One look at Elroy and a man would have to be crazy to
proposition Rita."
He took a few phone messages off Rita's desk and opened
the door to his office, ushering Randy inside. The room was smaller
than Bill Dunne's office and decorated with aggressively modern pieces
of the type that C & D had long promoted and popularized.
The moment the door was shut Luke's lazy manner
disappeared. "What kind of game are you playing?" he demanded. But
before Randy had a chance to answer his expression turned contrite.
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't be shouting at you. What happened in Maine was
entirely my fault."
Randy was heartily relieved. An apologetic Luke Griffin
would be easier to cope with than an angry one. "I've never been to
Maine, Mr. Griffin," she said with exactly the right mixture of
bewilderment and stiffness in her voice. She suffered Luke's continued
examination of her body and face, her discomfort very real.
"Don't tell me that," he said with a shake of his head,
"because I just won't believe it. You tried to tell me who you were in
Maine, but I wouldn't listen. If I hurt you—"
If
? Randy thought. "Look, I don't
know what you're talking about," she interrupted. "I just got back from
Los Angeles. Before that, I was in New Hampshire with a friend. Now can
we get to work?"
"No." Luke took a few steps closer to her, the fingers of
his right hand closing over her upper arm, and bent his head to kiss
her. "You may look a little different," he murmured, "but some things
don't change."
Randy reacted with an anger that was only partially
feigned. Did he really expect to pick up right where they'd left off,
without even five minutes' worth of explanations? She jerked free and
let fly with an open-palmed right hook, connecting squarely with Luke's
left cheek. Then, as he stood there, staring at her in astonishment,
she slammed out of his office.
He caught up with her when she was halfway to her father's
office, grabbing her arm to turn her around. When he saw the tears in
her eyes his expression became penitent to the point of
self-mortification.
"Please forgive me, Miranda," he said a bit stiffly,
removing his hand from Randy's arm when she showed no further signs of
trying to get away. "I'm not usually this irrational. I realize I owe
you an explanation."