Authors: Brooke Hastings
"I'm not dimwitted, Mr. Griffin," Randy said coldly.
"Obviously it has something to do with my sister. You can spare me the
details. You can also spare me the cheap passes."
Luke's temper seemed to flare up out of nowhere. "Damn it,
Miranda, I said I was sorry. I thought you were Linda. Or that Linda
was you." He walked off in disgust, muttering to himself.
Randy watched his retreating back, pondering her next
move. She certainly wasn't about to run to her father with some
hysterical story about Maine when Bill Dunne had never gotten wind of
that particular wrinkle in Luke's plan. On the contrary, her instinct
told her to make her peace with Luke; if, in fact, they'd never met it
was exactly what she would have done.
When she walked back into his office and closed the door
he was standing by the window, staring down at the traffic on Lexington
Avenue. He didn't turn around.
"Mr. Griffin," she said softly.
He glanced over his shoulder at the sound of her voice.
"Did you decide not to run to Daddy?" he asked her.
Randy's tone was far warmer than Luke's, and conveyed her
distress and uncertainty. "My father is extremely overprotective, Mr.
Griffin. He thinks I don't know how to take care of myself. If I tell
him what happened just now he's likely to come storming down here and
chew you out. I realize that you can always get another job, but C
& D can't get a vice president with your talents. I don't want
to cause any trouble."
Luke relaxed and smiled, leaning against the window frame
now. Obviously her answer had satisfied him. "Tell me," he drawled
teasingly, "just what the logical conclusion of your philosophy would
be. Suppose I walked over, picked you up and carried you to the couch.
Would you tell your father? Or am I so valuable to the company that
you'd let me make love to you?" To underscore his point he began to
approach her slowly, a wicked glint in his eyes.
He was so irresistible that Randy longed to meet him
halfway. She was suddenly grateful for her acting classes. She knew she
couldn't freeze Luke off, but the Randy Dunne he'd heard about would
have been too inexperienced to attempt it. The blush on her face
probably made her look embarrassed, but the real cause of it was a
sharp, hot memory of their night together in Maine.
She looked at the floor, as if she were totally outclassed
and knew it. "Why—why do you get such a kick out of teasing
me?" she asked.
He stopped. "I tease almost everyone, Miranda. Especially
beautiful young women who put up cool facades to try to put me in my
place." He came several steps closer.
"Look, Mr. Griffin," Randy said, backing away from him,
"all my life I've been Daddy's little girl around C & D. Coming
back from California wasn't an easy decision for me. I want the people
here to take me seriously—including you."
To Randy's relief Luke ceased his forward march and
strolled over to the couch. He sat down and lit a cigarette, took a few
drags and then lazed back against the soft cushions. She continued to
stand right where she was, apparently rooted to the floor by
uncertainty.
"They take you seriously, Miranda—I assure you
they do," he said. "I've been here less than a year, but I've already
had my fill of hearing people talk about you. They do it on purpose,
just to let me know that they resent the fact that I've usurped the
position that so many of them seem to believe should be yours someday.
I've heard about your almost being born in the back of a cab, and they
pointedly add that you've been in a hurry ever since. I've heard about
the time you took off all your clothes at one of the Memorial Day
picnics—I think you were three. I've heard about the fashion
shows you modeled in, and I've been told that even at sixteen you were
one of the best salespeople that C & D had ever seen. I could
go on and on. Your father's employees adore you. If you become
president some day at least half of them will kneel at the coronation."
Conover-Dunne was like a large family and Randy had known
many of the executives, salespeople and other employees since she was a
little girl. Even so, she'd had no idea of their affection for her, and
no knowledge of their hope that she would eventually take over the
presidency of the store. She was very touched by what Luke had told her.
There was no need to put on an act with her answer; she
could reply with the simple truth. "I didn't know all that, but I
am
aware that even though I worked at C & D for six straight
summers I have a lot to learn about the executive end of the business.
Maybe at some level I assumed that my father would hold on to the
presidency until I was ready to succeed him, but rationally I
understand that that wouldn't make sense—not if there's
someone capable of replacing him. I know he has other responsibilities
he'd like to concentrate on."
Luke nodded, looking so complacent in the wake of this
answer that Randy couldn't resist taking him down a peg. "Besides, Mr.
Griffin," she added, "you're so much older than I am. By the time I've
worked my way up to a vice presidency you'll be… at a
different stage of your life."
Her gibe failed to make the slightest impression on him.
"Thanks a lot," he said with a grin. "I didn't know I'd be ready for
Medicare in fifteen years."
"I didn't mean to insult you, Mr. Griffin," Randy
persisted, "but you must be almost twice my age."
Luke burst out laughing. "Then C & D is taking its
toll. I'm thirty-four, Miranda, but I have the feeling you already knew
that."
Randy permitted herself a smile. "Okay, you're right. I
was only teasing you back. But I've had my fill of hearing about
you
,
too. My father has you all picked out as my future husband, and it
might have been nice if he'd consulted me about it. First, I'm not
interested in marriage yet. Second, when I do get married, it will be
to somebody closer to my own age. And third, assuming that I decide to
make C & D my career, my ultimate goal will be the presidency
itself, not just marriage to the president."
Knowing Luke as she did, Randy wasn't surprised when he
took advantage of the opening she'd so generously provided and
retorted, "I'm desolate. I don't know how I'll cope with the rejection."
He pointed to a spot on the couch about a foot away from
where he was sitting. "Come sit down next to me, Miranda. I promise
we'll keep it strictly business. My job is to give you some training
and that's all I intend to do. Believe it or not, I agree with
everything you said before."
Randy walked over and sat down. On the brass and glass
coffee table in front of her there were recent issues of fashion
magazines and copies of that day's New York newspapers.
Luke put out his cigarette and half turned toward her, his
arm along the back of the couch. "I'll start by filling you in on how
your father and I divide responsibilities." He was completely serious
now, his tone and expression almost professorial. "Until Bill hired me,
Oscar Levitan was responsible for the day-to-day details of running all
the C & D branch stores. Your father retained direct
supervision of the Manhattan store; it's his baby and he's not ready to
let anyone oversee it. Along with your grandfather, he also made policy
decisions for C & D as a whole."
Randy tucked one leg up under her and listened with
genuine interest as he went on, "Bill wasn't satisfied with the job
Oscar was doing. In effect, Oscar was forced into an early retirement.
When your father initially spoke to me in San Francisco about taking
over Oscar's job I wasn't particularly interested. There was too little
independence, not enough control. I told Bill how I felt and he made me
a better offer. He threw in a seat on the board, an executive
vice-president title and a major role in the making of company policy,
particularly policy pertaining to the branch stores. Not everyone can
accept the fact that I've been here less than a year and already have a
stronger voice in the running of the corporation than vice presidents
in areas like marketing, public relations and finance. Naturally I work
very closely with your father. When we differ we usually manage to find
a compromise. I never lose sight of the fact that he's the boss,
Miranda, but there is a higher authority and on occasion we've resorted
to him. Nobody argues with Jonathan Conover, least of all me."
Luke shifted his weight and propped his feet up on the
coffee table. "Of course," he went on, "your grandfather has reached
the stage in his life where he wants to enjoy himself. He loves to poke
around the world on buying trips, so we only involve him where there
are major disagreements or decisions. You probably know that for the
past five years or so your father has been the de facto head of
Conover-Dunne. You mentioned other responsibilities, and I assume you
meant the chairmanship of Dunne Industries, the umbrella corporation of
C & D and our other interests. You're quite right in thinking
that Bill would like the time to concentrate on investments in areas
like real estate and perhaps even manufacturing. I wouldn't have
accepted his job offer if a shot at the top spot hadn't been part of
the package. Within five or six years I expect to be president. Your
father will run Dunne Industries and your grandfather will retain the
title of chairman of Conover-Dunne."
"I see," Randy said. Luke Griffin certainly didn't lack
either ambition or self-confidence. Unable to resist needling him a
little, she drawled, "I suppose I should polish up my rendition of
'Hail to the Chief'."
She was surprised that Luke would take her seriously. "You
sound unhappy about my role here," he said, "and I want you to know
that I understand your feelings. But you also have a great deal to
learn, and the sensible thing to do is to let me teach you."
Randy quickly corrected him. "I'm not unhappy about your
role in the company, only a little in awe of your ego. As far as what I
have to learn goes, I recall that on the phone you implied that the
lessons would include more than business." Randy shot him the kind of
provocative smile that had captivated more men than she knew. "Just
what
do
you propose to teach me?"
She knew almost immediately that she'd gone too far. Luke
was looking at her in the same intense way that he'd looked at her so
often in Maine. But then his jaw clenched and his gaze swung to one of
the magazines on the table.
"Your father wants you to start by getting an overview of
the types of problems that come up," he said, taking out a cigarette
and lighting it. "The reason he asked me to work with you is that my
job involves solving problems in a wide range of areas—areas
your work during the summers never exposed you to. Naturally I'm in the
field a lot, and sometimes I'll take you along. I'll also have you do a
lot of background reading. For example, we're in the process of
reviewing feasibility studies for a store in Dallas, and we're in the
middle of construction in Bal Harbour, Florida. We've got a serious
problem in White Hills and in the next few weeks we've got to make some
decisions about how to solve it. Once you've gotten an overall picture
you'll be taking our executive training program. Then you can pick an
area to work in, assuming there's an open slot for you."
"We?" Randy repeated with a seductive smile. "Is that the
royal 'we' you're using?"
"We means Bill and myself," Luke replied coolly. "And
Miranda—please stop what you're doing. I'm finding it damn
hard to ignore."
Randy supposed she
had
been a little
too flirtatious. In fact, if she'd behaved this way in Maine Luke would
have pulled her into his arms and suitably punished her. In Maine, of
course, she'd been a woman of the world. Here in New York she was only
an innocent child who was presumably too naive to understand that she
was playing with fire.
Holding out her hand, she said, "All right, Mr. Griffin.
Let's shake hands on a successful professional relationship."
Luke took her hand for a couple of seconds but didn't
release it afterward. Instead he turned it palm upward, the motion so
subtle that had Randy not been aware that he was looking for the scar
on her thumb she never would have guessed it. Fortunately she healed
quickly and well and not a trace of the cut was visible. She caught
Luke's fleeting frown out of the corner of her eye.
He got up from the couch and motioned for Randy to do the
same. "There's a free office down the hall," he told her, walking to
the door and holding it open for her.
The office was small, windowless and contained only the
essentials: metal desk and chair, bookcase, lamp and phone. It wasn't
very appealing, but then, Randy was only a trainee, even if her middle
name happened to be Conover and her last name Dunne. Several thick,
spiral-bound reports were sitting on top of the desk.
"I want you to look through these carefully," Luke said.
"You'll find sales figures for the White Hills store for the last four
years, broken down by department and analyzed in a number of different
ways. When you're finished take a drive out to the store and look
around. I want you to compare
our
location with
our competitors' locations. You should also go down to the city
government offices and check out things like planned construction,
rezoning requests and so on. I want a recommendation from you as to
whether we should close the store, renovate, look for a new location or
make only minor changes."
"Will that be all, sir?" Randy said, trying not to be
intimidated by this assignment.
"Isn't it enough?" Luke laughed, and walked out of the
office.
During the rest of the week Randy threw herself into the
task of becoming an instant expert on the White Hills branch of C
& D. She saw nothing of Luke Griffin; he was out of the office
more often than not, trouble-shooting on Long Island, checking the
progress of renovations in suburban Washington or lending his
considerable charm to a buyers' meeting in New York City.