by Janet Dailey
A Lyon's Share
Janet Dailey
An [ e-reads ] Book
No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, scanning or any information storage retrieval system, without explicit permission in writing from the Author.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locals or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright 1976 by Janet Dailey
First e-reads publication 1999
www.e-reads.com
ISBN 0-7592-0000-9
Author Biography
Janet Dailey was born Janet Haradon in 1944 in Storm Lake, Iowa. She attended secretarial school in Omaha, Nebraska before meeting her husband, Bill. Bill and Janet worked together in construction and land development until they "retired" to travel throughout the United States, inspiring Janet to write the Americana series of romances.
In 1974, Janet Dailey was the first American author to write for Harlequin, her first novel was NO QUARTER ASKED. She has since gone on to write approximately 90 novels, 21 of which have appeared on The New York Times bestseller list. She has won many awards and accolades for her work, appearing widely on Radio and Television. Today, there are over three-hundred million Janet Dailey books in print in 19 different languages, making her one of the most popular novelists in the world.
Other works in Janet Dailey's Americana Series also available in e-reads editions
Dangerous Masquerade
Northern Magic
Sonora Sundown
Valley of the Vapours
Fire and Ice
After the Storm
Difficult Decision
The Matchmakers
Southern Nights
Night of the Cotillion
Kona Winds
The Travelling Kind
The Indy Man
The Homeplace
The Mating Season
Bluegrass King
The Bride of the Delta Queen
Summer Mahogany
Bed of Grass
That Boston Man
Enemy in Camp
Giant of Mesabi
A Tradition of Pride
Show Me
Big Sky Country
Boss Man from Ogallala
Reilly’s Women
Heart of Stone
One of the Boys
Land of Enchantment
Beware of the Stranger
That Carolina Summer
Lord of the High Lonesome
The Widow and the Wastrel
Six White Horses
To Tell the Truth
The Thawing of Mara
Strange Bedfellow
Low Country Liar
Dakota Dreamin’
Sentimental Journey
Savage Land
A Land Called Deseret
Green Mountain Man
Tide Water Lover
For Mike’s Sake
Wild and Wonderful
With a Little Luck
Darling Jenny
Preface
When I first started writing back in the Seventies, my husband Bill and I were retired and traveling all over the States with our home - a 34' travel trailer - in tow. That's when Bill came up with the great idea of my writing a romance novel set in each one of our fifty states. It was an idea I ultimately accomplished before switching to mainstream fiction and hitting all the international bestseller lists.
As we were preparing to reissue these early titles, I initially planned to update them all - modernize them, so to speak, and bring them into the new high-tech age. Then I realized I couldn't do that successfully any more than I could take a dress from the Seventies and redesign it into one that would look as if it were made yesterday. That's when I saw that the true charm of these novels is their look back on another time and another age. Over the years, they have become historical novels, however recent the history. When you read them yourself, I know you will feel the same.
So, enjoy, and happy reading to all!
Introduction
Introducing JANET DAILEY AMERICANA. Every novel in this collection is your passport to a romantic tour of the United States through time-honored favorites by America's First Lady of romance fiction. Each of the fifty novels is set in a different state, researched by Janet and her husband, Bill. For the Daileys it was an odyssey of discovery. For you, it's the journey of a lifetime.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
A Lyon's Share
Chapter One
"FOR heaven's sake, Joan! Stop being an old stick in the mud!" Kay sighed impatiently. "Name me one thing you have planned to do tonight that can't be put off until tomorrow."
Joan Somers refused to meet her room-mate's accusing gaze as she gathered the wrappings from her sandwich and the empty milk carton on to the canteen tray.
"That isn't the point. You know how I feel about blind dates," Joan stated.
"Ed can hardly be classified as a blind date. He's John's brother," Kay argued.
John Turner was Kay's fiancé, a likeable man, but in Joan's opinion, dull and unexciting. His one endearing quality was his devotion to Kay, a love that he managed to show in a hundred different romantic ways. Still, it was unlikely that Joan would find his brother's company any more stimulating than she found John's. He simply wasn't her type, although at twenty-three she was beginning to wonder if she had a type.
"Why don't you ask Susan instead?" Joan suggested, referring to the girl that operated the switchboard.
There was a derisive roundness to Kay's sparkling brown eyes. "Have you ever known Susan to have a free hour on the weekends? That girl has more men around her than a bunch of nude bathing beauties," her room-mate replied scornfully. "She'd never have a Friday night open."
"That's true," Joan agreed. A twinge of self-pity reminded her that she was the only one who seemed to spend most of her weekends in her apartment — alone.
"You simply have to go tonight," Kay pleaded. "John only found out this morning that Ed was flying in to meet me. There isn't anyone else I can get on such short notice."
"He's coming in to meet you," Joan emphasized. "Why don't the three of you just go somewhere for dinner?"
"Ed, is John's brother, not his uncle!" Kay declared rising to her feet and following Joan as she left the table.
Joan glanced at her watch. "Let's discuss it after work tonight," she stalled. "I have to get back to the office."
"I can't wait until five o'clock." Her room-mate ignored the hallway that branched to their right, the hallway that led to the computer department where Kay worked, and followed Joan into the sector of the private offices of Lyon Construction. "John is picking me up after work and we're going straight to O'Hare Field to meet Ed when he gets off his plane. I have to know now."
Joan was backed into a corner and she knew it. Even as she held back her agreement, she knew she was going to give in to her friend's persuasions. She had no valid reason not to agree. Joan prided herself on being practical and logical, which made her superstitious avoidance of blind dates seem childishly silly.
Simply because she had met Rick Manville on a blind date four years ago and had fallen victim to his charm only to discover there were many other victims to keep her company, there was not any reason to think she would make a fool of herself again. There
had been more humiliation than hurt when she had realized she was just another girl to him. Looking back she could see how very callow he had been, but at the time, Rick had seemed manly and strong. It had taken a truly strong and self-assured man to make her see that, though.
"Joan, you simply have to come tonight," Kay insisted again in a pleading tone. "John and I are counting on you."
Her gaze studied the cocker spaniel look of the pert brunette beside her as Joan paused at the outer office door. In so many ways, she and Kay were such opposites. Kay, with her dark pixie curls, was slight, petitely built, bubbling with an outgoing personality while Joan was statuesque and full-figured, her long amber hair coiled in a practical bun on the back of her neck. Her eyes were a warm brown but without that special sparkle of Kay's. Her attitude was as friendly as her room-mate's, but quieter and less obtrusive. It was difficult for Joan to meet strangers on a social basis, especially men. Kay would enter into a project with madcap abandon while Joan would efficiently organize each step.
Instead of trying to find a way out of the blind date, Joan knew she should be leaping at the opportunity to have a night out. Too many weekends she had spent alone lately. Still, it was difficult to force the words of agreement through her lips. She pushed open the door to her office and walked in, with Kay on her heels.
"You can't let us down," Kay repeated. "We want to —"
The rest of her sentence was lost as she caught sight of the man standing beside the open drawer of the filing cabinet. Kay's face was immediately wreathed with a bright smile.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Lyon."
But her cheery greeting didn't alter the rugged planes of his face as he nodded curtly in Kay's direction before his sharp blue gaze swung to Joan. There was an aura of boundless energy and an unshakable stamp of command and competence, simultaneously unnerving and reassuring.
"Miss Somers, will you please tell me where in this mess I might find the Statler file?" His fingers raked the thick brown mane of his hair before his hand returned to his hip in a challenging position.
The criticism, completely unwarranted, raised Joan's chin a fraction of an inch in defiance. She walked crisply to the metal cabinet where he was standing.
"Perhaps, Mr. Lyon, if you would stay out of the files, they wouldn't be in such a mess," she replied, and began reinserting the partially removed folders. "In the first place, the Statler file wouldn't be in this drawer since this is strictly material suppliers."
With the drawer in reasonable order again, she closed it and pulled open the one beneath it, aware of the tall, broad-shouldered figure towering at her side. At the rear of the alphabetical index under 'S', her fingers fumbled through the folders, the smaller letters of the name tabs blurring before her eyes.
"What's the matter, Miss Somers?" Her employer's wry voice sounded above her head. "Can't you find it either?"
"Yes, I can find it." Joan stiffly straightened and walked to her desk.
Her tortoiseshell glasses of amber and brown were lying beside the telephone. She had often laughed that she could see a country mile, but not an inch in front of her nose. At this moment, she didn't find her dependence on glasses for reading at all humorous.
"But I, unfortunately, can't read the name tabs without my glasses." she stated as she slipped on the glasses and walked back to the cabinet.
In the span of a few seconds, she was handing him the folder he had requested. The aquiline features were turned towards the folder so Brandt Lyon missed her prim smile of victory.
"Some day, Miss Somers," her employer spoke absently as he started towards his private office, "you are going to have to draw me a set of blueprints so I can find things in that metal monster of yours."
Her lips were pressed tightly together as the door to his connecting office closed behind him. His criticism had been uttered in a moment of exasperation and had not been meant as a slight to her ability. Still, the barbs did prick.
"You amaze me sometimes, Joan." Kay shook her head wryly.
"Why?" Joan walked around the desk to her chair and slipped her bag into the bottom drawer of her desk.
"Talking back to Mr. Lyon the way you just did. Imagine telling the boss to stay out of his own files!" she laughed. "No wonder you two don't get along."
"Mr. Lyon and I get along very well," Joan said stiffly.
"What I mean is you're hardly friendly. Everything is strictly business. For all the notice he pays you, you could be a fifty-year-old grandmother. And you're just as bad. You act as if he's fifty instead of a very eligible bachelor."
"I'm his secretary, not his mistress."
"Well," Kay sighed, "you'll never be his mistress, if you keep calling him Mr. Lyon all the time."
"That's what you called him," Joan pointed out.
"Yes, but look how seldom I see him. If I were his secretary, I sure would be making a play for him."
"And probably end up losing a well-paying job. Besides," Joan teased, slipping her glasses off, "what would John think if he knew you had eyes for the president of the company?"
"He would be jealous, wouldn't he?" Kay giggled. "But he knows I'm a big flirt."
"I sometimes think that's an understatement," Joan smiled ruefully.
"Speaking of John, what about tonight?"
The corners of her mouth turned abruptly down. "I'll go." she agreed with a resigned nod. "But I won't entertain John's brother the entire weekend. It will only be for tonight."
"Thanks loads!" Kay breathed. "We're coming straight to the apartment from the airport. We ought to be there around seven-thirty, so be ready when we get there."
"I will."
The intercom buzzer sounded. "Yes?" Joan answered.
"Will you come into my office, Miss Somers?" Brandt Lyon's voice responded.
Kay was halfway to the door to leave when she turned around to add a parting remark. "And wear something sexy, too!"
For a split second, Joan could only stare at the button she had pushed, holding her breath in hopes that her room-mate's words had not been picked up by the intercom speaker.
"I'll be right there, Mr. Lyon," she murmured.
Breaking off the connection, she slipped her glasses back on and gathered her pencil and paper. At the door to his office, she paused to straighten the tweed skirt of her tailored suit, then walked in.
The big leather chair swung around as she entered. The perusal of his gaze was very thorough as it swept over her. Joan guessed what he was thinking, knowing how deceptive the severe hairstyle and tortoiseshell glasses were. Brandt Lyon undoubtedly questioning her ability to appear sexy.
Then a shutter closed, blanking out the gleam of speculation, and his look was no longer personal but strictly business, employer to employee. With an efficiency that matched Joan's, he went through his schedule for the afternoon, handed her the cartridges from his Dictaphone containing the morning's dictation, and added a list of telephone calls he wanted her to make.
The impersonal business level had been re-established. No reference was made to confirm or deny that he had overheard Kay's comment. That swift appraisal of her when she had walked in the door might never have occurred.
Yet at five o'clock, Joan stepped into the doorway of his office to make certain there was nothing else he required of her before she left for the weekend. His casual remark stripped the doubt that remained.
"Are you going out this evening, Miss Somers?" Brandt Lyon inquired after assuring her there was nothing else he needed.
"It's Friday," she replied, trying to make it sound as if it was customary for her to have a date instead of a rarity.
"Enjoy yourself."
There was no mockery in his statement, nor any teasing barb, but she took exception to his indifferent wish. "I generally do, Mr. Lyon. Goodnight."
The wind had a bite of the cold north in its teeth as Joan waited on the corner for her bus. The late November snowfall had melted, leaving the ground frozen and barren on the first days of Dece
mber. Dusk was encroaching on the grey skies, but the heavy overcast didn't permit the golden pink colors of sunset to peep through the clouds.
The weekends were generally quiet respites from work, punctuated by evenings with girl friends or the occasional date. In the rush of the Chicago traffic, Joan felt gloomy and lost. She knew the cause — that last indifferent comment from Brandt Lyon.
When she had graduated from the secretarial college, she had worked in a typing pool at a large insurance firm for nine months. Then she had seen the advertisement in the newspaper for a private secretary. On that day three years ago, she had gone to Lyon Construction to fill out her application. There she had met Kay Moreland who was there in answer to another advertisement for a vacancy in the computer section.
Two days later she had received a call to come for an interview. Brandt Lyon had been rummaging through the file cabinet looking for a folder that day, too. He hadn't wasted time with introductions as he had told her what he was looking for and asked her to find it. It had taken her only a few minutes to work out the system and produce the required folder.
By that time Brandt Lyon was talking to someone on a long-distance phone call. He held the call long enough to thank her and to ask her to make coffee. When that task had been completed, Joan had waited nervously in the outer office, a little stunned to find her prospective employer so young, or at least relatively young, since he had been in his early thirties. There had been such a positive air about him, a sense that he always got things done one way or another, that Joan had found herself smiling when she remembered that look of exasperation on his rugged face when he hadn't been able to find the folder he wanted from the cabinet.
At about that moment, he had stepped into the office. She had been uncomfortably conscious of the appraisal in his dark blue eyes and had wondered if he was the type that constantly chased his secretary around the desk. She had even speculated that it might be exciting to be caught.