Miss Barth was a revelation. She was as determinedly glamorous as Keri was determinedly effacing. Keri was gleeful. With such a charmer available, it would be easy to remain part of the office furniture. Any roving eyes would stop on Miss Barth.
Not a flicker of her inward jubilation moved the smooth mask of her face. "I am Miss Dalton. I was told to report to you. Miss Barth. I understand that Mr. Randolph has requested my secretarial services." There, she thought with an inner smirk. If that little speech doesn't establish are as a prig, nothing will.
Miss Barth was obviously convinced. In her own way she was as pleased by Keri's appearance as Keri had been by hers. She cherished hopes, as yet totally unrealized, of becoming more than a secretary to Dain Randolph. She did not want to find another rival so near at hand. Mrs. Covey, the other secretary, was fair, fat, and fifty, a handle-down from Mr. Randolph's father.
"You were expected an hour and a half ago, Miss Dalson." Miss Barth's voice was reproving. It was as well to establish the lines of power from the first.
Keri chortled inwardly. Nice try, Miss Barth. "I would not leave without briefing my replacement, Miss Barth," she responded austerely. "The disruption to Mr. Simonds's routine will be severe as it is. I took what steps I deemed necessary to mitigate the impact as much as possible." Keri gave Miss Barth a straight look.
Miss Barth was taken aback. In spite of the bland exterior, Miss Dalton had teeth and seemed prepared to use them. She resolved to walk more warily. There had been indecent haste in obtaining the services of this woman, so obviously she had some necessary skill. Dain Randolph did not suffer fools at all, much less gladly. Miss Barth was no fool.
"I will tell Mr. Randolph you have arrived. You may explain your delay directly to him." The look she gave Keri was smug. She flipped a switch, picked up the phone, and said in dulcet tones, "Miss Dalton has arrived, sir. Shall I send her in?"
The answer was obviously affirmative and she responded, "Yes, sir." She replaced the receiver and looked speculatively at Keri, "You may go in now, Miss Dalton."
Keri nodded coolly and opened the inner door.
Chapter Two
Keri stepped into the office and swept it with a lightning glance before her eyes jolted to a stop on the man standing behind the paper-laden desk. She didn't pause in her ready pace toward him, but inwardly she was reeling from a nasty shock! He was big, he was handsome, he was aggressively masculine, and she recognized all too well that appraising look in his eye. He was also the most attractive man she had ever set eyes upon and she felt an unexpected, and unwelcome, flutter in the pit of her stomach. She thinned her lips, gathered the cloak of her composure tightly about herself, and stopped on the opposite side of his desk. She eyed him warily from behind the shield of her glinting spectacles.
Dain himself was prey to a mixed bag of sensations, the strongest of which was sheer amazement. For this Schyler Van Metre was willing to break his engagement to Denise? Dain had no illusions whatsoever about his sister's nature. She was wild, beautiful, and passionate. She was also spoiled, vindictive, and petulant when thwarted, but she was all woman. The woman who faced him now was an icicle, no, an iceberg. Chill efficiency radiated from her with tangible force. If a man touched her, he could draw back an ice-rimed hand.
Keri, in her turn, was assessing the man who faced her. He was the antithesis of Mr. Simonds in every way. Her heart sank. She doubted if he had even reached thirty yet He was deeply tanned and his eyes, as green as her own, surveyed her coolly from across the desk. Dark brown hair lay sleekly against a well-shaped skull and just touched the collar of his striped beige shirt. He had shed his suit jacket, but his dark brown vest was buttoned, emphasizing the powerful spread of his shoulders and flat, narrow waist.
Schyler played hard. This man might play hard, but he worked hard as well. There was no softness anywhere about him. Each angle and plane of his handsome face was uncompromising and ruthless, and there was an arrogance and surety which boded ill for those who chose to cross him. A man to take what he wanted and a man who would be sure, very sure, of what he wanted.
Dain, in his turn, was making his own deeper, appraisal. There had to be something more to this woman than what was obvious to the immediate eye! He had met Schyler Van Metre and had sized him up easily. The man was a connoisseur and no thin-blooded, purse-mouthed spinster could hold Schyler's absorbed interest, and absorbed he was.
Schyler had told Denise frankly, and later Dain, that he had searched for her, finally given up in despair, and had succumbed to his father's pressures to wed after meeting Denise.
He had found Keri again through some unhoped for stroke of fortune, and this time she would not escape him. He now wished to be released from his engagement so that he might resume his relationship with Keri. Denise refused. She asked for time, pointing out how humiliating it would be if he jilted her within a mere two weeks from the time of their announced intention to marry. She also pointed out that she might be pregnant. Schyler could not deny the possibility. He had agreed to let the engagement stand for a reasonable length of time, for appearance's sake, but he stipulated that he would still be seeing Keri during that period of waiting, and as soon as the allotted time had passed, he would expect Denise to release him.
Denise had agreed reluctantly, but privately she vowed that Schyler was hers and Keri Dalton would pay for her effrontery. When Dain returned from London, he had been met by a distraught and blotchily tearful sister, who sobbed with calculated abandon on his broad chest.
The tale of Schyler's perfidy, her possible pregnancy, and the threat her fiance's ex-mistress posed to her ultimate happiness poured forth in a disjointed, semi-hysterical stream of gasping sobs. Dain was disgusted, but she was his sister. He met with Schyler, who confirmed her story in the main, and who reiterated his determination to resume his relationship with Keri, but with a view to marriage this time. Dain's mouth had tightened to a grim line, but he had made no comment.
"Sit down, Miss Dalton," Dain gestured to a chair and watched as Keri arranged herself, purse on lap, hands tidily folded atop it. Her spine was ramrod stiff and her expression forbidding.
"You are late in arriving, Miss Dalton. I expect prompt compliance with my orders. Have you any excuses?" His tone was cold.
"I briefed my replacement, sir." Keri's tone was anything but apologetic.
One of Dain's eyebrows shot up in disbelief. She was taking him to task! As had Miss Barth before him, he was discovering that the prim exterior hid an extremely efficient set of teeth, and that Keri's bite might well be much worse than her bark.
Keri was at the stage where she didn't care if he fired her on the spot. All of her instincts told her this man was more of a threat to her than Schyler had ever been. She hadn't liked his thorough appraisal of her face and figure as she stood before him and she feared those shrewd green eyes. Those eyes could all too easily see beneath the make-up-thin layer of her composure, and she wouldn't have to give him an inch before he would take a mile!
To her surprise he let that thrust pass without further comment. He sat at his desk and eyed her over his steepled fingers. "Mr. Simonds was unstinting in his praise of your abilities Miss Dalton."
"Thank you, sir." Keri responded formally and briefly.
"I understand you speak several languages," he said, switching smoothly into French.
"I speak five, sir, in addition to English," she responded, also in French. If he wanted to play games, she would humor him.
"How were you able to acquire so many?" he questioned her.
Since he still spoke in French, she explained, continuing in the same language. "My father is in the army. I have traveled widely with my parents because the majority of his postings were abroad. A child absorbs languages easily when her playmates speak nothing but their own tongue. I speak French and German most fluently because I spent more of my formative years in countries where those languages were primary."
"And your parents? Where are t
hey now?" he asked in fluent German.
"They are abroad on another assignment," she responded likewise.
He dropped back into English, evidently satisfied with her claims to knowledge of those two languages. "You came to us on personal recommendation from Charles Lawson and there seems to be no record of your educational or employment history. May I have a capsule version now?" The sentence was a question. The voice made it an order.
Keri sighed soundlessly. It could do no harm now, she supposed. Schyler knew where she was, so there was no longer any reason to hide her connection with Van Metre and Company. "Very well, sir." She gave in with no good grace. "I graduated from Georgetown University with a major in Political Science and minors in languages. I did six months' additional graduate work before deciding that I preferred to settle in the States for a while, rather than entering the State Department and being posted abroad. I was tired of traveling. I obtained a position as interim private secretary to Mr. Steven Hargood of Sunsur Oil Company for six months. I was then secretary to John DeLautre of Ardeen Manufacturing for a period of one year. I left that position and became secretary and assistant to Mr. Terrence Piatt of Ectron Associates for a period of one year. I then became executive secretary to Mr. Carleton Van Metre of Van Metre and Company for a period of six months. I left that position six months ago for personal reasons. I have been employed by RanCo for the past three months in the position of secretary to Mr. Simonds." She finished her recitation in a level, emotionless voice and sat, hands still primly folded in her lap, awaiting further cross-examination.
"A rather brief and varied history for one so capable, Miss Dalton," he said musingly.
Keri waited apprehensively for more probing questions. Simple arithmetic would tell him that her age was at sharp variance with her appearance, but he seemed to lose interest in the game. He rose and said dismissively, "Miss Barth will show you to your office. She will brief you on your current duties."
Keri rose with the alacrity of relief. She wondered how Charles would feel about getting her another job? Not whoopingly enthusiastic, she imagined. Mr. Simondses didn't grow on trees. She'd just have to trust to her skill at makeup and a frosty manner.
She learned several things during her first two days working for Dain Randolph. One, that he did indeed do enough work to keep his three secretaries comfortably busy, and two, that he made her very nervous.
She was not called to his office at any time during those first days, but several times she looked up from her work to find him staring at her from the doorway of the office she shared with Mrs. Covey. She had the fleeting impression of a cat poised before the mousehole, ready to sweep up the unwary morsel with his sharp claws at his leisure. He never spoke, but he wouldn't move away immediately either. It was almost as though he conducted a war of nerves, which was a ridiculous notion, she told herself crossly.
Miss Barth had noted Dain's inexplicable interest in the new secretary and gnashed her pearly teeth. She was subtly snide to Keri and received chilling politeness for her pains. Keri had no desire whatsoever to supplant Miss Barth in whatever claim to affection she had on Mr. Randolph, and the sooner Miss Barth realized that fact, the happier they'd all be.
Keri drove her Porsche out of the company parking lot each evening with the sensation of a prisoner escaping vile durance by the slightest of margins. She never saw Dain Randolph observing her incongruous vehicle with speculative eyes. He had come to the conclusion that Miss Dalton was indeed an iceberg, with nine-tenths of her personality concealed beneath that ice-cold shell.
Schyler called her Wednesday night, right after she got in from work, to ask if he might come over for a short time. She refused to see him, and to her surprise, he accepted her rejection in good spirits. Twenty minutes later he appeared at her door with a steaming hot pizza, a bottle of Mateus rose, and an engaging grin. As before, he took the precaution of putting his foot in the door the moment she opened it.
"I hope you haven't started dinner yet, Keri, my love," he said blithely, balancing the pizza carton with careful fingers.
"Beware of the Dutch bearing gifts," Keri misquoted dryly, and prepared to close the door, foot notwithstanding. Just before Schyler's neatly shod toes were caught between immovable object and irresistible force (door jamb and door), the telephone startled them both with its imperative summons. Keri hesitated and was lost.
Schyler took advantage of her momentary inattention to consolidate his position inside the door and she looked at him with frustrated irritation. "You'd better answer your phone, Keri darling," he advised. "It sounds impatient. I'll put the pizza in the kitchen and set the table."
"You stay out of my kitchen, Schyler," she said heatedly as she picked up the phone. "Hello?" she snapped ungraciously into the receiver.
"Am I interrupting something important, Miss Dalton?" came the bland voice through the receiver.
"I beg your pardon? Who is this?" Keri was suddenly fed to the teeth with all men. She glared at Schyler who, in spite of her adjurations, was going into the kitchen. She'd never get him out of her apartment, thanks to this inopportune idiot on the phone.
"This is Dain Randolph, Miss Dalton," came the unabashed reply. "I won't keep you since you seem to be entertaining, but I wanted to tell you not to come into the office tomorrow morning."
The last straw, Keri fulminated. Riddles yet! But before she had time to comment that that suited her just fine, the bland voice continued.
"I have an important conference tomorrow morning at nine A.M. I am taking you with me to take notes because several of the gentlemen involved speak no English. Please be ready outside your apartment building promptly at eight fifteen." When Keri didn't reply at once, he said sharply, "Is that clear, Miss Dalton?"
"Yes, sir, very clear. I'll be ready, sir," she acquiesced tonelessly.
There was a long pause and then he said, "Enjoy your evening, Miss Dalton," and hung up. Keri glared at the receiver and then glared at Schyler, who stood in the kitchen doorway, smiling smugly.
"The table's set, the wine poured, and the pizza is your favorite kind. Who was that?"
"My boss," she answered automatically. "He's taking me to a conference in the morning so I’m not to go into the office tomorrow. He called to tell me about it." She gave in to the inevitable. "Schyler, if I eat the pizza with you, will you promise that you'll leave after that, without any trouble?"
Schyler knew when he'd pushed a victory as far as it would go. He raised his hand as though taking an oath. "I promise. I am on my best behavior." He seated Keri at the small dinette table with practiced flair and proceeded to make himself agreeable. He fully understood that Keri didn't trust him as far as she could see him, and he had to admit she had plenty of cause. God help him if she ever found out just how much cause, but she was an obsession with him now and he had to have her. He wouldn't allow himself to contemplate failure.
To Keri's surprise, Schyler, for once, was as good as his word. He put himself to the task of entertaining her during the meal and she had to admit, to herself only, that it was a superlative example of how to charm a wary bird, with herself as the wariest bird ever hatched! When the meal was finished, he helped her clear away the dishes, accepted her refusal to allow him to dry while she washed them and went biddably away.
It was like being braced against a shove which never came. She felt off balance and extremely suspicious. Schyler was trying a new tack, that much was clear. It was up to her to show him that this tack wasn't going to work any better than the others had. She'd also have to talk to the landlord about getting a peephole installed in the door. No more opening the door without knowing who was on the other side!
The next morning Keri rose early. She stood for a long time, contemplating her wardrobe. After much deliberation she chose a trimly tailored olive green suit which had the interesting effect of making her look as though she might be in the first stages of jaundice. It also broadened her hips and shoulders just enough to destroy the cl
ean lines of her normal figure. The whole effect, when she had completed her makeup and hairdo, was exquisitely subtle. There was not one thing glaringly amiss, but the totality left her colorless and drab. She placed her glasses firmly on her nose and smiled primly at herself in the mirror. Staid, efficient, and depressingly dull... exactly what she had striven to achieve.
In a defiant freakish fit of humor, she dabbed on her favorite perfume, Charme, a fragrance so at variance with her current appearance that it signified for her a final, mocking thumb of the nose. She gathered her purse, stenographic notebook, and a supply of freshly sharpened pencils and locked the door of her apartment behind her.
There was no one in the elevator going down, for which she was grateful. She had no desire to have to explain her appearance to someone who knew her well in her normal mode of dress. When put into words, the whole idea had a tendency to sound both conceited and a trifle paranoid.
Promptly at 8:15 Dain and the car arrived at the front door of her apartment building. The uniformed chauffeur hastened around to open the back door and Keri was ceremoniously assisted inside. When she had settled herself comfortably, Dain quietly told the chauffeur to drive on, then pressed the button which closed the sliding glass partition between the driver's compartment and the back seat. He turned his attention to Keri.
"Good morning, Miss Dalton," he said conventionally.
'I'm glad to see that punctuality is one of your virtues after all."
Keri's lips compressed slightly but she merely replied, "Good morning, Mr. Randolph," sternly repressing the impulse to snap back at him. A colorless secretary did not make cutting remarks to her employer.
Deceptive Love Page 3