An Act of Love

by Brooke Hastings

  "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."

  "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."