Randy hadn't cared for Sheila Kane and she told Luke why. "She can't wait to get rid of him. Instead of working as a team for the good of the company, I get the feeling that she's been standing around with a sharpened knife waiting for opportunities to plunge it into his back."
Luke nodded. "I agree with you. You get an A for picking it up so fast." He turned his attention back to Bill. "I was thinking of Don Jacoby, the assistant manager in Garden City. He's got three kids, so if I'm going to make a switch it should be soon, before the school year begins. I'll deal with Heywood and Kane tomorrow, then talk to Jacoby afterward. I thought I'd take Miranda down to Philadelphia with me for a couple of days next week to get a better picture of what's going on."
They'd reached the Dunnes' building now and were waiting for the doorman to let them in. "Would you like that?" Luke asked Randy.
"Very much." She realized that they'd be staying overnight and wondered what the sleeping arrangements would be. Very proper, no doubt—but would they stay that way?
As usual, Emily Dunne had mounted a major production, with twin buffet tables piled high with cold cuts, salads, breads and desserts. The first group of guests walked in some fifteen minutes later to be followed by a dozen successive waves. Apparently word of the dinner had filtered through the corridors of C & D's executive offices, because eventually nearly seventy people found their way to the apartment.
Randy mixed with the crowd, greeting those she knew well with a hug or a kiss and introducing herself to the others. But eventually the smoke and noise took their toll in the form of a nagging headache, so she slipped into the kitchen for a glass of ice water and some aspirin and- carried them down the hall to her bedroom.
She was lying on her bed with her eyes closed when two quick knocks captured her attention. They were followed by the appearance of a wavy, blond-streaked head of hair and concerned brown eyes. Luke didn't wait to be invited inside; he simply closed the door behind him and sat down on the bed.
"You looked a little pale," he said. "We were worried about you, Miranda."
The situation was much too familiar for Randy's peace of mind. The last time she'd had a headache was in Maine, and she remembered all too well exactly how Luke had taken care of her—not just during the afternoon, but all night long.
"I'm okay," she said. "I just have a slight headache, that's all." She reached for the ice water and took a few sips, more to have something to do than because she was particularly thirsty. It was a serious mistake; her hand was trembling from nervousness, almost causing the water to slosh out of the glass. Luke could hardly fail to notice.
He removed the glass from her hand and set it back down on the night table. "The first day we met you made it clear that you weren't interested in me as anything but a teacher, but within ten or fifteen minutes you started to broadcast the opposite message. You can't have it both ways, Miranda. Just how do you feel?"
Putting him off was sheer self-preservation. "Does it matter?" she asked. "You agreed with me, remember?"
He was searching her face in a way that both unnerved and aroused her. Every part of her body seemed to be throbbing, her head with pain and the rest of her with a mixture of tension and desire. Staring into her lap, she was hardly aware of raising a hand to absently rub the back of her neck.
If she hadn't been so wrapped up in her own emotions she would have anticipated Luke's reaction. With a husky, "Here, let me," he brushed away her hand and started to massage the knotted muscles of her neck, smoothing away the pain. Always the doctor, Randy thought to herself, turning onto her side to allow him freer access.
Just like before, his fingers were firm and gentle as they worked their way from her neck to her temples to her scalp. Randy's eyes fluttered shut within moments, but she could feel Luke's muscular thigh lodged against her back and hear the regular sounds of his breathing. Her own breaths were coming a little too quickly now as pain gave way to relief and then arousal. In time his hands dropped to her back, lightly kneading it through the sheer material of her blouse and then pulling the blouse out of the waistband of her skirt to slip underneath and stroke the bare skin. She had no bra on, only a camisole top, and his fingers occasionally approached the side of a vulnerable breast as they worked their magic, heightening her anticipation.
The intimate feel of Luke's hands on her body was quickly rekindling the smoldering embers of the Maine firestorm, tempting Randy to twist around and offer her lips. But suddenly his hands stilled and then dropped away.
"Miranda," he murmured.
Randy opened her eyes and turned onto her back to look at him. His features were taut, as though he were under considerable strain. She automatically stretched up a hand to soothe away the tension, but he captured it at the wrist and pressed a hard kiss into the palm before releasing it. "I'd better go," he said.
Randy didn't want him to, but she didn't waste words objecting. Instead she arched up, her hands reaching for his neck to pull him down to her. He didn't resist her invitation for very long; within moments his mouth was nuzzling her lips, then urgently parting them. His tongue hungrily probed and conquered, as if he were starved for the sweetness and softness of her mouth. But the kiss, as hot and searching as it was, came to an abrupt end when Luke all but yanked his head away.
Randy wouldn't have physically detained him a second time, but apparently the look on her face accomplished the same result. Her eyes were languid with desire, her lips moist and wantonly parted, her hair sensuously tousled. With a helpless groan Luke buried his face against the curve of her neck, seeking the sensitive little spot below her ear. Randy wasn't so carried away that she failed to remember that responding to his gentle nips with the passion she'd shown in Maine would be a clear confession of who she really was. It was too soon, she thought hazily, worrying that in another few seconds she wouldn't be able to help herself. But Luke soon turned his attention elsewhere, tracing the outline of her collarbone with his lips.
At the same time his fingers started to deal with the buttons of her blouse. She eased herself down and stretched out, her hands reaching out to hold him around the waist. Her blouse unbuttoned, the camisole impatiently shoved up, Luke quickly trapped a hardened nipple with his teeth and gave a sharp little nip that sent sensual shock waves through her body. What little control Randy had left abruptly snapped.
She groaned as he continued to tease her breasts, and when his hand stroked her stomach and then moved lower her flaming body restlessly responded. Somehow she managed to unfasten his belt so that her fingers could reach down and caress him in turn.
He stiffened, choking out her name. The next moment he'd swung his legs onto the bed so that he lay fully atop her body. She returned his demanding, rhythmic movements almost wildly, her lips opening submissively to receive his kiss. Between the thrusts of his tongue and the urgency of his body Randy knew only that she wanted him more than she ever had. When he ran his hand up her leg and started to unfasten the side closing of her skirt, she helplessly moaned out her wishes—a breathless, "Luke—oh, Luke—please…"
The knock on the door sent Randy on the quickest trip back to reality that she'd ever taken. She had time for only one frantic thought—Please let it be Mom— before the door opened and William Dunne came striding into the room.
Luke rolled off her and started to fumble with his belt while Randy bolted up and pulled down her camisole, then clutched at the sides of her blouse. She knew her face must be scarlet.
Although her father looked absolutely stunned there was no explosion—at least, not right away. "I came to see how you felt," he said a little distantly.
Luke was standing up by now, his face drained of color. Some loose change and a comb had fallen out of his pocket and Randy automatically gathered them up with her free hand. The only thing she could think to say was, "I'm sorry."
Bill Dunne's jaw clenched. Now he was getting angry, it was obvious. But he totally ignored Randy's apology and instead shot a tight-lipped look at
Luke. "When you're finished getting your clothes back on," he said, "I'd appreciate a few words with you. In the den."
Luke glanced at Randy, then nodded. "Just a minute," Randy said as her father turned to leave. "You're acting as though I had nothing to do with this, like it's somehow Luke's fault. That's ridiculous. And you had no right to walk into my bedroom without an invitation—"
"In my house, young lady," Bill interrupted. A vein in his neck was throbbing with anger. "And as long as you live in my house you'll obey my rules."
Young lady? Randy thought furiously. At twenty-four? She'd never yelled at her father in her life, but his attitude made her livid. "So I'll move," she spat at him. "Maybe clear back to California."
Bill's reaction was to glare at Luke and then mutter, "You don't know what you're saying, Randy."
On the contrary, she knew exactly what she'd said. She also knew that it was easier for her father to blame Luke than to admit that she'd had an equal part in what he'd witnessed. She was about to point that out when Luke laid a quelling hand onto her shoulder to stop her.
"Let me handle it," he murmured. "If you're ready?" he said to Bill.
The two men walked out, Bill Dunne in front, Luke Griffin following.
Chapter Eight
As Luke followed Bill Dunne down the hall to the den he wondered how it was possible to hold a woman in his arms, to kiss her passionately and intimately caress her flesh, yet still not be sure of who she was. Half of the evidence seemed to point in one direction and half in the other. He now knew that "chubby vestal virgin" was a preposterously inaccurate characterization of Miranda Dunne; in fact, Sean Raley had apparently cost her not only her innocence, but a good twenty to thirty pounds as well.
Raley's name was familiar from a TV movie Luke had once seen and brought to mind dark macho looks and a strapping physique. Raley was about as handsome as they come, and had obviously hurt Miranda very badly. Although she seemed to have recovered quite nicely by now, Luke realized that he was angered by the idea that Raley had treated her so carelessly. He didn't even like the idea that Raley had touched her.
Of course, in order for him to believe that the "Linda" of Maine and the "Miranda" of New York were one and the same person, Luke would have had to disregard a whole host of very logical evidence. He would have had to believe that Miranda had never breathed a word of what had happened to anyone, with the obvious exception of her sister and Roger Bennett. He would have had to believe that Roger had purposely misled him on the phone. And he would have had to believe that Miranda had skillfully altered her appearance, and was a good enough actress to have altered her behavior as well. After all, "Linda" had gone half-crazy when he'd nipped at that little spot below her ear, but Miranda had scarcely noticed. "Linda" had been the image of self-possession in Maine; whereas Miranda had come almost unglued on Monday morning when he'd given her a rough time about the White Hills project. And he just couldn't picture the "Linda" of Maine rushing to his defense with the hotheaded impetuousness exhibited by Miranda only a few minutes ago.
Despite all this evidence to the contrary, however, he would have laid odds that he was dealing with the same woman. The reason was very simple. If he strained his memory to the utmost, he might have been able to come up with a handful of women over the years who'd attracted him so powerfully that his usually perfect self-control had slipped. It stretched his credulity to believe that it could happen twice in less than a month with a pair of sisters who were purportedly very different.
The only problem was that no matter what his body told him, his brain persisted in demanding proof. He'd checked around the Dunnes' apartment, but there wasn't a single picture of Linda as an adult. If she hadn't been in Paris he might have flown up to Cambridge for a firsthand look. And now, as if the whole situation weren't driving him crazy enough to begin with, he had to pacify his boss. After the way Bill had reacted inside Luke could well understand why Randy hadn't told him about Sean Raley. He'd treated her like a child, and she'd responded exactly the same way.
Bill opened the door to his den and motioned Luke inside. At least, Luke thought as they sat down in a pair of oversized club chairs, Bill wasn't going to sit behind his desk and interview him as though he were an errant employee.
While Luke sat there feeling uncomfortable Bill took his time about lighting his pipe, puffing it a few times before he spoke. "She's in love with you, Luke," he finally stated flatly.
Luke had no idea what to say. He'd half expected Bill to chew him out like a top sergeant and wouldn't have been all that surprised by a request for his resignation. But this deadpan announcement about Miranda's feelings for him left him speechless.
When he sat there with his mouth shut Bill continued a little angrily, "The way she acts with you—I've never seen her like this before. If she isn't trading quips to get your attention then she's working her tail off to impress you. I'm not proud of losing my temper in there—I've never had to yell at Randy in my life. Obviously I should have taken into account who she was with." He shook his head. "Damn it, Luke, you were in there seducing my daughter! What in hell did you think you were doing?"
"I don't know what to say, Bill, other than that I'm sorry," Luke finally managed. "And that it's entirely my fault, of course." A lie, but an honorable one. "I, uh, I was massaging her neck—she had a headache— and things somehow got out of hand." He paused before attacking what Bill seemed to consider the heart of the matter. "And… as far as Miranda's feelings are concerned, I think you're forgetting that we've spent a total of maybe four hours alone together." Or was it four hours and a three-day weekend? "People don't fall in love that fast," he finished a little lamely.
"You have a lot to learn about life," Bill retorted. He tapped his pipe on the table, an expression of leashed aggression. "I would have proposed to Emily the first night I met her, but she was only eighteen and I was afraid she would think I was after her money. But all that's beside the point. All you need to understand is that I don't want to see Randy hurt. Especially not by you. I don't believe I'm capable of separating my feelings as a father from my judgment about what's best for my company. Do I make myself clear?"
How do I manage to get myself into these things? Luke thought, suppressing a groan. "Perfectly," he said aloud.
Bill nodded his satisfaction. "That leaves us with only one problem," he said. "Randy expects to go to Philadelphia with you next week. Under the circumstances, I think she should stay home."
Bill Dunne, thought Luke, didn't know his daughter even half as well as he thought he did. "Miranda will tear a strip off both our hides if either one of us allows a personal situation to get in the way of what she wants to learn about the business. There's no way I can tell her she can't come. But I promise you that I'll keep things under control, Bill."
"Meaning?"
The word was flung down as coldly as a challenge to duel. Luke immediately adopted his most reasonable tone. "That I'm attracted to your daughter—very attracted to her—but that I'm not in love with her. At this point I would certainly like to get to know her better, but…" He hesitated, trying to find a tactful way of stating the obvious. "At a certain point… What I'm trying to say is, this isn't the eighteen-hundreds, Bill. I'd like your permission to take Miranda out, but I can't promise not to lay a finger on her."
Bill started puffing his pipe again, looking much too calm for Luke's peace of mind. "Lay a finger on her. Delightful euphemism, but both of us know what you mean. And it seems to me that you've already reached that 'point' you alluded to." He paused, then added a little curtly, "I'd suggest that you don't take her out at all unless you're damn well serious about her—very serious."
There was nothing Luke could say beyond an irritated, "I won't." The only saving grace to this whole blasted situation was that it no longer mattered who he'd been with in Maine. He'd been warned away, and he wasn't crazy enough to argue or disobey. No matter how much Miranda attracted him, she wasn't as important to him as his ca
reer.
Randy had very little success in calming her simmering emotions, so she did the next best thing. She changed out of her wrinkled skirt and blouse into a fresh dress and sat down on the bed to wait for either Luke or her father to come in and tell her just what those two men of the world had decided. When fifteen minutes went by with no sign of either one she started toward the living room, intent on demanding a few answers. She didn't see either Luke or her father, but she did notice that a cluster of bodies, mostly male bodies, was surrounding one of the upholstered chairs on the far side of the room. Curious, she went over to find out what the attraction was.
The minute she found out she started to wish she'd stayed in her room. Katrina Sorensen was holding court in the chair, her long legs crossed sensuously and revealingly, the slit of her emerald-green silk dress exposing a provocative length of suntanned thigh. Luke was half sitting and half leaning on the arm of the chair, casually fondling the back of Katrina's neck with one of his hands. Randy didn't know whether to cry or try to strangle the man.
Emily approached her just as she was about to turn away, her sympathetic look virtually announcing that she'd heard about what had happened in the bedroom. "Come meet Katrina, darling," she urged Randy. The sea of bodies obediently parted as, taking Randy by the hand, Emily led her into the model's presence.
Randy's murmured, "But we've already met, Mom," was met by a whispered, "Straighten up and smile, darling."
"Katie, dear," Emily said to Katrina, "I'd like you to meet my daughter, Randy. I'm sure that she joins all of us in telling you how delighted we are that you'll be working for C & D."
"How sweet, Emily, but I had the pleasure of meeting Randy last week, in Luke's office." Katrina smiled warmly at Randy, then gave Luke a look which mingled possessiveness with seduction.
An Act of Love Page 16