Deceptive Love (4 page)

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
b
y hers. She cherished hopes, as yet totally unrealized, of
b
ecoming 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 Dal
s
on."
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 exteri
or,
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.

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 f
rom a
nasty shock! He was big, he was handsome, he was
aggressively
masculine, and she recognized all too well th
at
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 stom
ach.
She thinned her lips, gat
hered the cloak of her com
posure
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 fort
h in a disjointed, semi-hysteri
cal 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 pra
ise of your abilities Miss Dalt
on
.
"

"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 they 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."