War Of Love. Carole Mortimer
eyes narrowed on her in cold assessment. ‘But not you?’ Lyon Buchanan finally said softly.
‘No, not me,’ she told him dismissively—unwilling to tell him exactly what sort of an ‘out-of-work’ she actually was.
Besides, she wasn’t out of work, she was a self-employed jewellery designer, who just hadn’t managed to sell any of her designs lately!
His mouth twisted derisively. ‘You do this sort of thing because you like it?’
Her cheeks became flushed at his insulting tone. ‘As your uncle has so rightly pointed out, there has been a genuine mistake concerning the sort of bunny costume you wanted.’ She deliberately didn’t answer his challenging remark. ‘If you will give me an hour to get back to the agency, I will make sure you are supplied with the cuddly fluffy kind.’ And she had no intention of being inside the costume herself; had no intention of coming anywhere near Buchanan’s—or Lyon Buchanan himself!—ever again! She couldn’t afford the prices in a store like this anyway, had only ever window-shopped in the past when she had come in. She could easily forgo that particular pleasure for the certainty of never having to see Lyon Buchanan again!
‘I don’t believe we have yet ascertained just exactly whose “genuine mistake” it was,’ Lyon Buchanan said hardly, shooting his personnel manager a hard, questioning look.
‘Oh, for goodness’ sake, Lyon.’ His uncle stood up impatiently, a short, dapper man who bore little resemblance to his nephew in build—or manner. ‘That really isn’t important now. Allow me to drive you wherever you need to go, my dear,’ he offered Silke smoothly.
She deliberately avoided looking at Lyon Buchanan as she sensed the scorn emanating from him across the room at her. ‘It’s very kind of you—’
‘My uncle is rarely kind—unless he has an ulterior motive,’ Lyon Buchanan cut in derisively now.
‘Thank you, I would appreciate that,’ Silke firmly accepted the offer she had had every intention of refusing until Lyon Buchanan’s scathing intervention.
Did the man never stop? Of course, he probably knew his uncle better than she did, but even so she was quite capable of deciding for herself whether or not she was prepared to accept a lift from him; she didn’t need the younger man’s derisive interference. The fact that she now agreed to Uncle Henry’s offer of a lift—she really must find out his full name!—didn’t really matter; she could easily get out of that once they had left this office.
Lyon Buchanan was now looking at her speculatively, as if he now suspected her motives in accepting the older man’s offer. He would! He was a suspicious individual. Arrogant in the extreme. But he was also the owner of Buchanan’s. And when she got back to the agency she would have to explain exactly how they had upset this powerful man. Silke didn’t doubt for one moment that her mother’s agency would never be used again by this man. Unless...
Swallowing her pride, she turned to the owner of Buchanan’s with a bright, meaningless smile. ‘Someone will return from the agency this afternoon when an—appropriate costume has been acquired.’ Her pride wasn’t dampened enough for her not to resist reminding him of the description he had given earlier for her present costume!
But considering she had actually been hired to hand out free chocolate Easter bunnies to bright-eyed, expectant children, it was probably the only description that fitted!
God, she was going to start giggling over the ridiculousness of the situation in a minute, the humour of the whole thing finally getting to her. And Lyon Buchanan didn’t look as if he would be impressed by that at all!
He was looking down at her with those cold grey eyes again now. ‘I’ll have your agency called and let them know my decision. When I’ve made one,’ he added pointedly.
And for the moment she would have to be satisfied with that, his tone clearly stated. Oh, well, she had tried; she certainly wasn’t going to grovel to this man—not even for the sake of her mother’s agency.
‘And you ought to go and see your doctor.’ Lyon Buchanan was talking to his uncle now as the older man turned to leave.
Henry looked irritated by the instruction. ‘Don’t fuss, Lyon,’ he dismissed impatiently. ‘As you so rightly said, it was just a question of “one bunny girl too many”!’ his humour returned, his eyes twinkling mischievously as he looked at Silke.
‘Nevertheless, I intend calling Peter Carruthers and making an appointment for you,’ his nephew told him determinedly.
Silke could see that Henry didn’t like the younger man’s arrogance one little bit—did any of them?—but he didn’t attempt to argue with him any further. She couldn’t help wondering if many people ever had during this man’s thirty-five or thirty-six years, or if that could be the reason he seemed to be a law unto himself?
‘Not you, Doug,’ Lyon Buchanan rasped now as his personnel manager would have followed them from the room. ‘I don’t believe we have finished our conversation.’
Silke felt sorry for Doug Moore—but that didn’t stop her hurrying from the room as Henry held the door open for her; she didn’t want again to become the focus of Lyon Buchanan’s displeasure.
Unfortunately, she wasn’t quick enough!
‘As for you, Miss Jordan—’ his voice was raised slightly as he halted her departure ‘—I suggest you go and cover yourself up as soon as possible.’
Her cheeks were fiery red as, after shooting him a look of resentment from flashing green eyes, she made good her escape.
Henry was chuckling as he closed the door firmly behind them.
Silke looked at him curiously, unable to see anything remotely funny about the situation.
‘No wonder there isn’t a woman in Lyon’s life at present,’ he explained his humour as they walked towards the lift. ‘I had always thought it was that he’d become so jaded because most of them were only after the Buchanan money and name. But on second thoughts I think it’s because he frightens them all away!’
Silke wasn’t in the least interested in Lyon Buchanan’s private life—or lack of it! As far as she was concerned, she never wanted to see the man again! And yet at the same time this elderly man’s description of Lyon’s cynicism where women were concerned evoked a very lonely life for the younger man. Although looking at him, the stern handsomeness of his face, his lithe body beneath the tailored suit, Silke couldn’t see him, jaded or not, being without some sort of female companionship in his life. And if he didn’t have a woman in his life it was obviously of his own choosing, so she certainly shouldn’t be feeling sorry for the man. My God, what did she have to feel sorry for Lyon Buchanan for? He was a man who had everything, looks, power, money. And if there was no woman in his life, as his uncle seemed to be claiming, then it had to be because he frightened them away!
‘Silke is a very unusual name, my dear,’ Lyon Buchanan’s uncle prompted softly as they made their descent in the lift.
She shrugged dismissively. ‘My mother chose it.’ It wasn’t something she had ever really questioned; it was just her given name.
‘It’s very pretty.’ Henry nodded, his expression thoughtful. ‘Your mother must be an unusual woman...?’
‘Unusual’ described her mother exactly, Silke acknowledged ruefully. She hadn’t met and married Silke’s father until she was twenty-seven, and before that time she seemed to have travelled the world, doing all sorts of casual jobs, having no responsibilities except to support herself. Which she seemed to have done quite capably.
Silke’s father had been a rancher in Colorado, and the marriage between the two only seemed to have lasted long enough for them to have produced Silke, after which Silke’s mother had gone off on her travels again, this time with Silke on her back. Silke’s relationship with her father had been nil once they had left the ranch, Jack Jordan seeming to have washed his hands of both of them