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Authors: Anne N. Reisser
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wife and then I took steps to ensure that even if he looked a first time, he'd see nothing worth a second glance. It was an arrangement that suited both of us."
"Do you mean to tell me that Carleton Van Metre chased you around the desk?" he asked probingly.
Keri's face closed tightly. She didn't want to talk or even think about Schyler! "No," she admitted shortly. "I left Van Metre's for personal reasons which I have no intention of discussing, but they don't concern Mr. Carleton Van Metre except indirectly."
That blunt statement didn't seem to offend Dain, but he did let the subject drop, much to Keri's relief. It was bad enough to be hounded by Schyler. To be hounded about him too would be more than she was prepared to stand for. There was a taut set to Dain's mouth, but his next conversational gambit was merely to compliment her on the precision of her transcription of the meeting's notes and to thank her for the extra position summations and extraction of discussion points for easy reference.
By the time she had responded suitably, they had reached the hotel where the reception was to be held. The doorman assisted Keri from the car and another man took Dain's place behind the wheel to park the car. Dain drew Keri's hand through the crook of his elbow and held it there with the pressure of his covering hand. They mounted the steps together, a striking couple.
The manager came gliding forward to greet Dain and assure him that all was in perfect readiness. Keri was duly introduced as one of Dam's secretaries as well as the hostess for the evening. She received the first of the speculative looks she had braced herself to endure. Knowing they were coming didn't make them any easier to take with equanimity.
The manager was a shade too effusive and he held on to Keri's hand a fraction too long, so her nod acknowledging the introduction was regally chili In an effort to emphasize the formality of the relationship, she turned to Dain, whose narrowed eyes hadn't missed a bit of the byplay, and said, "Mr. Randolph, I would like to inspect the buffet and the placement of the flowers. I'm sure you and Mr. Garson will excuse me."
She was not to escape that easily. Dain grasped her hand again and inexorably drew it back to rest again in the crook of his arm. "We'll look over the arrangements together, Keri," he said firmly and drew her forward with him. Mr. Garson led the way obediently, sure now his first impressions were correct. The look he shot at Dain held more than a trace of envy.
Keri was exasperated. By subtle, cunning methods, which she was at a loss to know how to counteract, Dain Randolph was implying an intimacy between them. If he continued as he had begun, no one would have any doubts as to the quality of their relationship by evening's end. But how could she voice an objection to a possessive look or a simple courtesy which somehow assumed a proprietary air, without making herself look a hysterical idiot? A glance, a tone of voice . . . how best to fight their insidious impression?
Something in Dain's expression told her he recognized her dilemma and was amused by it . . . and would do nothing to extricate her.
They stood together to greet the first guests and from that beginning the reception followed the predictable pattern. Keri soon realized that many of the men hadn't made the initial connection between the machinelike secretary who had been present at the conference and the vivid woman who was propelled from group to group, willy-nilly, by Dain's pinioning arm, but some did, and they would spread the word to their less observant brethren.
Keri tried, time and time again, to slip away from the close confinement of Dain's hand at her waist, but found that unless she was prepared to make an obvious scene, her efforts were to no avail. She decided to bide her time. When the dancing started she would have her chance to escape him. As hostess she would have duty-dances with the principals of the conference and
"Do you mean to tell me that Carleton Van Metre chased you around the desk?" he asked probingly.
Keri's face closed tightly. She didn't want to talk or even think about Schyler! "No," she admitted shortly. "I left Van Metre's for personal reasons which I have no intention of discussing, but they don't concern Mr. Carleton Van Metre except indirectly."
That blunt statement didn't seem to offend Dain, but he did let the subject drop, much to Keri's relief. It was bad enough to be hounded by Schyler. To be hounded about him too would be more than she was prepared to stand for. There was a taut set to Dain's mouth, but his next conversational gambit was merely to compliment her on the precision of her transcription of the meeting's notes and to thank her for the extra position summations and extraction of discussion points for easy reference.
By the time she had responded suitably, they had reached the hotel where the reception was to be held. The doorman assisted Keri from the car and another man took Dain's place behind the wheel to park the car. Dain drew Keri's hand through the crook of his elbow and held it there with the pressure of his covering hand. They mounted the steps together, a striking couple.
The manager came gliding forward to greet Dain and assure him that all was in perfect readiness. Keri was duly introduced as one of Dam's secretaries as well as the hostess for the evening. She received the first of the speculative looks she had braced herself to endure. Knowing they were coming didn't make them any easier to take with equanimity.
The manager was a shade too effusive and he held on to Keri's hand a fraction too long, so her nod acknowledging the introduction was regally chili In an effort to emphasize the formality of the relationship, she turned to Dain, whose narrowed eyes hadn't missed a bit of the byplay, and said, "Mr. Randolph, I would like to inspect the buffet and the placement of the flowers. I'm sure you and Mr. Garson will excuse me."
She was not to escape that easily. Dain grasped her hand again and inexorably drew it back to rest again in the crook of his arm. "We'll look over the arrangements together, Keri," he said firmly and drew her forward with him. Mr. Garson led the way obediently, sure now his first impressions were correct. The look he shot at Dain held more than a trace of envy.
Keri was exasperated. By subtle, cunning methods, which she was at a loss to know how to counteract, Dain Randolph was implying an intimacy between them. If he continued as he had begun, no one would have any doubts as to the quality of their relationship by evening's end. But how could she voice an objection to a possessive look or a simple courtesy which somehow assumed a proprietary air, without making herself look a hysterical idiot? A glance, a tone of voice . . . how best to fight their insidious impression?
Something in Dain's expression told her he recognized her dilemma and was amused by it . . . and would do nothing to extricate her.
They stood together to greet the first guests and from that beginning the reception followed the predictable pattern. Keri soon realized that many of the men hadn't made the initial connection between the machinelike secretary who had been present at the conference and the vivid woman who was propelled from group to group, willy-nilly, by Dain's pinioning arm, but some did, and they would spread the word to their less observant brethren.
Keri tried, time and time again, to slip away from the close confinement of Dain's hand at her waist, but found that unless she was prepared to make an obvious scene, her efforts were to no avail. She decided to bide her time. When the dancing started she would have her chance to escape him. As hostess she would have duty-dances with the principals of the conference and
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