A Lyon's Share Read Online Free

it is. Bring me back a sandwich." she asked her room-mate.
    "I bet they haven't looked outside either," Kay smiled. "It's turning into a regular blizzard. You'd better put a bird on the boss's shoulder so someone will tell him that he'd better let us go home early." With a cheery wave. Kay closed the door.
    Joan looked out the window. The gentle snowfall had turned into a solid curtain of wind-driven snow. The practical side refused to leap to conclusions as she picked up the telephone and dialed the weather bureau. Heavy snowfall and blizzard conditions were forecast. Another telephone call confirmed that some of the side streets were becoming impassable and the city government was recommending that those businesses that could close early, should.
    Rapping once on the inner office door, Joan entered the private office. Brandt Lyon was bent over his desk, his brown suit-coat thrown across a side chair, his tie loosened. The top buttons of his white shirt were unbuttoned and the cuffs of his long sleeves were rolled back. The fingers of one hand continued their race over the keys of the portable calculator while he ambidextrously entered the results with his left hand.
    "What is it, Miss Somers?" The leonine head didn't look up as he made his inquiry.
    "I'm afraid we're in the middle of a blizzard, sir. They're recommending that all non-essential businesses close," Joan replied.
    The burly figure of Lyle Baines was sitting at the small drafting table in front of the window. His head raised at Joan's words to look outside.
    "Hell!" he exclaimed as he stared at the snowstorm beyond the window panes. Immediately the older man glanced at Joan. "Sorry. I forgot there was a lady around," he apologized then sighed heavily. "It's a first class snowstorm, Brandt. Hope this isn't a sign of what the rest of the winter is going to be like."
    Brandt Lyon swiveled his chair towards the window to confirm their statements for himself. A furrow of concentration lined his wide forehead. Broken by a wayward strand of teak brown hair.
    "Some of the side streets are already becoming impassable," Joan added quietly.
    The strong fingers of one hand rubbed his chin and mouth as Brandt turned back to her. The blue of his eyes was intensified by the thickness of his brown lashes and the dark remains of his summer tan. Joan was drawn again by the strength and competency etched in the irregular features.
    "Send everyone home, Miss Somers," he ordered calmly. The brown column of his neck turned his attention to the man at the drafting table. "We should be finished in another hour or so, Lyle."
    "There's no reason for me to rush home," the man shrugged. "My wife's in Peoria with our daughter." Then he smiled proudly. "Our first grandchild arrived on the scene—a boy. I was going to drive there after work tonight, but that's out now, thanks to the snow."
    Brandt smiled in sympathy, then raised a questioning brow at Joan. "You'll notify everyone?"
    "Right away," she nodded, and turned to leave.
    "Miss Somers," he called her back. One corner of his mouth was lifted in rueful apology. "I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to stay. I'll need you to retype this bid when we're done and to supply me with some more folders from your personal puzzle cabinet in the meantime."
    Joan glanced out of the window, silently wondering how long the buses could keep running in this storm. "Of course I'll stay." It was unthinkable to refuse.
    "You go home by bus, don't you?" Brandt asked, perceptively guessing the direction of her thoughts.
    "Yes."
    "Don't worry about getting home. I'll give you a ride when we're through," he stated, and leaned forward to resume his work.
    Knowing there was nothing more behind his offer than thoughtful consideration, Joan nodded her thanks and left the room, glad that she was over her ridiculous infatuation and was beyond the time when she would have built up futile hopes at the thought of Brandt Lyon taking her home.
    The building emptied quickly