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She felt the embarrassed colour enter her cheeks after this outburst, realising instantly that she owed him an apology; after all, he hadn’t needed to bother with her at all, he could just have left her for the receptionist to deal with—which she was sure, without this man as an audience, the other woman was more than capable of doing!
‘I’m sorry, Mr Nathan.’ She sat back with a heavy sigh. ‘It’s just that letters like that one—’ she indicated the letter in front of him ‘—arriving in the post without warning, can be quite unnerving.’
‘I’m sure they can,’ he returned smoothly. ‘But could I just set the record straight on one thing before we continue this conversation?’
She looked across at him expectantly. ‘Yes?’
He gave a small inclination of his head, the late spring sunlight coming through the window behind him showing a slight touch of red in the darkness. ‘My name is not Mr Nathan.’
‘But it’s what the receptionist just called you,’ Brianna protested confusedly.
His mouth quirked, not quite into a smile, but into something—in this man’s case, Brianna felt—that came very close to it. ‘It’s what she has always called me.’
‘But I don’t see why, if it isn’t your name.’ Brianna frowned. ‘You—’
‘If you will just allow me to finish?’ the man continued imperiously. ‘Are you usually this—impetuous, Miss Gibson?’ He frowned at her darkly, as if she were a species he very rarely came into contact with! And she didn’t mean women; she was sure there was a wife in the background somewhere, someone as stiffly formal and haughty as he was. He obviously just wasn’t used to someone as bluntly forthright as she was.
Well, that was okay, because she had never met anyone quite this stuffy and arrogant before, either. It wasn’t even as if he was that old; possibly he was in his mid-thirties, and yet he talked and behaved like someone so much older than that. What he really needed was to—
Never mind what he needed, she impatiently admonished herself; she would never see him again after today, anyway. She wasn’t going to get anything out of him at all if she didn’t curb her impetuosity a little.
‘Probably,’ she conceded with a grimace. ‘Otherwise I wouldn’t have come here today at all, would I?’ she added with a shrug.
His face showed his irritation with her levity. ‘As I was saying...’
‘Before you were so rudely interrupted!’ Brianna couldn’t control the facetious mental ending to his statement—or the smile that threatened to curve her lips and bring a sparkle to the deep blue of her eyes. The first she stifled by biting her bottom lip, the latter she could do nothing about, although she did make an effort to try and look avidly interested in what he was saying. If only he weren’t so pompous...!
‘Hazel calls me Mr Nathan because she has known me most of my life,’ he bit out tersely, as if he guessed some of her amusement was at his expense.
‘That sounds fair enough—except you’ve just told me it isn’t your name!’ Brianna shook her head frustratedly.
Maybe it was her, or maybe what he was saying had lost something in the translation—because for all she understood his explanation he might as well have been talking a foreign language! But if his name wasn’t Mr Nathan, why on earth did the receptionist persist in calling him that?
He drew in a harshly controlling breath, studying her with narrowed eyes behind his dark-rimmed lenses, as if he sensed only too well that she was laughing at him.
Which she wasn’t. Well, not really. She was sure she was the one missing something here; this man was far too sensible ever to talk the load of nonsense this conversation had so far seemed to her to be. No doubt he would explain properly in a minute, and all would be understood. She hoped...
‘My name is Nathan.’ He spoke slowly now, as if he were talking to a slightly backward child. ‘And, as Hazel has worked on Reception here for the last thirty years, she has known me since I began visiting these offices when I was five years old.’
Brianna put her head back, looking puzzled. She still didn’t understand, but she was beginning to think it wasn’t her fault, after all...
‘You’ve been a lawyer since you were five years old...?’ she said in slow disbelief.
He scowled. ‘You know, if I didn’t think your bewilderment was genuine—’
‘Oh, but I can assure you it is,’ she hastily replied, not liking the dark clouds she could see appearing over his furrowed brow.
God, this man must be daunting in a court-room. But not since he was five years old... She didn’t even know what had made her make such a ridiculous remark. A slight touch of hysteria probably. But not because of him; it was this situation over the letter that had her so wound up.
‘Of course you haven’t been a lawyer since you were five.’ She dismissed her own stupidity. ‘I’m just a little confused.’
He gave her a look that clearly said he thought she was very confused!
He absently moved the letter around the top of his desk before replying. ‘I was visiting my father at these offices, Miss Gibson,’ he bit out in those coldly clipped tones that were rapidly becoming familiar to her. ‘He was—and still is—a lawyer.’
‘Oh.’ Brianna nodded, sure there was more to come. Although she was getting a little tired of waiting. They hadn’t even really begun talking about her letter yet. Were all lawyers this pedantic?
‘My first name is Nathan,’ he finally explained. ‘And since I came to work here Hazel has always called me Mr Nathan, simply as a sign of respect, I suppose. Although, in the circumstances, it’s probably less confusing for her too,’ he added thoughtfully, his icy blue gaze boring into Brianna as he looked at her steadily. ‘My name is Nathan Landris, Miss Gibson,’ he bit out.
At last! Nathan Landris. One of the partners... ‘Which Landris are you—Landris or Landris?’ She frowned.
‘Neither,’ he returned dryly. ‘My father is Landris, and my uncle James was Landris—but he died ten years ago. And my uncle Roger is Davis.’
How extremely confusing. ‘So you aren’t Landris or Landris?’
‘I’m afraid not,’ he confirmed. ‘In five years’ time—’
‘When you’re forty?’ Brianna quickly and instinctively calculated, still trying to come to terms with who this man was. Oh, she had decided very quickly that he couldn’t be anything as lowly as a clerk—this office he had brought her into had only confirmed that—but she certainly hadn’t realised he was the son of one of the partners in the firm. No wonder Hazel called him Mr Nathan!
‘When I’m forty,’ he echoed curtly, again watching her with narrowed eyes, as if uncertain whether or not she was laughing at him.
Which she wasn’t now. Okay, so he was pompous, obviously took himself—and everything else—far too seriously, but he was also the son of one of the partners of this prestigious firm; getting as far as talking to him had to be better than being turned away until ‘possibly some time next week’ by the ever-vigilant Hazel.
‘Then I’ll be made into a full partner,’ he informed her crisply. ‘And we will become Landris, Landris, Davis—’
‘And Landris,’ Brianna finished knowingly.
What else? They couldn’t possibly remain just Landris, Landris, and Davis—oh, no, the fourth partner—despite the fact that one of their number was dead, and his nephew’s surname was the same—would have to be officially added to the partnership.
It all sounded positively feudal to Brianna. But then, other aspects of this law firm seemed slightly out of time, anyway, this man opposite her along with them... She could picture him now, as a feudal overlord, dispensing law and wisdom with an arrogant flick of his wrist or a raising of his eyebrow. He—
‘Have you ever thought of taking up law yourself, Miss Gibson?’
His speculative voice interrupted her wandering thoughts and Brianna focused on him with effort, back in the here and now, having been in the middle of imagining him riding across his lands on a magnificent black stallion, his hair neither as short nor as controlled as it was now, dressed in magnificent robes of blue and gold. Ridiculous. In reality, he was a stiff, unyielding man, full of his own importance.
And at this moment he was looking at her with cold impatience as he waited for her response to his remark!
‘Sorry?’ She blinked long dark lashes.
‘The law, Miss Gibson,’ he drawled derisively. ‘I have a feeling you would make a formidable lawyer. I have never met you before today—in fact we have only been acquainted for ten minutes or so—and yet I seem to have talked to you of my childhood, my age, and my intention of being a partner here by the time I’m forty.’ He shook his head in denial of such intimacy with a relative stranger. ‘But, at the same time, I know little or nothing about you. Quite remarkable, Miss Gibson,’ he added.
‘Brianna,’ she supplied absently, grinning as he raised his brows questioningly. ‘As we seem to have become such confidantes,’ she added teasingly, ‘you may as well call me Brianna.’
‘Your name is Brianna?’ he said slowly.
Almost disbelievingly, it seemed to her. ‘Of course it’s my name,’ she snapped. ‘I would hardly have said so otherwise, now would I?’ Not everyone suffered such confusion over their name as this man did!
‘I didn’t mean to sound offensive, Miss—Brianna—’
He didn’t mean to—he just was!
‘It’s just that it’s an unusual name.’ He frowned darkly. ‘Almost masculine.’
‘Well, I can assure you—I’m not!’ she bit out impatiently, wishing she had never told him her first name; he was making such a meal out of it!
His mouth once again twisted into what Brianna assured herself must be a smile—although it looked more like a pained grimace to her. ‘I can see that.’ He dryly acknowledged her prettily petite but definitely feminine figure in a fitted skirt and neat, fitted blue blouse tucked in at her slender waistband.
He showed as much male awareness of her as a woman as a stick might, Brianna decided. And time was pressing; she would be late back to work if she didn’t soon settle this.
‘Maybe I had a male relative named Brian; I really don’t know,’ she dismissed. ‘No one has ever bothered to explain.’ She glanced at her wristwatch; she really would have to leave soon. ‘I’m afraid, Mr Landris, that if you can’t help me—’
‘I’m afraid I can’t.’ Without her being aware of it, he had stood up and was even now moving around his desk, as if to escort her to the door. ‘It really would be better if you made an appointment with Hazel. It’s my father you want to see.’
Brianna felt as if she was being swept along in the middle of a tidal wave as he clasped her arm, once she had stood to her feet, and began walking her toward the door. But she came to an abrupt halt at this last remark, looking up at him suspiciously. ‘How do you know that?’ He hadn’t known it in the reception area. Or, at least, he hadn’t appeared to...
He shrugged broad shoulders beneath the dark suit he wore. ‘The reference at the top of the letter is obviously his.’
He had known exactly who the letter was from, and which Landris she should have seen! Her eyes flashed accusingly; she was getting more than a little tired of the feeling of being shunted from one person to another, with none of them more willing to be of help to her than the last. What was the mystery, for goodness’ sake? She was the one who had been sent the letter; she hadn’t come here uninvited!
Brianna snatched the letter out of his hand, glaring up at him. ‘Why didn’t you just tell me from the first that it’s your father I need to see?’
‘Because he isn’t here at the moment,’ Nathan Landris answered firmly. ‘But I’m sure Hazel told you that...?’
‘She said he wasn’t available,’ Brianna scorned, ‘whatever that’s supposed to mean!’ She wasn’t sure any more!
Icy blue eyes unwaveringly met deep blue. ‘It means he isn’t available,’ Nathan clipped. ‘But I’ll tell him you called.’
‘Will you?’ she challenged; she had the feeling this man wanted to forget ever setting eyes on her! In this case the feeling was mutual. Pompous, overbearing, bossy—
‘Yes, I’ll tell him,’ Nathan Landris confirmed dryly. ‘But I suggest you make an appointment with Hazel, nonetheless.’
‘For “some time next week”,’ she said disgustedly. He gave a haughty inclination of his head. ‘If that’s the first appointment available to you, then, yes.’
Brianna looked at him. ‘Despite what you said earlier about my own qualities, Mr Landris, I have a feeling you’re quite formidable yourself in a court-room!’ she said slowly.
He gave what could only be described as a wolf-like smile—that of one which had just pounced on its prey! ‘I have been known to win the odd case or so,’ he drawled.
She bet he had—he’d certainly managed to effectively divert her from her initial purpose here! ‘I’m sure,’ she accepted scathingly. ‘If you’ll excuse me.’ She walked to the door. ‘It seems I have an appointment to make!’
She turned and stormed out of the office, neither thanking him—she had no reason to do so!—or saying goodbye. Somehow she had a feeling, despite the fact that there was absolutely no reason why they should, that they would meet again...
‘I’ll come with you.’
Brianna turned to him in the carpeted corridor. ‘There’s no need for you to do that—I’m not about to steal the company silver!’
He looked down at her from his imposing height, dark brows raised reprovingly. ‘Are you always this—forthright, Miss Gibson?’ he said carefully.
‘Probably,’ she dismissed. ‘I suppose, despite what you said earlier, that excludes me from taking up law as a profession?’
The insult hung in the air between them, only a nerve pulsing high in Nathan Landris’s cheek, as he reached up to remove his glasses, telling of his response to it.
She hadn’t particularly meant to insult the man, but it was nevertheless true that he didn’t appear to have a forthright bone in his body. ‘I’ll go and make that appointment,’ she said quickly. ‘Er—thank you for your help,’ she added, with the gratitude she had omitted earlier.
It started out as that now-familiar grimace, but then it went one step further, and, to her surprise, Brianna found herself looking at a smiling Nathan Landris. It was quite amazing what a difference it made to him—his blue eyes warm, that hard, unyielding face suddenly rakishly attractive.
Brianna stared at him, totally thrown by the transformation. God, this man had it all, didn’t he: a razor-sharp brain, a lethal coldness, and, when that failed, a sudden charm that was breathtaking. At least, Brianna felt suddenly breathless. Clark Kent and Superman—and she had thought they were both ficticious characters!
‘I think so.’ He answered her facetiously made remark. ‘You speak first, and think afterwards.’
‘Whereas a lawyer thinks first and often doesn’t speak at all.’ She acknowledged the fact that, although he might think he had almost told her his life story, he had in fact told her nothing she had come here to find out. And she was no longer sure that was because he didn’t know anything... ‘Very well, Mr Landris, we’ll do this your way.’ She doubted it was very often done any other way! ‘You escort me back to Reception, I’ll organise my appointment, and then we can both get back to work.’
He walked at her side down the corridor, the glasses firmly back on the bridge of his nose. ‘And what work do you do, Miss Gibson?’
She glanced up at him, tongue slightly in cheek as she answered him. ‘I’m a receptionist.’
This time the smile that closely resembled a grimace didn’t even get a look in. That rakish grin appeared instantly, accompanied by a throaty chuckle. ‘Miss Gib—Brianna, you really are...!’ He shook his head, the grin still curving his lips. ‘I don’t think you need any assistance in organising your appointment. I—’ He broke off, looking at a man walking down the corridor toward them, and his humour faded, his expression suddenly becoming grim.
‘Can you find your own way back to Reception?’ he prompted Brianna distractedly, still looking at the other man.
‘I would think so,’ she answered him humorously, also looking at the man approaching them. He was dressed as formally as Nathan Landris but he wasn’t quite as tall as him, although he had an equal air of purpose about him. Nathan Landris’s two o’clock appointment, Brianna decided.
‘Could you wait in my office for me?’ Nathan addressed the man, confirming Brianna’s suspicions. ‘I’ll be with you in a moment.’
‘I’m in rather a hurry, Nathan,’ the older man said sharply.
‘This won’t take long,’ Nathan assured him.
‘I can see you’re busy.’ Brianna lightly touched Nathan’s arm. ‘I won’t take up any more of your time.’ She gave an apologetic smile to the older man—who, despite being much older than Nathan, did give her a male response, openly staring at her.
Brianna’s parting smile included both men as she walked away, and as she glanced back, before turning the corner into the reception area, it was to find both men still watching her, the older still staring at her. Nathan Landris might be made of ice, but his client certainly wasn’t!
Brianna, out on the street minutes later, her appointment made for next week with Landris Senior, felt distinctly dissatisfied with the whole morning; she was no nearer to knowing what all this was about than she had been when she’d received the letter earlier that day!
CHAPTER TWO
‘YOU really shouldn’t have gone there alone, Brianna.’ Her father spoke across the dinner table to her. ‘I thought we agreed before you left for work this morning that you weren’t going to do anything until we had another chance to talk this evening?’
‘Don’t worry, Dad.’ Brianna leant across the table and squeezed his hand reassuringly. ‘For all the good it did me, I might as well not have bothered! I feel as if I just made a complete fool of myself.’ And Nathan Landris had helped her to do it!
She had thought on and off during the afternoon about her conversation with him; the more she thought about it, the more annoyed she became, both with him and herself. Who had been trying to glean information from whom?
‘I think it’s ace,’ her brother piped up. ‘Perhaps you’ll find out you’re the daughter of a rich Arab sheik, and that you’ve been left millions in his will!’ Gary grinned expectantly.
As a family, they had never made any secret of Brianna’s adoption, and, because they were all so close, it had never mattered to any of them—Gary was Brianna’s brother, and her father was exactly that.
She grimaced now. ‘With this colouring? Knowing my luck, it’s more likely I’m the daughter of a debtor—and I owe millions!’
Her brother grinned, she noticed, but her father still looked far from happy with the situation. ‘Dad—’ She broke off as the telephone rang out in the hallway. ‘You aren’t on call tonight, are you?’ She frowned.
