Joined By Marriage

‘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.

‘No, I’m not. But when has that ever stopped patients calling me?’

Her father specialised in obstetrics, and as such was always on call!

‘I’ll get it,’ Gary offered, getting up from the table.

‘It’s probably for you, anyway,’ Brianna said; her brother seemed to have a veritable stream of girlfriends.

‘Or the rich Arab sheik for you!’ he called out cheekily before leaving the room.

‘Not if he’s dead!’ she returned lightly.

‘We’re all so normal.’ Her father slowly shook his head. ‘Just a normal happy family. And yet I have this strong feeling of impending doom, like a heavy weight hanging over us all. I—’

‘It’s for you, sis.’ Gary breezed back into the room. ‘A Mr Landris.’

‘You see.’ Her father sat back heavily, looking every inch his fifty-three years at that moment.

Nathan Landris! What on earth was he telephoning her for, at home, at seven o’clock in the evening? Unless he was a workaholic, it was way out of office hours. Come to think of it, he probably was a workaholic! But she didn’t have any business with him; it was his father she wanted to see. Surely this wasn’t a social call? Superman hadn’t burst out of Clark Kent’s clothing, had he, with Nathan Landris actually behaving like a man rather than a lawyer? No, it was the Incredible Hulk who burst out of his clothes, not Superman—

‘I don’t think he’s going to hang on all evening, Bri,’ Gary urged. ‘He sounded a bit pompous to me.’

Nathan Landris, the Ice Man, Brianna decided ruefully as she stood up, lightly touching her father on the shoulder as she passed him. ‘It will be okay, Dad,’ she assured him huskily. ‘You’ll see.’

‘I hope so.’ He still looked haggard. ‘I don’t want to lose you, Brianna.’

‘You won’t,’ she told him firmly, before going out into the hallway to take the call, picking up the telephone receiver. ‘Nathan,’ she greeted coolly. ‘To what do I owe the pleasure of this call?’ She started the conversation in the way she meant it to continue!

There was a moment’s pause on the other end of the line before an answer came. ‘It is a pleasure to speak to you, Miss Gibson, but I’m afraid this isn’t Nathan,’ said a male voice she didn’t recognise. ‘My name is Peter Landris. I’m Nathan’s father.’

She had realised it wasn’t Nathan the moment he spoke. Oh, the accent was just as refined, the voice almost as deep, but it certainly wasn’t Nathan. ‘I’m so sorry, Mr Landris.’ She gave an inward grimace at her faux pas. ‘I—’

‘Please don’t be,’ he returned smoothly. ‘It was a natural mistake for you to have made, in the circumstances.’

What circumstances? She was even more stunned now that she knew her caller was Landris Senior!

‘I understand that you spoke with my son earlier today,’ Peter Landris continued lightly, as if aware of her confusion and giving her time to recover.

Those circumstances. ‘Yes, I did.’ Now she couldn’t help wondering exactly what his son had said about their meeting! ‘He explained you were unavailable,’ she added pointedly; he obviously wasn’t unavailable this evening!

‘That’s the reason I’m calling, actually,’ he came back calmly. ‘I realise you have made an appointment to see me next week, but I find I have a window in my schedule tomorrow, at one o’clock, and wondered if you would like to come in and see me then instead?’

If she took a late lunch, and wasn’t gone too long... ‘Could you make it one-fifteen?’ She wasn’t sure how wide this window was!

‘I’m sure I can,’ he accepted briskly. ‘One-fifteen tomorrow, then, Miss Gibson.’ He abruptly ended the call.

Brianna quickly put down her own receiver. Not quite the Ice Man, but it was obvious where Nathan had learnt his terseness; the reason for the call was concluded, and so was the call itself!

What a strange family the Landrises were, Brianna decided, shaking her head ruefully. But she had an appointment to see Peter Landris, and it wasn’t for next week, either. Now all she had to do was go back to the dining-room and reassure her father...

Brianna sat across from Peter Landris, his desk between them. He was the man who had been walking down the corridor yesterday, as she was leaving, the man Nathan had asked to wait for him in his office—the man she had assumed was Nathan’s two o’clock appointment.

Peter Landris was the man whom Nathan had known she’d come here to see yesterday—and to whom she was sure he had deliberately chosen not to introduce her!

Her eyes sparkled deeply blue as she looked across the desk at the elder Landris. As she knew from yesterday, he was slightly shorter than his son, although he probably still reached six feet, and with the knowledge of their relationship she was now able to see the similarities between the two men. Both were dark-haired, although Peter Landris’s hair was liberally peppered with grey, and they both had those strongly hewn faces, dominated by cold, pale blue eyes. In fact, Peter Landris was looking at her very much as his son had done yesterday!

Brianna bristled resentfully. The Landris family, with their initial letter sent to her father three months ago, and the one sent directly to her yesterday, had already wreaked havoc in her previously harmonious life; she was the one who should be angry. And she was!

‘You wanted to see me, Mr Landris?’ she prompted. ‘This is my lunch hour and I really don’t have a lot of time.’

To her surprise, he smiled, and, as with his son, it changed his whole demeanour, giving warmth to his eyes and a boyish charm to those hard features. Brianna decided at that moment that she wouldn’t like to face either father or son in a court-room—their charm would be totally disconcerting, before the coldness ripped you to shreds!

‘It’s my lunchbreak too,’ he told her softly. ‘Perhaps I should order us some coffee and sandwiches?’

Her expression deepened. ‘Am I going to be here long enough to eat them?’ She had imagined this meeting wouldn’t take long at all!

His smile broadened as he picked up the telephone. ‘Nathan told me you’re extremely direct,’ he murmured, before talking briskly into the receiver. ‘Hazel—coffee and sandwiches for Miss Gibson and myself. Thank you.’ He ended the call as abruptly as he had with Brianna the evening before.

‘I can’t see the point of being any other way.’ Brianna answered his previous statement—although she could imagine all too well what Nathan had told his father about her. But, unlike poor Hazel, she had no reason to be in awe of either man. And she wasn’t. ‘I dislike mysteries, Mr Landris, and this has certainly become one.’

She no longer believed a mistake had been made concerning her identity; this man didn’t make those kind of mistakes! And if it wasn’t an error, then she wanted to know as quickly as possible what it was all about.

‘I’m sorry if you feel that way,’ Peter Landris returned politely. ‘It certainly wasn’t meant to be.’

‘Exactly what is “it”, Mr Landris?’ Brianna prompted impatiently.

‘There are certain formalities to get through before I—Ah, Hazel.’ He turned to the receptionist as she came in with a laden tray, moving several papers aside on his desk to make room for the woman to put it down. ‘Would you like to pour?’ he invited Brianna, once the receptionist had departed.

‘No, I do not want to pour!’ Brianna burst out irritably; they were never going to get to the point of the meeting at this rate! ‘Mr Landris—Oh good grief!’ she snapped, as there was a brief knock on the outer door before Nathan walked into the room. ‘This is worse than Piccadilly Circus in the rush hour!’ she muttered.

Although if she was annoyed at yet another interruption, then Nathan looked absolutely stunned to see her sitting in his father’s office. Which meant he couldn’t have known of his father’s telephone call to her last night...

‘Nathan,’ his father greeted without warmth. ‘As you can see, I’m busy,’ he added pointedly.

The younger man didn’t move. ‘You didn’t tell me you intended seeing Brianna today.’

His father reacted to what sounded like an accusation. ‘I don’t believe it’s something I have to inform you of, Nathan,’ he rasped.

‘And I don’t believe you introduced me to your father yesterday, either, Nathan,’ Brianna interrupted. Father and son seemed to be locked in a silent battle with each other, so much so that she, the apparent reason for the tension between them, was briefly forgotten.

Nathan glanced at her momentarily before turning to his father. ‘Perhaps we could talk in private for a few minutes,’ he bit out harshly. ‘In my office,’ he added determinedly.

His father didn’t so much as move a muscle. ‘I don’t think so, Nathan.’

‘Father, I really think—’

‘I told you, no, Nathan,’ his father said glacially. ‘Now, if you wouldn’t mind, I’m in the middle of a confidential meeting with my client.’

Brianna turned to him sharply. Client? She most certainly was not a client of his. For one thing, clients deliberately sought out the services of lawyers, something she most certainly had not done where Peter Landris and his son were concerned. And, for another, she could never have afforded the prices of a prestigious firm like this one, so if either of them had the least idea of presenting her with a bill for these two meetings, they could just think again...!

She stood up, picking up her handbag. ‘I’ll leave the two of you to sort out your differences. And then, when you have, perhaps you would like to send me a letter stating exactly what all this is about, Mr Landris,’ she suggested to the older man. After all, he was the one who had just claimed she was a client! ‘I really don’t have any more time to waste today,’ she added.

‘You were right, Nathan.’ Peter Landris spoke quietly as she crossed the room. ‘Brianna is as wilful as her mother.’

Brianna stopped, feeling the colour drain from her cheeks as she slowly turned to face him. ‘My mother?’ she repeated slowly, her lips suddenly feeling so stiff she could barely speak. ‘You know my mother?’

‘Yes. Nathan, help Brianna back to her chair before she falls down,’ Peter Landris added calmly, as she swayed on her feet.

She was barely aware of the arm about her waist, of being guided back to the chair she had so recently vacated, of sitting down. She could only stare at Peter Landris with suddenly very dark blue eyes. ‘You’re talking about my biological mother?’ she asked weakly. Having her father suspect that this was the reason for the letters was one thing; it was quite another for it to turn out to be true!

‘Of course,’ Peter Landris answered briskly, taking a file out of the top drawer of his desk. ‘I would—’

‘Father!’ Nathan barked tensely. ‘There are papers to see first, to be verified—’

‘Nathan, I will not tell you again!’ his father returned forcefully, eyes glacially blue. ‘Do not attempt to tell me how to do my job. I am well aware of what has to be done. But Rebecca was my client, and now that makes Brianna so.’

‘Rebecca is my mother?’ Brianna wasn’t in the least interested in the argument between father and son; in fact the more she heard the less sure she was that she wanted to know about any of it. Her mother had been Jean Gibson—she was the person who had cared for Brianna as a helpless baby, who had cuddled her when she hurt herself, who had wept for her on the day she began school, helped to ease the pain of her first broken love affair, sat and talked to her in the night when she panicked about her exams, had been pleased for her when she secured the job she wanted. Jean was her mother. She didn’t even want to know that this other woman’s name was Rebecca—suddenly felt as if the life she had always known was being invaded, violated...

‘She was,’ Peter Landris confirmed in a gentle voice.

Brianna swallowed hard. Was...? ‘She’s dead?’

‘I’m afraid so, my dear,’ he said. ‘Rebecca—’

‘I don’t want to know!’ she cut in emotionally. And she didn’t. She had wanted this meeting, the reason for it, out of the way, so that she could forget about it and get on with her life. But now she had a feeling that once she had heard the truth her life would be changed for ever. She didn’t want that.