In fact he probably still was, she decided, removing her hand to place it behind her back together with the other one. ‘Silke,’ she supplied huskily. ‘Silke Jordan.’
‘Is that for real, or a stage name?’
Her eyes flashed as she looked across at Lyon Buchanan, her pointed chin raised defensively. ‘It’s for real,’ she snapped, stung by his derisive tone. ‘I don’t have a “stage name”.’
He shrugged unconcernedly. ‘I thought most of the people who worked for agencies like yours were out-of-work actors or actresses?’
And it was obvious what opinion he held of people in that profession! Really, ‘stuffy’ didn’t even begin to describe this man. He looked conservative through and through, from his short-styled hair and tailored dark suit to his plain black leather shoes. The only thing that saved him from being a complete pompous ass, in Silke’s eyes, was that he was so damned good-looking—arrogantly so, of course, but even that would hold a certain attraction for some women. Not Silke; she wasn’t interested in any man at the moment, and hadn’t been for some time. And it was obvious that Lyon Buchanan was completely unimpressed with her too, still looking at her as if she were some sort of oddity that had wandered into his ordered—stuffy!—existence. As no doubt she was. Not that she had ever thought of herself as an oddity; but to Lyon Buchanan she probably was!
And he was right about the people who worked for her mother’s agency; most of them were actors and actresses momentarily ‘resting’. Nadine had managed to get an audition this morning, which was the reason she had cried off this assignment at the last minute. The very last minute, calling in at the agency on her way to the audition to tell Silke’s mother she couldn’t be at Buchanan’s today.
And as Silke had been there talking to her mother... And as Buchanan’s was an important new account... Besides, the bunny girl outfit was Silke’s size! As far as her mother had been concerned, no further argument was necessary!
‘Most of them are,’ she confirmed Lyon Buchanan’s statement distantly.
Grey 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