The Writers' Circle

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Chapter One

Miranda drew in a long steady breath as she always did before entering the lion's den.  In the three years she'd worked as Holt Devlin's Personal Assistant, she'd never once seen anyone pass through his doors without first pausing to draw in a few extra ounces of courage.  Well, everyone except his mother, that is.  Of course, in Miranda's case it wasn't courage she needed but strength; strength to keep the pitiful look of adoration out of her eyes, strength not to throw herself shamelessly in his arms and confess that she was hopelessly in love with him.  

She could almost see the look of indifference on his handsome face.  Or worse, the cold distain.  Women had been throwing themselves at Holt practically all his life and it irritated him to no end.  She knew this because she'd heard the iciness in his voice on numerous occasions whenever his woman de jour was foolish enough to show up at his office unannounced.  Not that any woman in her right mind would want to break it off with Holt, but invading his place of business was certainly the fastest way to do it.  In that acidic tone of his, he'd inform them he didn't need a clinging vine and that any future plans they'd made were permanently cancelled.  Miranda wasn't afraid of him by any means, but she'd just die if he ever used that tone with her. 
  
Holt didn't even glance up when she entered his office and quietly closed the door because no one but Miranda would dare come in without knocking.  She took the seat in front of his desk and waited with pen and pad in hand while he finished reading the last of the morning's mail.  Inwardly, she smiled because she knew her perfect timing wouldn't go unnoticed by Holt.  She had an incredible knack for knowing what he wanted, when he wanted it, and in just which manner it was to be presented.  It was one of the reasons she'd managed to outlast all of her predecessors.  The other reason was Holt himself.  

He was often curt in his responses and more often than not, barked his orders and it had scared off stronger willed women than Miranda.  But it never ruffled her in the least.  She understood him in a way none of the others had.  Devlin Shipping was his life and he took his responsibilities seriously.  At any given time he could tell you exactly what was going on in his company and he was merciless with employees who weren't doing their jobs and doing them well.  What they took as arrogance, she saw as confidence, what they thought was rudeness on his part was really just a dedicated man giving quick, decisive responses.  So maybe he did have a rough exterior, but Miranda knew a side of him she doubted few people had ever seen.  

Holt pulled several letters from the pile and handed them to Miranda.  She didn't look at them or ask any questions but merely tucked them beneath her notepad and he silently thanked God, yet one more time, for his demure assistant.  Miranda would know what to do and he wouldn't have to worry about typos or whether they'd be taken care of because she was extremely efficient and self reliant.  Once he instructed her how to do something, he never had to repeat himself and there would be no time wasted in having to check her work.  She was every successful businessman's dream, and knowing full well what a gem she was Holt paid her handsomely for it.

He glanced down at the note on his desk.  "Willis reported there was a problem with one of the ships."

"There was," she replied pointedly.

Holt smiled.  "As usual, you're one step ahead of me.  So it's taken care of then?"

"The repair crew will be there first thing in the morning."

"And the Thacker contracts?"

"Delivered an hour ago."

"My mother."

"Sends her regrets, but promised to join you for lunch next Wednesday."

Holt leaned forward to check his schedule, certain he already had an appointment for that day.  "I thought."

"Wednesday was the only day she could make it so I rescheduled Mr. Rosenberg for Thursday."

He leaned back in his chair, giving her a nod of approval.  "If I wasn't so afraid of commitment, I'd probably fall madly in love with you, you know that don't you?"

Miranda knew he was teasing but it didn't keep the soft blush from working its way up her neck.  "I'm just doing my job," she said quietly, carefully keeping her eyes pinned to the notepad on her lap.  

Holt studied her for a moment, not entirely unaffected by the pretty flush that crept into her cheeks.  She wasn't beautiful, at least not in the classic sense, but she had delicate features and her dark hair was really quite a stunning contrast to the jade coloring of her eyes.  As for sexual appeal, his poor little Miranda was seriously lacking but he wasn't ungrateful for that.  The severe bun she always kept her hair in coupled with the sensible but less than flattering skirt and jacket ensembles kept the men in his company from distracting her with idle flirtations.  She was reserved and respectful, proficient, never called in sick or complained when she had to work overtime, and she was completely devoted to him.  What more could he ask for?

"What about the New Year's Eve party?"  He asked.

"You'll have to make an appearance of course, and everyone will expect you to say a few words."  She couldn't quite keep the smile off her face when he groaned.  "Don't worry, I've given the caterers very explicit instructions to have their people standing by with open bottles of champagne.  All you have to do is thank everyone for their hard work, wish them a Happy New Year, and tell them to drink up.  Three minutes tops and you'll be out of the spot light."

Holt let out an audible sigh.  "Thanks Miranda, what would I ever do without you?"
 
                       ***
Miranda was getting a little anxious.  The party was supposed to start in just over an hour and she was still stuck on perma-hold with Customs.  Even assuming she could wrap it up in a few minutes, she still had to go home to change and there was no way she'd make it back before the party started.  Holt was counting on her to make sure everything got kicked off properly and she just couldn't disappoint him.  She had no choice but to call her sister and beg her to come to the rescue.  If Brianne could pick up her dress and shoes and bring them to the office, she'd make it in plenty of time.  As soon as she hung up with Customs, she dialed her sister.

"Bri, I need your help.  I'm stuck at the office and the party's going to start soon.  Would you be a doll and go to my house and grab my dress and shoes?"

"Oh, geez, Miranda I'd love to except I'm running late myself.  Chad has reservations at the White Palace and I'm supposed to meet him there in forty-five minutes.  I'll tell you what.  Why don't I just bring you something of mine to wear?"

Miranda grimaced.  "Nothing flashy, Bri, I mean it.  And nothing too low cut or anything that fits like a second skin.  Oh, and no animal prints."

Brianne laughed.  "Well, that knocks out about three quarters of my wardrobe.  I'll keep it tame, I promise.  I'll be there in twenty minutes."

Miranda hung up wondering if it wouldn't have been better to be late.  She and her sister were complete opposites in just about everything, wardrobe included.  Although their measurements were nearly the same, Brianne's taste in clothing ran a bit on the skimpy side.  She doubted her sister owned anything that could even remotely be considered conservative and Miranda only hoped her flamboyant sibling wouldn't bring anything too revealing.  Twenty minutes later she could only gape in horror when the garment was laid out across her desk.

"I can't wear that!  It's.it's."

"One of my favorite dresses so watch what you say," Brianne warned.  "Look, you have a gorgeous figure, almost as fabulous as mine," she said with a grin.  "You need to show it off a little so you can catch yourself a good man."

"No respectable man would have anything to do with me if I was wearing this," she wailed.  "Oh, Bri, how could you do this to me?"

Brianne shrugged.  "I'm just trying to help you break out of that shell you're hiding in.  I'd love to stick around and see how you look in it but I've got to run."  She gave Miranda a quick hug.  "I hope you meet Prince Charming tonight, you deserve it."

Prince Charming, aka Holt, was going to mistake her for a lady of the evening in this get up.  Miranda just shook her head as Brianne dashed out of her office in a bright red mini skirt and snug blouse that left very little to the imagination.  She ran her fingers over the silky material of the dress, thankful that Bri had at least brought something that was a decent color.  Almost the same hue as her eyes, the green dress would probably be very flattering as far as that went but the scooped neck and plunging back made her stomach a little queasy.  One glance at the clock told her there was no time left to deliberate the problem so she scooped it up along with the matching high heels and the brown bag she assumed contained nylons and hurried into Holt's private bathroom.

Stripping quickly, Miranda let out a groan when she opened the bag and pulled out a pair of silk thigh-high nylons followed by a French cut bra and black lace panties.  Price tags on all the items assured her Bri hadn't worn them before but that did little to ease the rising panic inside of her.  She'd feel positively wicked wearing these things under an already sinful dress.  Miranda bit her lip, wondering if she dared.  Yes, she thought with a determined lift of her chin.  Tonight she would be Cinderella and she really would meet Prince Charming.  It wasn't as if she'd ever had a chance with Holt anyway so maybe it was time to break out of her shell as Bri said.

Once she had everything on, however, Miranda's bravado began to slip.  The dress conformed to her figure like a glove, exposing quite a bit more of her ample breasts than she was comfortable with and the stretchy material was clinging to her rear end for dear life.  It fell mid-thigh, just three inches below where her nylons ended so any bending over at all would expose bare flesh.  The back of the dress dipped all the way to her waist so almost her entire back was showing, yet she wasn't completely appalled by the way she looked.  It made her feel sexy and gave her a little boost of confidence.  Dolled up in Bri's dress, Miranda wasn't the plain Jane everyone thought she was.

An examination of the entire effect in the full length mirror brought a frown to her face.  Something would definitely have to be done about her hair.  It wouldn't look right to have it pulled back and she needed just a touch of mascara and lip gloss.  Yanking out the clip and pins that made her look a bit like an uptight librarian, Miranda let it tumble free.  It was long and straight so a few quick strokes of the brush was all it took to soften her features, and after applying the make-up she was amazed at the difference in her appearance.  She wasn't even sure anyone would recognize her and secretly hoped that was so because she'd worked very hard to maintain her prim and proper image and didn't want it to fall to pieces over a skimpy dress and fancy high heels.  Still, it wouldn't hurt to show Holt there was a real woman beneath the dour office attire she always wore.

Miranda stuffed her things in the paper bag and hurried back to her desk.  Since the party was in the Convention Hall on the ground floor of Devlin Shipping, she could leave everything here and come back for it later.  The only problem was where to put the key to the door when she left the Executive Suites.  After a moment of debate, she tucked it beneath the elastic band of her nylons and prayed it wouldn't work its way down her leg.  Less than five minutes later, she was standing in the kitchen talking to the caterers.

                       ***
Holt stood in a corner close to the stage trying to make himself as invisible as possible.  He gulped down the drink in his hand and snatched another from the tray of a passing caterer and downed half of it.  Put him in a room full of high powered executives, politicians, or the rich and famous and Holt was in his element.  He understood power and arrogance and was comfortable with it, but here among his own employees he felt like an outcast.  They had nothing in common, save Devlin Shipping, and he had no idea how to relate to them.  Not that any of them made much of an attempt to carry on a conversation anyway and that was just fine with him.  

He scanned the room, impatient for Miranda to arrive.  At least he as at ease with her and she'd run interference if any of the employees approached.  He wondered what they'd think if they knew how nervous it made him to be here.  They'd never believe it, especially knowing what a hard-ass he was at the office, and that was the only thing that made being here tolerable.  He craned his neck, swearing under his breath.  Where the hell was Miranda?  She promised he'd be in and out in no time and he'd already been here for a good twenty minutes.  The room was filling up fast and the noise level was elevating by the minute as employees and their spouses along with some of Devlin's clients and vendors got caught up in the celebration. 

He was just thinking about the nice quiet evening he had planned for himself when he spotted the woman.  Actually, her legs caught his attention first and his eyes worked their way up from there.  Shapely and sexy, they led to a delightfully rounded bottom, tapered into a slender waist, and ended with a glorious mane of dark hair.  He knew she wasn't an employee or client, so it was possible she worked for one of his vendors, which meant she wasn't off limits.  One elegant hand snaked down her dress and tugged at the hem and for one fleeting moment, Holt glimpsed bare skin.  Heat pooled deep in his abdomen and suddenly spending the night alone didn't seem like such a great idea.

Setting his drink on the closest table, Holt made his way confidently across the room.  Now this was something he was familiar with; seducing a woman into his bed.  If she was married, he'd do nothing more than introduce himself, but if she was single he intended to leave the party with her on his arm.  He wasn't more than three feet away from her when she moved off and wormed her way through the crowd.  Keeping his eyes glued to her backside, Holt had much less difficulty maneuvering around the guests; partly because they recognized him as the boss but also because at six feet four most people made it a point to move out of his way first.  A few minutes into the hot pursuit, his intended prey stopped so abruptly he nearly ran her over.

He flashed a rakish grin, one that had won him more than his fair share of female companionship in the past.  "I'm sorry, I just."  Holt blinked, unable to believe his eyes.  "Miranda?"

She laughed at the astonished tone of his voice.  "I guess I've outdone myself, I've been getting that reaction since the moment I walked in.  Are you ready to make the toast?"

She was beautiful.  No, more than beautiful, she was simply stunning and Holt was finding it very difficult to equate this stimulating woman with his introverted assistant.  He was also finding it difficult to breathe because the air had quite literally been sucked out of his lungs when she'd turned around.  His eyes raked over her slender form, over the flat belly and firm, round breasts to the column of her lovely neck, and finally halted at her shiny lips.  Lips that looked invitingly soft and kissable.  Only her eyes seemed familiar to him, and right now they were staring at him curiously.

"You look.incredible," he finally managed to squeeze out.

Miranda blushed with pleasure.  "You look quite dashing yourself."  When he didn't say anything more, she shifted uncomfortably.  "Holt, about that toast?"

"Yes, of course."  

He stepped aside so she could go first, absently placing his hand on the small of her back then quickly snatched it away.  A jolt of electricity couldn't have shocked him more than the feel of her soft, warm skin beneath his fingertips and Holt had to clench his jaws against the rush of desire that surged through him.  Good God, what was wrong with him?  This was Miranda Carrington, his mousy little assistant, the woman most people would overlook in a crowd, the same woman who'd stirred his compassion less than a week ago because he'd been thinking she had absolutely no sex appeal.  

Holt stole a quick look at her.  She stirred a whole lot more than compassion right now that was for sure, but he couldn't afford to make a move on her no matter how much he wanted to.  For one thing, he'd never find anyone who was so in tuned with him in the office, and for another he just couldn't bear the thought of breaking her heart.  And it would break her heart, he knew that with undying certainty.  Miranda was kind and gentle and she'd never be able to give her body without getting emotionally involved.  Looking at her now, Holt wasn't entirely sure he could keep from feeling something for her either and that scared the hell out of him.

Why did she have to wear that dress?  And why did she have to let her hair down like that, making her look all soft and feminine?  His fingers itched to touch it, to sift through the silkiness and watch it fall back into place.  He wanted to see it splayed across his pillow when he made love to her and.whoa, whoa, what was he doing?  He had to put an end to that line of thinking before he did something he regretted.  She had no right to do this to him, not when everything was so perfect between them.  What kind of game was she playing?  Irrational anger burned deep inside of him.  It wasn't fair of her to make him want her so bad when she knew perfectly well he could never act on it.   

Miranda stopped in front of the stage and motioned for the band to wind it down before turning to Holt.  The smile on her face faded.  He looked.angry, and for the life of her she couldn't figure out what had happened in the short walk to the stage.  But when his hostile glare swept over her dress and back up again, she understood.  He was only being polite when he said she looked incredible.  What he really thought was evident by the look of disgust on his face.  Miranda crossed her arms over her chest in an effort to cover herself.  She had no way of knowing the self-conscious gesture only pushed her breasts up and made them even more tempting than before.

Holt gritted his teeth.  Damn, there was only so much a man could take!  "Let's get this over with," he snapped.

Miranda blinked back the sting of tears.  "Sure, I'll uh, be right back."  She turned away from him and hurried up the stairs to the stage.  When the band stopped playing, she forced herself to smile as she asked for everyone's attention.  "Good evening everyone, I'm Miranda Carrington, Personal Assistant to your host, Holt Devlin."  

She waited for the applause to die then blushed profusely when a few men let out cat calls.  Her mortification doubled when she chanced a quick glance at Holt and saw his broad shoulders visibly stiffen.  She'd made a fool of herself wearing Bri's dress and even worse, she'd embarrassed Holt.  Thank God they had a week off for the holidays because there was no way she could walk into the office and pretend everything was perfectly normal.  When it was time to go back, she'd dress as she always had and hope by then he will have forgotten all about it.  

"If you'd all take a moment to look around, you'll find fresh glasses and a staff member ready to pour the champagne.  While you're filling your glasses, I'll hand the microphone over Holt Devlin whose generosity has made this celebration possible."  

Amid cheers and thunderous applause, Holt joined her on the stage but even his employee's enthusiastic response didn't seem to appease his obvious anger with her.  Miranda thrust the microphone blindly into his hand and made a hasty retreat.  What in the world had ever made her believe a man like Holt would want her?  He probably thought she was some closet floozy who played the shy school marm by day and the wanton harlot at night.  Her cheeks burning with humiliation, Miranda threaded her way across the room and escaped into the hallway.  She all but ran to the elevator, stabbing at the button until at last the bell dinged and the doors slid open.

In the solitude of the office she collapsed in her chair, the pain in her heart so sharp she clutched at her chest.  What had she'd done?  He'd held her in such high esteem before tonight and now.she didn't even want to know what he thought of her.  Bri could have pulled this off, she realized dismally.  Bri would have looked elegant not cheap, and Holt would have gazed at her sister with desire not revulsion.  Miranda covered her face with her hands and sobbed.  She'd made a horrible mess of things and couldn't even being to figure out how to make it right.
                        ***
Holt made the toast as expected, but his eyes never left Miranda the entire time.  He'd hurt her.  He'd watched her face crumble, watched as she scurried off the stage and wheedled her way through the happy crowd and slipped out the door.  Guilt and remorse twisted at his gut and somehow he made it through the brief speech and off the stage before he made an idiot of himself and begged someone to stop her.  And what would he say to her anyway?  Gee, Miranda, I'm sorry for being such a heartless bastard but you see it was the only way I could keep from grabbing you up in my arms and carrying to the nearest bed?  She understood him on so many levels, but he seriously doubted she'd comprehend that he'd done it to protect her, not hurt her.

Holt nodded and smiled his way across the room but didn't stop to talk to anyone.  He had to find her and make sure she was okay.  He'd think of something, make up a story about why he was suddenly so irate and assure Miranda it had nothing to do with her.  It wouldn't be easy being that close to her again but he was a grown man for God's sake, surely he could maintain the same indifference towards her that he did to other women.  Granted, he thought she was breathtaking and yes, he wanted her but she had no power over him.  She was just a woman after all, and Holt was an expert at keeping that stone wall around his heart where they were concerned.  Miranda was no different.  He was merely attracted to her sexually and that could easily be remedied in the arms of someone else.

"Right," he muttered, "as long as I keep my eyes closed and pretend they're Miranda."

The hallway was empty and she wasn't out in front of the building.  This is ridiculous, he thought when he knocked on the ladies restroom then poked his head in when there was no response.  He called out her name, called himself a name for caring whether she was upset or not, then cursed her again for making him feel like a school boy with a crush.  He considered going up to his office to check there but decided she'd probably just gone home.  He'd go home himself, take a shower and change and then give her call.  He'd make it casual, just a boss checking to make sure his valued employee got home safely.  It might seem a little strange, but at least he wouldn't worry about her all night.  Then once that issue was resolved, he'd spend the rest of the evening trying to figure out how the hell he was going to work with her again without visualizing her lying beneath him in a tangle of sheets.