Sweet Fortune (11 page)

“Sounds a little out of your line, Jessie,” David remarked, helping himself to a chunk of the sourdough.

“Very observant of you,” Hatch said approvingly. He was apparently surprised by such a show of intelligence. “It's way out of her line.”

“Stop it, both of you,” Jessie ordered. She leaned forward and folded her arms on the counter. “David, could you do me a favor and see what you can find out about DEL's activities on campus? What I'd really like is an address. There's nothing in the local-area phone books and I couldn't find anything at all in the newspaper indexes. Your mother gave me some books to read on cults in general, but I need specific information on this one.”

“Well, I suppose I could ask around and see if anyone knows someone who talked to the DEL people when they were on campus. But I'm not so sure this is a good idea, Jessie.”

“It's not,” Hatch agreed.

“Sounds more like a job for a real private investigator,” David said.

“It is,” Hatch said.

“Pay no attention to him, David,” Jessie instructed. “He and Dad are being extremely tiresome and depressingly downbeat about my new career. Only to be expected, I suppose. The corporate mentality, you know.”

“Uh-huh. I know. Very narrow thinkers.”

“How true.” Jessie stifled a smile and ignored the impatient glance Hatch gave her. “Will you give me a hand, David?”

David smiled. “Sure. I'll see what I can do. But don't count on much, all right? Most of the people I know don't get involved with cults and related crap.”

“Anything at all would be useful.”

“All right.” David glanced at his watch. “I'd better be on my way. I only stopped by to give you the good news, but since you already know it, I might as well leave you two alone.” He got to his feet and flashed a quick glance at Hatch, who was finishing the last of his ravioli. “Uh, Jessie?”

“Yes?”

“Would you mind walking downstairs with me? I wanted to talk to you in private for a minute if that's okay.”

“Sure.” Jessie got down off the stool.

Hatch gave David a hard look. “Why don't you ask him yourself, instead of using Jessie as an intermediary?”

David flushed. “I don't understand.” His glance flickered to Jessie.

“Ignore him, David. It's all one can do. I'll go downstairs with you.” She hurried toward the door, chatting excitedly about Parkington in an effort to cover the awkward moment.

David was silent as they started down the stairs. “He's right, you know,” he finally said on a long, drawn-out sigh.

“Who?”

“Hatchard. I did want to ask if you'd feel out the old man for me on the subject of a loan. Think he'll spring for another one? He's already made it pretty damn clear what he thinks about my going for a doctorate. Hell, he gave me a bad-enough time when he found out I'd changed my undergraduate major from business administration to philosophy.”

Jessie nodded sympathetically. “I know. I'll talk to him, David. I can't promise anything.”

“I realize that. But he listens to you more than he does to anyone else in the family. You're the only one who seems to be able to beard the lion in his den with any real success.”

“Probably because I just keep pounding on him until his resistance is finally worn down. It's very wearing, you know. On me, I mean. I get so tired of it.”

“Why bother to do it?” David asked reasonably.

“In the beginning, when I was much younger, I think I started doing it just to get some attention for myself. Later, in my teenage years, I was naive enough to think I could actually change him, make him
want
to pay more attention to his family.”

“Mom says that kind of change is virtually impossible.”

“She may be right. All I know is that after Elizabeth came along I got very angry at Dad. It infuriated me to see him ignoring her the same way he had always tried to ignore you and me. So I became even more aggressive about getting him to play the part of a father.”

“You've had some success in terms of Elizabeth. You know, Uncle Vincent's a lot more aware of what's going on in her life than he ever was with either one of us.”

“Only because I've learned a few tricks. I've formed a conspiracy with Grace, his secretary. She helps me get things onto his calendar. I nag him. I plead with him. I yell at him. And at best I've got maybe a fifty-fifty success rate. He still calls half the time at the last minute to tell me he can't make a school function because he's got a crisis at the office.”

“I'll bet.” David shoved his hands into his jacket pockets. “But at least he's always been around, hasn't he? He didn't just disappear the way my old man did.”

“Oh, David, I know. I'm sorry for whining like this.”

As always when the subject of David's father came up, Jessie was consumed with sympathy and guilt. Her cousin was right. At least Vincent Benedict had stuck around to be nagged and harangued by his elder daughter. Lloyd Ringstead had vanished, never to be seen or heard from again. David had been only four.

“Forget it. Nothing more boring than old family history.”

“I suppose,” Jessie agreed. “But I'll say this much for Dad. He does have some sense of what you might call patriarchal obligation. At least when it comes to money.”

“Only because it's a means of controlling the rest of us,” David said bitterly. “He likes being in control.”

“I know that's part of it. Still, look on the bright side. I think he'll probably come through with another loan for you.” Jessie smiled and stood on tiptoe to give David a quick hug. “Don't worry. I'll talk to him.”

“Hatchard is right. I guess I shouldn't ask you to do it. You already did enough when you convinced Uncle Vincent I was never going to be the heir apparent to Benedict Fasteners.” David gave her a rueful smile. “You know, without your help I'd probably still be there busting my ass trying to please the old man. Even Mom wanted me to try harder.”

“You'd have been very unhappy spending the rest of your life running Benedict Fasteners. Anybody can see that.”

“Not anybody. You were the one who realized it first. Thank God for Sam Hatchard. Without him Uncle Vincent would probably be trying to mold you or Elizabeth into a corporate shark.”

“I'm not sure God is the one who deserves the credit for giving us Sam Hatchard.”

David grinned as he opened the lobby door. “You may be right. He's not what you'd call real angelic, is he? Don't worry, Jessie, you can handle him. My money's definitely riding on you.”

“Dammit, David, this isn't some kind of sporting event,” Jessie called out after him as he went through the doorway and out into the night.

But it was too late. Her cousin was already halfway down the path to the sidewalk. He lifted a hand in farewell but did not look back.

Jessie stood on the other side of the heavy glass door and stared bleakly out into the darkness for a few minutes. Then she turned and walked slowly back upstairs. She wondered how difficult it was going to be to wheedle the information she wanted out of Hatch and then get him out of her apartment. Something told her it was not going to be an easy task.

She was right. She knew she was in trouble the minute she opened the door and saw him sprawled on the couch, sound asleep. He had not even bothered to take off his beautifully polished wing tips.

Jessie slowly closed the door and leaned back against it. If she had any sense, she told herself, she would wake him up and hustle him out the door.

She definitely should not allow him to spend the night there on the couch. It would set a dreadfully bad precedent. A man like Hatch would use that sort of precedent to his own advantage, no doubt about it. One thing always led to another. Come tomorrow morning, she would have to give him breakfast.

Too dangerous by far. When all was said and done, there would be no way of getting around the fact that he had made himself very much at home in her apartment.

Jessie moved cautiously away from the door, considering the best method of awakening him. She came to a halt beside the couch and stood looking down at Hatch for a long while. The strength and willpower that were so much a part of him did not appear the least bit diminished by sleep. By rights he should have looked a little vulnerable, but he did not.

Jessie wondered if sharks actually slept.

There was no denying the fact that Hatch did appear exhausted. The man worked much too hard. Fourteen-hour days plus courtship time on the side.

She studied the strong, tapering fingers of one supple masculine hand as it lay on the black leather cushion. Everything that compelled her and repelled her about Hatch was embodied in his graceful, dangerous, powerful hands.

With a small sigh, Jessie turned away and went to the closet to get a blanket. She was going to regret letting him stay. She just knew it. But she could not bring herself to awaken him from his exhausted slumber.

She pried off the heavy wing tips and spread the blanket over Hatch's sleeping frame.

When she had finished, she went into the kitchen and put the dishes into the sink. Then she placed the empty wine bottle in the recycling bin Elizabeth had given her and headed for the bedroom.

Several hours later Jessie came awake on a rush of adrenaline. She sat bolt upright in bed, confused by two powerful stimuli. The phone on the bedside table was warbling loudly and there was a half-naked man standing in the open doorway of her bedroom. She did not know which had awakened her.

For a handful of seconds she could not move. She could only sit there clutching the sheet.

The phone rang again.

“Better get that,” Hatch advised, one hand braced against the door frame.

Jessie blinked and reached out for the phone.

“Jessie? It's Alex. Alex Robin. I'm calling from your office. Sorry to wake you, but you might want to come on over here. I went out to get something to eat a while ago and when I got back I came upstairs to use the rest room. I found the door to Valentine Consultations open. Did you leave it unlocked?”

“No.” Jessie pushed hair out of her eyes and tried to think. “No, I'm certain I locked up when I left, Alex. I'm always very careful about that.”

“I know. Listen, I think someone's been inside here, but I can't be certain. Maybe you'd better check to see if anything's missing. You may want to call the cops and report a break-in. If that's what's happened.” Alex paused. “Nothing's broken or anything, as far as I can tell.”

“I'll be right over, Alex. Thanks.”

Jessie slowly replaced the phone, her eyes on Hatch's shadowed face. She realized he was wearing only a pair of briefs. Sometime during the night he had awakened and undressed. Talk about making himself at home, she thought. Give the man an inch and he took a mile.

“I have to go over to the office. Alex, the downstairs tenant, thinks someone might have broken in to Valentine Consultations.” Jessie pushed back the covers, belatedly realizing her nightgown was hiked up around her waist. Hastily she retreated back under the sheet. “Do you mind?” she asked acidly.

“No.” Hatch yawned and ran his fingers through his tousled hair. “I'll go with you. I had no idea the life of an assistant fortune-teller was so exciting. You keep worse hours than I do, Jessie.”

I
t's damn near three o'clock in the morning,” Hatch muttered as he slipped the Mercedes into a space in front of the building that housed Valentine Consultations.

He was not pleased about having his first night in Jessie's apartment interrupted in this fashion. Granted, he had not been in her bed, but when he had awakened earlier and discovered he had been allowed to stay, he had known progress was finally being made. “What the hell was this Alex guy doing at the office at this hour?”

“He's a computer jockey,” Jessie explained as she yanked the door handle. “He works weird hours.” She jumped out of the car and dashed toward the darkened entrance of the building, fishing for her keys.

“Hold it, Jessie.” Hatch got out and slammed his own car door before following her up the walk. The lady was far too impulsive. He would have to work on curbing that tendency. “Not so fast.”

“Oh, for heaven's sake, Hatch. I let you come along because you insisted, but don't get the idea you're in charge around here. Save the dynamic-leadership act for Benedict Fasteners.” She started to shove the key into the lock and belatedly realized the door was already open.

Before she could turn the handle, Hatch shot out a hand and clamped it over hers. The small bones of her fingers and wrist felt astonishingly delicate. “I said, not so fast,” he repeated very quietly.

She glanced down at where his hand covered hers. He knew she was silently debating whether or not to test his strength. Her eyes lifted briefly to meet his, and he saw the annoyance in them. She had obviously realized she did not stand a chance of shaking off his grip.

“For Pete's sake, Hatch. The door is already unlocked. Alex must have left it that way for us.”

“Fine. I'll go in first.” Without waiting for a response, Hatch calmly shouldered Jessie aside and shoved open the door. He stepped over the threshold into the darkened hall and stopped, groping along the wall. He found the switch and flicked it. Nothing happened.

“What is it? What's wrong?” Jessie was trying her best to peer around him.

“The hall light is out.”
A bad sign
. His instinct warned him the smartest thing to do at this point was back out of the place.

“It's been out for ages.” Jessie tried impatiently to shove past Hatch's unyielding form. He did not move.

“Alex,” she called over Hatch's shoulder. “Alex, are you in there? Is everything all right?”

A low groan from off to the right inside the hall was the only answer.

“
Alex
.” Jessie panicked now, shoving furiously at Hatch. “Get out of my way, Hatch. He's hurt.”

“Damn.” Hatch moved slowly into the darkened interior as his eyes adjusted to the deep gloom. “I should have gone back for the flashlight.”

“There's a light switch just inside his office door. I'll get it.”

Quick as a cat, she darted around him the instant he ceased blocking the doorway. “Jessie, come back here.”