Sweet Fortune (14 page)

“Thanks. I'll try to make this work, Connie. I promise.”

“I know you will, but…Oh, well. We'll see.” Constance glanced around the shabby interior of Valentine Consultations. “So this is your latest career move, hmmm? When are you going to settle down and find a real job, Jessie?”

“This is a real job. Why won't anyone take it seriously?”

Constance went to the door. “Probably because of your track record. You're always getting yourself fired, remember?”

“Well, I'm not planning to get myself fired from this job. This one is going to work out. Connie?”

“Yes?”

“You promise you won't tell Elizabeth until I've had a chance to talk to Dad?”

“You're wasting your time, Jessie, but you have my word on it.” Constance paused before going through the door. “By the way, how are things going with the heir to the throne?”

“Don't hold your breath. He's just like Dad. You wouldn't really want me to make the same mistake you made, would you?”

Constance frowned. “I thought matters were getting serious between you and Hatch.”

“Sheer idle speculation, rumor, and gossip. Most of it started by Dad. I wouldn't marry that man if he were the last male on earth.”

Constance's expression relaxed. “Good. Sounds like it's all going to work out for the best, then. I'm glad. I like Hatch, and Benedict Fasteners needs him desperately. We all do.”

“Dammit, Connie, I said I wasn't going to…”

But further protest was useless. Constance had already closed the door behind herself.

A
t eight-thirty that evening Jessie was still sitting at the rolltop desk in the office. She finally forced herself to admit defeat. Her father had not returned any of her calls.

She had not even been able to get past Grace, Vincent's secretary, all afternoon. No, at eight-thirty it was obvious her father, who was probably still at his desk, was not answering his phone.

Jessie knew the pattern all too well. He would not get back to her now until after the weekend. Then he would apologize and explain that he had been called away on business. And everyone knew that business came first.

All the old anger and pain from her own childhood boiled within her anew. Most of the time she could keep it buried, but it had a bad habit of resurfacing whenever Elizabeth was threatened with the same rejection.

“Bastard.” Jessie picked up a pen and hurled it across the room.

She listened to the pen clatter as it struck the wall and bounced on the floor. Outside the window a late-spring twilight was fading rapidly into night. It was starting to rain. At least the ugly yellow haze which had blanketed the city for the past few days had finally cleared.

Jessie got to her feet and went into the inner office. She yanked open the bottom drawer of Mrs. Valentine's small file cabinet and picked up the bottle of sherry her employer kept there for medicinal purposes.

Jessie poured a dollop of sherry into her coffee mug and replaced the bottle. She returned to the outer office, turned off the light, propped her feet on the desk, and sprawled back in the squeaky chair. She sipped the sherry slowly. For a long while she sat watching the gloom descend outside the window. It was like a black fog that seemed to be trying to seep into the office, filling every vacant corner.

“You bastard,” Jessie whispered as she took another swallow of sherry.

When she heard the footsteps on the stairs, she paid no attention. It was Alex, no doubt, heading for the rest room. He would assume she had gone home for the day hours ago, as she usually did.

She waited for the footsteps to go on down the hall. But they halted, instead, on the other side of the pebbled glass. Belatedly Jessie realized she had not locked the door.

She glanced across the width of the room and saw the dark shadow of a man through the opaque glass. She held her breath, torn between getting up to lock the door and thereby betraying her presence inside the office and sitting tight and hoping he would leave.

She hesitated too long. The door opened and Hatch came into the room, his jacket hooked over his shoulder. His shirt was open at the throat and his tie hung loose around his neck.

“I take it you've changed your regular working hours?” he asked calmly.

“No.”

“I see.” He paused and glanced around the office. “This looks like a scene straight out of a hard-boiled-detective novel,” Hatch said. “There sits our tough, alienated heroine guzzling booze from a bottle she keeps in the desk drawer. She is clearly lost in moody contemplation of the hard life of a private eye.”

“I'm surprised you find time to read anything except the
Wall Street Journal
,” Jessie muttered. “How did you know I was here?”

“I went to your apartment. Got there shortly before eight o'clock, I might add. Per your instructions. When you didn't show, I decided to try here.”

“Very clever.”

“You're in a hell of a mood, aren't you?”

“Yeah.” Jessie took another swallow of sherry and did not bother to remove her feet from the desk. “I get that way sometimes.”

“I see. Got any more of whatever it is you're drinking?”

“It's Mrs. Valentine's tonic. Bottom drawer of her file cabinet.”

“Thanks. Don't bother getting up.”

“I wasn't going to.”

Hatch went into the inner office and returned with the bottle and another coffee mug. “Mrs. Valentine's tonic looks like good Spanish sherry. Is this the source of her psychic powers?”

“Bastard.”

“Are we discussing me or your father?”

“Dad.”

“Figured I had a fifty-fifty shot at guessing right.” Hatch pulled up a chair and sat down. He put the bottle on the desk. “What's he done now?”

“He's found something more important to do than take Elizabeth to her school science fair.”

“Yes. That's Saturday, isn't it?” Hatch took a long swallow of the sherry and contemplated the remainder.

Jessie snapped her head around sharply. “That's right. Saturday. What's Dad doing on Saturday that's so important he has to miss Elizabeth's big day?”

“He's going down to Portland,” Hatch said. “I told you we're having some problems there.”

“
Damn him
.” She slammed the mug down onto the desk, her rage flaring high once more. “Dear God in heaven, I could strangle him for this. Elizabeth is going to be heart-broken. And he doesn't give a damn.” Tears burned in her eyes. She blinked angrily.

“You're being a little hard on him, Jessie. You know he cares about Elizabeth. But this thing down in Portland is—”

“I know what it is, Hatch,” she said through her teeth. “This is
business
, isn't it?
Business as usual
.”

“There's a lot of money involved in the Portland project. Jobs and the company reputation are on the line too. We have to keep to the schedule.”

“That's right, go ahead and defend him. You're no better than he is, are you? You'd have done the same thing in his shoes.”

Hatch's fingers tightened around the mug. “Don't drag me into this. It's between you and your father.”

“Not your problem, is it? But the truth is, you're on his side because you think like him. You have the same set of values, don't you? The same priorities.” She narrowed her eyes. “Business always comes first. What do a twelve-year-old kid's feelings matter when there are a few thousand bucks on the line?”

“Dammit, Jessie, I'm not the one who changed his plans for Saturday. Don't blame me for this mess. You set it up and you knew as well as anyone that Vincent might alter his plans if business got in the way at the last minute.”

The fact that he was right only made things worse. “Are you telling me that you wouldn't have acted the same way in the same situation?”

“Christ, Jessie, take it easy, will you?”

“Just answer me, Hatch. No, don't bother. We both know what the answer is, don't we? You would have done exactly the same thing.”

“
That's enough
.”

Jessie stared at him, astounded by the flash of raw temper. She had never seen Hatch lose his self-control like this. Until now she had found baiting him a challenge, a way of protecting herself from the attraction he held for her. But having succeeded at last in drawing a reaction, she realized she had made a mistake.

“It's true and you know it,” she muttered, unwilling to back down completely.

But Hatch was already on his feet, looming over her. His hands clamped around the wooden arms of the chair. “Shut up, Jessie. I don't want to hear another word about how much I resemble your father.
I am not your father, goddammit
.”

“I know that. But you certainly could have been his son. A real chip off the old block, aren't you? You'd have gone down to Portland on Saturday, wouldn't you? Given the same situation, you'd have done what he's doing. Admit it.”

“No, I damn well would not have gone down to Portland,” Hatch told her, his voice a dangerously soft snarl. His eyes glittered in the gloom. “Not if I'd promised a little girl I would take her to a science fair instead. I do not break my promises, Jessie. If I make a commitment, I keep it. Remember that.”

“Let me up, Hatch.” Her lower lip was trembling. She could feel it. Out of long habit she caught it between her teeth to still it.

“Why? Am I making you nervous?”

“Yes, dammit, you are.”

“Tough.”

“Hatch, stop it.” Jessie drew her legs quickly up underneath her and stood in the chair. She teetered there for a few seconds and then she stepped over the arm of the chair and onto the desktop. She glared down at Hatch, feeling a little safer in this position.

Hatch straightened, reaching for her with his powerful, dangerous hands. “Come here.”

“Hatch, no. Don't you dare touch me, do you hear me?” Jessie sidled backward until the backs of her knees came up against the rows of little cubbyholes that lined the top of the desk.

“I hear you. But I don't feel like listening to you just now.” His hands closed around her waist and he lifted her effortlessly down off the desk.

“
Hatch
.”

He lowered her feet to the floor, gripped her upper arms, and pulled her against his hard length. “I've had it with you lumping me into the same category as your father. From now on, Jessie, you're going to start seeing me as an individual. I'm me, Sam Hatchard, not a clone of Vincent Benedict. I make my own decisions and I do my own thinking and I make my own commitments. And I damn sure keep those commitments.”

“Hatch, listen to me, I'm not confusing you with my father. Believe me, that is not the issue. I'm just saying you have the same list of priorities and I don't like the list.”

He cut off her frantic defense in mid-sentence by covering her trembling mouth with his own. Jessie froze beneath the onslaught of his kiss. The argument she was composing went out of her head in an instant. She sagged against Hatch as her knees gave way.

Jessie could hardly breathe. She was ablaze already. The soul-searing sensuality of the kiss shook her to the core, calling forth a response that dazed her. A liquid heat was pooling in her lower body, intense and compelling.

“Say my name, Jessie.” The command was rough against her soft mouth. “Say it, dammit.”

“Hatch. Please, Hatch. Please.” She wrapped her arms around his neck, clinging to him as the desire swirled in her blood.

When her feet left the floor again she thought she had fallen over the edge of a volcano. But a moment later she felt the sofa cushions beneath her back and dimly realized that Hatch had carried her across the room. His wicked, beautiful hands were moving over her, yanking at the buttons of her shirt.

She felt his fingers glide over her breast and she cried out. The weight of him came down on top of her. Instinctively she raised one knee and discovered she was already cradling him between her thighs.

All the torment and uncertainty of the past few weeks coalesced into a driving need to find out what lay at the heart of this whirlpool in which she found herself.

Jessie heard her shoes hit the floor. She heard the zipper of her jeans sliding downward, felt the denim being pulled away along with her panties.

When Hatch's fingers found the hot core of her she would have screamed if she'd had the breath to do it. As it was, she had to content herself with wrapping herself even more tightly around him and lifting her hips in a way that pleaded for a more intimate union.

“You want me, don't you, Jessie? As much as I want you. Say it.”

“I want you. I've wanted you from the beginning.” She caught his earlobe between her teeth and bit. Hard. “And you knew it, damn you.”

“I knew it. You were making me crazy.” Hatch retaliated for what she had done to his ear by taking one taut nipple between his lips.

Another wave of shimmering excitement and need washed through Jessie. When Hatch pulled slightly away, she moaned in protest and tried to drag him back.

“Just give me a second.” His voice was ragged with desire. He yanked open his shirt but did not bother to take it off. Instead his hand went straight to the fastening of his pants, jerking at the belt and zipper. He pulled a small plastic packet out of one pocket, ripped it open with his teeth, and then reached down again.

Then he was on top of her once more, crushing her into the cushions.

“Put your legs around me, Jessie. Tight.”

She did so, following his commands blindly. She felt him at the entrance of her body, poised and ready. Every muscle in his back was rigid with sexual tension. Jessie sucked in her breath as she sensed the size of him.

He started to push himself into her, and she dug her nails into his shoulders. She breathed deeply.

“Jessie. Jessie, look at me.”

She opened her eyes warily and gazed up at him through her lashes. The lines of his face were starkly etched, his eyes brilliant as he entered her.

She knew she had driven him over some internal precipice and that she probably should have been afraid. But something that was wild and powerfully feminine deep within her gloried in the knowledge.

He pushed harder against her, easing himself into her. “So tight. Hot and tight.
Jessie
.” He surged forward suddenly, thrusting deeply and completely into the moist, clinging heat of her.