Sweet Fortune Page 13

  “Still mad at me?” he asked, his eyes on the robot.

  “Let's not talk about it, okay? You're here. That's the bottom line, as they say in the business world.”

  Vincent exhaled heavily. “I'm sorry, Jessie. I wanted to be here. I'd planned on it. You know that. It was just that we ran into problems down in Portland.”

  “I know, Dad. Forget it. Like I said, you're here.”

  “Only because you sicced Hatch on me.”

  “I didn't sic him on you. He took it upon himself to make you show today.”

  “Hell, you got what you wanted. I can understand why you're a little upset with me, but why don't you sound more thrilled with Hatch?”

  Jessie watched the robot roll to the edge of the table and halt as if by magic. “Probably because I know how his mind works. He'll figure I owe him for this.”

  “Maybe you do. There's a price tag attached to everything in this world.” Vincent followed her gaze as she watched the robot make a hundred-and-eighty-degree turn and scoot to the other side of the table. “Tell me the truth, Jessie. How do you really feel about the man?”

  “What have my feelings got to do with it? All you care about is marrying me off to him so you can keep the company in the family and watch Hatch take it big-time, right? Don't go all paternal and concerned on me now, Dad. We know each other too well for that kind of nonsense.”

  “Goddammit, you may not believe this, but I want you to be happy, Jessie. The thing is, I think you and Hatch can make a go of it. There's something about the two of you. When you're in the same room together I can almost see the sparks.”

  “That's probably just the two of us sharpening our knives for battle.”

  “Come on, Jessie. This is your old man, remember? I know you well enough to be sure you aren't exactly indifferent to Hatch. I'll never forget the day he fired you. You came out of that office looking shell-shocked, like you'd just done ten rounds with a lion.”

  “Shark,” Jessie corrected. “And it wasn't that big a deal. I've been fired before, Dad.”

  “Hell, I know that. You've made a career out of getting fired. But somehow in the past you've always come out of it looking as if you were the one who had fired your boss, instead of vice versa. This was the first time I'd ever seen you look like you'd actually lost a battle. That's when I knew for sure it could work between you and Hatch.”

  Jessie gritted her teeth. “You're not exactly the world's leading authority on what it takes to create a successful long-term relationship, Dad.”

  “You don't have to spell it out. I know damn well I haven't been a good role model in the husband-and-father department. Who knows how I would have turned out if Lilian or Connie had been more like you? They both gave up on me, you know. Lost patience somewhere along the line. But you, you're a fighter. You keep after what you want. And you've got Hatch while he's still young. You can work on him, can't you?”

  “Young? The man's thirty-seven years old.”

  “Prime of life. I'll tell you something, Jessie. From where I stand these days, thirty-seven looks damn young. And he's got the guts and the brains it takes to make Benedict Fasteners very, very big.”

  “What makes you so sure he's got what it takes?”

  Vincent grinned. “Partly my own instincts and partly his track record.”

  “I figure the instinct part is based on the fact that he's a lot like you.”

  “Now, Jessie, that's not true. Fact is, our management styles are damn different. Hatch has got all kinds of ideas for the company I'd never have approved if he hadn't talked me into them. He's got what they like to call vision, if you know what I mean.”

  “Vision?”

  “Yeah, you know. He's aware of new management stuff like concurrent engineering and design. He knows how to deal with foreign markets. He thinks big. Me, I'm a more basic kind of guy. Hatch says I get bogged down in the details, and he's right. Takes vision to pull a company into the big time.”

  Jessie gave him a speculative glance. “So what makes his track record so impressive?”

  “Well, for one thing, he's come up the hard way. No one ever gave him a handout. He's tough. A real fighter. The kind of guy you like to have at your back in a barroom brawl, if you know what I mean. Should have seen what he did to a company called Patterson-Finley a few years back.”

  Jessie got an odd sensation in the pit of her stomach, although she had never heard of Patterson-Finley. “What, exactly, did he do to it?”

  “He was a consultant to one of its smaller rivals. Engineered a takeover bid for them designed to gain controlling interest in Patterson-Finley. It was brilliantly handled. Patterson-Finley never knew what hit 'em. Put up one hell of a fight, naturally, but Hatch sliced 'em into bloody ribbons. When it was all over, Patterson-Finley damned near ceased to exist. It was a wholly owned subsidiary of the smaller firm.”

  “I think I know why people call him a shark.”

  “Damn right,” Benedict said proudly.

  “Tell me, Dad. If you had it to do over again, would you have allowed some woman to work a few changes on you back when you were thirty-seven?”

  “Who knows?” Vincent's eyes rested on Elizabeth's brown head and his expression softened slightly. “Sometimes I think maybe I missed some of the important stuff with you.”

  “Ah, well, I wouldn't waste too much time worrying about it, if I were you. After all, it couldn't be helped, could it?” Jessie smiled sweetly. “You had a business to run.”

  “Better watch it, Jessie,” Vincent retorted. “Men don't take kindly to sharp-tongued females. You're liable to end up an old maid if you aren't careful.”

  “That's a thought.” Jessie deliberately widened her eyes in innocent inquiry. “Think I can scare Hatch off with my sharp tongue?”

  “No, but you might piss him off. And that, my darling daughter, you might seriously regret. Say, are you sure that all this interest in ecology isn't going to turn Elizabeth into one of those damn radical tree-huggers?”

  “Dad, I've got news for you. We're relying on tree-huggers like Elizabeth to save the world.”

  * * *

  When the downstairs door buzzer sounded at one o'clock that morning, Jessie came awake with a start. She sat blinking in the darkness for a moment, orienting herself. The buzzer screeched again and she pushed back the covers.

  Barefoot, she padded out of the bedroom and into the living room. “Who is it?” she asked, pressing the intercom button.

  “Jessie, it's after midnight. Who the hell do you think it is?”

  “Hatch. What on earth are you doing here at this hour?”

  “You know damn well what I'm doing here. Let me in. It's cold out here and I'm likely to get mugged any minute.”

  Jessie tried to think clearly, failed, and ended up pushing the release button. Then she rushed back into the bedroom to grab a robe.

  She was running a brush through her short hair when the doorbell chimed. Aware of a dangerous sense of anticipation mingled with a curious dread, she went to answer it.

  Hatch was standing in the hall, looking as if he'd had a long day followed by an even longer drive. He was in his shirtsleeves and he was carrying his jacket and a bulging briefcase. His eyes gleamed at the sight of her in her robe and slippers.

  “So how did we do at the science fair?” he asked as Jessie stood staring up at him.

  She forgot her trepidation entirely and gave him a glowing smile. “We won. Elizabeth was thrilled. Dad was thrilled. Connie was thrilled. I was thrilled. Everyone was thrilled. Reporters came and they even took film of Elizabeth and Dad for the evening news. I saw it at five-thirty. It was wonderful. Elizabeth looked so happy standing there with her father beside her as she accepted the award. You made her day.”

  “Good. Glad it all worked out okay.”

  “Okay? It was much better than okay. It was wonderful.” Without stopping to think, Jessie threw herself impulsively against Hatch, wrapped her arms around him, and
brushed her mouth lightly over his. “Thank you. We owe it all to you.”

  “You're welcome.” Hatch dropped the suitcase at his feet and clamped his hands around Jessie's waist. His palms slid warmly up her back, holding her tightly to him while he took advantage of the situation to deepen the kiss.

  Jessie told herself she should probably struggle. She did not want Hatch getting the idea that he could show up on her doorstep at any time of the day or night and expect such a warm welcome. But somehow she could not bring herself to fight him off tonight. His mouth felt too good on hers, deliberate and sure, with a controlled eroticism that set her nerves tingling. He wanted her and, heaven help her, she wanted him.

  It was Hatch who broke off the kiss. “I'd better get in out of the hall before one of your neighbors decides to see what's happening.” He released her with obvious reluctance in order to pick up the briefcase and move on into the room.

  Jessie stepped back, quashing the tide of sensual longing that he had elicited with his kiss. She searched frantically for something appropriate to say. She just knew he had read far too much into that greeting at the door. He was already making himself at home, hanging his jacket in the closet and stowing the briefcase on the floor beneath it. When he sat down on the couch and started to take off his shoes, she panicked.

  Out of hand, she thought. Things were definitely getting out of hand. Give Hatch an inch and he clearly felt he could take a mile. And she had given him a great deal more than an inch, she reminded herself.

  “How did things go in Portland?” she managed to ask politely while she clutched the lapels of her robe and wondered what to do next.

  Hatch gave her a hooded glance as he unlaced his other shoe. “Under control again. We're back on schedule.”

  “Oh. Good.” She glanced over her shoulder into the kitchen. “Uh, did you want a cup of coffee or anything?”

  “Nope. All I want is bed. It's a four-hour drive down to Portland. I left at four this morning. Spent the whole day until nine o'clock this evening chewing on everyone involved in that project and then I got into my car and drove four hours to get back here.” He stood up and started toward her, unbuttoning his shirt en route. “I'm beat.”

  “I see. Well, then, you'll probably want to go straight home to your place and get some sleep.” She gave him a bright little smile.

  “You're right about one thing, at least. I want to get some sleep.”

  He scooped her up in his arms, carried her into the bedroom, and tossed her lightly down onto the bed. He leaned over her as he tugged the robe free and dropped it on a chair.

  Jessie lay back against the pillows and watched with a deep, disturbing hunger as he stripped off the rest of his clothing. She might as well face it, she told herself. She was not going to kick him out. Not tonight, at any rate.

  “You can make the coffee in the morning,” Hatch said as he got into bed wearing only a pair of briefs. “Just be sure you make it strong.”

  He turned on his side, facing her, and anchored her with a possessive arm around her waist. She could feel the sinewy muscles of his forearm pushing lightly against the soft weight of her breasts. In an agony of anticipation, Jessie waited for his wonderful, powerful hand to glide down her hip and over her thigh.

  Nothing happened.

  Jessie looked closer and noticed Hatch's astonishingly dark lashes lying against his high cheekbones. His breathing was slow and even. He was already asleep.

  She touched his shoulder gently, knowing she was at least partially responsible for his exhaustion tonight. He had done it for her, she realized. She had to remind herself that his motives had certainly not been entirely altruistic. She was temporarily a high priority for Sam Hatchard. He was willing to indulge her to a certain extent while he courted her.

  Still, he had come through in a way she had never expected. He had made a commitment and he had kept it. He had even taken on her father in order to make good on a promise to her. Jessie had to admit she did not know any other man on the face of the earth who could have pulled off the feat of getting Vincent Benedict to the school fair today.

  “I hope,” she whispered into the darkness, “that you don't think you can just show up like this and fall into my bed any night you happen to feel like it.”

  “Now, where would I get an idea like that?” Hatch asked without opening his eyes.

  Hatch awoke the next morning, inhaled the womanly fragrance of the white sheets, and exhaled with satisfaction as he realized he was finally in Jessie's bed.

  Another turning point, he decided, pleased. Another victory in the small, important war they were waging.

  Hatch reached for Jessie and found the other side of the bed empty. He groaned and opened his eyes. A rain-drenched daylight was filtering through the slanted blinds and the aroma of coffee wafted in from the kitchen.

  Some victory. A whole night in Jessie's bed and he had not even managed to make love to her while there.

  Maybe he was working too hard lately.

  Hatch shoved back the covers and sat up slowly. He glanced around with deep interest, enjoying the intimate sensation of being in Jessie's bedroom. Her robe still lay on the chair. The mirrored closet door was open, revealing a colorful array of clothing. A selection of loafers, running shoes, sandals, and high heels were scattered carelessly on the closet floor.

  Jessie was obviously not a fanatic about neatness. Just as well, Hatch told himself as he went into the bathroom. Neither was he.

  The small tiled room was still steamy from Jessie's recent shower. Hatch opened the sliding glass door and stood gazing at the collection of items arranged on the ledge beside the shower handle. There were a variety of shampoo bottles and soaps, a woman's razor, and a long-handled back brush. The scent was fresh and flowery.

  When he got into the shower, Hatch felt as if he were invading some very private, very female place. It made him acutely conscious of his maleness and of how alien that maleness was here in this female sanctuary.

  The sense of possessiveness that rippled through him as he stood there in Jessie's shower made Hatch's mouth twist in a faint, wry smile. Everything felt right, somehow, as if he had been waiting a long time for this moment.

  When he emerged from the bedroom twenty minutes later he found Jessie sitting at the kitchen counter with the morning paper. She glanced up quickly as he came into the room and he caught the flash of nervousness in her eyes just before her elbow struck the coffee cup that was sitting next to her.

  The cup went spinning across the counter. Hatch watched with interest as it teetered precariously on the edge and then went over the side. As Jessie stared in dismay, he reached out and caught the empty cup before it hit the floor.

  “Another cup of coffee?” Hatch asked calmly as he picked up the pot and poured one for himself.

  “Yes, please.” She carefully refolded the paper.

  “Anything exciting in the headlines?” He sat down across from her and grimaced as he tasted the weak brew.

  “There's another article about the damage being done to the earth's ozone layer by pollutants.” Jessie frowned. “You know, I can see why people would be attracted to a cult that focused on saving the world from environmental disaster. The issue has the same awful sense of impending doom that the thought of global war has. Don't forget, there was a time when everyone wanted to build a bomb shelter in his backyard.”

  “Speaking of which, have you given up that damn-fool idea of using the invitation to visit DEL headquarters?” Hatch asked without much real hope.

  “Of course not. I'm going to phone and make the arrangements first thing tomorrow morning.” She eyed him warily. “Are you still going to insist on going up there with me?”

  “I don't see that I have much option.”

  “Sure you do. You can decide to let me go alone.”

  “No way, Jessie. We don't know what you're getting into. You're not going up there alone, and that's final.”

  “It'll probably t
ake a couple of days,” she pointed out. “That's a heck of a long time to stay away from Benedict Fasteners. The company might fall apart without you.”

  “Don't you think I know that? Stop trying to talk me out of going with you. You aren't going alone.”

  “What about the company?”

  “I'll leave your father in charge. He's run it for the past thirty years. No reason he can't handle it for a couple more days.”

  “I suppose you've got a point.” She frowned. “Are you going into the office? It's Sunday.”

  “There are some things I have to clear up if I'm going to be out of town for a couple of days.”

  “I see. Are you really sure you can afford to take the time off?”

  He raised his brows. “Don't bother trying to get rid of me, honey. I'm here to stay.”

  She bit her lip. “Hatch, we have to talk about this.”

  “The trip to the San Juans?”

  “No, this. You. Here. In my kitchen at eight o'clock in the morning.” She drew a deep breath. “If we're going to have an affair or something, we need to set a few ground rules.”

  “We're not having an affair.” Hatch got to his feet and carried his cup over to the sink.

  “What do you call this business of showing up on my doorstep at one in the morning and spending the night?” she demanded.

  “I call it being engaged to be married.” He caught her chin on the heel of his hand and gave her a quick, hard kiss. Then he headed for the closet where he had left his jacket and briefcase.

  “Hatch, wait. Don't you dare walk out of here before we've had a chance to discuss this. Hatch, come back here. I mean it. I swear, if you don't come right back here I'm going to…Oh, damn.”

  He gently closed the door behind him as he went out into the hall.

  Hatch was not in the least surprised to find Vincent in his office on Sunday morning. The older man almost always came in on the weekends, just as Hatch did. Benedict looked up, scowling when Hatch stuck his head around the door to announce his presence in the building.