Fortune's Heirs: Reunion

“You have a gift for understatement I see.” She couldn’t help it. The words had broken free of their own accord. He’d handed her just too perfect a straight line. She flushed. “I mean—”

“Yes.” He cut her off, trying not to notice that the soft-pink hue of lipstick gave her an alluring look. “I know exactly what you mean.” Since she was his only assignment while he was here in San Antonio, his schedule was pretty much open. Still, he did want to catch up with Derek while he was here and to see a few people who’d been out in the New York office until recently. “How does the day after tomorrow sound? Say around nine?”

She was happy to learn that he liked getting an early start. So did she. At least they had one thing in common. “That sounds fine to me.” Since he hadn’t mentioned location, she asked, “Where would you like to meet?”

At her new shop would be the perfect place, but it occurred to him that he didn’t know if she had even selected a location yet or if she was still scouting them out. “Have you given any thought to where the shop is going to be?”

There he went again, treating her as if she had a brain the size of a pea. “As a matter of fact, I have. And it’s perfect.”

He’d be the judge of that, Jack thought. “All right, I’ll come by and pick you up at your place and then we can take a look at this so-called perfect place.”

She was in purgatory, Gloria thought, and doing penance for all the past sins of her life. But that was all right, she could get through this, she told herself. That which doesn’t kill us makes us stronger, she recalled. And at this rate, she was going to be one hell of a strong woman.

“Fine.” Taking a small pad out of her purse, she wrote down the necessary information for him. She tore off the page and handed it to Jack, tucking the pad back into her purse. “Here’s the address.”

“Fine,” Jack murmured as he pocketed the slip of paper.

“Fine,” she echoed. But it was definitely not fine in her book and wouldn’t be fine until she had this man and the stick he had swallowed removed from her life. “Until then,” she said prophetically, then walked out of the office.

Gloria lengthened her stride considerably once she was out of the office. Hurrying past Doris at the receptionist’s desk she had the presence of mind to offer the woman a quick, perfunctory smile. Gloria didn’t slow down until she reached the elevator. She couldn’t wait to get away.

Entering the elevator, she felt the air immediately hitch in her throat.

What a jerk, she thought angrily. What a damn pompous jerk.

Trying to rein in the anger that was spiking through her, she punched the button for Christina’s floor. She did not want to deal with Jack Fortune. She stared at the numbers as she descended.

Gloria caught her lower lip between her teeth, thinking. Maybe she’d ask her mother to speak to Patrick. There was no question that she’d rather deal with the senior Fortune than his stuck-up sarcastic snob of a son. The two men were as different as night and day.

And then she frowned.

She wasn’t nine and involved in some scrap in the schoolyard. She was thirty years old, for God’s sake, and had been around the proverbial block a few times. More than a few. Even at nine, she hadn’t gone running to her mother for help. She’d always settled her own fights.

Nothing should have changed. She could handle the holier-than-thou Mr. Jack Fortune and she could do it with aplomb.

She calmed down as the idea of putting him in his place began to take hold. The man would never know what hit him, she promised herself. She’d gotten through rehab, a rotten marriage and dealt with an entire boatload of guilt and remorse along the way. Compared to that, dealing with Jack Fortune should be an absolute snap.

To underscore the thought, she snapped her fingers just as the elevator door opened. Right on time.

She grinned as she stepped out.

Christina held her questions in check until they were seated at the restaurant she’d selected; a fashionable one located on the tenth floor of the Fortune-Rockwell Bank building. Far from an employee cafeteria, it had earned a reputation for both its food and its affordable prices. Ever the practical one, her older sister had judged that although they both seemed to be on their way to bigger things, they could do with watching their money for a while.

She leaned forward across the small table for two and asked in a hushed whisper, “So? How did it go?”

Gloria took her lead from her older sister and leaned in toward her. “Awful.”

Disappointment registered across Christina’s face. “What? Why? Mr. Fortune seemed so nice at the party.”

Gloria shook her head. “He is, but it’s not Patrick Fortune I’ll be working with,” she said. “I’m talking about Jack Fortune.”

“His son?” Confusion marred her perfect looks. “What’s his son got to do with it?”

“Apparently everything.” Gloria sighed as she broke a bread stick, more interested in the physical exercise than in eating it right now. “Mr. Fortune handed me over to him and I get the feeling that ‘Sonny boy’ is not too happy about the turn of events.”

“I didn’t know that Mr. Fortune had any mentally challenged children,” Christina responded, clearly disturbed that someone didn’t like Gloria.

Gloria laughed. Before their falling out, Christina had always been able to buoy her spirits with just a few choice words. God, she’d missed her, she thought now, lamenting the years that had been lost. “He doesn’t. But he’s certainly got at least one offspring who’s definitely manners-challenged. Jack Fortune thinks he walks on water.” She broke another bread stick into several pieces until it was almost reduced to crumbs. She kept envisioning the younger Fortune’s neck with each snap. “And I’m not sure if I can hold my tongue until everything’s ready to go.”

As Gloria picked up a third bread stick, Christina tactfully took it out of her hands and bit off a piece.

“Well, you’d better. Mama said that Mr. Fortune was going to lend you any seed money you might need to get started. At three-percent interest,” she emphasized. “You can’t get a deal better than that.”

Gloria concentrated to keep her mouth from falling open. Patrick had said nothing about a loan. She wondered if Jack knew and if that was why he was so cold toward her. “Three percent? Are you sure?”

Christina made short work of the bread stick and picked up another before Gloria could kill it. “I’m sure. Mama was very happy about it.”

A former CPA with a company that had gone under, Gloria had done her homework and knew she had enough to cover everything for the move with some money to spare—as long as there were no unusual surprises. To discover that she now had a safety net was a tremendous relief. Armed this way, she knew she was capable of cutting the man’s son a little slack. After all, it wasn’t his fault he’d been born with a permanent scowl tattooed on his brow.

Gloria took a sip of water. “Patrick Fortune is a hell of a nice guy.”

“Don’t make ’em nicer,” Christina agreed.

Gloria set her glass down, matching the bottom to the slight ring that had formed beneath it. “Too bad he couldn’t have passed his ‘nice’ gene on to his son.” And then she smiled as she looked at her sister. There was mischief in her look the way there had been when they were young, when they’d whispered their innermost secrets to one another in the dead of night while shrouded by sheets and darkness. “But I guess for three-percent interest I can dance with the devil for a while.”

“Just as long as it’s not slow dancing,” Christina said, obviously thinking of their pact.

“No danger of that.”

The waiter arrived with a bottle of wine. “This is the house special.” Holding it as if he was cradling a baby in his hands, he presented it to both of them.

Gloria read the label. A small nibble of temptation waltzed through her, but she ignored it. Raising her eyes to the waiter, she shook her head. “None for me, thank you.”

“None for me, either,” Christina was quick to chime in.

Gloria knew Christina didn’t want to seem insensitive.

“She’ll have a glass,” she told the waiter.

“Glory—” Christina protested as the waiter began to pour.

“Don’t turn it down on my account, Tina. I’m not that weak,” she assured her. “Besides, if being with Jack Fortune didn’t drive me to drink, I guarantee you watching you have a glass or two isn’t going to do it. I’m on safe ground.”

But Christina was taking no chances. She waved the waiter away. “Two ginger ales, please,” she instructed. Once he was gone, taking the half-filled glass of wine and bottle with him, Christina leaned in toward her sister. “I’m not too sure how safe that ground you’re standing on is.”

Gloria didn’t follow her. “Come again?”

Christina nodded toward something behind her. “Incoming. Twelve o’clock high,” she added.

Gloria turned in her chair.

Patrick Fortune was walking into the restaurant—with his son.

She closed her eyes, seeking strength. There seemed to be no getting away from the man today. Resigned, she shifted back in her chair. “Of all the restaurants in all the world, he had to walk into mine,” she murmured under her breath.

Christina grinned. “You don’t look a thing like Humphrey Bogart.” And then, because she sensed that something was going on here that she didn’t quite understand but that was obviously troubling her sister, she added, “This is what we get for coming into a restaurant that’s located in the Fortune-Rockwell building.” Wanting to spare her sister, she pointed out the obvious. “We haven’t ordered yet, Glory.” She leaned down to pick up her purse. “We could go somewhere else.”

“And have you late getting back from lunch? I don’t think so. You haven’t been working here long enough to risk that. No, put your purse back down, Tina, we’re staying here. I’ll deal with my threatening bout of indigestion like a trooper.”

Christina watched as the two men were shown to a table and then seated.

“You know, for a walking case of indigestion looking to happen, Jack Fortune is one hell of a good-looking specimen,” Christina pointed out.

Gloria opened her menu and pretended to be interested in the various offerings that met the eye. “According to the Bible, so was Lucifer.”

Christina laughed. “Same old Gloria, scissor-tongued to the end.”

Gloria pretended to sniff at the description. “I’ll have you know that I was the picture of sweetness and light at our meeting—even when he was treating me like an airhead.”

About to open her own menu, Christina stared at her incredulously. “Did he talk to you?”

“At me,” Gloria corrected. “He talked ‘at’ me. Like I said, the man thinks he walks on water and I am the pond scum beneath his feet.”

Christina shook her head, clearly amused at the choice of words. “As I remember, you were also given to exaggeration.”

“Not this time,” Gloria said defensively. “Mr. Jack Fortune doesn’t think I’m a worthy recipient of his expertise. I can see it in his eyes. I’m not really sure why he’s doing it.”

“Maybe because his father asked him to and he can’t find a way to say no,” Christina suggested.

“Maybe.”

The waiter had returned with their ginger ales. Setting them down, he took their orders, punching appropriate buttons on something that resembled a Palm Pilot.

Her stomach in knots, Gloria ordered the chef’s salad. She was afraid that she wouldn’t be able to keep anything more substantial down.

“Well,” she theorized once the waiter had left again, “the only really good thing about Jack’s attitude is that at least I know I won’t be in jeopardy.”

“Jeopardy?” Christina echoed.

“Of breaking our pact. Working closely with a gorgeous male might have strained my resolve. But since the gorgeous male is also a holier-than-thou type, I figure I’m safe.”

She glanced toward him—and discovered that he was looking straight at her. As her stomach tightened a notch, she was glad all she was having was the salad.

What was going on here? The man was clear across the room, but it was as if space and the people who inhabited it had somehow magically melted away.

As if there was no one else in the dining area but the two of them. Not her sister, not his father. No one. Just them.

How had she thought that his eyes were lifeless? They seemed to look right into her.

Electricity shimmied up and down her spine, sending out shock waves to mark its path.

She knew she would have shivered if the rest of her body hadn’t felt as if it had suddenly been frozen in place. What had happened? A moment ago she’d felt so confident that this was the one handsome man she was completely immune to.

Pride goeth before a fall.

Chapter Five

“Earth to Gloria.”

Gloria blinked as her sister’s voice penetrated the fog that had descended over her brain. She realized that Christina was waving a hand in front of her eyes, obviously waiting for a reaction.

She cleared her throat, if not her head. “I’m sorry, were you saying something?”

Christina shook her head. “I could have quoted the entire Gettysburg Address and I don’t think you would have heard a single word just now. Where were you?” She glanced in the direction that Christina had been staring but didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. Just the Fortunes at their table. “You look flushed, Glory. Are you coming down with something?”

“God, I hope not,” Gloria responded with feeling. Reaching for her ginger ale, she drank the contents until her glass was empty.

Christina took a second look over her shoulder, this time seeing that her sister’s line of vision directly took in Jack Fortune. But she doubted if Gloria’s sudden trancelike state had anything to do with the man, not after the way she’d just talked about him.

Still…

Maybe she should be scouting out maid’s outfits for Gloria, Christina mused, suppressing a grin. It would be nice to have her apartment given a thorough cleaning and if there was one thing she’d learned, whatever Gloria did, she did thoroughly.

“You sure you’re all right?” she pressed.

Gloria nodded a tad too vigorously. “I’m just preoccupied about the move back home.”

That, she could accept. “You’re entitled. I was a little up in the air when I moved back, too.” The waiter returned with their orders and she paused until he retreated again. “It’s not exactly a tiny step, rerouting your entire life.”

Gloria’s lips curved slightly. No, it wasn’t, but she wasn’t exactly a novice at it, either. “I should be used to that by now. I’ve done it—what? Four times if you count that disaster of a marriage I had.”

“Let’s not.” Christina was more than happy to pretend it had never happened. From what she’d heard, Gary wasn’t worthy of Gloria. “Did you check out that sublet I told you about?”

Shifting so that she couldn’t see Jack without an effort, she focused her attention on her sister. And on her new apartment.

“Yes, and I can’t thank you enough for that tip. We came to an agreement almost immediately. The place is mine as of yesterday.” She’d already spent her first night there and, unlike other first nights in new places she’d lived in, she’d had no trouble sleeping.

Christina looked delighted at the news. “It’ll feel more like home once your furniture gets here.”

Gloria laughed shortly. “Not all that much furniture to make the trip.” She’d packed up what few things she could still lay claim to and given a storage unit in Red Rock as a receiving address. She’d spent part of yesterday getting in touch with the moving company that had then had to get in touch with the movers who were en route to Texas to tell them to change their final destination.

Christina tried to make light of it. “You always did insist on not having much baggage.”

“At least physically,” Gloria specified. Mentally was another story, but she was working on it. She was working on it, she repeated silently as if thinking it twice would somehow reinforce the effort and the final result.

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I certainly have room for dessert.”

“I second that motion.” Gloria deliberately forced a happy note into her voice, vainly trying to block out the fact that Jack Fortune was still looking at her and for some reason, that was creating goose bumps along her flesh. She could almost feel his eyes skimming along her body.

Up to this point, she’d thought her imagination was exclusively reserved for the jewelry she designed. She didn’t particularly like this turn of events.

Padding around in bare feet, her soles meeting the highly polished wooden floor, Gloria patrolled the large loft as she got ready the next morning. Jack would be by in a few minutes to pick her up to take her to where her jewelry store was going to be. She couldn’t help wondering if the contrary man would take exception to the location. Well, he could take exception all he wanted, she’d already signed the one-year lease.

Nerves had taken an eggbeater to her stomach. She wasn’t sure if it had to do with the fact that she was fully immersed in her venture or that she was attracted to Jack Fortune.

“I’m not attracted to him, I’m not,” she protested to the window in absence of anything live to talk to. “It’s just a matter of deprivation, that’s all.”

It wasn’t just alcohol that hadn’t touched her lips in two years. She hadn’t been with a man for that length of time, either.

She glanced at her reflection in the shell-framed mirror that hung just shy of the front door. She was wearing her hair down today. Was that a mistake? Did it detract from her professionalism?

“You avoid things that are bad for you, right?” she asked her reflection. The woman in the mirror nodded in agreement.

She’d decided long before making that pact with her sisters that men were definitely bad for her. At least, the kind of men she seemed doomed to keep selecting. Handsome men with gorgeous eyes and no substance, and ultimately, no heart.

When she’d first met Gary, she’d thought that he was going to be different. He’d given off such a solid, protective air those first few weeks. Granted she’d never been head over heels in love with him, but then, she’d told herself that kind of feeling belonged to the very young and the very delusional. She’d figured that Gary would be good for her and that for the rest of her life she’d be content if not wildly happy.

She’d been neither.

It wasn’t long before she’d discovered that Gary’s solid exterior and protective veneer were only that, a veneer. Beneath it the man she’d thought would be loving had turned out to be controlling instead. And, since she’d been easier to handle while under the influence, her wolf in prince’s clothing had done everything he could to encourage all her self-destructive habits.

She combed her fingers through her hair, adding a little height. The reflection in the mirror was frowning at her. Her marriage and subsequent divorce made umpteen strikes against her. That was when she’d decided that if her judgment was so bad, she just wasn’t going to exercise it any longer. At least not where men were concerned. So she’d put a cork in the wine bottle and a lid on her feelings.

So far, it had proved to be a good decision. Once sober, she got a great deal more accomplished. And with her mind uncluttered by the baggage that being involved with someone created, she’d managed to turn an interest and a skill into a satisfying, successful career.

So here she was, back on what was practically her home turf, facing another challenge. She thought of Jack. As much as she hated to admit it, her longing for a relationship far outweighed her desire for a drink two to one.

She supposed that was only human, longing for something you couldn’t have.

“Focus on how much of an ass he is, Glory,” she ordered herself. Hunting for her shoes, she found them by the kitchen bar. She put one on. “Besides, he’s cold as ice. The woman who tries to make it with him had better be wearing thermal underwear.”

The idea made her laugh.

Just then the doorbell rang. Startled, she grabbed hold of the counter to keep from falling over as she tried to put on the other shoe.

“Coming,” she called, half walking, half hopping to the door.

It took several steps to get the four-inch black mules to fit snugly on her feet. Stopping to adjust her shirt, which had hiked up during her little impromptu dance-of-the-shoes, Gloria took a deep breath and braced herself as she placed her hand on the doorknob.

“Right on time,” she announced brightly as she opened the door.

Jack sailed across the threshold, an emperor taking possession of all he surveyed. “I usually am.” Was that a snide remark about his being five minutes late for their first meeting?

Warm as ever, she thought. “Nice to know,” she commented. “Let me get my purse.” She hurried back to the bar in the kitchen. For the time being, it was the only flat surface available.

Jack took a good long look around the apartment. It was actually a large loft with what appeared to be a couple of cubbyholes off to the side. He imagined that one of them was probably her bedroom. He was standing in what was the combined living room, kitchen, dining room area. The only piece of furniture in the space was a stool against the bar in the kitchen. Otherwise, there wasn’t even a spot to sit.

Was her bedroom as barren?

The thought came out of nowhere and he banished it back to the same place. “Furniture not arrive yet?”

“What?” And then his words played back in her head and she realized what he was referring to. “No, it hasn’t.” Wearing a winter-white pullover sweater and skirt that, together, gave the impression of forming a dress, she shrugged carelessly. “Not that there’s that much to arrive.”

“Minimalist?”

“Something like that.”

She saw him scrutinizing her face. The man should have been an interrogator for the CIA. “I thought you said your business was doing well.”

She resisted the urge to tell him that none of this was his business. Ordinarily, that wasn’t her style. She liked talking, liked learning about other people and didn’t mind them learning about her. But there was something about this man that just seemed to bring out her worst side. She forced herself to be more than civil. She didn’t want Jack to have anything to use against her when he reported back to his father as she assumed he was going to do.

“It is,” she retorted proudly. A defensive note entered her voice. “It was my marriage that didn’t go well.”

He looked at her hand. There wasn’t even a hint of a tan line where her ring would have once been. Which meant that her divorce was not a recent thing.

She saw where he was looking and wondered what was going through his head. Gloria made a calculated guess and decided to set the record straight. “I bought him off with furniture. He was more attached to it than I was, anyway. I do miss the TV, though.”

“You don’t have a TV?” He didn’t watch much himself, other than CNN on occasion and then only to stay abreast of what was going on in the world, but he thought that all women were hooked on talk shows and daytime drama, taping it if they couldn’t be there to watch the episode being aired.

“I do.” Right now, it was on a crate in the bedroom. Right at the foot of the bedroll she’d borrowed from her brother. “But not like the one I gave up. Cost more than the first car I ever owned. Plasma,” she told him since Jack had temporarily ceased to ask questions. Watching anything on the set was like actually being there. Even commercials were fun.

Gloria paused by the small closet just at the front door and took out her coat. Holding her sleeve with the same hand, she began to slip her arm into a coat sleeve. She felt Jack come up behind her and hold her coat so that she could get her other arm in more easily.