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Patrick’s eyes never left his son’s face. Jack was so much a chip off the old block that at times it was positively scary. He saw himself in Jack’s eyes, in Jack’s actions. Which was why, when Maria Mendoza had approached him for help regarding her daughters, the first thing he’d thought of was to get Jack involved in Gloria’s business transfer. He knew that, given Jack’s business acumen, it was a little like offering a building contractor a set of rubber blocks. But he wasn’t necessarily looking to challenge Jack. Not professionally, at any rate. The challenge he offered was to the inner man, the one whose development had been arrested all these years. Ever since Jack’s college days.
It was high time that Jack stop playing the one note he was so exceptionally skilled at playing and fill out the other corners of his life.
Patrick was aware, although Jack never spoke about it, that his son had had his heart set on marrying Ann Garrison, a girl he’d known in college. When she was killed while driving under the influence one night, nearly taking Jack with her, his oldest had withdrawn from the world. But then slowly, with the support of his family, Jack had crawled back out and thrown himself into the family business.
In the beginning he’d been very grateful that Jack had found a way to help himself heal. But after a while, it had become apparent that this was the only path his son would take.
Nothing mattered but the banking business and that was wrong. He’d learned that the hard way himself. It was a lesson he meant to pass on to Jack even if Jack resisted. He didn’t want his son looking back at the end of his years and seeing nothing but cold accomplishments to have marked his passage through this earth.
A man needed a family. His own family. And children. Gloria might not be the one Jack ultimately wound up with, but considering the fact that his son wasn’t out looking at all, Gloria seemed more than capable of getting him interested in pursuits other than business.
Patrick had a knack for reading people and Gloria didn’t look the type to be intimidated. At the very least, he doubted if his slightly larger-than-life son would plow the woman under. She could probably go ten rounds with Jack and still hold her own.
And if he read between the lines of what Maria had told him about her daughter, Gloria could use the stimulation, as well.
Right now, though, silence was hanging extremely heavily in the room. Patrick felt as if he was the impromptu referee at an unofficial bout.
Mentally he rubbed his hands together. Let the games begin, he thought.
“Well, then, let’s get on with it. I suppose formal introductions are in order. Jack, I’d like you to meet your, um, new ‘project.’” Patrick flashed a smile at the young woman. “Gloria Mendoza Johansen. Gloria, this is my oldest son, Jack.” He didn’t bother hiding the pride in his voice. Life was too short to scrimp on praise when it was due. “Next to me, I’d say that Jack is the most savvy businessman I know. He’ll be handling your affairs.” His smile widened. “So to speak.”
She’d never seen eyes that twinkled before. But there was definitely a twinkle in Patrick Fortune’s eyes. Why?
And his words caused alarms to go off in her head. “You mean that you’re not going to be overseeing the shop?” She’d thought that was why he’d asked her here. But he was palming her off on his son, Mr. Charm-and-Personality.
It was the last thing she wanted. Recovering from the jolt, her first instinct was to say, “Thanks, but no thanks.” After all, she’d originally started the business in Denver all by herself and it had been doing very nicely, thank you very much. Over the two years that it had been in existence, the store had gained a small but loyal and solid following. And she had contractual work in Hollywood, as well. An actress on a popular sitcom had fallen in love with one of her necklace designs and suddenly she was getting calls from the west coast, asking her to create the jewelry for the whole show.
All of this had come about on the strength of her skill and by word of mouth. There was even a man in New York City who’d flown out to buy his wife a Christmas present. His wife had seen her work while vacationing in Denver and had fallen in love with it. And he knew some people who knew some people…Whatever it took to build up a clientele, she mused.
There was absolutely no reason why she couldn’t do that right here in San Antonio. After all, this was only a stone’s throw from where she’d originally started out, Red Rock. She already knew people here.
But there was no denying that the Fortunes were a power to be reckoned with and when one of them offered to show up in your corner, you didn’t suddenly throw up a brick wall to keep them out. Especially not the head of the clan.
But this is the son, not the father. A scowling son at that, she reminded herself.
There were times when Gloria was certain that fate had it in for her. One moment it looked as if things were only going to get better, the next, the rug beneath her feet was being frantically tugged on. As of yet, it hadn’t been pulled out, but it did provide just enough turbulence to throw her off balance.
She didn’t like being off balance. She’d spent enough of her life that way already.
Patrick’s expression was disarming. It left no room for argument.
“I’m afraid I’m going to be too busy to offer you the personal attention that you deserve.” He let his words sink in properly, then looked at Jack.
Oh, and I won’t be? Jack thought. His father had never minimized his contribution to the business or his importance in the company before. Just what was going on here?
“Would you excuse us for a second?” Jack said, addressing Gloria.
“Sure,” Gloria replied, and left the room.
Moving over toward the full-length bar that had been the last piece of decor installed in his more-than-spacious, state-of-the-art office, Patrick Fortune waited for Jack to begin.
Jack turned his back to the door to further ensure their privacy. “Dad, have I done something to displease you?”
“On the contrary, I couldn’t have asked for a better right hand—or a better son,” Patrick answered.
Okay, so he hadn’t unconsciously incurred his father’s annoyance, Jack thought. His mind did a U-turn. Did Derek have something to do with this? Derek Rockwell had been his best friend for years now. Jack had been the one to initially bring Derek to his father’s attention, feeling sorry for Derek because he had never experienced the kind of warm family interactions that existed within his own home. Derek’s scholastic path had shadowed Jack’s and when the time came, his father had taken him into the company with open arms. More than that, his father had all but adopted Derek, treating him more like a son than Derek’s own father ever had.
Had Derek managed to somehow usurp him?
No, that was a low, petty thought. Derek would never turn on him, never do things behind his back. The man was selfless. Besides, his father had asked Derek to come to the San Antonio office weeks before he’d sent for him, Jack thought.
Jack stopped speculating. “Then why am I playing nursemaid to this woman?”
Patrick shook his head, his expression a portrait of patience. “Not nursemaid, I assure you. And it’s only temporary. Look, this is a favor for a friend,” he repeated, “and I would appreciate it if you would give this venture your very best effort.”
Jack blew out a breath. “I can do what’s required in my sleep,” he protested.
The indulgent smile returned to his father’s lips. “I’d prefer you awake.”
There just had to be more to this than met the eye. “Dad—”
Patrick placed his hand on Jack’s shoulder, the simple action calling a halt to any and all further protest. “How many times have I asked you to do me a favor?”
For a moment the wind left Jack’s sails. His father never presumed to manipulate him. The man had trusted his judgment and, except for a few initial guidelines, had given him free rein when it came to running the New York office.
Jack measured out his words. “This would be the first.”
“Right, it would be. So you know that this is important to me.” And Jack could tell that it was.
Jack glanced at the woman standing just outside the door. Why was this so important to his father? And then an answer occurred to him. One he didn’t particularly like. He looked at his father for a long moment. “Dad, is there more going on here than you’re telling me?”
Patrick’s reddish eyebrows huddled together over the bridge of his nose. “More?”
Suddenly his giant reservoir of words was mostly empty. “You know, is she…are the two of you—”
Because he thought so highly of his father—and always had—Jack couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence. Did Gloria represent his father’s lost youth?
Patrick was staring at him with a look of incredulity. When he spoke, his voice was hardly louder than a whisper. “Are you actually asking me if I’m having an affair with her?”
He’d seen his father become angry once or twice, although never with him or anyone in the family. He wasn’t sure what he was about to witness now. Jack held his ground. Because if his father was having an affair, he was damn well going to talk him out of it. And get rid of the girl as quickly as was humanly possible without involving something with a firing pin.
His eyes never left his father’s. “Yes.”
For a second Patrick stood stock-still. Then he scrubbed his hand over his face, his expression still stunned. “My God, I don’t know whether to be flattered or angry.” He laughed and Jack knew that the danger had passed. “My boy, your mother, God bless her, is more than enough woman for me.”
“Well, if you’re not having an affair with her and you’re not annoyed with me, why are you asking me to do this?”
The answer was simple. “Because she needs help.” And because you do, too, Patrick added silently. “She’s had a rough time of it.”
“Rough time?”
“You know, personally.” Patrick’s words came out at a faster clip, as if he was running short on time. “It’s too complicated to talk about now, but I thought that you of all people might be sympathetic.” He then issued the only instructions he was about to give on the matter. “Help her get on her feet. Not be taken advantage of, that sort of thing.” And then, apparently because he didn’t want Jack to think that he was dealing with someone lacking in business sense, he added, “Don’t get me wrong—Gloria’s savvy. But two heads are always better than one.”
“Unless they belong to the same person,” Jack muttered under his breath, hating this corner he was being painted into.
About to walk back to Gloria, Patrick stopped and turned around to look at Jack. “What?”
Jack waved away his words. He might as well make the best of this. The sooner he got down to it, the sooner he’d be finished. “Okay. I’ll do it.”
“Knew you would,” Patrick said, moving toward the door.
Reaching Gloria, Patrick beamed and led her back into the office. Then he glanced at his watch. “I’m afraid I’m running a little behind.”
“Meeting?” Jack asked, instantly alert.
“In a matter of speaking.” Patrick’s expression softened slightly. “Telephone conferencing.”
Apparently hoping for a last-minute reprieve or, at the very least, a stay of execution while he was included in this conference, Jack was quick to ask, “Is it anyone that I know?”
“Intimately.” The word hung in the air between them for a second before Patrick added, “I promised to call your mother.” His eyes shifted to Gloria. “I have to run, Gloria, but I’m leaving you in very capable hands.”
From the look in Jack Fortune’s eyes as he turned toward her, Gloria had more than a passing suspicion that he wanted to use those very capable hands to wring her neck.
Unconsciously she squared her shoulders, standing almost at attention by the time he reached her. The closer he got, the more tension telegraphed itself through her body.
And the closer he got, the handsomer he looked.
There was no doubt about it, she thought, attempting to remain impartial in her judgment, Jack Fortune was one of those men that the term “drop-dead gorgeous” had been invented to describe.
The kind of man she might have once fallen for before introductions were even completed.
Lucky for her she’d done a great deal of growing and changing since those days. Lucky, too, that he’d managed to put her off so completely with the very first words that had come out of his mouth. If anything, it had been a matter of annoyance at first glance.
And if there was one thing she was utterly sure of, it was that Mr. Jack Fortune posed no threat to her state of mind or the pact she had made with her sisters. If for some reason her hormones decided to go berserk and she was tempted to renege on that pact, it wasn’t about to be with a man who used his tongue as a carving knife at Thanksgiving.
For one thing, she’d seen warmer eyes on a mackerel lying on display at the fish market than the ones that were turned on her now.
She was acutely aware that they were being left alone in this cavern of an office suite. Patrick Fortune waved to her as he took out his cell phone and slipped away into a private alcove where he could rendezvous with his wife of more than forty years.
Must be nice, she thought, to love someone that much, to want to remain married to them for so many years. Like her parents. Too bad it was never going to happen to her.
But she had her business to keep her busy, she reminded herself. And so it was time to get back to that business.
She looked at Jack. “You’re not happy about this, are you?”
“Whether I’m happy has nothing to do with this,” he told her coldly, eyeing the purse she had tucked under her arm. It was one of those flimsy clutch things big enough for a change purse, a driver’s license and a set of keys. She obviously hadn’t brought any papers with her that he could look over. It figured.
“Since you don’t seem to have anything with you, why don’t we make an appointment for another time?”
She looked at him blankly. Maybe he should be speaking in monosyllabic words.
“Sometime when you have something with you for me to look over.”
“‘Something’?”
He took a breath, then spelled it out for her. Slowly. “Blueprints for the space you’ll need. Inventory of the items you’ll need on hand. Everything from shipping boxes to Bunsen burners. Cash-flow projections,” he added for good measure, wondering if she was following him at all.
“I don’t use a Bunsen burner,” she informed him tersely.
Jack looked down at her, then found himself caught in the fire in her eyes. He was about to say something else when he suddenly became aware that her very trim figure was just inches away from him and that something quite apart from a business meeting was going on here. It was as if all the pores in his body had suddenly opened up and were inhaling her very feminine, very unsettling perfume.
The woman was female with a capital “F.”
The very last thing he wanted in his life.
With effort, he steered himself back to his indignation. “Do you even have any idea what it takes to set up a business?”
She bit her lower lip. “I—”
He made himself look at her eyes instead of her mouth. Like a man sitting in the middle of a boat that had suddenly broken apart, he felt compelled to clutch at something for survival. In this case, he needed to drive her away. “Did anyone tell you that most businesses fail in their first year?”
She hated his high-handed tone and it took effort for her not to turn on her heel and just walk out.
She could feel her nails digging into her palms as she struggled to rein in the temper she had inherited from her mother. This pompous ass was actually talking down to her, treating her as if she was some kind of a kindergarten dropout. Just because his last name was Fortune didn’t give him the right to act as if she was some kind of mental incompetent.
Because she owed it to Patrick not to kill his son, she forced a smile to her lips. “Then I guess we have nothing to worry about.”
“Meaning?” Jack demanded, the word scratching his throat as it climbed out. Jack felt like a man who was losing his mind. Part of him wanted to walk out and slam the door on this woman. And another part of him wanted to find out what full lips with a slash of pink lipstick tasted like.
“Meaning this isn’t my first year.”
Flipping open her purse, she took out a folded magazine article. Very precisely she unfolded it, then handed it to him.
“I’ve been in business for two years now. My store was located in Denver.” She took the article—clipped from a local Denver Sunday supplement; a story featuring her unique designs—out of his hand, noting that he hadn’t even glanced at it. He kept his eyes on her. “I’m not a virgin, Mr. Fortune.”
Chapter Four
It took Jack longer than he would have liked to pull himself together. “Bragging, Ms. Johansen?”
Gloria raised her chin, a bantam rooster unafraid of the fox.
“It’s Mrs. Johansen—or it was.” She was seriously thinking of changing her name back to simply Mendoza but for now she kept that to herself. “But since we’re going to be working together, I think you should call me Gloria, Jack.” She looked him in the eye as she deliberately emphasized his name. “And what I’m saying—” God, it was hard to talk to this man without clenching her teeth and pushing the words out “—is that I had a good business going in Denver.”
“Then why move?”
If there was one thing that got the hairs on the back of her neck to stand up straight, it was having to explain herself. She’d resisted the truth when the questions had come from her parents and she liked them a whole lot better than she did this intrusive man.
But she needed this boost. The Fortune backing meant a great deal in these parts and she was not about to turn her back on that just because Patrick Fortune had had the distinct misfortune of siring one very mean-spirited son of a gun.
