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Running a light, just as this man had, she’d hit a driver. He remembered the horror that had spiked through him, the awful noise of metal crashing against metal. And most of all, he remembered Ann’s scream. The last sound she’d ever made. She and the driver were both dead at the scene. And him? He’d gotten a cluster of minor injuries that had landed him in the hospital for a couple of weeks.
Physically, the injuries had been minor. Emotionally was another story. He’d wanted to die, to be with Ann for all eternity. But all he’d sustained were things that could heal.
Other than his heart.
He had absolutely no patience with people who drank to the point that the alcohol controlled them instead of the other way around. And although there’d been no alcohol on the breath of the other driver, the man had still been reckless and run the light.
Gloria was looking at him almost defiantly. He made up his mind. “All right. Once the guy from roadside assistance gets here and we’re finished giving our statements to the police, I’ll call a cab and we can go see about the location. If you’re sure you’re all right,” he added again.
Exasperation filled her voice as a policeman got out of his patrol vehicle. “You don’t have to keep asking that. I’m not going to change my story.”
Stubborn. He supposed that was a good sign. Jack cupped his ear as he tilted his head toward hers. “’Fraid you’re going to have to speak up. You blew out my ears in the car.”
Gloria looked at him sharply. She could make out a hint of a smile on his lips.
He was making a joke.
That stunned her almost as much as his gentleness had. “I didn’t know you had a sense of humor.”
He leaned in even closer to her, his hand still cupped around his ear. “What?”
She laughed, the tension finally beginning to leave her. Just in time to give her statement to the policeman approaching them.
Forty minutes later, after renting a car, they were finally standing inside a shop on the second floor of the Big T Mall. Until a month ago, the space had been occupied by a trendy baby clothing store. Doing well, the owner had decided to move on to a better location. The pink and blue lettering on the glass door had been scraped off just that morning. There was scaffolding on either side of the entrance and the modest interior was in a complete state of chaos.
In the three days since she had begun leasing the space, thanks to Patrick Fortune backing her bank loan, she’d had to forward ten different bewildered customers on to the store’s new location. Each had said something about thinking the store would remain at that location forever. One woman had obviously made good use of the place. She’d had four children with her. Two in stroller, two hanging off the stroller. And if that bulge Gloria had noted was any indication, a fifth on the way.
She hoped that someday her customers would come looking for her store like that, loyally searching for her only to be told of a more high-end address.
She wondered if any of her clients in Denver would make the trip out, or try to get in touch with her via the store’s Web site.
Right now, what seemed to matter most—and she really didn’t understand why it meant anything to her one way or another—was the stamp of approval from the man roaming the unfinished store.
She held her breath as she watched Jack look around. All signs of the previous store were gone, except for one two-dimensional cardboard rendition of a crawling baby the owner had decided to leave behind. It was leaning off to the side. She thought of it as her goodluck charm, a leftover from a successful business.
Nerves danced through her, a parent watching her child being judged, as she watched Jack survey the area. So far, there was no indication of what the store was planning to evolve into. But it was still early days.
Finally, his feet firmly planted on a drop cloth, he glanced at her over his shoulder. “This the best location you could find?”
All traces of the man who had rescued her from her marshmallow grave seemed to have vanished in smoke. They were back in their individual sparring corners, she thought.
Maybe it was better this way. For a few minutes back there, she’d actually liked him. Coupling that with the physical attraction that seemed to insist on existing, refusing to disappear, made for a dangerous combination. This overly critical version of Jack Fortune, JF Version 1.0 she thought with a smile, was one she could more easily resist.
What she might have trouble resisting right now, she thought, was wrapping her hands around his throat and choking him every time he opened his condescending mouth. Each time he did, she winced inwardly, bracing herself for yet another derogatory comment. It was getting damn hard to smile at him.
“Is it the best location I could find?” she echoed his question, knowing it annoyed him. “In my price range, yes, it is.” And then she felt compelled to defend her decision. “Besides, the last business that was here did very well.”
He looked around slowly and she had no way of guessing what he was thinking. Only something bad. “Another jewelry store?” he finally asked.
She pointed to the cardboard figure leaning against the back wall. “A baby clothing store.” And then she saw him frown. Great, now what?
He crossed back to her, his hands shoved deep into the pants’ pockets of his custom-made suit. “You’re comparing apples and oranges.”
She shook her head. “No fruit involved,” she answered tartly. “I was thinking of foot traffic.” She wished she could remember the numbers. Annoyance had temporarily wiped the stats from her brain. “This mall sees a lot of people. Most of the stores here do well.” And then, suddenly remembering the numbers, she rattled them off to him.
He looked at her for a long moment and she could feel her blood pressure rising.
“You’ve done your homework,” he finally conceded.
There it was again, that sarcastic edge in his voice. Damn it, no matter how attractive and sexy this man looked, his attitude ruffled her feathers. Any vague temptation she might have been entertaining went up in smoke the second Jack Fortune opened his mouth.
“Thank you,” she replied coldly to his homework comment. “But it is my dime.”
“And my father’s,” he reminded her. “He is lending you any extra money you might need.”
Her eyes narrowed. Was he going to bring that up at every opportunity? Of course he was. “All the more reason to do my homework.”
“Yes, it is.”
Jack inclined his head, signaling an end to the round. He was sparring with her and he knew why. It all stemmed from the car accident. He’d felt the need to protect her. And he’d felt responsible for her. It went deeper than just being responsible for someone fate threw him together with. He felt something for her.
Undoubtedly the feelings he’d experienced had all been brought on by memories of Ann, but he still didn’t like the wave of panic that had assaulted him when he’d first heard Gloria screaming. Moreover, he definitely didn’t like the odd sensation that had waltzed through him, filling every cavity, when she’d clung to him after he’d extracted her from the vehicle.
Things had stirred inside him. Things with cobwebs and dust on them.
Feelings.
The last thing he wanted awakened within him were feelings. The sooner this woman was out of his hair, the better.
Chapter Seven
“So, how’s it going?”
There was no need for any sort of a preamble. Jack knew exactly what the “it” was that his father was referring to. He was talking about Gloria and her jewelry store.
His father had called him at his Plaza Hotel suite earlier and asked him to swing by the office this morning. Though he wasn’t an optimist by nature, a small part of Jack had hoped that there would be something in the offing beyond the assignment that had brought him to San Antonio in the first place.
One look at his father’s expression had permanently sunk that hope.
Again he couldn’t help but wonder why his father was so intense about the success or failure of this woman’s business. Granted his father was a very charitable man—Jack doubted if anyone gave as much to charity as his parents did—but this somehow went beyond the call.
Jack shrugged, sinking his hands deep into his pockets as he wandered around the office, studying the paintings his father had chosen to keep him company while he was in San Antonio.
He’d heard somewhere that his father was considering having Derek take over this office when his father went back to New York. Even though he meant to return there himself—and as fast as possible—he couldn’t help feeling just the slightest bit piqued that his father would even be considering Derek for the top position instead of him.
Although he and Derek were as close as two friends could be, there was more than a healthy sort of rivalry between them. It was what kept his brain honed, he told himself.
“All things considered,” Jack replied, moving on to another painting, this one a more dramatic Turner seascape, “I’d rather be back in New York.”
Patrick’s fingers ceased flying over the keyboard as he looked up at his son and shook his head. “You move too fast, Jack. Stop a minute, catch your breath.”
Jack looked at his father over his shoulder. He was irritable because he was standing still, not moving fast. “I’m not out of breath.”
His words had absolutely no effect on his father. “Denial’s a sure sign that you’re even worse off than you thought you were.”
Abandoning the next painting, Jack crossed to his father’s desk and leaned over it, digging his knuckles in on the blotter. “Dad, I like work.”
Patrick’s expression softened, lessening the lines around his eyes. “I know you do, and I appreciate that. There’s nothing more satisfying than earning a living at what you like and what you’re good at.”
“But?” The word literally seemed to be throbbing in the space between them.
Jack was a workaholic of the first water, but that just meant Patrick had to work harder to get through to him. Now that his own soul had been saved, thanks to his wife, he refused to abandon Jack. “But you can’t take it home with you at night.”
Jack laughed shortly. There, he had his father, he thought. “Sure you can. Between laptops, PDAs and the Internet—”
Patrick raised a warning brow. “You know what I mean. You need a family.”
Jack threw up his hands. This was getting annoying. He thought only women had to listen to this kind of thing from their mothers. He would have bet anything that his father was above this kind of nonsense. Obviously he would have lost that bet.
“I have a family, Dad. I’ve got you and Mom and those annoying people you keep telling me are my siblings.” He allowed himself a grin. He cared a great deal for his brothers and baby sister, he just wasn’t about to try to duplicate them by creating children. “I’d say that’s family enough for anyone.”
Patrick’s eyes locked with his son’s. “A family of your own, Jack.”
Jack gave his father an innocent look. “Were you and Mom on loan?”
“A wife, Jack. A wife,” his father emphasized. Before Jack could say anything, Patrick added, “And kids. Lots of kids.”
Restless, Jack moved to the window. The rain that had been threatening since yesterday had finally arrived. Sheets of water were lashing against the window. The world outside looked dreary. The world inside wasn’t much better, he thought.
“I don’t know if I’d be any good at that,” he said, addressing his words to his father’s reflection in the window.
“Well, you certainly won’t find out by hiding behind corporate reports.”
Jack whirled around. No one had ever even hinted that he was a coward. He felt a sharp flare of temper and managed to bank it down. “Not hiding, Dad, analyzing. It’s what I do. What you pay me to do, remember?”
Patrick used the opportunity to swing the conversation back onto its original track. “Speaking of which, how’s that venture with Gloria Mendoza going?”
He noticed that his father had conveniently dropped the woman’s married name. Had Gloria gone through legal channels to do that, or was his father just trying to set something in motion here, make him think of her as a single woman?
No, that couldn’t be right. He and his father had an open, honest relationship. His mother might attempt a little manipulation with romance as the goal, but not his father. They were too alike, he and his father, even though the man seemed to have temporarily taken leave of his senses.
He told his father what was foremost in his mind. “I still think you should have handed this little assignment off to someone else.” He didn’t even have to think about who he’d get in place of himself. “Like Derek. He’s got more patience than I do.”
For a moment Patrick said nothing. Instead he thought of how he’d arranged to have his one-time protégé hire Gloria’s sister to act as his business analyst. It would have been a lie to say that he didn’t feel quite proud of himself. With a little bit of luck, things should be percolating there, as well.
His answer to Jack was vague. “Derek’s got his hands full with other projects.”
Did his father view him as a spoiled, pampered, rich offspring? Hadn’t he proven himself over and over again to be invaluable? “And I don’t?”
“I told you before, Jack, this needs your touch.” And, if I don’t miss my guess, so does Gloria. Almost as much as you need hers.
Jack scrutinized his father’s face. He could almost see the words marching through his brain. See them, but not quite make them out.
Or maybe he didn’t want to, because that would be giving credence to something he felt shouldn’t be going on. “What are you thinking?”
Patrick leaned back in his chair, studying his firstborn. Jack had never given him one moment’s trouble. Maybe there was such a thing as being too perfect, Patrick decided.
“That you’re a chip off the old block. That at your age, I was determined not to slow down, either. But I discovered that I was competing against myself. You can’t win if you have yourself as your opponent.”
Jack laughed shortly. That was true enough. But so was something else. “You also can’t lose.”
Doing nothing but work extracted a toll on a person’s life. And work, Patrick had come to realize, was a cold mistress. “Depends on your definition of losing.”
“I don’t have a definition of losing,” Jack told his father glibly. “Because I never intend to lose.”
Patrick looked at his son for a long moment. Anyone else would have said the man was too cocky, that he needed to be taken down a peg. But Patrick knew that Jack was as good as his word. And failure was not an option with Jack.
Maybe not, but a little humility was in order.
“I hope not, Jack,” he said softly. “I sincerely hope not.”
There was something going on, Jack thought, but he wasn’t exactly sure just what. The old man was acting funny these days. It was more than just his laid-back attitude about the company. Granted, if there was a crisis, the way there had been many times in the past, his father would be right there in the thick of it, leading the charge, rallying his subordinates. Jack smiled to himself. No one did it better than the old man.
But when everything was going relatively smoothly, his father tended to, for lack of a better term, slack off. Maybe age was finally catching up with him. Jack couldn’t help wondering if it was time for his father to step down.
The very thought saddened him. No matter what his father said, Fortune-Rockwell represented the sum total of his life’s work. The senior Fortune would go out of his mind if he retired. No, better to have him where he was and, if necessary, he could pick up the slack for his father. After all, it wasn’t as if there was anything more important to Patrick than the company.
Unexpectedly, a strange, hollow feeling made itself evident for just a split second.
Is that all there is? At the end of the day, is that all there is?
He’d been paying too much attention to his father, Jack thought. Not everyone was cut out for a wife and kids, no matter what his father thought. The one love of his life was dead, and he damn well had no intentions of looking for a substitute.
Glancing at his father, he saw that the latter looked as if he was gearing up again. Jack moved to leave. “I guess I’ll go see how your project is doing.”
Jack saw his father’s mouth pull into a satisfied smile. He doubted if it had to do with the speech he was supposed to be writing. But he isn’t about to ask.
“Good idea,” was all he said to Jack’s departing back.
The sooner he was done, Jack told himself as he parked on the far side of the mall, the sooner he could get out of Dodge, or San Antonio as it were, and back to the fast-paced life he thrived on in New York.
Maybe that was what his father needed, as well, he mused. To get out of here and get back into the mainstream, back to New York where business was business and everything else came in second.
He walked in through one of the four department stores that made up the quadrangle that defined the mall. His mind elsewhere, he made his way to the inner core of the mall without noticing any of the displays.
But as he hurried along the second floor of the mall, his surroundings sank in despite his preoccupation. He realized that Gloria had been right. There were a lot of people frequenting the mall. It was a weekday. The stores had only been open for about an hour and yet there were a great many people milling around, shopping, socializing, on their way to one place or another. Since it was neither lunchtime nor a holiday, he figured this had to represent an average day.
Blind luck?
