Fortune's Heirs: Reunion

by Marie Ferrarella

  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.

  The close proximity brought another by-now-familiar wave of warmth up along her spine. She pulled back, stepping to the side and nearly bumping into the wall. Her heart skipped a beat. She raised her eyes to his, feeling amazingly clumsy.

  “Thanks.”

  “Don’t mention it.” He followed her out the door, waiting as she locked up. Her three-quarter-length coat called his attention to her legs.

  As if she needed help in having someone notice them, Jack thought, annoyed that his eyes had lingered there longer than should have been warranted.

  “Let’s get going,” he snapped, taking the stairs down. There was, he’d discovered, no elevator to the fourthfloor apartment.

  Gloria followed him down. “I thought that was what we were doing.”

  He said nothing. Reaching the first floor, he held the door for her only long enough for her to reach it, then strode outside. Jack led the way to his car.

  Stopping by the passenger side, he opened the door and held it. This time he didn’t abandon his post; he waited until she got in before closing the door and rounding the hood.

  “Why are you doing this?” Gloria asked him as he got in behind the steering wheel.

  Putting the key into the ignition, he turned it. The Jaguar purred to life. Right now, it was giving him a lot less grief than she was. “Because it’s too far and too cold to walk to the address you gave me.”

  She’d given him the location of the store, which was in the midst of renovations, when he’d called early this morning to confirm their meeting. She’d had the same impression then as when she’d first met him.

  As she had now.

  “No, I’m not talking about driving to the jewelry store, I’m talking about becoming my business adviser in the first place.”

  Like a man comfortable with who and what he was, he answered simply and with no apology. “Because my father asked me to.”

  That wasn’t good enough as far as she was concerned. She was accustomed to doing things alone and while she welcomed the Fortune stamp of approval and any leverage that association gave her in this highly competitive business, it wasn’t going to be at the sake of her pride. She didn’t need this man talking down to her, looking at her critically.

  It was her shaky self-esteem that had been the culprit for her sliding down the slippery slope that had ultimately led to rehab in the first place.

  “Look, it’s very evident that you’d rather be running barefoot over hot coals, on your way to get a root canal, than helping me, so why don’t we just call it a day? You can tell your father everything’s all right and I’ll just go about my business the way I did when I first got started in Denver.”

  Most people vied for the Fortune’s backing. What was her angle? “Just like that?”

  She faced forward and stared straight ahead, aware that he was looking at her. “Pretty much.”

  It made no sense. “I thought you asked for my father’s help.”

  She wanted the record set straight. “No, my mother asked for your father’s help.” She knew that her mother had had only good intentions. She also knew it was futile to tell her mother to back off and stop worrying. Worrying, Maria Mendoza had told her time and again, was part of a mother’s job description. “I guess she still worries about me. According to my mother, I am going to be her ‘little girl’ even when I blow out eighty-nine candl
es on my birthday cake.”

  He laughed dryly, doing his damnedest not to pay attention to the way her mouth curved fondly as she spoke of her mother. “I know how that is. Although my father does pretty much stay out of my business.”

  Was he talking about private or professional? “I thought it was his business—”

  “It is, but lately I’ve been running the New York office according to my guidelines. In a way, that makes it mine.” He stopped himself, realizing that he’d just admitted something to a woman he knew next to nothing about. A veritable stranger. That wasn’t a habit with him.

  “And you’re dying to get back.” It wasn’t a guess, she could tell by the look in his eyes despite the restraint he was attempting to exercise. The New York office was his baby.

  “‘Dying’ might be a tad dramatic,” he informed her. “But I don’t mind saying that I’m a city kid, born and bred.”

  He said that as if San Antonio wasn’t worth his time. Texas pride prompted her next words. “San Antonio isn’t exactly the sticks.”

  Maybe not, he allowed, but it certainly wasn’t like New York City. “No, but New York has this energy, this verve—”

  She found herself resenting his attitude. “Probably because everyone’s so tense, waiting for someone to make a move on them.”

  Chauvinism made him take her words as a personal affront. If there was anything he hated, it was the way people insisted on running down New Yorkers. “You’re stereotyping—”

  “Aren’t you?” she countered. “You make us sound like hicks.”

  “‘Us’?” Hadn’t she told him that she’d just moved here from Denver?

  “I was born and raised in Red Rock.”

  He knew that. He also knew something else. “But you left.”

  The reasons for that were complex and plentiful. She wasn’t about to go into it with a pompous know-it-all no matter who his father was.

  “That’s a story for another day. Besides—” her tone underscored the word “—I’m back.” They were coming up to a busy intersection. She knew a shortcut that would circumvent what looked like a jam in the making. “Take a left here.” And then she changed her mind. Not about the direction they were going, but about the direction of the day. “No, wait.”

  “Wait?” he echoed in disbelief. Did she think he could stop moving in the middle of all this? If he did, in two seconds they’d be surrounded with a cacophony of horns, all blasting at them.

  “You can let me out on the corner.” She pointed toward it. “I can walk the rest of the way.”

  He made no attempt to pull over. “Are you kicking me off this assignment?”

  “No, I’m opening the door and letting you run away from this assignment, no disrespect intended,” she added when he raised one dark eyebrow at the word “run.”

  Much as the idea tempted him, he had no intentions of backing out. He’d given his father his word and he was going to see this through. The woman was exhibiting about as much sense as an opossum in the middle of a busy five-lane road.

  “Since we’re almost there, I might as well take a look at the location you’ve picked.”

  Nope, she definitely didn’t like his attitude. The sooner she was rid of this man, the better she was going to feel. On several levels.

  “You make it sound like I’m a kid with a whim. I did a lot of scouting around before I decided on this mall. I also took overhead into account,” she added. “The ideal location for my shop is at the San Antonio Mall, but the leases there are a little pricey. I thought I’d get a foothold here first, then work my way over in about a year or three.”

  She had actually thought it out, he realized. “I’m impressed.”

  Did he really think that mattered to her? “Oh, good. I can die happy.”

  The sarcasm was thick enough to cut with a knife. And his patience was wearing thin. “Anyone ever tell you that you have a smart mouth?”

  Was that his best comeback? The man might as well hang up his gloves now, she’d won the match. “Not lately. It goes with the rest of me.”

  Making a right at the corner, Jack snorted. “Well, your ego’s alive and well.”

  “No thanks to you.” The words had come out before she could stop herself.

  He looked at her, surprised. “What do I have to do with it?”

  “You’ve done nothing but talk down to me since the elevator encounter.”

  “I asked you to press the thirtieth floor.” How could she possibly see that as talking down to her? Was she paranoid?

  “No,” she pointed out, her voice steely, “you snapped out the number.”

  “Oh, for pity’s sake—” He got hold of his temper. Even so, he snapped the next words out. “I was fighting jet lag.”

  It had obviously not been much of a fight from what she’d seen. “Sounds like the jet lag won.” Turning her face forward again, her eyes widened as she saw a maroon Chevy coming from the right, running the light. She braced her feet hard against the floor. “Watch out!”

  But it was already too late.

  A half second after the warning was out of her mouth, the front of Jack’s silver Jaguar made contact with the side of the car that had flown out of nowhere. The Chevy, at least fifteen years old, dented and its paint peeling in half a dozen places, was the heavier of the two vehicles. The impact sent the silver Jaguar spinning in a full circle, winding up exactly at the original point of contact.

  The next moment, a sound like rushing water filled the interior of the car. Jack’s vision was completely blocked by a wall of white fabric.

  The air bags had deployed.

  Along with what remained of his already frayed patience.

  Chapter Six

  There was white everywhere.

  Panic clawed sharply at Gloria’s throat. She felt as if she had been plunged into the center of a marshmallow.

  Claustrophobia, a failing she hadn’t managed to conquer that accompanied her into every elevator, every small space she found herself in since she’d been six years old, rose up on its hoary hind legs to grab her by the throat and threaten to block out the very air into her lungs.

  The fact that the air bag had her pressed back against her seat with no room for movement and the seat belt was biting into her shoulder and lap, holding her fast, only added to the tidal wave of panic that was building up inside her.

  She couldn’t help her next reaction. It came without thinking, without warning. Gloria started to scream. Not a small gasp or a yelp, but a full-bodied, blood-curdling scream that could have shattered water glasses within a one-mile radius.

  Jolted, Jack’s senses alert and at their peak, the scream ripped right through him. Heart pounding, he could only imagine what could have prompted that sort of a reaction from the woman who was completely blocked from his sight. Memories of the car accident with Ann came bursting back into his brain.

  Ann screaming.

  Just before she died.

  Terror seized his heart. Struggling, pushing against the deployed air bag, Jack managed to unbuckle his seat belt and get the harness off his shoulder. Adrenaline running high, convinced that Gloria had to be severely hurt, possibly even dying, he groped for the door handle on his side. Locating it seemed to take forever. Finally successful, Jack yanked on it and applied his shoulder to the door, shoving his way out.

  “Hang on!” he yelled to Gloria as he rounded the trunk.

  Operating on two very distinct planes, he saw the offending driver and glared at him. Jack could just barely make out the man’s face. The other car engine was still running and the driver looked ready to make a break for it. Now.

  “Don’t even think it!” Jack barked. Making his way to the passenger side of the Jaguar, he glanced quickly at the other car’s license plate, committing it to memory. A photographic memory allowed him to absorb and retain everything he had ever seen. “I’ve got your plate number and I swear I’ll hunt you down.”

  The man behind the wheel of the dented
Chevy froze and raised his hands in surrender. He began to babble an apology. His words were just so much noise in the background. Jack barely heard him.

  All of his attention was focused on Gloria.

  If she could scream like that, at least she was alive, he thought, taking comfort in that. The very hair on the back of his neck was standing on end as the sound skewered its way through his system.

  Jack yanked open her door. He groped around the air bag, trying to find Gloria’s hand. “It’s okay, I’ve got you. It’s okay,” he told her over and over again.

  The panic wouldn’t leave even as she heard his voice. Her terror was too huge to overcome. In saner times, it bothered her no end, reacting this way, but right now, all she could do was shriek.

  “Pull me out,” she pleaded. “Pull me out!”

  And then she felt a hand reaching across her waist, brushing against her lap. The next moment, the belt that was holding her prisoner was released and she was being pulled out of her living tomb.

  The second she was clear of the car, she began gasping for air, sucking it in as if there wasn’t even an ounce of it within her lungs. Her legs weak, her body a heavy liquid, she clung to the man who had pulled her free.

  Shaking, she was still aware of the soft feel of suede against her cheek and the infinite comfort of the arms that had locked around her. She fought to regulate her breathing.

  “Where are you hurt?” Jack demanded. Had she hit her head? Broken something in the split second before the air bag had cocooned her?

  When Gloria didn’t answer, Jack tried to move her back and hold her at arm’s length to see her injuries for himself. At first she wouldn’t let go of him, her arms locked around his neck in a death grip. Finally he managed to gently but firmly push her from him.

  “Where are you hurt?” he asked again. Scanning her face, he saw nothing. There were no scratches, no cuts, no marks at all except for what appeared to be the beginning of a slight bruise along her forehead. That could have come from the air bag itself, he judged. But one thing was abundantly clear. The dark-haired woman he’d been verbally sparring with not a few minutes earlier was clearly shaken.