Читать книгу Fortune's Heirs: Reunion: Her Good Fortune / A Tycoon in Texas / In a Texas Minute - Marie Ferrarella, Crystal Green - Страница 11

“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.

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 candles 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.