Sweet Fortune

  “You've been playing psychic investigator too long.” Hatch turned back to Alex. “Can you do this without alerting anyone on the other end?”

  “I think so,” Alex said confidently.

  “No footprints that would lead anyone back here to you and Jessie?” Hatch clarified, wanting to be absolutely certain on that point.

  “Heck, no.” Alex pulled his attention away from the screen long enough to squint briefly up at Hatch. “Does this mean you're going to help us?”

  “It doesn't look like I've got a whole hell of a lot of choice, does it?”

  Something clattered to the floor behind Hatch. He turned his head in time to see Jessie bending down to pick up the plastic fork she had just dropped.

  “Want some potato salad?” she asked brightly.

  A long time later Jessie stirred amid the tangle of sheets, stretched out one bare foot, and encountered Hatch's leg.

  “You awake?”

  “Yes.”

  “I've been thinking,” she said softly.

  “About what?”

  “About you. I haven't thanked you yet for staying on the case. I know you're not exactly thrilled with the idea of me pursuing the investigation.”

  “That's a mild way of putting it.”

  “Well, thanks anyway,” she mumbled.

  “Jessie?”

  “Uh-huh?”

  “Your Aunt Glenna talked to me today.”

  “Good grief. Why on earth did she do that?”

  “She wanted to point out that I'm really not the kind of man you should marry. Even if it would be convenient for all concerned.”

  Jessie was startled to find herself annoyed. “Aunt Glenna said that?”

  “Yes.”

  “I know Aunt Glenna means well, but sometimes she thinks that because she's got a degree in psychology she knows what's best for the rest of us. It can be irritating.”

  “But you agree with her, don't you? You told me yourself that I'm not the kind of man you would ever marry.”

  “Let's not get into that subject, Hatch. It's nearly three in the morning.”

  He grunted. “Did you know that your aunt and your father once had a brief affair?”

  “Really?” Jessie was wide-awake now. “Are you sure?”

  “Vincent told me about it this afternoon. He implied that was one of the reasons he helped her pay her way when she went back to college. He felt he owed her something.”

  “I'm stunned.” Jessie sat up against the pillows and wrapped her arms around her updrawn knees. “I can't believe those two would ever get together in a million years.”

  “Why not?”

  “Well, for one thing, she doesn't seem like his type. She's not colorful and sophisticated and outgoing like Constance and Lilian. She's not oriented toward art and design, the way they are. She's so serious all the time. And so clinical, if you know what I mean.”

  “The affair didn't last long. Your father implied he was at a low point because of the divorce from Lilian and Glenna was getting over being abandoned by her husband. One thing led to another. Then, according to Vincent, they both came to their senses.”

  Jessie turned that over in her mind. “I can see how it would happen. But it still seems strange, somehow.”

  “I agree.”

  “I wonder if Mom knows.”

  “I doubt it. Vincent said he never told her or anyone else, and he doesn't think Glenna did either. I got the feeling they both regretted the whole thing.”

  “Strange how you can know the members of your own family for so many years and still not know their secrets,” Jessie mused.

  Hatch turned toward her, his face unreadable in the deep shadows. “Your aunt talked about you today.”

  “Is that right?”

  “She says you've become the intermediary between your father and the rest of the family because you're the only one willing to tackle him.”

  Jessie shrugged. “You've said the same thing.”

  “Yeah. But I don't have a Ph.D. in psychology to back me up. It was interesting hearing my diagnosis confirmed by a professional.”

  “Oh, for heaven's sake, Hatch. You make me sound like some sort of nut case just because I'm the only one who ever figured out how to deal with Vincent Benedict.”

  “I didn't mean that. And you're not the only one who can handle him. I can deal with him too.”

  She slanted him an assessing glance. “That's true. I figured that was because you're so much like him that you understand how his mind works.”

  “Maybe that applies to you too.”

  “I'm not anything like him,” she protested.

  “No? You're just as mule-headed stubborn as he is, for one thing. I can personally testify to that.”

  Jessie got annoyed. “It's not the same thing at all.”

  “It's okay, Jessie. I'm mule-headed stubborn too. But that's not my point.”

  “What is your point?”

  “After I talked to Glenna today I got to thinking about us and I want to make sure we have something real clear here. Whatever else happens, I want you to swear to me that you will not let yourself get pushed, urged, bullied, or otherwise forced into marriage with me in order to protect, defend, or placate anyone in your family. Agreed?”

  “I've already told you, I have no intention of marrying you.”

  “I know what you told me, but I happen to think the outcome is going to be a little different. I just want to make certain that when you do marry me, you do it for the right reasons, not because you feel you have to do what's best for the family.”

  A soft warmth welled up in her. He looked so serious, she thought. “You're the kind of man who usually doesn't worry too much about the means as long as you get the end you want,” she noted carefully.

  “In this case,” he told her as he pulled her into his arms, “I definitely care about both.”

  “What are you trying to tell me, Hatch?” she whispered, her fingertips braced against his shoulders.

  “That I want you to marry me because you damn well can't resist me,” he muttered, his mouth moving on her throat. “I want you to marry me because I did such a hell of a good job seducing you and making you fall head over heels in love with me. Got that?”

  She caught her breath as she felt his body hardening rapidly under hers. “Yes. Yes, Hatch, I've got it.” She waited for him to volunteer the fact that he loved her, but he did not say the words that might have made the difference. And in that fragile moment she was afraid to ask for them.

  “Swear?” Hatch prodded.

  “I swear. If I ever do agree to marry you, it will be because I love you. But, Hatch?”

  “Uh-huh?” He was nibbling at her earlobe now.

  “I still have no intention of marrying you.”

  “I haven't finished this damned courtship yet.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Vincent Benedict was simmering. The initial explosion had dissolved into the customary roiling boil, which in turn was now all the way down to the mild, bubbling simmer.

  Jessie was familiar with the pattern. She'd dealt with it all her life. Her father definitely had a problem with money, especially when it came to giving any of it away.

  It was not that he was an ungenerous man; quite the opposite. Over the years Vincent had doled out thousands to his clan. But Constance and Lilian were right: he liked to attach strings. He liked to make certain the receivers were properly grateful and that they kept him posted on where every dime went. He felt free to make loud judgments on whether or not the money was being well-spent. He criticized, approved, or grumbled about what the recipient did with the money. And always he wanted everyone to remember where it had originated. Jessie routinely fielded the grumbles and complaints from both sides.

  “Jesus H. Christ, those two women are never satisfied,” Vincent roared. He slammed a palm down on his desk and regarded Jessie with a baleful gaze. “They're like sponges, always soaking up more of my cash.”


  “Dad, you know that's not true.” Jessie was slouched low in the chair across from her father. She had her legs stretched out in front of her and her thumbs hooked loosely in the pockets of her jeans. She was wearing a snug-fitting, long-sleeved black dance leotard with the jeans, and her hair was caught back behind one ear with a large silver clip.

  “The hell it isn't true. What happened to all that cash I gave Connie and Lilian two years ago to open that damn furniture store?”

  “It's not exactly a furniture store, Dad, it's more of a showroom they use to give ideas to their clients. Now they want to expand it. Turn it into a design store. They're going to specialize in avant-garde European furniture styles.”

  “What's wrong with American furniture?” Vincent pointed to the wide mahogany desk in front of him. “Nothing wrong with good, solid American furniture.”

  “Dad, Connie and Lilian do not have a lot of clients who are into Early American.”

  “I'll tell you something, Jessie. That European crap is for the birds. I had one of those silly little Italian lamps in here for a few weeks and the damn thing broke.”

  “Only because you tried to bend it in a direction it was never intended to go.” Jessie remembered the lamp. It had been a delicate device. Too delicate for her father's big hands. “And your opinion of Italian furniture has got nothing to do with the issue. The fact is that a lot of people like that style. Connie and Lilian cater to that crowd.”

  “Probably the same crowd that eats sushi and pays good money to watch films that have subtitles,” Vincent grumbled.

  “You hit the nail on the head when you said it's a crowd that pays good money for what it wants. Come on, Dad, you're a businessman. You know a business person has to cater to the client's taste. That's all the moms want to do. They've been very successful up to this point, and you know you're proud of them. Why not finance another expansion for them?”

  “They treat me like I'm some kind of bank.”

  “You want them to go to a real bank instead?”

  “Hell, no.” Vincent turned a dangerous shade of red at that suggestion. “Damned interest rates are sky-high again. Like throwing money down the drain. Can't trust bankers, either. They won't stand by you. First hint of trouble and they call in the loans.”

  Jessie grinned. “And besides, if the moms went to a bank, you wouldn't have a license to complain, would you? Be honest, Dad. You like controlling the purse strings in this family.”

  “Somebody has to do it. God knows they all go through money like it was water. No common sense. No appreciation for the hard work involved.”

  “You know that's not true. The rest of us just aren't as tightfisted about it as you are.”

  “Yeah, well, maybe that comes from never having had to do without. Men like Hatch and me, we know what it's like to do without.” Vincent narrowed his eyes. “How come you never ask me for money?”

  Jessie widened her eyes in mocking innocence. “Are you crazy? There would be too many strings attached, and you know it. You'd hound me constantly, asking me what I was doing with it, where I'd invested it, what I was buying with it. You'd probably want weekly and monthly reports. No, thanks.”

  “You know your problem, Jessie, girl? You're too damn independent. Too blasted stubborn for your own good. When are you going to marry Hatch?”

  Jessie blinked. “Don't hold your breath.”

  “You're sleeping with the man, dammit. He told me so himself. If you can sleep with him, you can damn sure marry him.”

  “I'll have to talk to him about kissing and telling. Gentlemen aren't supposed to do that.”

  The door opened behind her and Hatch's voice cut in on the argument. “What's this about gentlemen?”

  Jessie looked over her shoulder. “Dad says you've been chatting about my love life. I was telling him that gentlemen don't do that.”

  “I believe I was making an unrelated point at the time,” Hatch said as he came into the room and shut the door behind him. In spite of the calm response, there was a faint tinge of ruddy color high on his cheekbones. “I was telling him not to interfere in our private life, as I recall. Isn't that right, Benedict?”

  Vincent scowled at him and then turned back to Jessie. “Forget that. What, exactly, is the status between you two?”

  “You'll be the first to know when we've got it settled.” Hatch lounged against Vincent's desk, folded his arms, and regarded Jessie with a cool, searching gaze. His eyes skimmed over the tight black leotard that fit her like a glove. He frowned with disapproval. “What are you doing here?”

  “Having a little father-daughter chat,” she murmured.

  Vincent snorted. “She's trying to talk me into giving Lilian and Connie twenty grand to expand their business.”

  “I see.” Hatch did not take his eyes off Jessie. “Have you already made your pitch?”

  “Yep,” said Jessie. “And since Dad has already changed the subject, I assume he's going to go for it, aren't you, Dad?”

  “Hell, I suppose I'll have to. If I don't, those two will end up in the clutches of some smooth-talking banker who'll charge 'em an arm and a leg in interest.”

  Jessie clamped her hands around the arms of the chair and pushed herself to her feet. “Thanks, Dad. I'll give them the good word. I'm sure they'll be properly grateful and will keep perfect records on how they spend every cent.” She gave Hatch a challenging smile. “You'll probably be late getting home tonight as usual, won't you?”

  Annoyance sparked in his gaze. “Probably. I've got some figures to go over with your father.”

  “Hey, don't worry about it,” Jessie said airily, starting for the door. “I'll be working late myself. Alex and I are making real headway on our investigation.”

  Vincent's expression became thunderous again. “Investigation? Are you still fooling around with that cult thing? I thought that nonsense was finished. Hatch said the guy was running some kind of scam, not a cult, and that your so-called client called off the investigation.”

  “Things have changed,” Jessie said.

  “What things, dammit?”

  “I'll explain it all to you later, Benedict.” Hatch straight ened away from the desk and went toward Jessie. “I'd like a word with you before you take off, Jessie.”

  “Sure. 'Bye, Dad.”

  Jessie winced as Hatch's hand closed firmly around her upper arm. But other than slanting him a reproachful look, she said nothing as he steered her through the outer office and into the hall.

  He stopped when he was out of earshot of the secretaries and released Jessie near a potted palm. Coolly, deliberately, he planted one hand on the wall beside her right ear and leaned in close. The pose was deliberately intimidating. It was one of the many things he did well, Jessie reflected. She started to push her hair back and discovered it was already held back by the clip.

  “I don't want you doing any more of this,” Hatch stated softly.

  She groaned. “Hatch, we've been through all the arguments. I've told you, I can't just halt the Attwood case. At least not until I'm satisfied Susan Attwood is all right.”

  “I am not talking about that damned case,” Hatch bit out.

  “I am referring to what you were doing there inside your father's office. This business of letting the entire family use you to get what they want from Benedict is going to stop. Whoever wants to ask him for something can damn well ask for it in person. You're no longer the intermediary. Clear?”

  She sighed. “Hatch, you don't understand.”

  “The hell I don't. Just say no, Jessie. Remember?”

  “Easy for you to say.”

  “You'll learn how. All it takes is a little practice. I won't have them using you anymore, Jessie. I mean it. I don't want you doing those kinds of favors for any of them. Not your mother or Connie or David or your Aunt Glenna. Enough is enough.”

  “But it's easier for me to deal with him, Hatch. Don't you see? I've always done it. I know how to do it.”

/>   “The others can damn well learn if it's important enough to them.”

  She shook her head sadly. “That's just it. It might not be important enough to them.”

  Hatch stared at her. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  Jessie looked up at him, willing him to understand. “I'm afraid they'll all give up on him if they're forced to deal with him directly. After all, Connie and Lilian both gave up on him while they were married to him. David got so resentful and frustrated trying to please him that he finally stopped talking to him. Aunt Glenna says it's a waste of time trying to forge a relationship with Dad. But it's not. Not entirely.”

  “What you mean is that you've managed to keep some kind of bond established among all of you by doing all the diplomatic work. Jessie, that's wrong.”

  “Is it?” she demanded softly. “At least this way he's got some kind of family ties and the rest of us have some kind of contact with him. Maybe it hasn't been exactly Father Knows Best around here, but at least we've all had a relationship of some sort. It could have been worse, you know. He could have done what David's father did and just disappeared from our lives altogether.”

  “Christ, what a mess.” Hatch's eyes glittered. “Jessie, I don't want you holding the whole thing together by yourself any longer. With the exception of Elizabeth, they're all adults. They can deal with their own problems.”

  “I'm supposed to just step out of the picture, is that it?”

  “Yeah. That's it.”

  “This is my family, Hatch. Give me one good reason why I should do what you want,” she hissed.

  “I thought I'd already explained this part. I want to be damn sure that when you marry me you're not doing it solely for the benefit of the Benedict-Ringstead clan.”

  “And I've already told you, I have no intention of marrying you.” But the protest sounded weak, even to her own ears.

  “We'll save that argument for another time. Right now I want to make sure you understand that you're out of the intermediary business. Let the other Benedicts and Ringsteads fend for themselves.”