Sweet Fortune (3 page)

She had tried to tell herself in the beginning that there was no fire beneath the cold, polite surface of the man, but she had known she was fooling herself right from the start. The problem was that, just as with warriors and saints, the fire in Hatch would never burn for any woman. It burned for an empire—the kingdom he planned to build on the cornerstone of Benedict Fasteners.

Hatch had the full support of Vincent Benedict and the entire Benedict family for his ambitions. He had dangled an irresistible lure in front of all the Benedicts: in exchange for a chunk of the small, thriving regional business that was now Benedict Fasteners, he would take the company into the big time. Benedict Fasteners was a company based quite literally on nuts and bolts. It designed and manufactured a wide variety of products used in construction and manufacturing to hold things together. It had the potential to grow into a giant in the industry, a conglomerate that could dominate a huge market share. All it needed was a man of vision and enterprise at the helm.

Everyone in the family was convinced that Sam Hatchard was that man.

Of course, the only one who had really needed to be convinced was Vincent Benedict, the founder of the firm. And he had taken to Hatch immediately. The relationship that had developed between the two men was as profound as it was inevitable. Jessie had sensed it from the first moment she had seen her father and Hatch together in the same room. Hatch was the son her father had never had. Which might make him an excellent choice to take Benedict Fasteners into the big time but definitely made him lousy husband material, Jessie thought grimly.

Sam Hatchard was thirty-seven. Jessie had concluded that it would probably be another thirty years, if ever, before he mellowed. She was not about to give him that long. She was surely not that big a fool.

But the terrible truth, the heavy burden that weighed her down these days, was the knowledge that although she was running from Hatch, she was not running fast enough, and she knew it. The moth in her was strongly tempted to play with fire. Hatch had sensed the weakness and he was deliberately using it. It was no big secret. Everyone in the family was using it.

In one of the saner corners of her mind, Jessie was well aware that if she allowed herself to fall into Sam Hatchard's clutches she would be condemning herself to a marriage of unbearable frustration and unhappiness. She would be repeating the same mistake her mother had made in marrying Vincent Benedict. She would be tying herself to a driven man, a man who would never find room in his life for a wife and a family.

The end result of all her wallowing about in such a morass of conflicting emotions was, naturally, chaos for Jessie. For the last month, as Hatch's subtle pursuit gradually intensified, she had found herself dancing closer and closer to the flame, unable to resist, yet unable to surrender to what she knew would be disaster. It was ridiculous. She had to put a stop to the bizarre situation.

She had to learn to just say no.

The phone rang in her ear. Jessie started and jerked back in the chair. She automatically stretched a hand out toward the receiver and then hesitated, letting the answering machine take the call. There was a click, a recorded message of her own voice saying that the office was closed but that all calls would be returned as soon as possible, and then her friend Alison Kent came on the line.

Ever since Alison had become a stockbroker, her voice had taken on the upbeat cadences of a professional cheerleader. Jessie could almost see her old friend wearing a short skirt and waving a pom-pom as she made her cold calls.

“Jessie, this is Alison at Caine, Carter, and Peat. Give me a call as soon as possible. I've just found out about an incredible opportunity in a new fat-free cooking-oil product but we're going to have to move fast on this one.”

Jessie sighed as the machine clicked off. For Alison, still new on the job, every deal was the opportunity of a lifetime, and Jessie always had a hard time keeping her distance. She had to admit that her initial enthusiasm had been high when she had agreed to become Alison's first real account at Caine, Carter, and Peat. Visions of making a killing had danced through her head and she had even wondered if she might have an aptitude for playing the market full-time. But a series of recent losses had given Jessie a more realistic view of Wall Street.

She dreaded returning Alison's phone call because when she did she would very likely end up buying a lot of shares in some company that wanted to market fat-free cooking oil.

The phone rang again and this time Jessie heard Lilian Benedict's voice on the answering machine. Her mother's warm, cultured tones poured over Jessie's frayed nerves like rich cream.

“Jessie? This is Lilian. Just checking to see if you'd had a chance to talk to Vincent about the loan for ExCellent Designs yet. Oh, and by the way, enjoy yourself this evening, dear. Wear the little black dress with the V in the back. It's wonderful on you. Give my best to Hatch and the Galloways. Talk to you later.”

There was another click followed by a pregnant silence as Jessie contemplated the fact that even her own mother was trying to push her into the arms of Sam Hatchard.

The situation was getting out of hand. Jessie got to her feet and began to pace the office. Nobody had actually used the word “marriage” yet in her presence, but it did not require Mrs. Valentine's psychic abilities to know what everyone was thinking, including Hatch.

A month ago when Jessie had first begun to realize what was happening, she had actually laughed. She had been so certain she could handle the pressure of the crazy situation. But now she was getting scared. There was no doubt but that she was being gently, steadily, inexorably maneuvered toward an alliance that a hundred years ago would have been baldly labeled exactly what it was, a marriage of convenience.

If she was not very careful, she was going to find herself in very big trouble. People who played with fire frequently wound up in the emergency room with singed fingers.

Jessie glanced at the clock and saw with dismay that it was nearly six. She would have to hurry if she was going to get back to her apartment and get dressed before Hatch showed up on her doorstep.

Hatch was never late.

Hatch pushed the folder of computer printouts across the desk toward Vincent Benedict. “Take a look. I think you'll like what you see.”

Vincent scowled impatiently at the folder. “Of course I will. You're a magician with this kind of deal. Nobody puts a contract together better than you do.”

“Thanks,” Hatch murmured. It was true, he was very good at putting together projects such as the one he had recently completed between Benedict Fasteners and Galloway Engineering, but it was nice to be appreciated. Especially by Vincent Benedict.

Benedict continued to frown thoughtfully across the wide expanse of desk. It occurred to Hatch that Jessie had gotten her eyes from her father. They were a curious feline green, very clear and very intelligent. But there was a vulnerable quality in Jessie's gaze that was definitely not present in her father's eyes.

Vincent was nearing sixty, a vigorous, ruggedly built man whose heavy shoulders were a legacy of his early years in the construction business. His hair was white and thinning slightly. His face had no doubt softened somewhat over the years, but the hawklike nose and square, strong jaw still reflected the image of a man who had come up in the world the hard way. This was a man who had made most of his own rules in life, but he had played by those rules. If you were honest with Vincent Benedict, he was honest with you. If you crossed him, you paid. Dearly.

Hatch understood that kind of code because he lived by it himself. He had learned it long before he'd entered the corporate world, learned it in the hardworking, hard-playing world of his youth and young manhood, a world where real labor meant working with your hands. It meant ranching, construction, driving trucks.

The code had been drummed into him on the job, and after work it had been reinforced during nights spent in smoky taverns where a man learned to drink beer instead of white wine and where he picked up basic psychology by listening to the words of country-western music.

Hatch had liked Benedict right from the start. There had been an immediate rapport between them, probably because their origins were so similar. Vincent Benedict was one of the very few men Hatch had ever met whom he actually respected; he was also one of the even fewer number whose respect Hatch wanted in return.

“Are you worried about Galloway getting cold feet to-night?” Hatch asked after a minute during which it dawned on him that Vincent was not paying close attention to the figures on the printout.

“No.” Vincent drummed his fingers on the desk in an uncharacteristically restless gesture and scowled.

“Did you have some questions?” Hatch prodded, wondering what the problem was. Benedict was usually nothing if not forthright.

“No. Everything looks fine.”

Hatch shrugged and opened the second folder to scan the numbers inside. He had seen the potential in Benedict Fasteners immediately when Benedict had hired Hatchard Consulting briefly for advice on doing business with a Japanese company. The company had recently opened up a plant in Washington and had wanted to use local suppliers. Most were unable to meet the quality-control demands of the Japanese. Vincent Benedict had been wise enough to see the future could be even more profitable if he found a way to do so.

Hatch had shown him the way, and in the process concluded that Benedict Fasteners was precisely the ripe, cash-rich little business he had been looking for to use as a springboard to an empire. Vincent had refused to sell outright, but had hinted there was a possibility of a deal.

Benedict had given Hatch a one-year contract as chief executive officer, during which time both men agreed to size up the situation and each other as well as the future.

The ink had hardly dried on the CEO agreement before Benedict had started playing matchmaker.

It had quickly become clear that the price tag on a share of Benedict Fasteners was ensuring the firm stayed in the family. There was only one way to do that, but by then Hatch had met Jessie Benedict and had decided the price was not too high. In fact, the whole deal appeared very neat and satisfactory all the way around.

The Galloway contract was in the bag, of course. The dinner tonight was just a social touch. It would cement the relationship and emphasize to Galloway that from now on he would be dealing with Sam Hatchard, the new CEO of Benedict Fasteners. Jessie's presence would attest to the fact that the transfer of power had Vincent's blessing.

“She says you make her nervous,” Vincent growled suddenly.

Hatch looked up, his mind still on the numbers in front of him. “I beg your pardon?”

“Jessie says you make her nervous.”

“Yes.” Hatch returned his attention to the printout.

“Dammit, man, doesn't that bother you?”

“She'll get over it.”

“Why do you make her nervous, anyway?” Vincent demanded.

Hatch glanced up again, amused. “What is this? You're not worrying about your daughter at this late date, are you? She's twenty-seven years old. She can take care of herself.”

“I'm not so sure about that,” Vincent muttered. “Twenty-seven years old and she still hasn't found a steady job.”

Hatch smiled briefly. “She's found plenty of jobs, from what I've heard. She just hasn't stuck with any of them very long.”

“She's so damn smart.” Vincent's scowl deepened. “She was always smart. But she's changed jobs so often since she got out of college that I've lost count. No direction. No goals. I can't believe she's gone to work for a goddamned fortune-teller now. It's the last straw, I tell you.”

Hatch shrugged again. “Take it easy. In a month or two she'll probably quit to go to work at the zoo.”

“I should be so lucky. She seems real serious about this new job with the psychic. She's been there a month already and she sounds more enthusiastic than ever. She hasn't gotten herself fired yet, and that's a bad sign. People usually start thinking about firing Jessie within a couple weeks of hiring her. Hell, she didn't even last two weeks at that damned singing-telegram job. Guess it took'em that long to figure out she couldn't sing.”

“Give her time.”

Vincent eyed him suspiciously. “It doesn't bother you that she's always bouncing around? Doesn't it make her seem kind of flighty or something?”

“She'll settle down after she's married.”

“How do you know?” Vincent shot back. “What do you know about women and marriage, for crying out loud?”

“I was married once.”

Vincent's mouth fell open. “You were? What happened? Divorced?”

“My wife died.”

Vincent was obviously stunned that Hatch, whom he'd come to think of as a friend, if not the son he'd never had, had never mentioned his previous marriage before. “Oh, Jesus. I'm sorry, Hatch.”

Sam met Vincent's eyes and said, “It was a long time ago.”

“Yeah, well, like I said, I'm sorry.”

“Thank you.” Hatch went back to studying the printout. “Stop worrying about your daughter. I'll take care of her.”

“That's what I'm trying to tell you. She doesn't seem to want you to take care of her, Hatch. She's not exactly encouraging you, is she?”

“You're wrong,” Hatch said gently. “She's been very encouraging in her own way.”

Vincent gave him a dumbfounded look. “She has?”

“Yes.” Hatch turned a page of the printout.

“Dammit, how can you say that? What has she done to encourage you?”

“She gets very nervous around me,” Hatch explained patiently.

“I know, dammit, that's what I've been telling you. What in God's name…?” Vincent broke off, incredulous. “You're saying that's a good sign?”

“A very good sign.”

“Are you sure about that? I've got two ex-wives and neither Connie nor Lilian was ever nervous around me,” Vincent said. “Nerves of steel, those two.”

“Jessie's different.”

“You can say that again. Never did understand that girl.”

“That's an interesting comment, given the fact that you intend to leave Benedict Fasteners to her.”