Her Good Fortune Page 11

  More like a prophecy of doom, he told himself. And he would do well to heed it.

  Gloria knew she needed help.

  If she hadn’t been aware of it before, that kiss she’d allowed to happen—that kiss she’d more than welcomed—had shown her just how vulnerable she was.

  The man exuded sexuality with every breath he took. As they finished painting the showroom, she caught herself staring at Jack’s coveralls a half a dozen times, wanting to take them off him using just her teeth.

  Instead of getting better, this attraction was getting worse.

  If she wasn’t careful, she was going to wind up exactly where she had that time she’d come off a three-day bender after she’d had that awful falling out with Christina. When the fog had left from her brain, leaving behind one killer of a hangover, she’d discovered herself in bed with a man she hadn’t recognized no matter how hard she’d tried to activate her brain.

  She’d made a promise to herself then, a promise never to wind up beside a man she had no intention of being with again.

  Gloria had an uneasy feeling that promise was going to ring hollow if she didn’t do something to reinforce it, and fast.

  She needed backup. She needed to touch base with someone sensible, someone who was grounded, who’d keep her grounded.

  Until Jack had kissed her, she would have said that person was her. But after feeling lightning flashing wildly through her veins, she knew that she had just been kidding herself.

  Just like alcoholics never really fully recover but remain one for the rest of their lives, the same could be said for a woman who made bad choices. She was doomed to remain in that mode, to continue making bad choices because she was constantly being drawn to men who were bad for her.

  And in his own way, Jack Fortune was bad for her. He certainly didn’t come with the promise of a happily-ever-after attached to him. Jack was clearly a man who wanted no attachments. Any sort of physical relationship she shared with him would be just that, physical, nothing more. It wouldn’t lead anywhere. Besides, she’d had her share of hurt feelings and wasn’t eager to go through that again.

  To give the man his due, he hadn’t pushed his advantage—and he’d definitely had one—when he’d kissed her. God knew she wasn’t a pushover any longer, but with the right man—or the wrong one, depending on which side of the situation you were on—she had absolutely no willpower to speak of. Until he’d blown her resolve to pieces, she’d thought she had, but now she knew she didn’t.

  Which meant that she was going to have to be more vigilant, she told herself as she dipped her roller into an all but empty paint tray.

  She could swear she felt him watching her.

  That made her reinforce her promise to herself: no more being caught alone with him, even with paint buckets between them. If she was going to have any further dealings with Mr. Jack Fortune, there was going to have to be someone, anyone, present at the time.

  But for now she needed to talk to someone rational, someone more cold-blooded and tougher than herself. Her sister Christina was the perfect choice.

  Gloria put on the last finishing strokes, then retired her roller. Jack, she noticed, was still busy. She moved to the far end of the showroom—as far from Jack as she could get.

  She knew she could turn to Sierra just as easily, but secretly she’d always admired her cool, calm, collected older sister. Even during the height of her rebellion and her awful period of acting out, a part of her had longed to be exactly like Christina.

  The second she came home, Gloria shed her coat, purse and shoes and made a beeline for the telephone. Her body was still humming from this afternoon, from an onslaught of desire that almost had her kissing Jack as he took his leave. That had to stop.

  Gloria reached for the phone and just as her fingers came in contact with the receiver, it rang beneath her hand. She hesitated, looking at her Caller ID. The number identified the call as coming from Fortune-Rock-well Bank. Jack?

  The second she thought of him, her pulse rate escalated. God, this had to stop, she thought again.

  She couldn’t talk to him, she told herself. She’d let her answering machine pick up, then call Christina.

  Gloria made her way to the kitchen, trying to ignore the phone, listening for the sound of a male voice anyway. What she needed, she decided, was a cup of coffee. Strong, black coffee. And maybe a lobotomy.

  The machine beeped. She held her breath even as she told herself not to.

  “Glory? It’s just me, Tina, calling to see how you were doing. I’ll try you again la—”

  Pivoting on her stockinged heel, Gloria made a dive for the phone on the coffee table. She managed to lift the receiver just as her sister was about to hang up. “Tina? Are you there?”

  “Yes, I’m here.” Relieved, Gloria sank onto the sofa. Her legs felt as if they had all the structural integrity of thin rubber bands. “You sound breathless. What’s up?”

  If she was going to have a serious conversation with Christina, she wanted it to be face-to-face, not over the phone. So for now, she just went with the obvious excuse. “Just dashing across the room to get to the phone before you hung up.”

  “Didn’t realize you were that eager to talk to me,” Christina teased, then her voice grew tight with emotion. “I’ve missed you, Glory. Why did we waste so much time getting back together?”

  “My fault.” She was willing to take all the blame for the schism. She’d been the stubborn one, the one whose brain had been pickled more than half the time. “But it’s over now. We’re back in the same area and we’re friends again. That’s all that counts.” She made herself comfortable, just as she had in the old days when she’d spend hours on the phone with nothing serious pressing on her conscience. “So, what’s up?”

  “That was what I was going to ask you,” Christina responded, her voice warm, interested. “How’s the place coming along?”

  “Fantastic.” She thought of the work she’d done last night. She’d stayed up until the wee hours, worked with a desktop publishing program. And then, for relaxation, she’d gotten in a little designing. “I’ve printed up all the fliers with the new address and posted them to all my old customers.” Including one of the major studios that had commissioned her to design jewelry for one of its most popular situation comedies and the number one drama program on television. “I’ve even updated my Web site to let everyone know about the move and I’ve got a shipment of raw materials coming in at the end of the week.”

  “Raw materials,” Christina echoed, then laughed. “First time I’ve ever heard diamond and emeralds called that. Sounds like you’re getting ready to open sooner than you originally thought?”

  “I am,” Gloria confirmed. She tucked her feet under her and stared at the rain as it came down outside her window. It made the interior gloomy. “The weekend after this one.”

  “That soon?” She heard the soft sound of keys being struck on a keyboard. Christina was multitasking again. They got that from their parents, she thought. “I thought you said you hadn’t decided on a painter yet?”

  “I did. Me.” And then she decided to be completely honest. “Along with some help.”

  “Help?” Her sister’s voice sounded on alert.

  Gloria took a deep breath, bracing herself before she continued. “Jack Fortune came by to harass me about insurance. He obviously didn’t think I was bright enough to have any. I told him who my carrier was and I put him to work.”

  “Good girl.” Delight resonated in Christina’s voice as she applauded her.

  Not exactly quite so good, Gloria thought, knowing she hadn’t quite been truthful about the sequence of events. She glanced at her watch. It was too late today to meet Christina, plus she was pretty tired. The idea of a hot shower was too alluring to pass up. “Um, Tina, are you free for lunch tomorrow?”

  “Sure, why?”

  She paused for a second, then forged ahead. “I need to talk to someone.”

  “About J
ack?”

  At the last minute Gloria chickened out. She and Christina had just gotten back on firm ground and she didn’t want someone she admired, someone who had never made all the missteps that she had, to think of her as a weakling. At least, not before she could present her side of the picture.

  “No,” she denied vehemently. “I want to design a necklace for Mama and I thought I’d bounce a few ideas off you.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  Gloria’s back stiffened. “Don’t give me that big-sister, I-can-see-right-through-you stuff. I really want your opinion.”

  “Okay. Why don’t you come by the office tomorrow and we’ll grab a bite to eat while you impress me with your designs.”

  She grinned, pleased. She felt better already. “Sounds good. What time?”

  “Make it eleven-thirty. I’ll get off early so we can beat the crowd.”

  “You’re on,” Gloria said. “I’ll see you tomorrow at eleven-thirty.”

  She was smiling as she hung up the receiver, all thoughts of Jack pushed aside. At least for the time being.

  Chapter Ten

  P reoccupied, Gloria didn’t see Jack until she physically got on the elevator the next day.

  She thought her radar would have warned her that the one person she desperately wanted to avoid was in the area. But just as she’d rounded the side that led to the bank she’d heard the bell sound for an arriving elevator car and, in a hurry to get the ride to the thirtieth floor in a cylindrical tube over with, she made a dash for it.

  And narrowly avoided colliding with the tall, well-built man coming in from the other side.

  Face to cloth, Gloria recognized the cut of the suit first. Custom. Hand-sewn. The cologne was a close second. There was no one else in the elevator to share the ride with them.

  Her heart froze just as the doors closed behind her. She took a step back and looked up at him. Her verbal skills lagged behind by a full beat.

  “Jack.”

  “Gloria.” He acknowledged her presence a bit curtly. But she was the last person he wanted to run into, literally or otherwise. He was on his way to a private meeting with his father about the Gloria situation. After that little incident in the shop, for which he wholeheartedly accepted the blame, he definitely wanted out. According to her own words, her shop would be ready for business within the week. Her insurance was in order, as was her inventory. And she had a security firm coming out to safeguard the store against break-ins. There was no reason for him to stick around. He wasn’t aware of the bank holding anyone else’s hand so tightly.

  His eyes washed over her. She was bundled up in a three-quarter-length suede coat. Suede had never been a turn-on for him.

  Until now.

  Maybe he should have arranged to meet his father for dinner instead, he thought darkly. There was precious little chance of her turning up at his father’s house.

  Damn it, why did she feel like a cross between a James Bond martini and a malt every time she ran into him? Stirred and shaken.

  Gloria forced a smile to her lips. “Looks like we can’t seem to avoid running into one another.”

  He decided that his best bet was to stare straight ahead at the steel doors. “Looks like.”

  As talkative as ever, she thought. Maybe she should have been grateful for that, but she wasn’t. She hated silence when she was uncomfortable and right now after yesterday she was very uncomfortable.

  What was he thinking? Had he relived that kiss over and over again the way she had? Or did he regret the impulse that had prompted him to turn her knees into churned butter?

  Or had the whole thing been so insignificant he wasn’t wasting any time at all thinking about it?

  Gloria cleared her throat, summoning words to fill the silence. “I’m on my way to meet my sister for lunch. Christina,” she added for good measure in case he had forgotten which sister worked here. When he made no effort to respond, she pressed, “You?”

  A trace of confusion marred his perfect forehead. “Me, what?”

  Was he tuning her out completely? “Who are you going to see?”

  Jack turned his face forward again. “My father.” To get me off this damn assignment from hell once and for all.

  “Oh.” Extracting words out of the man was like trying to pick hot coals out of a fireplace. They came swiftly, but sparingly. “Tell him I said hi.”

  Jack made no reply, merely nodding that he’d heard her. According to the flashing numbers at the front of the car, the floors were flying by.

  Not fast enough to suit him, he thought. The space within the smooth, steel-gray walls was filling up with her perfume and it was getting to him. Arousing him. Making him remember what her lips had felt like pressed against his.

  Ten more flights to go.

  And then the elevator jerked to a stop. The light went out, leaving them in complete darkness.

  The next moment he felt his arm being clutched. “Clawed at” was more like it.

  “What just happened?”

  Her voice was breathless, panicky. Just like when the truck had struck his car flying through the intersection. “It’s just a malfunction. Don’t start screaming,” he warned.

  He thought he heard her swallow. “I won’t.” She sounded utterly unsure of her promise.

  “It’ll only be a few seconds,” he assured her. This was a relatively new building. Fortune-Rockwell had moved out of its old home office into this one less than five years ago. Everything was supposed to be state-of-the-art.

  Which meant that these kinds of things weren’t supposed to happen.

  “The lights are bound to come back on.”

  Extricating his arm, he put his hands out to feel for the wall in an attempt to find the phone. Somehow he got turned around and he found her instead.

  Instantly he pulled back his hands. Whatever he had touched—and he had a real suspicion what that had been—was incredibly soft, even if it was packaged in suede.

  “Sorry,” he muttered.

  “It’s okay.”

  Her reply was barely above a whisper. He could hear the fear mounting in her voice. “We’re going to be all right,” he told her firmly.

  “I know we are.”

  Although she didn’t sound quite so sure she believed him.

  Just as he wondered if she was going to faint, an auxiliary light came on. The illumination it cast was dim, but at least they were no longer in the dark.

  Her skin looked almost translucent, he thought, glancing at her face. “There.” Jack indicated the emergency light source. “See?”

  “Yes,” she whispered. “I can.” She could see just how small, how confining, the space was. For some reason the dim light only made it feel that much smaller. A tightness was taking hold within her chest.

  “And so can I,” he told her. And what he saw was unadulterated fear. The same fear that had been in her eyes when he’d pulled her out of the car when the air bag had deployed. “It’s going to be all right,” he repeated. The words felt empty, hollow, highlighting the frustration he felt.

  She turned desperate eyes on him. “When? When is it going to be all right?”

  “As soon as the lights come back on.”

  He knew his answer wasn’t very reassuring. Nothing frustrated him more than not having control over a situation. Annoyance strumming through him, he opened the panel just above the keypad of floor buttons and extracted the closed-circuit telephone receiver. “Hello? Hello? Is anyone there?”

  There was no answer. For a minute he felt like hitting the receiver against the wall, but losing his temper wasn’t going to solve their dilemma. He tried his cell phone. There was no signal. When it rained, it poured.

  “The power must be out.” Gloria’s voice was hardly above a whisper. She could feel her throat closing up again.

  He shook his head. “The phone lines are on a separate circuit.” Swallowing a curse, he hung up the receiver. “Maybe some of the other elevators are out, too, and whoever is suppo
sed to be answering the phone is out checking on another car.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  His attention shifted toward her. Poor lighting or not, she really didn’t look too good. “Sit down before you fall down.”

  But Gloria remained standing where she was, her whole body as rigid as if it had been chiseled out of rock. She turned her eyes to his face.

  This was what they meant by a deer-caught-in-the-headlights look, he thought.

  “Do something.” It was half a command, half an appeal.

  Just what did she expect him to do? There were precious few options available. “Well, I’d get out and push the car up to the next landing, but my cape’s at the cleaners.”

  “Do something,” she repeated, more insistently this time.

  Okay, he’d bite. “And just exactly what is it that you’d have me do?”

  She shrugged helplessly. If she knew, she’d have done it herself. “I don’t know—a guy thing.” Looking around, she saw what appeared to be a removable panel directly above their heads. “Like climbing up and pushing that off.”

  He looked up at the same panel. “What good will that do?”

  “We could climb out.” With a dismissive snort, he looked down at her high heels. “I’m very nimble,” she insisted.

  He decided to humor her for the space of a moment. “Okay, supposing we could climb out, then what?”

  She didn’t know about him, but it would do her a world of good. “At least we wouldn’t be trapped in here, suffocating.”

  “We’re not suffocating. There’s plenty of air in here.”

  She had her hand on his arm again. For a relatively small woman, she had really strong fingers. “Please.”

  Jack knew she wouldn’t give up until he gave in. He supposed that since there was no one answering him on the phone, it wouldn’t hurt to try to see what was going on, although he wasn’t about to attempt shimmying up the cables to the next floor. There was no way he could possibly pry open the doors on the next landing. Even if he were a weight lifter, it wouldn’t be possible.

  He moved to the wall and tested the integrity of the railing that ran along three sides of the car. Recessed from the wall, it seemed sturdy enough to hold him.