Fortune's Heirs: Reunion: Her Good Fortune / A Tycoon in Texas / In a Texas Minute

Running a light, just as this man had, she’d hit a driver. He remembered the horror that had spiked through him, the awful noise of metal crashing against metal. And most of all, he remembered Ann’s scream. The last sound she’d ever made. She and the driver were both dead at the scene. And him? He’d gotten a cluster of minor injuries that had landed him in the hospital for a couple of weeks.

Physically, the injuries had been minor. Emotionally was another story. He’d wanted to die, to be with Ann for all eternity. But all he’d sustained were things that could heal.

Other than his heart.

He had absolutely no patience with people who drank to the point that the alcohol controlled them instead of the other way around. And although there’d been no alcohol on the breath of the other driver, the man had still been reckless and run the light.

Gloria was looking at him almost defiantly. He made up his mind. “All right. Once the guy from roadside assistance gets here and we’re finished giving our statements to the police, I’ll call a cab and we can go see about the location. If you’re sure you’re all right,” he added again.

Exasperation filled her voice as a policeman got out of his patrol vehicle. “You don’t have to keep asking that. I’m not going to change my story.”

Stubborn. He supposed that was a good sign. Jack cupped his ear as he tilted his head toward hers. “’Fraid you’re going to have to speak up. You blew out my ears in the car.”

Gloria looked at him sharply. She could make out a hint of a smile on his lips.

He was making a joke.

That stunned her almost as much as his gentleness had. “I didn’t know you had a sense of humor.”

He leaned in even closer to her, his hand still cupped around his ear. “What?”

She laughed, the tension finally beginning to leave her. Just in time to give her statement to the policeman approaching them.

Forty minutes later, after renting a car, they were finally standing inside a shop on the second floor of the Big T Mall. Until a month ago, the space had been occupied by a trendy baby clothing store. Doing well, the owner had decided to move on to a better location. The pink and blue lettering on the glass door had been scraped off just that morning. There was scaffolding on either side of the entrance and the modest interior was in a complete state of chaos.

In the three days since she had begun leasing the space, thanks to Patrick Fortune backing her bank loan, she’d had to forward ten different bewildered customers on to the store’s new location. Each had said something about thinking the store would remain at that location forever. One woman had obviously made good use of the place. She’d had four children with her. Two in stroller, two hanging off the stroller. And if that bulge Gloria had noted was any indication, a fifth on the way.

She hoped that someday her customers would come looking for her store like that, loyally searching for her only to be told of a more high-end address.

She wondered if any of her clients in Denver would make the trip out, or try to get in touch with her via the store’s Web site.

Right now, what seemed to matter most—and she really didn’t understand why it meant anything to her one way or another—was the stamp of approval from the man roaming the unfinished store.

She held her breath as she watched Jack look around. All signs of the previous store were gone, except for one two-dimensional cardboard rendition of a crawling baby the owner had decided to leave behind. It was leaning off to the side. She thought of it as her goodluck charm, a leftover from a successful business.

Nerves danced through her, a parent watching her child being judged, as she watched Jack survey the area. So far, there was no indication of what the store was planning to evolve into. But it was still early days.

Finally, his feet firmly planted on a drop cloth, he glanced at her over his shoulder. “This the best location you could find?”

All traces of the man who had rescued her from her marshmallow grave seemed to have vanished in smoke. They were back in their individual sparring corners, she thought.

Maybe it was better this way. For a few minutes back there, she’d actually liked him. Coupling that with the physical attraction that seemed to insist on existing, refusing to disappear, made for a dangerous combination. This overly critical version of Jack Fortune, JF Version 1.0 she thought with a smile, was one she could more easily resist.

What she might have trouble resisting right now, she thought, was wrapping her hands around his throat and choking him every time he opened his condescending mouth. Each time he did, she winced inwardly, bracing herself for yet another derogatory comment. It was getting damn hard to smile at him.

“Is it the best location I could find?” she echoed his question, knowing it annoyed him. “In my price range, yes, it is.” And then she felt compelled to defend her decision. “Besides, the last business that was here did very well.”

He looked around slowly and she had no way of guessing what he was thinking. Only something bad. “Another jewelry store?” he finally asked.

She pointed to the cardboard figure leaning against the back wall. “A baby clothing store.” And then she saw him frown. Great, now what?

He crossed back to her, his hands shoved deep into the pants’ pockets of his custom-made suit. “You’re comparing apples and oranges.”

She shook her head. “No fruit involved,” she answered tartly. “I was thinking of foot traffic.” She wished she could remember the numbers. Annoyance had temporarily wiped the stats from her brain. “This mall sees a lot of people. Most of the stores here do well.” And then, suddenly remembering the numbers, she rattled them off to him.

He looked at her for a long moment and she could feel her blood pressure rising.

“You’ve done your homework,” he finally conceded.

There it was again, that sarcastic edge in his voice. Damn it, no matter how attractive and sexy this man looked, his attitude ruffled her feathers. Any vague temptation she might have been entertaining went up in smoke the second Jack Fortune opened his mouth.

“Thank you,” she replied coldly to his homework comment. “But it is my dime.”

“And my father’s,” he reminded her. “He is lending you any extra money you might need.”

Her eyes narrowed. Was he going to bring that up at every opportunity? Of course he was. “All the more reason to do my homework.”

“Yes, it is.”

Jack inclined his head, signaling an end to the round. He was sparring with her and he knew why. It all stemmed from the car accident. He’d felt the need to protect her. And he’d felt responsible for her. It went deeper than just being responsible for someone fate threw him together with. He felt something for her.

Undoubtedly the feelings he’d experienced had all been brought on by memories of Ann, but he still didn’t like the wave of panic that had assaulted him when he’d first heard Gloria screaming. Moreover, he definitely didn’t like the odd sensation that had waltzed through him, filling every cavity, when she’d clung to him after he’d extracted her from the vehicle.

Things had stirred inside him. Things with cobwebs and dust on them.

Feelings.

The last thing he wanted awakened within him were feelings. The sooner this woman was out of his hair, the better.

Chapter Seven

“So, how’s it going?”

There was no need for any sort of a preamble. Jack knew exactly what the “it” was that his father was referring to. He was talking about Gloria and her jewelry store.

His father had called him at his Plaza Hotel suite earlier and asked him to swing by the office this morning. Though he wasn’t an optimist by nature, a small part of Jack had hoped that there would be something in the offing beyond the assignment that had brought him to San Antonio in the first place.

One look at his father’s expression had permanently sunk that hope.

Again he couldn’t help but wonder why his father was so intense about the success or failure of this woman’s business. Granted his father was a very charitable man—Jack doubted if anyone gave as much to charity as his parents did—but this somehow went beyond the call.

Jack shrugged, sinking his hands deep into his pockets as he wandered around the office, studying the paintings his father had chosen to keep him company while he was in San Antonio.

He’d heard somewhere that his father was considering having Derek take over this office when his father went back to New York. Even though he meant to return there himself—and as fast as possible—he couldn’t help feeling just the slightest bit piqued that his father would even be considering Derek for the top position instead of him.

Although he and Derek were as close as two friends could be, there was more than a healthy sort of rivalry between them. It was what kept his brain honed, he told himself.

“All things considered,” Jack replied, moving on to another painting, this one a more dramatic Turner seascape, “I’d rather be back in New York.”