Sweet Fortune

“She's getting worse.”
    “I'm sure it's just a phase,” Hatch said imperturbably as the waiter approached.

    Two hours later Jessie breathed a sigh of relief as Hatch brought his gray Mercedes to a halt outside her apartment building. She reached for the door handle before he had finished switching off the engine.
    “Well, there you go, Hatch,” she said, infusing her tone with a false note of good cheer. “The Galloway deal is signed, sealed, and delivered. Tell Dad I did my duty. Now, if you don't mind, I've got to run. Big day tomorrow at the office. I'm sure you'll understand.”
    Without glancing to his side, Hatch touched the button that locked all the doors.
    Jessie heard the solid click and sat back, resigned to the inevitable. “There was something else you wanted?”
    Hatch turned slightly in the seat and draped his arm over the wheel, one long finger idly stroking its smooth surface. She found herself staring at that finger, hypnotized by the oddly erotic gesture.
    “I think,” Hatch said finally, “that we need to talk. Please invite me in for tea.”
    Jessie jerked her gaze away from his gliding finger and shot him a sharp glance. There was just enough light coming from the streetlamp to reveal the determination in his expression. The request for tea was more like a demand. Well, he had a point. Maybe it was time they talked. They had played cat-and-mouse long enough.
    “All right,” she said.
    Hatch released the locks and Jessie opened her door before Hatch could get around to her side of the car.
    Conversation had been sparse since Jessie and Hatch had left the restaurant. It was even sparser as they went down the hall to her apartment. When they reached her door, Hatch took the key from her hand and fitted it into the lock.
    Jessie stepped inside, found the light switch, and flipped it on.
    Hatch reached for Jessie's burnt-orange duster. He eased it from her shoulders slowly, letting her feel the weight of his hands. She was suddenly conscious of just how much material was missing from the back of her dress.
    “Would it be so bad, Jessie?” he asked quietly.
    She stepped briskly away from the lightweight coat, leaving it in his fingers. “Would what be so bad?”
    “You and me.” He tossed the duster over the back of a chair. His eyes held hers as he shrugged out of his suit jacket.
    There was no point in pretending she didn't know what he meant. Jessie turned toward the shadowed kitchen. “Yes.”
    “Why?” He followed her, one hand loosening the knot of his tie.
    “Don't you understand, Hatch?” Jessie opened a cup-board and took down two mugs. “It would be a disaster for both of us.”
    “You haven't given us much of a chance yet.” He took a seat at the counter, one well-shod foot hooked on the bottom rung of the kitchen stool. “Every evening we've had together, all four or five of them, has followed the same pattern as this one.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “First, I've had to corner you and cut off all the obvious exits. Then I've had to coax you or blackmail you or lay a guilt trip on you in order to keep you from backing out at the last minute. When I do get you out to a restaurant, you spend the time baiting me. Then I take you home and you say good night downstairs and dash out of the car as if you're running off to meet another man. You call that giving us a chance?”
    “Certainly makes one wonder what you see in me, doesn't it? But I guess we both know the answer to that.” She switched on the kettle with a savage little twist of her fingers. “I'm Vincent Benedict's daughter.”
    Hatch responded only with mild curiosity to that unsubtle taunt. He smiled quizzically. “You think I'm interested in you just because of the company?”
    Jessie sighed. “I think that's a big part of it.”
    “The company is what brought us together. And I want it very badly. But I would not marry you to get it unless I also wanted you just as badly. And I do. Want you, that is.”
    Jessie gasped and her hand jerked so quickly that she scattered a spoonful of tea leaves all over the kitchen counter. “Damn.”
    “Relax, Jessie.”
    “You always have this effect on me.”
    “I know,” he said softly.
    “How can you expect me to get serious about a man who makes me feel like a complete klutz?” She put another spoonful of tea in the pot and reached for the hissing kettle.
    “Jessie, please. I know there's a mutual attraction here. And we both have the best interests