Sweet Fortune

of Benedict Fasteners at heart. So why won't you give me a chance?”
    She leaned back against the counter and eyed the tea as it steeped. “Okay, okay. I'll give you an answer but you aren't going to like it.”
    “Try me.”
    “I'll admit I'm attracted to you, but I'm not going to get involved with you, Hatch. I am not going to get serious about you. I am definitely not going to marry you, even though everyone else thinks it would be a really nifty idea.”
    “Because?”
    She drew a deep, steadying breath. “Because you are a carbon copy of my father.”
    He considered that in thoughtful silence. “No,” he said at last. “I'm not.”
    “You're right. You're worse than my father in a lot of ways. Harder. More driven. More consumed by your work. If that's possible. There's a reason my father has two ex-wives, Hatch. And the reason is not that he's a womanizer or that he's the kind of man who has to trade in older wives on younger ones in order to feel powerful and successful. The truth is, he chose good women both times he married and he knew it. He would still be married if he had his way.”
    “I know.”
    “If you ask Connie and Lilian, they'll tell you that they each married him because when he made them a top priority he was irresistible. They each left him because once he had married, he went right back to Benedict Fasteners, his true mistress.”
    “That's a rather juvenile, self-centered view of things, isn't it? No woman should expect to be the only focus of attention in a man's life. Running a successful business like Benedict Fasteners takes a lot of time and energy, Jessie. You know that.”
    “Too much time and energy, as far as I'm concerned. Connie and Lilian will both tell you they got sick and tired of trying to compete with the company. I don't intend to make the same mistake they did . I won't commit myself to a man for whom business will always come first.”
    “Jessie…”
    “My father is a workaholic. So are you. Workaholics don't make good family men, Hatch. I know. I'm the daughter of one, remember?”
    “That's a pretty extreme view.”
    Jessie was incensed. The man was being deliberately dense. “Don't you understand? If I ever decide to get married, I'll want a husband who cares more about me than he does about building a corporation, a man who will think it's just as important to get to his children's school plays as he does to a meeting with a client. I want a man who knows that life is short and that people—and especially family—are far more important than business.”
    “Calm down, Jessie, you're getting worked up.”
    “You wanted this little chat.” She was vaguely aware her voice was rising. She picked up one of the mugs. “You asked me a question and I'm answering it. What's more, I'm not finished. In addition to a man who is not totally addicted to his job, I want one with blood instead of ice water in his veins. I want one who's got some real, honest emotions and who isn't afraid to show them. You're always so damn cool and controlled. I want a man who can—”
    “That's enough, Jessie.”
    She broke off quickly as Hatch got to his feet. When he stepped toward her, closing the distance between them in two strides, she panicked and dropped the mug she had been clutching.
    Hatch reached her just as the mug crashed on the counter-top and rolled into the sink. His artist's hands closed slowly, inevitably around her upper arms and he pulled her against him with unnerving gentleness.
    “I think,” Hatch said, his mouth inches from her own, “that it's the comment about having ice water instead of blood in my veins that I take exception to the most. Kiss me, Jessie.”
    Wide-eyed, Jessie stood very still, looking up at him. This was the first time he had ever taken her in his arms. If she kissed him, it would be the first time . The monumental importance of the occasion threatened to overwhelm her. She shuddered. “Hatch, I was just trying to make a point.”
    “Kiss me,” he commanded again, his voice very soft even though his eyes were very brilliant. “Find out for yourself if it's blood or ice water that keeps me alive.”
    “Oh, Hatch…” Jessie threw caution to the winds. In that moment she knew she could not go to her grave without finding out what it was like to kiss Sam Hatchard just once. The tension she felt in his presence had been building for weeks and it had to be released.
    With an anguished little cry she wrapped her arms around