Sweet Fortune

Vincent continued brusquely. “The Galloways have known you for ages. When they see my daughter with the new CEO of Benedict Fasteners, they'll be reassured that the shift in management has my full support and that nothing is going to change within the firm. This is important, Jessie. Galloway is from the old school. He likes a sense of continuity in his business relationships.”
    “Dad, I can't go. Mrs. Valentine was injured today. She's in the hospital.”
    “The hospital? What the hell happened?”
    “She fell down a flight of stairs. I'm not sure yet just what happened. She's got a concussion and some broken ribs. She'll be out of the office for a few weeks. I'm in charge.”
    “Who's going to notice? You told me yourself she doesn't have a lot of clients.”
    “As her new assistant, I'm aiming to fix that. I'm going to develop a marketing plan to improve business.”
    “Jesus. I can't believe my daughter is working on a marketing plan for a fortune-teller.”
    “Dad, I don't want to hear any more nasty comments about my new job. I mean it.”
    “All right, all right. Look, Jessie, I'm sorry about Mrs. Valentine, but I don't see how that changes anything concerning tonight.”
    “But I'm in charge here now, Dad. Mrs. Valentine is depending on me to hold things together, and there's a ton of stuff that has to be done around here.”
    “Tonight?” Vincent demanded skeptically.
    Jessie glanced desperately around the empty office, her eye finally falling on the blank pages of the appointment book. She tried to sound firm. “Well, yes, as a matter of fact. I'm going to be very busy getting the files in order and working up my new plan. You should understand. You've never worked anything less than a twelve-hour day in your life. Usually fourteen.”
    “Give me a break, Jessie. Running Benedict Fasteners is hardly the same thing as running a fortune-teller's operation.”
    “Don't call her a fortune-teller. She's a psychic. A genuine one. Look, Dad. This is a business I'm running here. Just like any other business.” Jessie lowered her voice to an urgent, coaxing level. “So, would you do me a favor and tell Hatch I'm sort of tied up and won't be able to go with him tonight?”
    “Hell, no. Tell him yourself.”
    “Dad, please, the guy makes me nervous. I've told you that.”
    “You make yourself nervous, Jessie. And for no good reason, far as I can tell. You want to stand him up tonight when he's counting on you, go ahead and stand him up. But don't expect me to do your dirty work.”
    “Come on, Dad. As a favor to me? I'm really swamped, and I don't have time to track him down.”
    “No problem tracking him down. He just walked into my office. Standing right in front of me, in fact. You can explain exactly why you want to leave him stranded without a dinner date two hours before he's set to finalize a major contract.”
    Jessie cringed. “Dad, no, wait, please…”
    It was too late. Jessie closed her eyes in dismay as she heard her father put his palm over the receiver and speak to someone else in his office.
    “It's Jessie,” Vincent snorted. “Trying to wriggle out of dinner with the Galloways tonight. You handle it. You're the CEO around here now.”
    Jessie groaned as she sensed the phone being handed into other hands. She summoned up an image of those hands. They were elegant, beautifully masculine. The hands of an artist or a swordsman.
    Another voice came on the line, this one as dark and quiet and infinitely deep as the still waters of a midnight sea. It sent a faint sensual chill down Jessie's spine.
    “What seems to be the problem, Jessie?” Sam Hatchard asked with a frightening calmness.
    Everything Hatch did or said was done calmly, coldly, and with what Jesse thought was a ruthless efficiency. On the surface it appeared the man had ice in his veins, that he was incapable of real emotion. But from the first moment she had met him, Jessie's intuition had warned her otherwise.
    “Hello, Hatch.” Jessie took her feet down off the desk and unconsciously began twisting the telephone cord between her fingers. She swallowed and fought to keep her tone crisp and unhurried. “Sorry to spring this on you, but something unforeseen has come up here at the office.”
    “How could something unforeseen come up at a psychic's office?”
    Jessie blinked. If it had been anyone else besides Hatch, she would have suspected a joke. But she had decided weeks ago that the man had no sense of