Sweet Fortune

far too tenuous.
    He stared at the scarlet lily and remembered the expression on Jessie's face when she had climaxed in his arms.

CHAPTER SEVEN

    E ric Jerkface did not win first place at the science fair. When the award was handed out it went to a grinning Elizabeth benedict. Her father was standing proudly beside her when the film crew took the shots for the evening news. Jessie was so excited she could hardly contain herself. Constance, looking sophisticated in a white suit that clung to every full curve, smiled with delight.
    “Are you going to tell me how you pulled off this little miracle?” Constance murmured in Jessie's ear under cover of a round of applause. “I can't believe you got Vincent here. He made that business down in Portland sound more important than the Second Coming.”
    “Don't thank me, Connie. We owe this one to Hatch.”
    “He did it for you, didn't he?” Constance slid her a speculative glance.
    “Who? Hatch? Umm, yes. I believe he did.”
    “You don't sound overly thrilled. It was a lovely gesture, Jessie.”
    “The thing is, Connie, men like Hatch don't make lovely gestures unless there's a price tag attached.”
    “Such cynicism is unbecoming in a young woman, my dear. It's only us tough old broads who get to indulge in that kind of thing.”
    “What do I get to indulge in?” Jessie asked.
    “Safe sex, if you're lucky. And if you would stop being so damn picky. Your mother's starting to worry about you, you know. Lilian says she did not raise you to go into a convent.”
    Jessie felt herself turning a vivid shade of red as memories of the previous night on Mrs. Valentine's sofa burned through her mind again. “For heaven's sake, Connie.”
    “Well, well, well.” Constance gave her a warm, approving glance. “Congratulations. I assume we have Hatch to thank for that blush too?”
    Jessie fought for composure. “As I said, Connie, when men like Hatch make lovely gestures, there's usually a price tag attached.”
    “Take some advice from a tough old broad. Pay the price. By the way, speaking of the cost of doing business these days, I know this isn't exactly the time or place to ask, but have you had a chance to talk to Vincent about another little loan for ExCellent Designs?”
    Jessie groaned silently. “No, not really. I've been a little busy lately, Connie. I'll say something to him as soon as I get a chance.”
    “Thanks.” Constance smiled at her in gratitude. “Lilian and I would approach him ourselves, but those kinds of conversations always turn into screaming matches between the three of us. You know your father when it comes to money. He won't give it out unless there are strings attached. He likes to control people that way. You're the only one who seems to be able to talk him into being reasonable on the subject.”
    “Only because I go on screaming longer than you or Lilian,” Jessie pointed out morosely.
    The film crew was hovering over Elizabeth as she did her best to explain her chemical analysis of a toxic-waste dump to a reporter who wanted it summed up in a thirty-second sound bite. Jessie rushed forward as soon as the reporter was finished and hugged her sister tightly.
    “I knew you'd do it, kid. You were fabulous. Wasn't she, Dad?”
    “Damn good job, Lizzie.” Vincent gazed down on his younger daughter with genuine paternal pride. “I can't say I'm surprised, though. You are one smart little cookie, aren't you? I'll bet it comes from my side of the family.”
    Elizabeth turned pink and her grin grew wider. “I knew you'd be here today, Dad. Mom said you might not be able to make it at the last minute, but I knew you'd be here.”
    Constance Benedict gave her daughter a hug and then stood on tiptoe to brush her ex-husband's cheek with a quick, affectionate kiss. “Thanks for coming, Vince,” she murmured.
    Vincent caught Jessie's eye. “Wouldn't have missed it,” he said heartily. Jessie gave him a cool smile in return and turned back to congratulate her sister again.
    Fifteen minutes after the conclusion of the awards ceremony, Elizabeth scurried off to admire a friend's project and Constance stopped to chat with an acquaintance. Vincent came up beside Jessie, who was watching a small robot buzz around a tabletop.
    “Still mad at me?” he asked, his eyes on the robot.
    “Let's not talk about it, okay? You're here. That's the bottom line, as they say in the business world.”
    Vincent exhaled heavily. “I'm sorry, Jessie. I