Sweet Fortune

knew he had read far too much into that greeting at the door. He was already making himself at home, hanging his jacket in the closet and stowing the briefcase on the floor beneath it. When he sat down on the couch and started to take off his shoes, she panicked.
    Out of hand , she thought. Things were definitely getting out of hand. Give Hatch an inch and he clearly felt he could take a mile. And she had given him a great deal more than an inch, she reminded herself.
    “How did things go in Portland?” she managed to ask politely while she clutched the lapels of her robe and wondered what to do next.
    Hatch gave her a hooded glance as he unlaced his other shoe. “Under control again. We're back on schedule.”
    “Oh. Good.” She glanced over her shoulder into the kitchen. “Uh, did you want a cup of coffee or anything?”
    “Nope. All I want is bed. It's a four-hour drive down to Portland. I left at four this morning. Spent the whole day until nine o'clock this evening chewing on everyone involved in that project and then I got into my car and drove four hours to get back here.” He stood up and started toward her, unbuttoning his shirt en route. “I'm beat.”
    “I see. Well, then, you'll probably want to go straight home to your place and get some sleep.” She gave him a bright little smile.
    “You're right about one thing, at least. I want to get some sleep.”
    He scooped her up in his arms, carried her into the bedroom, and tossed her lightly down onto the bed. He leaned over her as he tugged the robe free and dropped it on a chair.
    Jessie lay back against the pillows and watched with a deep, disturbing hunger as he stripped off the rest of his clothing. She might as well face it, she told herself. She was not going to kick him out. Not tonight, at any rate.
    “You can make the coffee in the morning,” Hatch said as he got into bed wearing only a pair of briefs. “Just be sure you make it strong.”
    He turned on his side, facing her, and anchored her with a possessive arm around her waist. She could feel the sinewy muscles of his forearm pushing lightly against the soft weight of her breasts. In an agony of anticipation, Jessie waited for his wonderful, powerful hand to glide down her hip and over her thigh.
    Nothing happened.
    Jessie looked closer and noticed Hatch's astonishingly dark lashes lying against his high cheekbones. His breathing was slow and even. He was already asleep.
    She touched his shoulder gently, knowing she was at least partially responsible for his exhaustion tonight. He had done it for her, she realized. She had to remind herself that his motives had certainly not been entirely altruistic. She was temporarily a high priority for Sam Hatchard. He was willing to indulge her to a certain extent while he courted her.
    Still, he had come through in a way she had never expected. He had made a commitment and he had kept it. He had even taken on her father in order to make good on a promise to her. Jessie had to admit she did not know any other man on the face of the earth who could have pulled off the feat of getting Vincent Benedict to the school fair today.
    “I hope,” she whispered into the darkness, “that you don't think you can just show up like this and fall into my bed any night you happen to feel like it.”
    “Now, where would I get an idea like that?” Hatch asked without opening his eyes.

    Hatch awoke the next morning, inhaled the womanly fragrance of the white sheets, and exhaled with satisfaction as he realized he was finally in Jessie's bed.
    Another turning point, he decided, pleased. Another victory in the small, important war they were waging.
    Hatch reached for Jessie and found the other side of the bed empty. He groaned and opened his eyes. A rain-drenched daylight was filtering through the slanted blinds and the aroma of coffee wafted in from the kitchen.
    Some victory. A whole night in Jessie's bed and he had not even managed to make love to her while there.
    Maybe he was working too hard lately.
    Hatch shoved back the covers and sat up slowly. He glanced around with deep interest, enjoying the intimate sensation of being in Jessie's bedroom. Her robe still lay on the chair. The mirrored closet door was open, revealing a colorful array of clothing. A selection of loafers, running shoes, sandals, and high heels were scattered carelessly on the closet floor.
    Jessie was obviously not a fanatic about neatness. Just as well, Hatch told himself as he went