Sweet Fortune (21 page)

“Smart. Let the sucker think what he wants to think, and play to it. I'm not so sure he'd need to claim psychic gifts anyway. Not to attract the kind of young, hopeful people we saw working at the mansion. They're more than willing to be seduced by the quick-fix promises we heard on that video. And the promise of cashing in on the profits that will be made from all the magic machines supposedly being invented.”

“Yes. Bright's pitch is terrific, isn't it? Save the world and make a fortune at the same time. Who could resist?”

“There's a sucker born every minute, Jessie. Just keep in mind how hard it was for you to say no to your stockbroker friend.”

“Let's leave Alison out of this. Just how dedicated do you think that staff of Bright's is?”

“Some of them are certainly dedicated enough to offer to sleep with the prospective sucker in exchange for a sizable donation,” Hatch said.

“
What
? She didn't.” Jessie was incensed. “Did she?”

“Ummm.”

“What kind of an answer is that? Did that little Sherry Smith try to seduce you or not? Just what were you doing down there in the men's room, anyhow?” Jessie started to demand further explanations, but the odd rippling sensation shot through her nerve endings again. She glanced over her shoulder.

“What's wrong now?” Hatch asked.

“I know this is going to sound crazy, but I don't think we're alone out here.”

“We're almost at the inn,” he said soothingly. “Just another block.”

“Have you ever had the feeling someone was following you?” She quickened her steps, straining to see the lights of the inn through the rain.

“I'm a businessman, remember? Every time I look over my shoulder, someone's gaining on me. Goes with the territory.”

“I'm not joking, Hatch. This is making me very nervous. There's somebody back there. I know it.”

“Probably a local resident on his way home from the same restaurant.”

Hatch sounded as calm as ever, but Jessie felt the new alertness in him. He obligingly quickened his step to match hers.

A moment later they were safely back in the warm, inviting lobby of the small bed-and-breakfast inn where they had booked a room. Two guests who were playing checkers in front of the fire looked up and nodded as Jessie and Hatch went past on their way to the stairs.

Jessie was relieved when she stepped into the bedroom and watched Hatch close and lock the door. She shook the rain off her jacket and hung it up in the tiny closet. “I think that visit to DEL must have made me more nervous than I realized. Better show me what you picked up on the tour.”

“I've got it right here.” Hatch pulled a piece of paper out of his inside pocket.

Jessie took it from him as he hung up his jacket and took off his tie. She unfolded it carefully and found herself staring down at one page of a large-size computer printout. It was covered with numbers. “Where did you get this?”

“From the trashcan in the men's room. One of the things about computers is that they tend to produce a hell of a lot of paper. It's tough to control the garbage, even under the tightest security conditions. Someone's always accidentally tossing a few pages into the nearest trashcan.” Hatch sat down in the one chair in the room and stretched out his legs.

Jessie sank down onto the bed, stunned. “You went through the trash in the men's room? That's why you asked directions to it? Good grief, Hatch. Whatever made you decide to do that?”

“I wanted a sample of whatever those computer operators were printing out. I was curious to see if it was the same kind of data we were being shown on the screens.”

“Is it?” Jessie studied the array of numbers on the printout.

“No. What you're looking at there looks very much like a financial spread sheet, not climate forecasts.”

“A spread sheet.” Jessie glanced up again. “That would fit with a real scam, wouldn't it?”

“It would fit with a lot of scenarios. That page of data doesn't prove anything, one way or the other. A legitimate foundation would have to track its financial picture just like any other corporation. We need more information before we can get a handle on what's going on at DEL headquarters.”

“How do we get more details?”

Hatch contemplated her for a long moment. “For starters, I suggest we have someone who knows computers and computer programs take a look at what's on that piece of paper.”

“Why? What will it tell someone else that it won't tell you?”

Hatch appeared to hesitate again before making up his mind to explain further. “If someone who was very good with computers took a look at that page of printout, he might, just might, mind you, be able to use some of the information on it to do a little discreet hacking.”

Jessie stared at him uncomprehendingly for a moment, and then realization struck. “Of course. Hatch, that's a wonderful idea. Absolutely brilliant. If we got a hacker to break into the DEL computers, we could see what they're really doing. We could at least find out if their scientific research is for real or just a cover, couldn't we?”

“Possibly. If we got lucky. And if we knew someone we could trust to do the hacking for us.”

“But that's just it. We do know someone. Alex Robin would be perfect. He's desperate for work. And he'd be terribly discreet.”

Hatch shook his head over her sudden enthusiasm and regarded her with a brooding expression. “Jessie, this is tricky territory. You know that as well as I do.”

“If DEL is on the up-and-up, we'll back off immediately. I'll tell Mrs. Attwood that the foundation is legitimate and suggest she try some other approach to getting Susan back. But if DEL is running a scam and we can prove it, then she'll have the kind of information she needs to do something. She can go to the police or the papers and have Bright exposed, just as she wants to do.”

“It's a job for a genuine private investigator or an investigative reporter, not an assistant fortune-teller.”

“Now, don't be so negative, Hatch. We're not ready to turn this over to someone else yet.” Jessie carefully refolded the piece of computer paper and leaned over to drop it into her purse. “We'll try to get more information first. When we have proof, we'll let Mrs. Attwood decide how she wants to handle things. Hatch, I really appreciate this. More than I can say.”

‘Yeah?”

She nodded seriously. “Definitely. I'll admit I had a few doubts about bringing you along on this trip, but you've certainly proved your usefulness.”

“I can't tell you what that means to me.”

Jessie scowled at him, wondering, as she frequently did, if he was making a wry joke. She decided once again that he was dead serious. “I couldn't have gotten this far without you, and I truly am grateful. You've given us the first strong lead we've had since I tracked down the invitation that got us into DEL.”

“That's something else I've been meaning to talk to you about.”

“The invitation? What about it.”

Hatch gave her a level look. “Does it strike you that we got hold of that invitation very easily? Maybe too easily?”

“It wasn't easy. I had to work at it. And David helped. It was just my good luck that he attends Butterfield College and was able to find Nadine Willard.”

“Jessie, we tough, cynical business types don't like to trust in things like good luck. I'm wondering why DEL went to the effort of laying on that little show for us today with almost no questions asked.”

“I don't see what was so strange about it. After all, they're in the business of drumming up big donations.”

“Why didn't they arrange to have a whole bunch of potential suckers make the trip at the same time? Why go out of their way to accommodate our schedule? Sending that plane over here to pick us up wasn't cheap.”

Jessie paused, struck by those observations. “I see what you mean. You think maybe they're suspicious of us?”

“I don't know what to think yet. But I do know I don't like it. Not one damn bit of it.”

“This is getting a tad complicated, isn't it?” Jessie mused.

“A tad.”

“But it's kind of exciting in a way too. This is a heck of a lot more interesting than my last job.”

“What was your last…? Uh, right. You were working for Benedict Fasteners, weren't you?”

“Don't look so glum, Hatch. Things could be worse. If circumstances had been slightly different, I'd still be working for you.”

“I know I should look on the bright side, but somehow it's hard to do that at the moment.”

Jessie eyed him cautiously. “Was that supposed to be humorous by any chance?”

“You think I lack a sense of humor, among other fun-loving attributes, don't you?”

“Let's just say the subject is open to question.”

“Would it make things simpler if I told you I am extremely serious about taking you to bed tonight?”

Jessie jumped to her feet and in the process accidentally knocked over a small candy dish that was sitting on the table beside the bed. It fell to the floor with a crash.

“Oh, hell,” she muttered, bending down to pick it up. At least it hadn't broken. She knew she should be grateful for small favors. Setting the heavy glass dish back down on the table, she stalked to the window.

“Why do I make you nervous, Jessie?”

“I don't know.” She took a handful of the curtain and crushed it between her fingers as she studied the rainy darkness outside the window.

“Why are you so sure you and I could have some kind of genuinely meaningful long-term committed relationship?”

“I never thought about having a genuinely meaningful long-term committed relationship. I was thinking more along the lines of a marriage.”

“See? That's exactly what I mean when I say I can never tell if you're making a joke or if you're serious. It's very disconcerting. Why don't you just answer my question? What makes you think you and I could make a go of it?”

Hatch appeared to turn that question over in his mind for a long moment before he said, “Things feel right with you.”

“Right? What do you mean, ‘right’?”

He shrugged. “I think it would work out. The two of us, I mean.”

She crushed the curtain more tightly in her clenched fist. “But what do you want from a…a relationship, Hatch?” She simply could not bring herself to say the word “marriage.”

“The usual things. A loyal wife. Kids. I'm thirty-seven years old, Jessie. I want to have children. Put down some roots. I grew up on a ranch, remember? Part of me still wants to feel like I belong to a place. I know I won't have that feeling until I've established a home and family of my own. It's time.”

“You sound as if you're listening to some sort of biological clock.”

His mouth curved briefly. “Did you think only women had internal clocks?”

“I guess I hadn't thought much about biological clocks at all. Even my own.” She sighed. “I would definitely not make you a good, supportive, corporate president's wife. You know that, don't you? I would nag you if you didn't come home on time in the evenings. I would yell at you if you took too many business trips. I would show up at the office and cause a scene if you canceled an outing with one of the children because of a business appointment.”

“I know.”

She spun around. “Then why in heaven's name do you want to marry me? Are you that eager to get your hands on Benedict Fasteners?”

“No.”

“Then give me one good reason,” she challenged, feeling oddly desperate. “Why me instead of someone else? Someone who wouldn't give you a hard time about your work?”

Hatch got slowly, deliberately to his feet, his eyes never leaving hers. He moved toward her until he was standing directly in front of her. Then he caught her face between rough palms and brushed his mouth lightly, possessively across hers. “Because I know I can trust you.”

Her eyes widened. “Trust me?”

“You might yell at me, nag me, annoy me, infuriate me. But I am almost certain you would never lie to me. And I know I'll have your loyalty because I'll always be tied to Benedict Fasteners and therefore to your family. I'm going to make myself a part of your world, Jessie. You're very loyal to the people in your world, aren't you?”

She stared up at him. “Is loyalty so important to you?”

“I do not think you would have an affair with my best friend. I do not think you would run off with him and leave me a goddamned note telling me you hoped I understood. If you are angry or hurt or feeling neglected, I think you'll complain directly to management, not go behind my back and cry on some other man's shoulder.”

“
Complain to management
.” Her lip quivered. “Oh Hatch. What am I going to do with you?”

“Right now all you have to do is go to bed with me.”

H
atch watched the sweet, wistful longing in Jessie's eyes as he reached out and turned off the light. She wanted him. But then, he had understood that almost from the start. It was the primary reason he had been willing to be patient in his pursuit. A man could afford patience when he knew the end was not in doubt. He would not rush her into marriage.

But after having had a taste of her in bed, he could no longer resign himself to patience in that department. A man had his limits.

Hatch curved his hands around her shoulders, enjoying the delicate, womanly feel of her. She did not pull away. His eyes met hers in the shadows and, as always, he was drawn into the depths of that wide, luminous gaze. He let his hands slide down to the row of buttons below the collar of her silk shirt.

The shirt parted easily as he slowly worked his way down to the waistband of the long, flared skirt. Hatch took a deep breath as he slid his fingers inside the opening and found the warm, scented softness of her skin. His thumb touched the front clasp of her lacy little bra and he unclipped it.

She inhaled sharply and gave a tiny little whimper of desire as he cupped her breasts. Her arms stole softly around his waist and she leaned her head against his shoulder.

“I've decided we might as well try having an affair,” she mumbled into his shirt.

He almost laughed out loud at that ridiculous statement. But he managed to control his initial reaction and merely smiled into her hair as he unfastened her skirt. “Do you think we can handle an affair?”