if he was perhaps not feeling well, his father had heartily said no, laughing at the very notion. Patrick Fortune had said that for the first time in his life, there was nothing wrong. That he’d finally had the good fortune—no pun intended—of seeing life the right way.
It seemed to Jack a case of too much denial. The more he thought about it now, the more convinced he became that there was something wrong with his father. The dynamo who had helped build up and was now in charge of Fortune-Rockwell Bank didn’t stop to smell roses he could have delivered to him, nor did he take key personnel and ship them off to San Antonio because some chicklet’s mother asked him to.
From what he’d gathered, not only had his father agreed to help get this Gloria Mendoza Something-or-Other’s business up and running, but he’d taken on her sister, Christina, as well. He’d put her to work in the San Antonio branch as a business analyst for his best friend, Derek Rockwell, the Rockwell behind the second half of the bank’s name.
Something was definitely up.
Maybe his father was going through his second childhood. After all, the man was living in his seventh decade and, despite power, prestige and a loving family, maybe Patrick Fortune thought that he had missed out on something the first time around.
It was time Jack had a long talk with his father. Later. Right now, he’d promised to meet with his father and this Gloria person.
He punched the up button a third time. If his father’s office wasn’t on the thirtieth floor, he would have given up and walked up. Served him right for stopping off to see if one of his old acquaintances was still with the company. Business before pleasure. He could have always caught up with his friend after he’d put in an appearance at his dad’s office.
Maybe if he could get his father to see just how ridiculous it was to ask him to get involved in this, the senior Fortune would let him go back to New York where he belonged instead of making him cool his heels in San Antonio. God knew he had better things to do than act as a guardian angel for an empty-headed female.
After all, his father had already brought Derek out here. Why have both his right-hand and left-hand man in the same place?
The elevator doors opened in front of him. Finally!
Immersed in his own thoughts, searching for a way out of his dilemma, Jack stepped into the car.
There were several other people in the car, including one woman who blocked the keypad. To press his floor button, he would have to move her out of the way.
He had no time for games and was in no mood for them. “Thirty,” he snapped when the woman made no effort to step back.
Gloria was busy struggling with a bout of claustrophobia, a battle she was forced to engage in every time she stepped onto an elevator. The fact that there were several people in the car only made things worse. Dazed, she looked at the man who’d gotten on. Until he’d opened his mouth, she’d thought he was quite an attention-getter. She sincerely doubted that she’d ever seen a man as good-looking as this one off a movie screen.
But the second he opened his mouth, attitude came pouring out. Attitude she was in no mood for. Besides the claustrophobia, she was nervous. It wasn’t every day of the year that Patrick Fortune offered to back you and help you get on your feet financially.
Not that she needed it as much as her mother seemed to think. She’d packed up her business in Denver and left with everything in good standing. She was more than comfortably in the black, with a number of back orders left to fill. Even at this early date, it looked as if the year was shaping up nicely for her.
She had every confidence in the world that she was going to succeed here, as well. But it never hurt to be given an added boost—and by Patrick Fortune, no less. He’d seemed like such a nice man when she’d talked to him at the party. He’d even admired the necklace she’d been wearing, an original piece she’d made for herself.
But that had been pleasure and this was business. So there were butterflies roaming around in her stomach.
She slanted a look at the rude man. He hadn’t even said please.
“I’m not the elevator operator,” she informed him crisply.
She saw his dark eyes narrow and he looked like Zeus about to hurl thunderbolts from Mount Olympus. “If you don’t want the job, then don’t stand in front of the keypad.”
She was not about to be bullied. She’d paid her dues in that department and no man was ever going to order her around again. Arms spread out on either side of her, she took a step back, leaving the way clear for him to press the keypad himself.
“You know, nice people get a lot further in this world than people with bad attitudes.”
“You tell ’im, honey,” someone in the back of the elevator encouraged.
“And people who mind their own business get further,” the rude man retorted.
Annoyed, Jack glanced to see which floor they’d just passed, then pressed the very next number. The last thing he needed was to ride up to his destination sharing the experience with a harpy.
This was shaping up to be a bad morning all around, Jack silently conceded. They’d lost his luggage at the airport, the limousine that was to have met him never showed up and the taxi he’d wound up taking had gotten stuck in traffic. Even if he had been in the best of moods, his patience would have been severely challenged.
His natural inclination to be polite was strained and had completely fallen by the wayside the second the woman hovering over the elevator keypad had given him a flippant answer to his request.
The elevator stopped on his floor and opened its doors. Jack was out like a shot.
Gloria heard herself breathe a sigh of relief.
Now there was a serial killer in the making, she thought, glad he’d gotten off. At the very least, it was one less body to deal with.
The doors closed again. She pressed damp hands together, afraid of leaving a mark on the wintergreen suit she was wearing. She felt a hitch in her throat and told herself she was just nervous.
Nothing to be nervous about. Patrick Fortune’s a nice man.
After all, she and Patrick Fortune had gotten along famously at the party. Within a few minutes of speaking with him, Gloria felt as if she’d known him all of her life.
He’d been attentive and interested in everything she’d had to say about her business, giving her the same kind of courtesy he would a captain of industry. Her mother had told her later that he was seventy, but he certainly hadn’t acted it or looked it. Athletic, five-ten, with mostly red hair, he’d been charming and infinitely reassuring. After talking to him, she’d known that bringing her business to San Antonio was going to be a lot easier than she’d thought. He’d even proposed backing a loan for whatever she’d needed.
Their encounter had been reassuring. There was no reason in the world to be nervous. And yet, she was.
It had been a good thing, coming home, she decided, shifting to the side as she allowed three people to get off, grateful for their departure.
Now that she had returned, she didn’t know why she’d hesitated for so long. Instead of everything falling apart, the way she’d once thought, things were finally coming together. Maybe it had taken her leaving home to make her appreciate everything she actually did have, she mused as the climb to the thirtieth floor continued.
Whatever it was, she was glad she’d heeded her mother’s call to come home when she had instead of deliberating a few more days. Otherwise she wouldn’t have gotten to meet Patrick Fortune.
But then again, she mused, a smile curving her mouth, knowing her mother, she probably would have run into the man sooner or later. Maria Mendoza didn’t leave much to chance if she could help it.
She’d do well to take a page out of her mother’s book, Gloria decided.