“Thanks. I’ll see you all later,” Patrick said just before he hung up the receiver.
He was fairly certain he’d managed not to sound as concerned as he felt. It could very well be nothing, just some fool yanking their collective chains. But he was a Fortune and, contrary to the name, he and his family had had their share of adverse dealings.
It never hurt to be prepared.
Jorge stood in the center of the still-crowded restaurant, looking around. He felt exactly like the Prince must have just after Cinderella fled from him at the stroke of midnight.
Except that he was holding a light gray coat instead of a glass slipper. When he’d returned from the coatroom, she wasn’t standing where he’d left her. She wasn’t anywhere at all.
He spent the next twenty minutes scanning the room and describing her to people, asking them if they’d seen her. Finally, when he talked to the bartender who’d ultimately taken over for him, Carlos said he’d thought he’d seen her pushing her way to the front door. And yes, the man added, she wasn’t wearing a coat, which had made him think it was rather odd.
Why, Jorge wondered. Why had she suddenly taken off like that? What would have made her leave without saying anything to him?
And without her coat? It didn’t make any sense to him.
Everything about the woman aroused his interest.
Frustration ate away at him. He had no phone number for her, and no address either. He told himself to just go home and forget about it. But he couldn’t.
Draping her coat on one arm, he took out his cell phone and dialed Information. With one hand pressed against his ear to drown out the surrounding noise, he gave the operator Jane’s name and waited for a response.
She was unlisted.
It figured, he thought. Biting back a curse, Jorge stared at the coat he was holding.
What had made Jane bolt out of here like that? She’d given every indication that she liked being with him. So then what—?
“Did one get away from you?”
The question, spoken so close to him, nearly made him jump. Gloria was standing right behind him. Her husband Jack was next to her.
Jorge saw her looking at the coat, an amused expression on her face. Not what he needed right now, he thought. Squaring his shoulders, Jorge shifted the coat to his other arm. He’d already made up his mind that he was going to find Jane Gilliam and give her back her coat—and ask for an explanation—no matter what it took.
“Not for long,” he told Gloria, his voice cocky. And then, just for a moment, he dropped his guard. “Did you see the woman I was with earlier?”
“The one Mama liked so much?” Gloria countered innocently. Maria had brought all three of her daughters’ attention to Jorge and the woman he was talking to. “Yes, I did,” Gloria added quickly before he could profess any denials. “She didn’t look like your usual arm candy.” Gloria patted his face affectionately. “Looks like you’re finally growing up a little, big brother.”
If she was baiting him, he wasn’t about to bite, Jorge thought. He had more important things on his mind. “You didn’t happen to see where she went, did you?”
Gloria shook her head, surprised. A woman avoiding Jorge? This had to be a first. “Sorry.”
“Maybe someone told her about your reputation and it scared her off,” Jack speculated as he helped Gloria on with her coat.
Gloria felt a tug on her heart, empathizing with her brother. She was certain this had to be the first time he’d ever experienced rejection on any level.
“If it helps any, I think I heard Jack’s father say she works for Red Rock ReadingWorks. I could ask Mama to make sure—”
The second Gloria mentioned the organization, Jorge remembered Jane mentioning the name.
“ReadingWorks,” he repeated. “That’s right.” Grateful, he kissed his sister’s cheek. “Thanks.”
Something different was going on here, Gloria thought, looking at her brother more closely. She’d never seen him like this about a girl. But then, as far as she knew, no girl had ever pulled a disappearing act on Jorge. If anything, it was always the other way around.
“Any time,” Gloria murmured. She’d teased him about finally growing up, but maybe, just maybe, there was something to it.
If so, she thought, Mama was going to be thrilled.
January 2 was a typical cold winter day.
Jane shivered as she made her way to Reading-Works’ front door. She was going to have to dip into her savings and buy another coat, she thought glumly. Wearing three sweaters, one on top of another, just didn’t do the trick.
Maybe her coat was still at the restaurant, she thought hopefully. She’d call over there during her first break and inquire.
And pray that she didn’t run into Jorge Mendoza.
Pushing open the front door, the warm air that met her was lovingly welcomed. At the same time, goose bumps formed all over her body.
Like the ones she’d felt when Jorge had kissed her New Year’s Eve.
What in heaven’s name could she have been thinking? Men like that didn’t give women like her the time of day—unless, of course, there was a bet involved, she thought sarcastically.
Served her right for being so naive.
With a sigh, she shook her head. Well, it was a new year and it was back to reality for her. Time to put impossibly foolish dreams behind her.
Walking into the lounge where all the teachers gathered for their breaks and lunch, she saw that a number of her coworkers were clustered around the main table. At first, she thought that someone had brought in cookies. But then she saw that what had captured their attention was a huge profusion of flowers, nestled in a large basket that was in the center of the table.
Someone had gotten flowers, she thought with a touch of envy. She had no idea what that felt like, to have someone care enough about you to send flowers and publicly acknowledge his attachment to you.
“Who’s the lucky girl?” she asked, trying to sound cheerful as she joined the group.
Sally Hillman turned to look at her, a huge grin on her lips. “You are.”
Jane stared at her, positive she’d heard wrong. “What?”
“Joyce couldn’t help herself,” Harriet Ryan, another tutor, volunteered. Embarrassed, Joyce, the general secretary, made a strange, disparaging noise. “She read the card. Why didn’t you tell us you knew Jorge Mendoza?” she wanted to know.
“When did you meet him?” another woman asked.
“Where?”
“Details, girl, give us details,” Sally begged. “The rest of us are dying to know.”
The questions all melded together into one cacophony of voices and noises as Jane leaned over the table and plucked the card from the basket. She felt as if she were moving in slow motion.
“New Year’s Eve ended much too soon,” the card said. “With affection, Jorge.”
“With affection,” Joyce echoed, looking over her shoulder at the card she’d already read. A huge sigh followed. “You’ve been holding out on us,” she accused Jane.
“Yeah,” Harriet chimed in. “Not very nice of you, Jane. Give.”
And five sets of eyes turned their eager faces toward her.