No More Mr. Nice - By Renee Roszel Page 0,69

for five to six inches before nightfall.

He could see Jess now. Distraught, but trying to be brave. “Hell,” he growled between clenched teeth. He had to be in Tokyo tonight. The multi-million-dollar deal rested on his shoulders. Stockholders were depending on him. The board of directors was foaming at the mouth, making dire threats if he didn’t get this contract. There was no way Fletch could be reached, no one who could go to Tokyo in his place. Besides, he told himself sternly, Mamie Ritter was not his concern.

The rationalization tasted bitter in his throat. He hadn’t realized until this moment what a powerful hold Jess had on his feelings. He was suddenly contemplating tossing away everything he’d worked so hard for, to look for a demented woman who was probably renting a room at the best hotel in town registered as Mamie Eisenhower. She was most likely just fine. The intelligent plan would be to go back to his notes, fly to Tokyo, make his presentation, and continue being the successful, solitary millionaire he’d worked so hard to become.

He exhaled a low oath. Ever since that instant in the cabin with Jess, when he’d realized… Well, he’d panicked and run. He hadn’t stopped running for nearly a week since he’d last seen her, and he was still running. Soon he would be half a world away.

He was furious with himself for allowing his emotions to manipulate him like this—to even give a thought to Jess and her problems. He’d believed he was beyond caring and the pain it could cause, and he was angry to discover he wasn’t. Why had Norman tossed Jess Glen into his well-oiled life so she could throw it out of kilter? “Damn woman,” he grumbled, and leaned forward to ask Jerry, “What kind of time are we making?”

“Fine, sir. Snow’s not too bad, yet. We’ll get to the airport with no problem.”

Lucas could hear the dejection in his driver’s voice. Jerry liked Mamie, and it was clear he wasn’t pleased by the idea of the poor woman out wandering aimlessly in subfreezing weather.

The afternoon light was dying, with the sun buried alive behind the swirling early-December snow. Lucas gave his watch a harried glance, feeling vacant and spent. Fatigue seeped from every pore. He’d be able to sleep on the plane, he thought. It was damn overdue.

The elegant limo slithered through the snow and downtown traffic, toward the highway that would take Lucas to the airport and away from any risk of involvement with Jess Glen or her troubles. Good riddance, he swore, mentally.

He scanned the buildings as they rushed by. Concrete and glass, drab and inhospitable, even when softened by the veil of eddying snowflakes. Never before had he seen his high-rise world with that jaundiced eye. Maybe what Jess had said out there in the woods was true. Maybe, he had changed. One thing he knew: The excitement had gone out of his work. He frowned, at the notion. His work was his life, his passion. Nothing has changed, he told himself sharply. Running a distracted hand through his hair, he slouched back in his seat and called out, “Jerry. Pull over.”

JESS WAITED BY THE phone for word of her mother. The police had told her the best thing she could do was to stay put. But, with the furious storm outside, it was hard to keep from running into the gale and dashing wildly along the street in a mad search for her confused and stubborn parent, who at this very moment could be freezing to death in some alley.

Since the retreat, Mamie had become more and more bewildered and contrary. Jess had tried to interest her in some hobby or other, even a gourmet cooking class. Anything. Nothing seemed to hold her interest. And yesterday Jess had awakened to find Mamie had disappeared.

Jess hadn’t slept all night. If she were to be honest, she hadn’t had much rest ever since Lucas had walked into—then out of—her life. She was exhausted, terrified and at her wit’s end.

Hearing a sound outside, she started. Was it a car engine? Maybe the police had found her mother and were bringing her back. Hope surging through her, she rushed to the front door and flung it wide. Snow stung her eyes and she blinked and squinted, trying to see through the howling wall of white. It wasn’t a police car, but a long black limousine. Unfolding himself from the back, was a handsome figure dressed