“I ran into this man, an old friend, actually, from high school, as a matter of fact.”
Now the woman who never wasted a word was babbling. Jordan’s sense of dread kicked in. He stood and began to pace, phone in hand. “And?”
“Well, the truth of it is... Jordan, I’m really sorry about this, but...”
“Just spit it out, Rexanne.”
“Randall and I got married,” she blurted at last. “In Vegas.”
Rexanne and Randall? How alliterative, he thought with an uncharacteristic edge of sarcasm. Married? How considerate of her to give him fair warning. The same society page columnists who’d been gushing about their engagement would be gossiping about this turn of events for weeks. It was only one step short of being left at the altar. He didn’t like the prospect of being the subject of speculation and innuendo. He didn’t like it one damned bit.
“I see,” he said coldly. Not entirely sure of the protocol for the circumstances, he went with his gut reaction, which was liberally laced with more sarcasm. “Thank you so much for calling, Rexanne. Have a nice life.”
“Now, Jordan, please don’t be like that,” she whined.
Why had he never noticed that she whined? he wondered. Probably because he’d given in to her every request, showered her with gifts and never once in the months since they had announced their engagement exchanged a cross word with her. Of course, that was probably because Rexanne had tucked herself so neatly and cheerfully into his life, he’d had no reason to complain.
“Darling, I know it’s a shock and I wouldn’t have hurt you for the world, but this was, like, fate or something,” she said in a more familiar, smoky, cajoling tone.
“Fate?” he repeated numbly. “Yes, I suppose it was.” Fate had benevolently prevented him from having to listen to that whine for the rest of his days. She could ooze sensuality from now to doomsday and he would never stop hearing that whine. It would lurk in his memory like the sound of chalk squeaking across a blackboard.
“Darling, you can’t let this change in our personal status interfere with the business arrangement we have,” she protested. “You’re too much of a businessman. You and I are going to take Marshall Cosmetics to the top around the globe. We’re going to make a fortune.”
Ah, now they were getting to her real concern, not his feelings, but her future plans for Marshall Cosmetics. “Sorry, darlin’, I’m afraid that’s going to be up to you and Randall.”
“But you promised,” she whined.
The sound of her voice was really getting on his nerves. “So did you,” he reminded her icily. “Goodbye, Rexanne.”
He hung up before she could launch into an attempt to sugarcoat the now-obvious truth—that she had wanted his money and his connections to Wall Street more than she had ever wanted him.
As he sat staring out at the sweeping view of the Houston skyline, he wondered at his lack of emotion. Shouldn’t he have felt more than this vague irritation that his plans for settling down had been disrupted? Shouldn’t he be feeling empty inside? Shouldn’t he be throwing things? He hefted a Baccarat crystal paperweight consideringly, then shrugged and lowered it to his desk. She wasn’t worth it.
Maybe he was incapable of the kind of passion that his older brother Luke had found with Jessie. Maybe, he conceded, he’d gone about finding a wife too methodically.
Or maybe the incredible judgment that had propelled him to the top of the oil industry didn’t carry over into personal matters. Maybe he was doomed to make the same mistakes over and over, trusting the wrong women.
It wasn’t, he admitted to himself ruefully, as if Rexanne had been the first. There had been a whole damned army of poor choices, starting back in college and continuing right up through this latest debacle. Oddly enough, he realized he couldn’t even recall the names of most of them. Obviously his heart had never been as engaged as he’d thought it had been.
Finally, dragging in a deep breath, he pushed the problem aside for further consideration on the weekend. He was almost tempted to make a notation to himself on his calendar, so he wouldn’t forget. Women ought to be enough of a reminder. He reached for his daybook and dutifully jotted it down. He would matter-of-factly dissect his love life as he would a business proposition to see if he could pinpoint where he was going wrong.
He turned back to his desk just in time to see Ginger poking her head into his office. The grin on her face made him wonder if she’d been eavesdropping on his conversation. She’d apparently seen all along what he hadn’t, that Rexanne was a barracuda. No doubt that smile meant she was delighted that the woman was out of his life.
“Hey, boss, didn’t you hear me buzzing you?” she asked.
“If I had, I would have answered,” he retorted irritably.
Her grin widened. She knew, all right, he decided with a sinking feeling. It appeared his latest humiliation was complete. There would be weeks of hearing I told you so from her, interspersed with renewed attempts at matchmaking. Maybe he’d finally give in. Ginger’s taste couldn’t possibly be any worse than his own, though she did seem to know a disturbing number of professional cheerleaders.
“Line one,” she prompted him. “It’s Kelly.”
For some inexplicable reason, Jordan found himself smiling back at his secretary. If there was one person on the face of the earth who could take his mind off his troubles, it was Kelly Flint. She was his best friend, his confidante, his conscience. She had an angel of mercy’s sense of timing.
As he reached for the phone the most incredible thought flashed through his head. Why the devil couldn’t he marry a woman like Kelly? She was sweet, not the least bit temperamental, funny and, though he’d never really stopped to think about it before—at least not since the days when they’d gone swimming in the creek together back in west
