His eyes narrowed, his look appraising once again. She got the idea that Jeff Brennan did a lot of appraising.
Well, he could stuff his appraisals for all she cared.
Feigning patience she waited, a box in hand, letting him make the next move. Which he did.
“Are you free for dinner tomorrow night?”
It took her a moment to register the words, shield her surprise, think of a response and then shelve the comeback as rude, a quality she chose not to embrace.
This is not Brian.
And yet the quick looks, the straight-on focus, the let’s get-down-to-business mode pushed too many buttons at once, especially with the distant hills hinting gold behind him.
He angled his head, his eyes brightened by her reaction. Which was really a nonreaction, and he seemed to find that almost amusing.
Dolt.
“I’m not, no.”
“Wednesday?”
“The library is open until eight on Wednesday.”
He sent her an exaggerated look of puzzlement, crinkled his eyes and moved closer, his manner inviting. “You can’t eat after eight o’clock? Are you like one of those little aliens that couldn’t eat after midnight?”
“Thanks for the compliment. Sorry. Busy.”
“Look, Miss Moore…”
“Hannah.”
A smile softened his features; he was probably remembering they’d had this conversation before, like two hours ago in the conference room of Walker Electronics.
“Hannah. Pretty name. It means favored. Or favored grace.”
“And you know this because?”
“I looked it up on my computer when I got back to my office.”
Add smooth to the list of reasons to avoid Jeff Brennan. Too smooth, too handsome, too winsome with his short curly brown hair, hazel eyes, strong chin, great nose and lashes that girls spent way too much money for.
Hannah flashed him a cool smile, not wanting or needing to dredge up a past best left buried, not this time of year. “You and the wife picking baby names, Mr. Brennan?”
He raised unfettered hands. “Not married, never have been, nor engaged. And dinner is simply so you and I can go into Thursday’s meeting on the same page with similar goals, if neither one of us successfully ducks this project. No strings, no ties, no ulterior motives.”
The sensibility of his argument enticed Hannah to accept. Chronic fear pushed her to refuse. She waffled, hating this indecision, longing to be the person she used to be. Strong. Self-motivated. Forceful.
But that was before Ironwood, and nothing had been the same since. She shook her head, needing to decline and hating the cowardice pushing the emotion. “I can’t. Sorry.”
He’d tempted her.
Good.
She’d telegraphed the reaction as she weighed her response, a quick, vivid light in her eyes, quenched as seconds ticked by. Jeff liked the bright look better, but either way, something about Hannah Moore piqued his interest.
Which made no sense because shy, retiring women weren’t his type, although something in her stance and bearing made him think she wasn’t as timid as she made out. Perhaps hesitant was a better word, and that only made him wonder what caused the timorous look behind those stunning blue eyes.
And if he couldn’t persuade Grandma that his sister Meredith was the better choice to cochair these weekly meetings, he had to establish a common ground with this woman. Clearly she shared his displeasure about spending the better part of a year on the project.
Even with her long blond hair pulled back in a ponytail for her candy store stint, she was lovely. And cautious, a trait he’d learned to deal with if not love because his mother embraced caution as her middle name. But beneath the carefully constructed and controlled features, he sensed something else.
Right now he needed a cooperative attitude with this whole library business, and since he’d happened upon her here, at the Romesser family’s new tribute store, fate was obviously throwing her into his path. Or maybe it was the fact that he needed a box of chocolates for a friend’s wife who’d just given birth. Either way, Jeff wasn’t about to waste an opportunity. He shifted his attention to the chocolates. “I need a pound and a half of mixed chocolates including cherry cordials, if you don’t mind.”
Her face softened, dissipating the glimpse of worry. “Josie O’Meara.”
He laughed, amazed. “How’d you know?”
Hannah leaned forward as if sharing a secret. “She stopped by for one cherry cordial nearly every day until she delivered. It was her way of rewarding herself for being a working mom with a baby on board.”
“That’s Josie, all right. Do you know all your customers like that? At the library and here? And the kids you tutor?”
She shook her head as she filled the box, then shrugged. “Yes and no. It’s easy because I work at small venues. If they were bigger, it might not be the same.”
Somehow Jeff doubted that. Hannah’s soul-searching eyes said she was a woman of marked intelligence.
So why was she working part-time in an out-of-the-way postage-stamp-size library, gilding the lack of pay by boxing chocolates?
She wrapped the box in paper decorated with tiny dinosaurs, perfect for the mother of a brand-new baby boy. “Tell her I packed extra cherry cordials in there from me. And that Samuel is a great name.”
“Samuel was Hannah’s son in the Bible, wasn’t he?”
Her eyes shadowed, the hint of self-protection reemerging.
“That will be eighteen dollars, please.”
“Of course.” He let the subject slide, not sure how or why, but pretty certain he’d prickled a wound. “And Wednesday night?”
She glanced away, then down.
“I can pick you up or we can meet at The Edge.”
He waited, counting the ticks of the clock, then leaned forward. “And can you wear something that doesn’t remind me of how pretty your eyes are? That doesn’t augment that shade of blue?”
She jerked up, the shadow chased away by annoyance. “Maybe. Maybe not. I’ll meet you there. Eight-thirty.”
“Perfect.” He raised up the signature green-and-tan striped paper bag bearing Grandma Mary’s logo. “See you then. And thanks for the candy.”
He felt her gaze on him as he left the store, the bell jangling his departure. He headed left toward the hospital, but refused to glance back to see if she watched him stroll down the sidewalk.
Nope.
Let her wonder if he’d totally forgotten her the minute he stepped through the door, which he hadn’t. Give her something to stew over instead of whatever shadowed her expression.
Although he did understand the concept of shouldering burdens firsthand. His father’s illicit drug and gambling habits turned Neal Brennan’s brilliant mind into a disaster, nearly toppling their family business. Jeff intended to do whatever it took to polish the Brennan name until it gleamed. Matt Cavanaugh’s sudden reappearance in the area didn’t make his goal easier, but Jeff refused to dwell on that new twist. He’d meet with Grandma later, get her opinion. And he’d run an internet check on his half brother, see what he could find. Good or bad, he’d face any showdowns with Matt well-informed.
And Hannah…
Hopefully he could establish ground rules with her over supper. If they were on the same page, perhaps they could jump-start the library fundraiser quickly. Start-up was always the most time-consuming part of fundraising. Between his grandparents’ and mother’s philanthropy, Jeff had seen that firsthand. So he’d get together with Hannah, make a plan and set it in motion. And the whole dinner with a beautiful woman thing?
Not too shabby either.
Chapter Two
“Dinner with Jeff Brennan? At The Edge? Oh, girlfriend, you are travelin’ with the big guns now.” Megan nudged Hannah as they crested the hill at the edge of town, late-day shadows beginning to lengthen.
“Stop.” Hannah scowled and increased the pace of the walk deliberately. Maybe if M
egan was winded, she couldn’t ask questions.
“Have you met before?”
Not winded enough. “No.”
“Ever?”
“No. And don’t look at me that way. I’ve only been here a few years.”
“But he’s everywhere. Does everything. And not only because his family is like the royal family of Allegany County, but because he’s a people person. Jeff loves to be in the thick of things. A born manager.”
The last thing Hannah wanted was to be managed. “Whereas I prefer the background, thanks.”
Megan frowned, hesitated, then waded in. “You’re great with people, Hannah.”
“I’ve got nothing against people. I just don’t like getting involved.”
“But—”
“And I’m busy.”
“Do you need me to cut your hours at the store? Would that help?”
“Not if I want to continue to pay my bills.” Hannah started to surge ahead, then came to a complete stop, aggravated, wishing she didn’t have to explain herself. Explaining meant she might slip back into the dark waters of things she avoided. “See, that’s the thing. I love working at the library because it’s small. Quiet. I help a few people here and there. It’s perfect for me. If we make it all big and beautiful, I’ll be expected to do all kinds of things, all the time. I like things the way they are, Meg.”
“Why is bigger bad?” Megan wondered. “I would think you’d embrace the idea of helping more kids, more families, providing more books, more chances.”
Megan’s words struck deep.
Hannah had provided a lot of chances for kids back in the day. She’d gone out on limbs, taken the bull by the horns, encouraging, offering young adults a rare experience. She’d been a risk taker then, in her beautifully equipped classroom, before life flipped upside down.
She was a rabbit now. Emotional necessity ruled the cautious lifestyle she’d adopted. It suited her duck-and-cover personality.
“I’ll be on the committee if you’d like,” Megan offered. “Would that help? Then we could strategize while we’re at the store together. Kill two birds with one stone.”
“What horrible bird hater thought up that analogy?”
Megan laughed. “Don’t change the subject. What are you wearing Wednesday night?”
“Nothing special.”
“What about my blue sarong? The one I brought back from Hawaii?”
“Hmm. Show up at the library in a sarong. Perfect for children’s hour.” She flashed Meg a wry look. “End of story. And this discussion. Besides, I can’t wear blue.”
“What? Why?”
Hannah felt a blush rise from her neck and resented her fair complexion for the first time in several years. “We need another color.”
“You’ve lost me.”
Hannah sighed. “He said if I wear blue he’ll have a hard time concentrating on anything besides my eyes.”
Megan ground to a halt, pebbled stones skittering beneath her feet. “He said that? Out loud?”
Hannah stopped, as well, directed a bemused look to her friend and sighed. “He did, but it was most likely to throw me off track because he wants this project done. If he can’t weasel his way out of it and pawn it off on his sister.”
“Meredith’s back?”
“If that’s his sister’s name, then yes.”
“Huh.” Megan frowned and resumed walking. “I’ll have to call her, see what’s up. You’ll love her. She’s funny and down-to-earth. And she does great hair and nails.”
“Corporate boy’s sister is a hairdresser? Why did I not see that coming?”
“She loves it. And she’s wonderful, like I said. The Walkers aren’t your typical rich family.”
Jeff Brennan had seemed pretty typical earlier that day. Focused, frenetic and finite, a path she’d traveled once before. No way was she going down that road again.
“Is there such a thing as typical rich anymore?” Hannah asked. “There’s some pretty weird millionaires running around these days.”
“And some downright nice ones.”
Hannah laughed. “Present company excluded, of course. Although I hear candy-store entrepreneurs maintain their delightful normalcy because of their choice in wives.”
“Makes sense to me.” Megan offered agreement with an elbow nudge to Hannah’s arm. “And wear the blue. Call his bluff.”
A part of Hannah wanted to do just that.
Another part couldn’t take the risk.
The gold top Hannah wore said she had no intention of jumping into the water with him, metaphorically speaking. The fact that the soft knit looked just as good as the blue simply brightened Jeff’s evening.
Watching as she wove her way through the tables of The Edge’s second dining room Wednesday evening, it was impossible to miss the strength of her moves, athletic and lithe.
That inborn agility appeared out of step with her other body language. Her careful facial movements belied by nervous hands and the inward expression that shadowed her eyes intermittently.
Edgy hands. Cloaked expression. A rough combination, all told, reminiscent of his mother in the bad days of his parents’ publicly awful marriage.
He stood as she approached the table. The hostess smiled as she indicated a chair. Jeff pulled the chair out for Hannah, waited until she was comfortably seated, then sat in the adjacent chair.
“You had to choose that one, didn’t you?” She met his gaze with a quiet look of challenge. “Being across from me wasn’t close enough? Or intimidating enough?”
“I intimidate you?” Jeff unfolded his napkin, brow drawn, but not too much, just enough to let her know he could quirk a grin quickly. “Thanks, I’ll remember that.”
“Annoyed, possibly,” she corrected, looking more sure of herself. “Intimidated? No.”
“Good to know, although I was starting to feel pretty good about myself. I’ve been trying to intimidate my sister for years. No go.”
“And yet still you try.”
He grinned agreeably. “A brother’s job. Would you like an appetizer, Hannah? The Edge has great stuffed mushrooms. And the owner makes Shrimp le Rocco, huge shrimp done in a wine and cream sauce with a hint of Cajun, just enough to give it life.”
“Are you auditioning for the Food Network?”
“I’m a Paula Deen guy,” he admitted, smiling. “All that butter. Cream. Southern drawl. And she’s sweet but tough. Reminds me of Grandma.”
“Your grandmother is one strong lady.” Hannah looked more at ease talking about Grandma. She settled back in her seat and fingered her water glass, then smiled and nodded at the waitress as they gave their drink and appetizer orders.
The smile undid him, just a little. Sweet. Broad. Inviting. She had a generous mouth when it wasn’t pinched in worry.
“She is.” Jeff settled back, as well, surveyed her and sighed openly. “Which means you’re stuck with me, I’m afraid. My attempts to get Meredith on board fell on deaf ears. Seems she’s got other fish to fry.”
“Aha.”
“And your attempts? Still unsuccessful?”
She shrugged. “I didn’t try. There’s a part of me…” She paused, shifted her attention, then drew it back to him, reluctant. “That thinks this will be good for me.”
Good for her?
Jeff considered the words, the look, then chose not to probe. Seeing fundraising as therapeutic was beyond his understanding, but if they both had to be involved, at least they’d both accepted the fact. Grudgingly.
However, sitting with her, watching her, eyeing the lights and shadows that played across her face, candlelight mixed with emotion, he didn’t feel all that grudging. He felt…
Drawn.
But he couldn’t be for two reasons: women of indecision annoyed him, which was precisely why he got on so well with his grandmother, and he had no time to devote to thoughts of a relationship.
If not now, when?
Jeff shut down the annoying mental reminder, tho
ughts of microchips, rare metal glazings and mobile communications taking precedence for the foreseeable future.
His grandmother was a thinker, doer and planner. Jeff followed her lead. Plan your work, then work your plan. He’d constructed his life that way, a goal setter to the max, doing anything to eliminate similarities to his narcissistic father. His appearance and affinity for inventive science labeled him as Neal Brennan’s son, but that was as far as the resemblance went.
Jeff pushed himself to be better. Stronger. Wiser. Although lately a part of him felt worn by having to be on the cutting edge constantly, he couldn’t afford the appearance of weakness. Not now. Not ever.
He leaned forward, elbows braced, hands locked, noticing how the freckles dusting her cheeks blended with her sun-kissed skin. “Hannah.”
She noted his shift and a hint of amusement sparked in her eyes, a look that downplayed her nervous gestures. “Yes, Jeff?”
She was playing him in her own way. He leaned closer. “Since we’re stuck with each other…”
“At weekly meetings.” She drawled the words, her tone teasing.
He sighed, then nodded as if pained. “For the better part of a year until enough money is raised.”
She met his look, but that small spark of humor in her eyes kept him moving forward. “Might I suggest we come to a mutual agreement?”
“That you buy me supper once a week? That sure would help my grocery budget.”
He grinned without meaning to. “We’ll put that on the negotiating table. Does that mean you’d cook for me once a week?”
“No.”
“Obviously we need to work on your bargaining skills. You never say no right out. It puts the other players off.”
“What if I’m not into games?” she asked. She eyed her water glass, then him. “Game playing isn’t my thing.”
“When it comes to raising funds, we’re all into games,” he assured her.
She sat back purposely.
“And when we’re talking cajoling benefactors, you and I will need to be on the same page,” he continued. “Which means we stay open to any and all ideas as if they’re workable, even if we know they’re not.”
Mended Hearts Page 2
