Mended Hearts Read Free Page B

discussion. Besides, I can’t wear blue.”
    â€œWhat? 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.”
    â€œYou’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.”
    â€œMeredith’s back?”
    â€œIf that’s his sister’s name, then yes.”
    â€œHuh.” 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.”
    â€œCorporate boy’s sister is a hairdresser? Why did I not see that coming?”
    â€œShe 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.
    â€œIs there such a thing as typical rich anymore?” Hannah asked. “There’s some pretty weird millionaires running around these days.”
    â€œAnd 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.”
    â€œMakes sense to me.” Megan offered agreement with anelbow 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.
    Â 
    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.
    â€œYou 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?”
    â€œI 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.”
    â€œAnnoyed, possibly,” she corrected, looking more sure of herself. “Intimidated? No.”
    â€œGood to know, although I was starting to feel pretty good about myself. I’ve been trying to intimidate my sister for years. No go.”
    â€œAnd 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.”
    â€œAre you auditioning for the Food Network?”
    â€œI’m a Paula Deen guy,” he admitted,