Mended Hearts. Ruth Herne Logan

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ

      Fat raindrops began to pelt her head, her face, her arms. And of course she hadn’t brought anything along since she was driving back and forth. No sweater. No hoodie. No sweatshirt.

      Grumbling, she tucked the important papers under her shirt to protect them, and started jogging for home, the thin manila edges cutting into soft skin with every running step.

      She had a spare key at home, but that thought didn’t make her any drier, warmer or smarter at the moment. By the time she got home, fumbled her hidden key into the apartment lock and closed the door behind her, she was cold, soaked and fairly miserable, a combination that brought back too many memories.

      Shoving aside mental images that had owned her for too long, she headed to the shower and let warm water ease the chill and the frustrations.

      The images she left entirely up to God.

       Chapter Five

      Jeff spotted Hannah as he cruised down McCallister Street the next afternoon; the pretty blond hair was a giveaway.

      He pulled over, opened his window and called her name.

      She turned, surprise lighting her face. The way his gut clenched on seeing her told him that instead of waning, the appeal was growing. Of course, the fact that he was showing up out of the blue on his lunch hour to thank her for the copious notes she’d sent him might have something to do with that.

      Polite, he told himself.

      Nice try, his conscience replied.

      He jumped out of the car, rounded the hood and opened the passenger door for her. “Come on, I’ll give you a ride. It’s cooking out here today.”

      She looked trapped but grateful. The midday sun was blazing hot, a late September anomaly. “Thanks.”

      “You always walk?” he asked as he climbed in the driver’s side a moment later.

      “Umm. No.”

      He frowned, then nodded. “That’s right, I saw your car last night.”

      “How did you know it was my car?” She tilted her head, her freckles darker in the bright light of the noon sun.

      “Because it was the only vehicle there when I left last night?” He shot her a grin, angled down Whitmore and pulled into the library lot along the curve heading toward Route 19. “Sitting right where it’s sitting now. Car trouble?” he asked, brows bent, his look encompassing the car parked exactly where it had been fourteen hours before.

      She sighed and made a face. “I locked my keys in it.”

      “Last night?”

      “Yes.”

      “So you walked home? At ten o’clock?” He didn’t try to temper the concern edging his voice.

      She turned more fully, surprised by his reaction. “My options were limited. Because it was ten o’clock.”

      “You could have called me.” The suggestion made her sit back farther, a touch of awareness brightening her features. But right now he was too busy thinking about what could happen to a woman alone on country roads at that hour. “I was minutes from here. I could have swung back, picked you up and got you home safely.”

      “Which was the outcome as you can see from my unscathed body.” She waved a hand toward herself. “And since you were decidedly cool last night, why on earth would I have called you for help?”

      “Because …” He paused. “Because I want you safe,” he went on, meeting her gaze, letting his eyes say more than his words. “It was pouring rain before I got three blocks away. You had to be soaked.”

      “Drenched.” She sighed, her face a mix of resignation with a touch of sorrow.

      Why sorrow?

      He had no idea, but a part of him longed to wipe it away, replace the look of anxiety with joy and youthful abandon. Although at thirty-five, youthful abandon had escaped him about twelve years ago, when his father’s ignominious death marked the end of a dark era.

      But something about being around Hannah made him want to embrace that lost joy. That family camaraderie. Since that was impossible, he’d try to figure out what was going on here. Looking at her, it seemed fairly obvious, but was that emotion or hormones?

      Both.

      “So you walked home in the pouring rain, then sat down and typed up copious notes for my benefit?”

      “I like to stay on top of things.” She shrugged as if it was no big deal.

      Jeff had been in business long enough to know a good work ethic was key to success. Hannah’s drive and determination belied her fragmented lifestyle. She obviously embraced her privacy, a concept he respected. He climbed out of the car and circled the hood, meeting her as she emerged. “Thank you, Hannah.”

      She glanced up, those blue eyes meeting his, a flash of awareness in her manner. She looked flustered again, only it wasn’t the insecure agitation he’d seen before. This implicit nervousness stemmed from him, their proximity, the look he offered that probably said too much.

      He leaned down, holding her attention, deciding direct and to-the-point worked best most of the time. “Spare me the lecture of how this could never work, we have nothing in common, we barely get along and you’re not at a point in your life to consider a relationship with a stuffed shirt like me.”

      A tiny smile softened the awareness. “Thanks for saving me the trouble of the summation.”

      “Except …” He moved closer, crowding her space, watching her pretend he wasn’t encroaching on her emotions, her equanimity. “I want you to promise me something.”

      “What?”

      Those eyes, that summer-sky blue, with tiny points of ivory offering inner light. “If you ever have car trouble, locked keys, a breakdown, a flat tire … Call me. Okay?”

      She raised her cell phone and waggled it, then headed for the library door. “A little tricky since I don’t carry your number around.”

      He snagged the phone, ignored her protest and proceeded to program his number into the speed dial.

      He grinned and handed her phone back once she’d unlocked the library door. “I actually stopped by today with a purpose in mind.”

      “Because men like you always have a purpose.”

      “Since when did that become a bad thing?”

      “Not bad, predictable. What was this purpose that dragged you out of your office and brought you here in person when you have a perfectly good phone at your disposal?”

      He maintained a strong, sincere expression. “To thank you for the notes. They’re perfect and I realized from the time stamp that you stayed up late to finish them. And now I know that it was after you got soaked to the skin.”

      “No СКАЧАТЬ