Harden. Diana Palmer

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      “Doesn’t your mother love you?”

      “Yes, my mother loves me!”

      “No need to shout, Mr. Tremayne.” She grimaced, holding one ear. “I have perfect hearing.”

      “What business of yours is my life?” he demanded.

      “You saved mine,” she reminded him. “Now you’re responsible for me for the rest of yours.”

      “I am not,” he said icily.

      She wondered at her own courage, because he looked much more intimidating in the light than he had the night before. He made her feel alive and safe and cosseted. Ordinarily she was a spirited, independent woman, but the trauma of the accident and the loss of the baby had wrung the spirit out of her. Now it was beginning to come back. All because of this tall, angry stranger who’d jerked her from what he’d thought were the waiting jaws of death. Actually jumping had been the very last thing in her mind on that bridge last night. It had been nausea that had her hanging over it, but it had passed by the time he reached her.

      “Are you always so hard to get along with?” she asked pleasantly.

      His pale blue eyes narrowed. Of course he was, but he didn’t like hearing it from her. She confused him. He turned back to his food. “You’d better eat.”

      “The sooner I finish, the sooner I’m out of your hair?” she mused.

      “Right.”

      She shrugged and finished her breakfast, washing it down with the last of her coffee. She didn’t want to go. Odd, when he was so obviously impatient to be rid of her. He was like a security blanket that she’d just found, and already she was losing it. He gave her peace, made her feel whole again. The thought of being without him made her panicky.

      Harden was feeling something similar. He, who’d sworn that never again would he give his heart, was experiencing a protective instinct he hadn’t been aware he had. He didn’t understand what was happening to him. He didn’t like it, either.

      “If you’re finished, we’ll go,” he said tersely, rising to dig into his pocket for his car keys.

      She left the last sip of coffee in the immaculate china cup and got to her feet, retrieving her small purse from the couch. She probably looked like a shipwreck survivor, she thought as she followed him to the door, and God knew what people would think when they saw her come downstairs in the clothes she’d worn the night before. How ridiculous, she chided herself. They’d think the obvious thing, of course. That she’d slept with him. She flushed as they went down in the elevator, hoping that he wouldn’t see the expression on her face.

      He didn’t. He was much too busy cursing himself for being in that bar the night before. The elevator stopped and he stood aside to let her out.

      It was unfortunate that his brother Evan had decided to fly up early for the workshop Harden was conducting on new beef production methods. It was even more unfortunate that Evan should be standing in front of the elevator when Harden and Miranda got off it.

      “Oh, God,” Harden ground out.

      Evan’s brown eyebrows went straight up and his dark eyes threatened to pop. “Harden?” he asked, leaning forward as if he wasn’t really sure that this was his half brother.

      Harden’s blue eyes narrowed threateningly, and a dark flush spread over his cheekbones. Instinctively he took Miranda’s arm.

      “Excuse me. We’re late,” he told Evan, his eyes threatening all kinds of retribution.

      Evan grinned, white teeth in a swarthy face flashing mischievously. “You aren’t going to introduce me?” he asked.

      “I’m Miranda Warren,” Miranda said gently, smiling at him over Harden’s arm.

      “I’m Evan Tremayne,” he replied. “Nice to meet you.”

      “Go home,” Harden told Evan curtly.

      “I will not,” Evan said indignantly, towering over both of them. “I came to hear you tell people how to make more money raising beef.”

      “You heard me at the supper table last month—just before you volunteered me for this damned workshop!” he reminded the other man. “Why did you have to come to Chicago to hear it again?”

      “I like Chicago.” He pursed his lips, smiling appreciatively at Miranda. “Lots of pretty girls up here.”

      “This one is off-limits, so go away,” Harden told him.

      “He hates women,” Evan told Miranda. “He doesn’t even go on dates back home. What did you do, if you don’t mind saying? I mean, you didn’t drug him or hit him with some zombie spell…?”

      Miranda shifted closer to Harden involuntarily and slid a shy hand into his. Evan’s knowing look made her feel self-conscious and embarrassed. “Actu-ally—” she began reluctantly.

      Harden cut her off. “She had a small problem last night, and I rescued her. Now I’m taking her home,” he said, daring his brother to ask another question. “I’ll see you at the workshop.”

      “You’re all right?” Evan asked Miranda, with sincere concern.

      “Yes.” She forced a smile. “I’ve been a lot of trouble to Mr. Tremayne. I…really do have to go.”

      Harden locked his fingers closer into hers and walked past Evan without another word.

      “Your brother is very big, isn’t he?” Miranda asked, tingling all over at the delicious contact with Harden’s strong fingers. She wondered if he was even aware of holding her hand so tightly.

      “Evan’s a giant,” he agreed. “The biggest of us all. Short on tact, sometimes.”

      “Look who’s talking,” she couldn’t resist replying.

      He glared down at her and tightened his fingers. “Watch it.”

      She smiled, sighing as they reached his car in the garage. “I don’t guess I’ll see you again?” she asked.

      “Not much reason to, if you don’t try jumping off bridges anymore,” he replied, putting up a cool front. Actually he didn’t like the thought of not seeing her again. But she was mourning a husband and baby and he didn’t want involvement. It would be for the best if he didn’t start anything. He was still wearing the scars from the one time he’d become totally involved.

      “I had too much to drink,” she said after he’d put her in the luxury car he’d rented at the airport the day before and climbed in beside her to start the engine. “I don’t drink as a rule. That last piña colada was fatal.”

      “Almost literally,” he agreed, glancing at her irritably. “Find something to occupy your mind. It will help get you through the rough times.”

      “I know.” She looked down at her lap. “I guess your brother thinks I slept with you.”

      “Does it matter what СКАЧАТЬ