“I’m sorry about earlier,” Hannah said. “I shouldn’t have run away.”

“Interesting turn of phrase,” Jeff replied.

“A trait I’m trying to change.” Tonight, a part of her longed to embrace change.

“Let’s eat.” He drew her chair out, a gentlemanly gesture, then sat in the chair opposite her.

Hannah flushed. “You could have sat over here.” She indicated the chair to her right.

He smiled. “If you’d prefer …”

“Not what I meant and you know it.”

The smile deepened. “I’m good here for the moment. The extra space gives me a buffer zone.”

This time Hannah smiled. His teasing look was tinged with a hint of compassion, just enough to help calm the encroaching waves within.

She wanted new memories. New chances. New beginnings. Isn’t that why she’d come to Jamison in the first place?

You came here to hide. Nothing more, nothing less.

Then she wanted to stop hiding.

Dear Reader,

My son-in-law did a youth ministry stint in Littleton, Colorado. A local host family took him to see Columbine High School, the scene of a heinous attack. Jon’s guide told him “Most of the teachers that were here have gone.” That single sentence sent my brain spinning.

Where did they go? What shadows followed them? How do you deal with a conscienceless act that happens on your watch?

And so began Mended Hearts, the story of a survivor who regains her hold on normalcy and the man who reminds her of her past. It’s a story of redemptive strength, of gathering scattered pieces and realizing Humpty Dumpty can be fixed. It just takes faith, hope, love and time.

Our family has four wonderful high school teachers. I worked for nine years in a segregated classroom with angry middle school kids. Many bore little conscience. My poverty-stricken youth taught me that good teachers do make a difference. Their impact resounds long after that last bell rings. And true teachers are born to teach, intrinsic to their heart and soul.

I hope you love this story of regaining strength and mustering faith, of bold steps forward in the sweet setting of Allegany County, NY, one of God’s prettiest places. I love to hear from readers. Your words bless me. Visit me and “the guys” online at www.menofalleganycounty.com or come play with me at “Ruthy’s Place,” www.ruthysplace.com, where I shamelessly exploit cute kids, pets and recipes because it’s, well … fun. You can email me at ruthy@ruthloganherne.com or snail mail me c/o Love Inspired Books, Harlequin Enterprises, 233 Broadway, Suite 1001, New York, NY 10279.

God bless you and keep you!

Ruthy

Mended Hearts
Ruth Logan Herne

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Dedication

This book is dedicated to Melissa Endlich, whose patience and rolling pin have proven necessary on more than one occasion. Your continued confidence blesses me abundantly.

And to Amanda, Seth, Lacey and Karen, four wonderful high school teachers who’ve worked the front lines of adolescent development. God bless you guys!

Be still before the Lord and wait patiently for him; do not fret when men succeed in their ways, when they carry out their wicked schemes. Refrain from anger and turn from wrath; do not fret—it leads only to evil. For evil men will be cut off, but those who hope in the Lord will inherit the land.

—Psalms 37:7–9

Acknowledgments

Wonderful teachers are never forgotten. Special thanks to Mrs. Fenlon (now Mrs. Steiner), Sr. Mary Cordis, Sr. Mariel (deceased), Sr. Natalia, Mrs. Bagley and Thomas Dowd. I’m grateful for your encouragement and kindness. And to Alice McCarthy, my Girl Scout leader, who became a stand-in at every parental function. Alice, thank you for treating an abnormal situation with sweet normalcy. God blessed you with a generous heart and I thank you for the times you sat with me, accompanied me and covered my “dues.” There’s a special place in heaven for people like you.

Special thanks to Mandy for traipsing the hills of Allegany with me, taking the time to meet perfect strangers with a smile and a handshake. Weren’t those sheriffs adorable???

To Beth and Jon for their constant help in so many ways. To Matt and Karen and Seth and Lacey for their continued support and help. And to Zach and Luke who advise from afar and take the couch so I can have the bed when I visit them. You guys rock.

To the Seekers, www.seekerville.blogspot.com. Your light shines for so many. I’m blessed to have you in my life. Audra, thanks for the read. You rock. Andrea, for the steady belief for so many years.

And especially to Dave for his continued love and support. He makes a mean tuna fish sandwich! Love you, Dude.

Prologue

Jeff Brennan stood slowly, facing his illegitimate half brother, their gazes locked, a silent war of wills waging in their squared-off stature. Nice to see that twenty years of separation had changed absolutely nothing. “What do you want, Matt? What are you doing here?”

Matt Cavanaugh didn’t match Jeff’s caustic tone, but then he’d always had a way of wriggling out of things right up until he nearly cost Katie Bascomb her life. He did cost her a leg, but guys like Matt didn’t worry about things like consequences. Ever.

Matt leveled a firm look at Jeff, not cringing. Not asking forgiveness. Not apologizing for all he’d put the family through two decades back. Which meant he might need to be punched. And with the current demands and conditions of Jeff’s job as the chief design engineer for Walker Electronics, his business partner Trent Michaels called away for life-threatening family illness and the in-house rush to nail down a mobile surveillance system designed to keep an eye on threatened American borders, Jeff was ready to duke it out with just about anyone.

Throw in the matching funds library project his grandmother and CEO threw at him an hour ago, and Matt had no idea how close he was to risking his life.

Jeff swallowed a growl, glanced down, then up. The look in Matt’s eyes said he might just be getting it, but on an already bad day, the last thing Jeff wanted or needed was the long-awaited showdown with his lawbreaking half brother. “I said, what do you want?”

Matt raised his hands in a conciliatory gesture. “I’m in town to scout out some possible work. I’m a housing contractor now, and I didn’t want to blindside you or anyone else in the family by running into you in the street.”

“You’ve grown a conscience?” Jeff’s hands tightened. His skin prickled. The hairs on the nape of his neck rose in quiet protest. “Since when?”

Matt didn’t answer the question. “I’ve come to make amends, Jeff.”

“Too little, too late.”

A tiny muscle in Matt’s jaw tightened. “You could be right. I hope you’re wrong. But I wanted to come here and see you face-to-face. Pave the way.”

“So you’re in town looking for work.” Jeff mused over the words, wishing Matt wasn’t so calm while he felt ready to jump the desk and settle old wrongs. “Or you’re here because Walker Electronics is doing better and you want a piece of the pie.”

Matt swiped Jeff’s office a quick glance. “Right. I just now decided to fulfill a lifelong yearning to understand microchips, nanoseconds and satellite-fed communications. Sorry, but that part of our father didn’t bleed through to me.”

“No.” Jeff shut his desk drawer with more force than necessary. “You got the drinking, gambling, womanizing and lawbreaking genes. How’s that working for you, Matt?”

Matt stepped back. “I didn’t come to fight, Jeff. I just wanted you aware. And if you’ll point me toward Helen’s office, I’ll let her know, as well.”

What Jeff wanted was to show Matt the exit in no uncertain terms, but that would label him an even bigger jerk. He hiked a thumb left. “Out the door. Down the hall. I know she’s there because we just finished a meeting about a matching fund drive for the Jamison library.”

“Your grandfather’s wishes.”

“Yes.”

Matt nodded and backed toward the door. “I’m not looking to get in your way down here.”

“You already did.”

Matt acknowledged that with a shrug and a straight-on look. “Those are your issues, then.”

He turned, leaving Jeff with nothing but riled-up memories, twenty years of absence not enough to warrant Matt’s presence as a welcome addition.

His grandmother would disagree. Jeff knew that. She’d always seen Matt as a broken soul, a lost kid, a troubled heart.

Whereas Jeff saw a conscienceless user, just like their father.

Long ago, Peter had asked the Lord about forgiving his brother, wondering if seven times was enough. And Jesus said no. Not nearly enough. Which only meant Jeff had some serious work to do if forgiving Matt was added to his already overflowing plate.

Chapter One

Megan Romesser’s eyes brightened as Hannah Moore walked through the back door of Grandma Mary’s Candies on this quiet September afternoon. Quiet equated good in Hannah’s book, because she longed to vent loud and long, knowing Megan would listen, commiserate and then tell her to get on with it.

Megan understood the role of a good friend.

But venting would mean explaining why heading up a library fundraising drive with weekly meetings and full immersion into what everyone else considered normal life thrust Hannah into an emotional tailspin. Opening that door meant facing things she’d tucked aside years ago.

If not now, when?

How about never?

Hannah shoved the internal questions aside. If keeping that door closed guarded her mental health, then so be it.

She nodded toward the trays of fresh candy and the wall of boxed chocolates shipped in from Grandma Mary’s Buffalo-based factory. “Just being around this much chocolate adds inches to my hips. Why do I work here? To torture myself?”

“To see me.” Megan sent her a quick grin, finished packing an order, then waved toward the back. “New sponge candy in the minikitchen. See what you think.”

“I love the perks of this job. Have I mentioned that lately?”

“Which is why you run voraciously. Nothing sticks on you.”

“A blessing and a curse.”

“Ha.” Megan sent a doubtful look over her shoulder. “Not packing on pounds is never a curse. Bite your tongue.”

“Let’s just say I’m not afraid to augment as needed,” Hannah shot back, grinning. “Aiding and abetting my lack of curves.”

Megan laughed out loud. “Seriously, Hannah, the way you look in a dress? In your running gear? Head-turning. Brat.”

“Thanks.” Hannah nipped a piece of fresh sponge candy, closed her eyes in appreciation and breathed deep. “Wonderful. Marvelous. Words escape me.”

“That’ll do for the moment. The chocolate is smooth enough?”

“Like silk.”

“Sweet enough?”

“The perfect blend of slightly bitter chocolate to golden, sugary honeycomb. Need any more convincing?”

“I could use you to write my ad copy.” Megan grinned, then turned to answer the wall phone. “Grandma Mary’s Candies, Megan speaking. Hey, darlin’, when are you coming home?”

Honeymooner talk. Hannah moved into the kitchen, removing herself from the inevitable love-yous and miss-yous of being separated for two whole days.

Right now, the last thing Hannah needed was another reminder of her empty life.

She tried to appear normal. She’d done a morning stint at the library, followed by a mandatory meeting with Helen Walker, CEO of Walker Electronics, which put her into this current tizzy. Now she would put in four hours of work helping Megan in the family candy store in Wellsville.

Working odd jobs offered a semblance of normal, but normal had disappeared on a rainy afternoon almost five years ago, taking a hefty part of her self-reliance with it.

Pretense worked now. Fake it till you make it, an old sales adage that applied. Only Hannah hadn’t gotten to the “make it” part yet. Lately she’d been wondering if she ever would. Perhaps Helen Walker had been right, maybe shouldering this library fundraising task would be good for her. Anything that pushed her out of her self-imposed comfort zone wasn’t bad, right?

Depends on your definition of bad, her inner voice scoffed.

Oh, she knew bad. Been there, done that, had no desire to return. Not ever again. Keeping her responsibilities minimal meant downsizing risk, and that had become her current mantra.

“Hannah?”

“Yes?” She poked her head around the corner, then shifted her attention to the phone. “You done with lover boy?”

Megan laughed. “Yes, but he’s not coming home until tomorrow. Problems with staffing at the Baltimore store. Wanna do a movie tonight?”

Hannah shook her head. “Too nice to stay inside. What about walking the ridge?”

“As in walk, not run?”

Hannah smiled as she weighed sponge candy into one-pound boxes. “Promise.”

“I’m in. You’re okay on your own here?”

Hannah glanced around the empty store. “Fine. You’re leaving?”

“Just for a bit. Ben needs a ride home from the restaurant.”

Ben was Megan’s developmentally challenged younger brother who lived in a group home a few blocks from the store. “You go get Ben. I’ll do quality control on the sponge candy. And maybe the caramels, as well.”

“Can’t be too careful.” Megan paused and gave Hannah a quick hug on her way out. “Are you okay?”

“Fine. Why?” Steadying her features, Hannah glanced up.

“You seem a little off.”

“I’m a girl. That happens, doesn’t it?”

“Hmm.” Megan didn’t look convinced. “If you need to talk …”

“Which I don’t.”

“Even so.” Megan gave Hannah a look, her expression unsure. “If you do, I’m available.”

“I know.” Hannah turned her attention back to the task at hand, shoulders back, feet firm. “I appreciate it.”

“Well, then.” Megan sounded dubious but she’d never delve. More than Hannah’s friendship, she respected her right to privacy, a wonderful plus in this age of girlfriends-know-all.

Hannah couldn’t afford to have anyone know all. Bad enough she carried that burden on her shoulders. She refused to bring others down. But that weighted the yoke, and with the Allegheny foothills hinting gold and red, fall’s beauty carried heavy reminders of love and loss.

The antique bell announcing a customer’s arrival provided a welcome interruption. Hannah left the half-filled box on the scale and moved to the front of the east-facing store. A man stood scanning a new display kiosk, a man who’d become distressingly familiar two hours ago. “May I help you?”

Surprise painted his features as Jeff Brennan turned from a corner display. Hannah fought the rise of emotions his expression inspired. In three years she hadn’t crossed paths with this man, and now twice in one day?

Obviously God had a sense of humor, because the last person Hannah wanted to be around was a rising young executive, no matter how great he looked in gray tweed, the steel-and-rose pinstriped tie a perfect complement to the silver-toned oxford. She’d seen enough in the library council meeting to know he was self-confident, self-assured and slightly impatient, a condition that might arise from lack of time or lack of compassion, not that she cared.

His crisp, clean, business-first air had Brian’s name written all over it, a CEO in the making, driven and forward-thinking. With the leaves beginning their annual dance of color, thoughts of her former fiancé only worsened matters. She shoved the memories aside, kept her expression calm and stepped forward, determined to get through this library fundraiser somehow, since her library contract allowed her no other choice.

“You’ve got time to work here, but you’re reluctant to help with the new library?” The hint of resentment in Jeff’s tone said her lack of enthusiasm was unappreciated in light of Helen and Jonas Walker’s sacrifices.

But then Jeff had no idea what dragons loomed in her past as summer faded to fall and kids marched off to school, pencils sharp, their backpacks fresh and new, a world she’d been part of until that dark November day.

She met his gaze, refusing to let the clipped tone get to her. “My library job in Jamison is part-time. Last I looked life was full-time and that includes living expenses. An extra job helps pay the bills since the county couldn’t afford more hours in the library budget.”

“And you tutor?”

He’d actually been listening when she’d tried to beg off the fundraising committee earlier, but that shouldn’t surprise her. You didn’t get to Jeff Brennan’s rung on the corporate ladder at thirty-plus without having a working brain. Of course being the boss’s grandson couldn’t hurt, but somehow she didn’t see that happening at Walker Electronics. She slipped on fresh plastic gloves, ignored his question and indicated the glass-fronted candy display with a tilt of her head. “Would you like a hand-chosen collection, Mr. Brennan?”

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 Megan 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, thoughts 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.”

“We lie.”

He shook his head. “Not lie. Improvise.”

“Lead people on.”

“Not in a bad way.” He studied her, and knit his brow, wondering. “As chairpeople, you and I need to appear open to others’ ideas even if we’ve already planned a course of action.”

“What if their ideas have merit?”

“We incorporate them, of course. But only if they don’t take us off track.”

His words quenched the spark of amusement in her eyes. “So as long as it’s your way, it’s a go.”

“No, not really.”

“That’s what you said.”

“What I said was spawned by your refusal to cook for me,” he shot back, hoping humor would soften the moment, noting her withdrawal with a glance. “You said no too quickly. If you’d said ‘I’ll consider that and get back to you,’ at least then I’d feel like I have a chance. And that’s how contributors want to feel. Like they’re appreciated. Considered.”

“So because I shot down your plea for a home-cooked meal, I’m being lectured on the ins and outs of fundraising?”

He sat back, confused. “Listen, I—”

She slid forward in her seat as if ready to do battle, a tactical move that surprised him considering her previous timidity. “For your information, I am perfectly capable of running this thing completely on my own. So feel free to take yourself back to Grandma and tell her I can fly solo, because it will be way more fun than dealing with a corporate know-it-all who pretends other people’s opinions matter when clearly they don’t.” She stood, back straight, face set, determination darkening her blue eyes. “And as for cooking you dinner, not only would you be wise to not hold your breath, you might want to consider a weekly grocery delivery service so the inconvenience of shopping doesn’t interrupt your goals and ambitions. Why should something as mundane as food interfere with total world domination? Let your grandmother know I’ll be glad to take this on independently. End of discussion.”

She strode out of the restaurant, shoulders back, head high, not glancing left or right.

Total world domination? Jeff sat back, mystified. Her reaction revealing two things. She had plenty of backbone, a trait he’d respect more when he wasn’t being publically reamed out over nothing.

And someone had done quite a number on her and he was paying the price.

He refused to glance around, not caring to see the surprise or sympathy the other diners might bestow his way.

The waitress appeared looking slightly stressed. “Uh-oh.”

“Yeah.” He sent her a look of bemusement. “Can I have the appetizers to go, please? Looks like I’m dining on my own tonight.”

“Of course. I’ll be right back.”

Her look of sympathy didn’t help his deflated ego.

Smacked down in public.

Ouch.

That hadn’t happened in … ever. Which made it almost interesting, despite the embarrassment factor.

Still … she hadn’t looked faint or weak or intimidated as she headed out that door after dressing him down. She’d looked strong. Angry. Invigorated.

Not exactly the emotions he’d been going for, but at least they were normal. Understandable. He glanced at his watch, nodded his thanks to the young waitress and tried to exit with his head high, fairly sure half the dining room was just too polite to stare.

They didn’t need to. He felt conspicuous enough as it was.

Chapter Three

She’d call Helen first thing tomorrow, Hannah decided as she kicked off her shoes in her apartment fifteen minutes later. If she had to embrace this task, she’d take the helm and do it alone. The idea of dealing with a power-hungry ladder climber like Jeff Brennan touched too many old chords. Her teaching success. Brian’s drive and goal-setting passions. The perfect couple when all was well.

No, being around Jeff nudged too many insecurities to the surface. She was better, she knew that.

But still scared. And scarred. Emotionally, if not physically.

The doorbell rang.

Hannah headed to the front entry, surprised. She stopped as her heart shifted somewhere closer to her gut.

Jeff stood framed in the glass, a to-go sack in his hand, his expression sincere, almost as if he was truly sorry for setting her off when he’d done nothing wrong except evoke bad memories.

Self-recriminations assaulted her from within. She opened the door, and sighed, letting the door’s edge offer support. “I shouldn’t have walked out on you like that.”

“Why did you?”

Hannah refused to open that box, although lately the cover seemed determined to inch off on its own, a concept that both worried and strengthened her. “You struck a nerve.”

“Sorry.” He didn’t demand an explanation, just stood there looking truly apologetic. He hoisted the bag. “I can’t eat these alone. I know you’re hungry, and I don’t want to start off on the wrong foot.”

The gentility behind this surprise move softened her heart. Meg had proclaimed Jeff to be a downright nice guy, invested in the community. At this moment, Hannah couldn’t disagree. “Come in.”

He smiled, not triumphant or teasing, but amiable and friendly as if he’d teased her enough for one night. A part of her wished she could play those getting-to-know-you games she used to be good at, but she’d lost that skill and had no interest in resurrecting it.

Get it back.

She sensed the inner admonition, felt the internal thrust forward and resisted, her fear of risk standing its ground.

“Do not be afraid for I am with you… .”

Isaiah’s words tinkered with her heart, her soul.

“I will strengthen you and help you… .”

“This is nice, Hannah.” Jeff swept the front room an approving look, then raised the bag again. “Here or in the kitchen?”

“The kitchen’s fine.”

“Lead the way.” He followed her, set the bag on the table, then faced her.

“I’m sorry about earlier. I shouldn’t have run away.”

“Interesting turn of phrase.”

She grimaced acceptance. “A trait I’m trying to change.” Tonight, with him here, delicious smells wafting from the to-go containers, a part of her longed to embrace change. And food. “I’ll get some plates.”

“Perfect.”

It wasn’t perfect, she knew that, but by coming here he’d leveled their playing field. Brian would never have swallowed his pride and come calling to make amends. She withdrew two plates from the cupboard and turned to find Jeff procuring silverware from the drawer alongside the sink.

“These okay?” He held up two knives and two forks.

She nodded. “Fine, yes.”

“Then let’s eat.” He drew her chair out, a gentlemanly gesture, then sat in the chair opposite her.

Hannah flushed. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“What?” He looked genuinely puzzled about her meaning.

“Sit over there. Here would have been fine.” She indicated the chair to her right with a nod.

He raised a brow in amusement. “If you’d prefer …”

“Not what I meant and you know it.”

The smile deepened. “I’m good here for the moment. The extra space gives me a buffer zone.”

This time Hannah smiled. His banter was tinged with a hint of compassion, just enough to help calm the encroaching waves within. Her therapist had told her she’d know when to test the waters, dive back into the game. Hannah hadn’t believed her then, and longed to believe her now, but mingled fears constrained her.

She wanted new memories. New chances. New beginnings. Wasn’t that why she’d come to Jamison in the first place?

You came here to hide. Nothing more, nothing less.

Then she wanted to stop hiding.

A rustle of wind brushed the leaves against the windows. The sights and sounds of fall leveraged her anxiety, but only if she allowed it to happen.

Determined, she sat forward, met Jeff’s gaze and nodded toward the food. “Will you say grace or shall I?”

He reached for her hand and it felt nice to have Jeff grip her fingers as he asked the blessing, his tone thoughtful, the strength of his hand a blessing in itself.

He smiled, released her hand and gave a delighted sigh as he opened the containers. “Since we’re main-coursing this stuff, I had them pack two slices of strudel, too. I don’t know about you, but I never have room for dessert if I eat a full meal, and Susan Langley’s apple strudel is amazing stuff. I wasn’t sure if you’d like raisins, so I got the one without them.”

“Thank you, Jeff.” She looked in his eyes and for the first time in ages didn’t question the sincerity and integrity in another person, or the veracity of their smile. She let herself bask in the moment and realized how good she felt to be there.

So far as the east is from the west has He removed our transgressions from us… .

She wanted to believe that, the sweet psalm anointing her, but she’d found out the hard way that simple faith was anything but easy.

And yet …

Something in Jeff’s look and his manner made her want to take the chance she’d been refusing to contemplate for years.

“You’ll know when,” Lisa had promised, offering her professional and personal opinion before Hannah moved east. “And when it happens, seize the day. Grasp the moment.”

Hannah hadn’t believed her; the thought that time eases pain was too simplistic to embrace then, despite the therapist’s assurance.

But maybe now …

“Try this.” Jeff speared a piece of shrimp, leaned forward and held the fork up, his encouraging look somewhat boyish and endearing.

She shouldn’t take the morsel. Sharing food was too personal, but she leaned forward, the moment charged with awareness. She paused at the last moment, rethinking her choice.

It’s shrimp. Nothing more.

Hannah knew better, despite her recent holding pattern, like a jet circling O’Hare in a snowstorm. But she took the bite anyway. The combination of cream and spices was melt-in-your-mouth good. “That’s amazing.”

Jeff grinned. “I thought you’d like it. Try another.”

She raised her fork, putting off another tidbit from his. “Feeding myself was one of my basic skills in college.”

“Where I expect you did very well,” he countered, following her lead, adeptly moving the conversation. “I did my undergrad and masters at MIT.” His interested expression invited her to reveal the same about herself.

“I was at Penn.”

“Philadelphia.”

She nodded. “My father and stepmother live there. That got me the occasional home-cooked meal.”

“Which always tastes better when you’re away from home. And you never fully appreciate the things of home until they’re gone.”

Hannah knew that firsthand. Her parents had split up amicably just shy of her ninth birthday. Both had remarried. Both marriages were still intact, but she’d never had a place to truly feel at home from that moment on. No matter which home she visited, a level of disconnect followed her as she figured out behavior that suited her stepfather and stepmother, a slippery slope for a kid. She’d hedged toward perfect, swallowing emotions, pasting on smiles, unwilling to make a scene, skills that turned against her later on.

As a science lover, she understood the intricacies of adaptation. What she didn’t quite get was how to turn it off and move ahead. And if she couldn’t do that, then all the adjustments in the world were of little importance because mere existence couldn’t equate with life. Ever.

“The quieter you get, the more I delve.” Jeff sent her a pointed look, his eyes amused but direct.

Hannah raised her fork in salute. “I only reveal things on a need-to-know basis, Jeff.” She leaned forward before hiking one brow. “And right now, all you need to know is that I’m amazingly grateful for this food. Thank you.”

“And the company?”

Ah, the company. She smiled, raised a glass of water and dipped her chin. “Even better.”

His grin said more than words as he sampled a piece of stuffed mushroom. Was his look of delight meant for her or the delicious food?

She wasn’t sure but a big part of her hoped it was for her. That sent her onto dangerous turf, but for the first time in a long time it felt good to laugh and tease with someone.

Real good.

Success.

Partially, Jeff admitted to himself as he headed back toward Wellsville later that evening. They’d exchanged fundraising ideas, scoped out the time frame and brainstormed how to bring the library project to the forefront of people’s minds. Spring and summer offered many opportunities, but winter in their mountainous foothills narrowed the selections. If they could target the Farmer’s Fair at the end of October, the Christmas Salute to Veterans concert in December, then the Maple Festival in March as their big fall/winter projects, they should have a successful launch. Throw in the direct-mail campaign and fundraising on the Jamison green on Sundays …

Jeff hoped it marked a strong beginning. His mother’s ringtone interrupted his thought process. “Hey, Mom. What’s up?”

“You know that Matt’s back.”

Jeff’s gut tightened. “Yes.”

“I’ve invited him to supper tomorrow night.”

“Perfect. I’m busy.”

“Exactly why I scheduled it then,” Dana Brennan explained. “I won’t have you boys fighting at my table, or have you make him feel like he’s to blame for your father’s actions.”

Perfect. Just perfect. The prodigal comes home after two decades of doing whatever and gets the welcome-to-the-table speech while Jeff got the shaft. “I can lay plenty of his own actions at his door, Mom. He made sure of that twenty years ago.”

“He’s changed, Jeff. He grew up. And he paid his price.”

“Tell that to Katie Bascomb. Every time I see her I remember that night, that weekend. He’s lucky she wasn’t killed.”

“Yes. But Matt wasn’t given an easy road to travel.”

“And I was?”

Dana sighed. “That’s not what I’m saying, honey. I know how rough things were for you and your sister. And maybe I tried too hard or stayed too long with your father, thinking he would keep his promises.”

“Which he didn’t.”

“No. But you do, Jeff. You always have and I’m proud of you for it. I just wish …”

“That I would embrace your rainbow-colored world, forgive Matt and sing kumbaya? Didn’t you just admit to trying too hard with Dad? I might be the one that looks like Dad, but Matt’s got his personality down pat and I don’t want to see you or Grandma get hurt.”

“Or maybe you’re protecting yourself.”

“From?”

“Memories. Fears. Anything that reminds you of your father.”

Jeff sighed. It had been a long day already, up early to get a jump on work Trent Michaels would have done if his foster father wasn’t sick, but with Trent gone …

“I’m tired, Mom. While you’re entertaining Matt, I’ll be kicking off a fundraising campaign I don’t have time for. That seems to be the trend lately—‘If no one else can do it, ask Jeff.’”

“You know I’ll help. And stop feeling sorry for yourself. You love going 24/7, it’s intrinsic to your nature. And Grandma and I both appreciate your time and your devotion to the library project.”

Right then, Jeff didn’t feel appreciated. He felt put out, put upon and a little put down. “Good night, Mom.”

“Night, honey. I love you.”

“Yeah.” He paused before adding, “I love you, too.” He disconnected the call, pulled into his driveway and sat back against the leather seat, considering the current circumstances. His brain refused to work without sleep. He’d catch a few hours, then jump into the specs for a new Homeland Security bid that included the mobile surveillance units his team designed. The forthcoming eight-figure contract would push Walker Electronics another notch up the ladder of military supply companies, and that meant more workers, more production, more jobs and a stronger local economy.

But it stunk big time that his good-for-nothing brother got invited to dinner, because with the library meeting tomorrow, Jeff would be lucky to have time to scarf down a deli sandwich on the run.

Sometimes life just wasn’t fair.

Chapter Four

“Jeff? May I see you a minute?”

The sound of Grandma’s voice drew Jeff’s attention in the library parking lot the next evening. He smiled and crossed the lot, surprised but pleased. “You’re here. I thought you were attending that dinner for the Veteran’s Outreach tonight.”

Helen tipped a thoughtful look his way. “I decided it was more important to see you.”

Her words puzzled him. “Except … we saw each other off and on all day.”

“But not about personal things.”

True enough.

He and Grandma didn’t discuss family things on the job. And the only family things of note that had happened recently were Meredith’s job loss and Matt’s return. Since Meredith was avidly looking for a place to open a salon of her own, Grandma’s visit could have only been spurred by one thing: Matt Cavanaugh.

Wonderful.

Jeff angled his head, silent. Waiting.

Grandma took his arm and headed toward the library. “Everyone deserves a second chance, don’t they?”

He nodded. Shrugged. “Sure. It’s the seventh, eighth and ninth that concern me, Grandma. Did he ask you for money?”

She paused and offered him a sharp, shrewd look. “First, it wouldn’t be your concern if he did. I’m perfectly capable of making my own decisions and you need to respect that. Second …” Her frown deepened and she gave him a quick, appraising glance that said she was deliberately holding back. “You’ll need to settle this thing in your head if Matt’s moving back to town.”

“He’s not, is he?” Jeff read her expression and swallowed what he wanted to say. “Tell me you’re kidding.”

“He’s looking for work.”

“We didn’t offer him a job, did we?”

Helen puffed an impatient breath. “What work does Walker Electronics have for a home builder? No, he’s quite self-sufficient, but I suspect he’ll be around awhile.”

“Plenty of cause for concern right there.”

Helen’s look sharpened. “Matt’s not the one I’m worried about.”

Her words stung, just like his mother’s the night before.

They weren’t bothered by Matt’s sudden reappearance? Then it was a good thing Jeff had enough concern for both of them. He shrugged off her comment, hid the hurt and angled toward the tiny library, which was in need of refurbishing. “I’m fine. You know that.”

“Yes.” She paused again, hesitant but straightforward. “And no.”

“Yes,” he countered firmly. “And this isn’t a topic of conversation we can pursue right now.” He straightened as a volunteer’s car angled into the small lot. Fat raindrops began to pelt them. “I’ve got a job to do.”

Helen stepped back, nodded and opened her umbrella. “You do. And that’s the reverend so I’ll just walk over there and say hi before we get started.” She gave Jeff’s arm a light squeeze before she headed toward Reverend Hannity’s car, as if her touch would soothe the prick of her words.

She was worried about him.

Not Matt.

The incredulity of that cut deep. Right now he needed to get inside, compare notes and goals with Hannah, dust off his bruised ego and get to work fulfilling Grandpa’s dream, a well-set library system throughout Allegany County. And he needed to do it with the polished veneer of a leader, ready to forge ahead, when what he wanted to do was …

His hands clenched. His thoughts jumbled and frustration climbed his spine, settling in somewhere along the back of his neck.

He had no idea, so he buried the angst as best he could and headed through the door, a part of him wishing Grandma had gone to the veteran’s dinner as planned.

“Are we ready?”

Hannah gave her heart a chance to come under control at the sound of Jeff’s voice. His kindness the previous night was a delightful new memory that had managed to interrupt her sleep. But tonight he sounded gruff, and Hannah was savvy enough to know that any guy could appear nice for an hour or two. Maybe Jeff had exhausted his limit the previous night.

She turned, tamping her reaction. From the dozens of wet splotches on his clothes, the promised showers had come to fruition. “You’re wet.”

“Rain does that.” He peeled off an expensive-looking trench, then swept the room a glance. “I’d forgotten how small this place is because I use the Wellsville branch.”

“And that’s exquisite,” Hannah acknowledged. The Howe Library was a shining star in the economically roughed-up town.

“We’ve really got our work cut out for us.”

Did he realize his slight derision reflected her work for the past three years? She offered the tiny library a quick perusal. “It may be small, but it does the job.”

“If it did, we wouldn’t be here, Hannah.”

“Ouch.”

He huffed a breath, ran a hand across the nape of his neck, then shrugged. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that the way it sounded, I just …” He stopped, glanced toward the exit and held up his jacket, pretending to head for the door. “Can we have a do-over? Please?”

No, they could not. “Unnecessary.” She flashed him a cool, crisp smile. “Folders are on the table.”

The door opened. Several committee members streamed in, lamenting the rain in mixed voices.

Jeff turned to greet them, his manner inviting, more like the guy she’d shared food with last night.

Just because he wears a suit, doesn’t mean he’s cut from Brian’s cloth.

But he’d walked in here pretty tense and frustrated, and Hannah didn’t do uptight or overwrought. Or driven, for that matter. Not anymore.

Jeff’s attention veered left as another voice joined the group. Hannah watched as Helen Walker greeted people much like her grandson, offering a warm smile and a firm handshake. And having met Helen back when she interviewed for the librarian position and the other day, Hannah wasn’t blind to the older woman’s work-first focus and drive. But Helen’s didn’t bother her.

Jeff’s did.

Because you’re constantly comparing him to Brian. Move on. Forge ahead. There is nothing wrong with focus. Got that?

Hannah grasped Helen’s hand. “Mrs. Walker, hello.”

“Helen, please.” Helen’s grip offered warm assurance, the perfect handshake. “And as cute as this is, Hannah—” Helen let her gaze wander the children’s corner, the faded carousel of computer stations and the narrow rows between labeled bookcases “—it’s time we did better. You understand that, right? And how essential your input is to the success of the final product we hope to achieve.”

Her words inspired Hannah’s grimace. “I’m sorry I balked initially. I shouldn’t have done that. Please accept my apology.”

Helen beamed. “Accepted and forgotten. We all get a little intimidated now and again, don’t we?”

“I suppose so.”

Jeff shifted their way and indicated the school-style wall clock. “We should get started.”

“Of course.” Hannah offered him a polite nod and headed for her seat at the end of the table. He sent her an unreadable look as he took his place opposite her, the long library table creating a distance.

And distance is good, Hannah told herself, settling in. Real good.

“I love this concept.” A primary school teacher raised Hannah’s overview folder up. “Using the solar system to represent how the branches circle the main library in Wellsville is stellar.”

A communal groan sounded at her joke. She grinned and turned Hannah’s way. “Did you do this?”

“Combined effort,” Hannah explained, feeling more like her old self than she’d expected. The realization buoyed her. “The analogy was mine. The graphics were all Jeff’s.”

“I love it,” declared Helen from her seat midway down the table. “And what’s more, Jonas would have loved it. The artwork embraces all the sciences, and that is the goal of a well-set library. So, Hannah …” Helen shifted her way. “Can you walk us through possible fundraising ideas?”

“Of course.” Hannah waved toward the far end of the table. “If I can direct your attention beyond Jeff, I’ve got a PowerPoint presentation of ideas, and then we can see how the committee feels about them individually.”

“Excellent.” Helen’s warm expression went from one end of the table to the other, her enthusiasm obvious. “Financial constraints meant we had to wait much longer than I wanted to get this drive started, and I’ve felt guilty about it. And guilt isn’t one bit fun.”

It wasn’t. Hannah knew that personally. With all Helen Walker had to do, the idea that one out-of-the-way, dot-on-the-map library meant something … That showed a whole lot of character. And Hannah respected good character.

“Jenny, adding a booth to next summer’s Balloon Rally would be wonderful,” Jeff assured the town council representative toward the end of the meeting. “And I don’t think it matters that we’ll be beyond our projected fundraising date. Added funds secure future purchases, and libraries can always use help in that regard. Well, then …” Jeff scanned his notes, flipped a few pages and sat back, satisfied. “We did well.”

“Very well,” Hannah added, looking calmer now that the meeting had ended and nothing had self-destructed. Right until she looked at him, then the cool, flat facade fell into place. But then again he hadn’t exactly been Mr. Friendly when he’d walked in tonight.

He stood, made small talk, then walked people to the door, feeling Hannah’s eyes watching. Assessing. Probably figuring he was a total fake, pretending interest he didn’t feel. On the plus side, the rain had stopped.

“Hannah, if you need anything at all, please call me.” Helen gripped the younger woman’s hands in hers. She leaned in just enough to show the sincerity behind her words. “Please.”

“I will.” Hannah’s smile said Helen’s authenticity bested her grandson’s.

Helen headed for the door and nodded to Jeff. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“I’ll bring coffee,” he promised, then turned back to Hannah, needing to close the evening on a positive note between them. Pinpoints of guilt prickled him for his earlier insensitivity.

He straightened his notes and his spine, slid his portfolio into his laptop bag and shouldered it before facing her. “I apologize if I was too blunt earlier. I had things on my mind, but I shouldn’t have taken them out on you. Or this project. It was rude.” He was ready to go home and collapse; the successive long days were wearing on him. “Thanks for offering to type up the notes and meeting minutes. If you email them to me once you’ve got them ready, I’ll go over them with Grandma.”

“Or I can ‘cc’ her a copy and spare you the time,” Hannah suggested.

“She’ll want to talk it out,” Jeff told her. “She’s very hands-on, as you can see.”

“Then I’ll forward them and you can proceed from there.”

She kept her tone cool. Crisp. Concise.

Just what he wanted, right?

Except spending time with her last evening had put him in mind of other things. But those thoughts were best buried.

She’d readopted her business manner and kept her distance, sparing him from looking into those bright blue eyes. The dimmer lights by the library door kept him from seeing the sprinkle of freckles, or noting the long lashes, their shadow a curve against her tanned cheek. Obviously she hadn’t read all the current warnings about skin and sunscreen, because her softly bronzed face and arms said she wasn’t afraid to be in the sun.

He gave a quick wave as he went through the door, deciding not to linger with uncomfortable goodbyes.

She’d email him, he’d email her, they’d push forward.

Perfect.

But it felt much less than that.

Dismissed.

Hannah watched him go and was tempted to throw something. Standing in a room full of books, her choices were numerous. But she couldn’t throw books. She loved books. Loved learning. Knowledge. Sharing that love with others, children and young adults.

At least she had loved it until circumstances blindsided her, stealing her livelihood, her heart and a share of her soul. Melancholy threatened, but she pushed it aside, determined to stay in the here and now.

She didn’t like being shrugged off by the electronics wizard as if she were some ordinary business partner.

Which she was.

Or some underling who depended on him for her livelihood.

Which she did. Kind of. Since his grandmother was head of the library council and approved her hiring three years back.

But the fact that he made her feel like that was aggravating. Exasperating. She shut off the lights of the tiny house, set the lock and headed for her car. Usually she walked from her apartment to the Jamison Farmers Free Library, but she’d known she’d be late tonight, probably tired, and rain was in the forecast, so she’d driven over. She’d get home, sit down, hammer out these notes, email them to Jeff and be done with things until the various committee members got back to her with their plans. Then she’d compile them into a semblance of order, send them on to Jeff and move to step two for next week’s meeting.

Easy.

She fumbled in her pocket for her set of keys and stopped, chagrined.

Not there.

She tried again, then groped for a nonexistent purse.

Nope, she’d left that home on purpose, wanting to be unencumbered.

No keys.

Either she left them inside …

Or she’d locked them in the car.

She went over to the car, pressed her nose to the glass and tried to scan the interior.

No luck. Darkness had fallen hours ago, the fall equinox behind them. The one lone dusk-to-dawn light was set near the library entrance, leaving this corner of the gravel lot in complete darkness.

Split. Splat. Split. Splat.

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 problem.”

“I’m grateful, Hannah.” He reached out as the door swung open and laid a gentle hand on her left shoulder. The feel of her sun-kissed skin was warm and smooth, a summer touch in the grip of fall.

Her look said she wasn’t immune to the buzz and that almost made him take that last step forward, but they both knew that wasn’t a good idea. The look she gave him, yearning mixed with caution, made him go slow, which was for the best, right?

A car pulled in behind his. A woman tooted the horn in welcome, and a young boy waved from the front seat, his face a blend of excitement and eagerness.

Hannah smiled, the anxiety erased, wiped out by the smile of a child. A part of Jeff’s heart melted on the spot. He released her arm, stepped back and nodded toward the car. “One of your young suitors?”

Her grin delighted him. “This is Jacob. We’re working together on some really cool projects and he had a half day of school today so we’re meeting earlier than usual.”

One of her tutoring duties, Jeff realized. The boy dashed up the steps, ignored Jeff completely and launched a hug at Hannah. “I got them all right except the one about the gasoline.”

She laughed and squatted to his level. “I saw that. Two hundreds and a ninety average out to ninety-six.” She watched as he absorbed what she was saying. When he nodded agreement, she ruffled his hair. “That’s an A, kid. Pretty solid.”

“An A.” He turned and sent his mother a smile that she matched. “I got an A, Mom.”

“I’m so proud of you, Jake.” She stooped, planted a kiss to his hair, then shooed him inside before facing Hannah. “He has never been this excited about learning. Not ever. His teachers are ecstatic and his grades are wonderful. I can’t begin to thank you enough, Hannah.”

Hannah’s smile said she expected no thanks. “That A says it all. Head on in, Callie. I’ll be right there.”

“All right.” The mother smiled and nodded to Jeff, then stuck out her hand. “I’m Callie Burdick and that whirlwind was my son Jake.”

Jeff shook her hand, nodded appreciation toward the boy and grinned. “Jeff Brennan. Hannah and I are cochairing the library fundraising for this branch. He’s an excited whirlwind, for sure. I was just thinking that if my third grade teacher looked like Hannah, I might have paid more attention myself.”

Callie laughed.

Hannah blushed, then scowled. “Don’t you have a job to get to?”

“I do.”

“Then might I suggest—”

“I’m gone.” He switched his attention to the other woman. “A pleasure, Callie.”

Callie nodded and swept them a look. “May I help? On the project, that is?”

“Of course.” Hannah grinned, surprised but pleased. “We’d love it, Cal. Do you have time?”

“More than I’d like right now, and working on this would be a good distraction,” the other woman admitted. “With Dad’s construction business taken over by the bank, there’s literally nothing to do right now except pray the economy improves and Dad can get back on his feet. Since I crewed for him and worked in his office, we’re taking a double hit. Waitressing doesn’t come close to covering the bottom line, so a well-intentioned distraction would be heaven-sent.”

“We’d love your help.” Jeff made a mental note to see if he could track down her father’s business based on her name. The nice thing about small communities was the way they looked out for each other whenever possible. He turned back toward Hannah. “Can I call you later?”

“I’m swamped.”

Callie flashed them an understanding smile before she headed inside.

Jeff understood swamped. “Aren’t we all?”

“I’m here until four, then at the candy store until eight,” Hannah explained. “And I have every reason to expect to be tired by then.”

Remembering the time on her emailed notes, he nodded. “All right. Tomorrow?”

“No can do. I’ve got library hours in the morning, then I’m overseeing the mock-up of a weekend camper science project at Dunnymeade’s Campgrounds.”

“You work there, too?”

She glanced inside, her look saying she didn’t want to keep Jacob and his mother waiting. “They needed someone to help lay out their minicamp so I volunteered.”

“You like science?”

Her expression told Jeff he was on shaky ground. “Yes.”

He nodded as if he hadn’t noticed. “Me, too. Hence the degree. Maybe we can experiment sometime? Together?” He grinned, lightening the moment, enjoying the bemused smile she shot him.

“My experimental days are over.”

“We’ll have to see about that.” He smiled, winked and headed for his car while he scolded himself silently for more reasons than he could count. “I’ll catch up with you soon.”

“We have a meeting scheduled next week.” Hannah tapped a nonexistent watch. “Soon enough.”

Jeff laughed at her from across the gravel. “Should we make it a contest? See who caves first?”

“I never lose, Mr. Brennan.”

“Neither do I, Miss Moore.” He grinned, opened his door and met her gaze. “You’re on. The first one to call or contact the other for reasons other than the library fund project buys dinner.”

“You’d make me pay for dinner? On my salary?”

“To make a point, yes. We’ll consider it valuable education.”

“Since it won’t happen we’ll consider it moot. Goodbye.”

She went into the library without a backward glance, at least not one he could see. But it wouldn’t surprise him if she tipped a blind, watching him. Grinning.

And yeah, he knew there wasn’t time to pursue this. Not now. But if not now, then when? When will you let yourself embrace life?

Reverend Hannity had done a series of sermons making that very point this fall. Thoughtful and thought provoking, his gentle words had tweaked Jeff’s conscience. The work demands that used to nibble his free time now consumed it.

Was his dedication to work extreme?

The fact that he didn’t want to answer that question said plenty. Sure, he’d grown up in the shadow of his father’s misdeeds, and their physical resemblance was so strong that Jeff felt required to establish degrees of separation. He accomplished that by being honest, faithful and self-reliant, qualities his father could have embraced.

But chose not to.

Hannah was right. He should squelch this attraction and cite bad timing as the reason. He needed to cover for Trent while putting the company’s best foot forward on current bids.

Plus, the girl wasn’t interested. Correct that, she was interested, but didn’t want to be and Jeff sensed that reluctance. He didn’t need distractions or aggravations. Neither did she. And since they’d thrown down a challenge to see who’d cave first, maybe it was for the best if neither caved.

It wouldn’t be easy to let things slide. And the thought of her walking home, even though it was only several blocks away … the image of her alone, on the streets, in the rain, the dark of night …

That brought out his protective instincts. But she’d made it this far without his help, his protection. The fact that he wanted, no, longed to help and protect needled him.

But he’d let it go. They both would. He knew she wouldn’t call. If self-preservation was a lock, Hannah Moore turned the key long ago.

Sometimes God offered a distinct picture of right and wrong, and sometimes He let you figure it out for yourself. This time, Jeff was pretty sure of the message he’d been getting from Hannah.

Put it on hold, as much as it scorched his take-charge mind-set.

And with work tugging him in different directions, it might not scorch as much as he’d have thought.

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