Harden

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 people think?”

She looked over at him. “Not to you, I expect. But I’m disgustingly conventional. I don’t even jaywalk.”

“I’ll square it with Evan.”

“Thank you.” She twisted her purse and stared out the window, her sad eyes shadowed.

“How long has it been?”

She sighed softly. “Almost a month. I should be used to it by now, shouldn’t I?”

“It takes a year, they say, to completely get over a loss. We all mourned my stepfather for at least that long.”

“Your name is Tremayne, like your brother’s.”

“And you wonder why? My stepfather legally adopted me. Only a very few people know about my background. It isn’t obvious until you see me next to my half brothers. They’re all dark-eyed.”

“My mother was a redhead with green eyes and my father was blond and blue-eyed,” she remarked. “I’m dark-haired and gray-eyed, and everybody thought I was adopted.”

“You aren’t?”

She smiled. “I’m the image of my mother’s mother. She was pretty, of course…”

“What do you think you are, the Witch of Endor?” he asked on a hard laugh. He glanced at her while they stopped for a traffic light. “My God, you’re devastating. Didn’t anyone ever tell you?”

“Well, no,” she stammered.

“Not even your husband?”

“He liked fair women with voluptuous figures,” she blurted out.

“Then he should have married one,” he said shortly. “There’s nothing wrong with you.”

“I’m flat-chested,” she said without thinking.

Which was a mistake, because he immediately glanced down at her bodice with a raised eyebrow that spoke volumes. “Somebody ought to tell you that men have varied tastes in women. There are a few who prefer women without massive…bosoms,” he murmured when he saw her expression. “And you aren’t flat-chested.”

She swallowed. He made her feel naked. She folded her arms over her chest and stared out the window again.

“How long were you married?” he asked.

“Well…four months,” she confessed.

“Happily?”

“I don’t know. He seemed so different before we married. And then I got pregnant and he was furious. But I wanted a baby so badly.” She had to take a breath before she could go on. “I’m twenty-five. He was the first man who ever proposed to me.”