Free Have Gown, Need Groom by Rita Herron Page B

worried face, and reminded himself she was only doing her job, taking care of him out of some misguided duty to her father who felt he owed Jake. Heck, Wiley might have even funded her medical degree with money he’d earned through illegal means.
    “I’m fine.” He broke the crackers into the steaming broth, determination replacing any sentiment over Hannah Hartwell. He had to forget the damn rose.
    He had a mission. And he couldn’t allow her soft vulnerability, no matter how real, to mellow his hardened heart, because if he did break through that barrier between them, any steamy looks she might possibly give him in the future would turn to ice when he locked dear old Wiley in jail.

    H ANNAH CHUCKLED to herself as she drove home—she’d never met a man more full of male pride than Jake Tippins. Nor one who sent out such mixed messages. When she’d offered to help him to bed, he’d first looked at her with open invitation in his eyes, blatant sexuality and raw hunger so strong that it seemed to flow naturally from the man. But the minute she’d mentioned her father, he’d barked out that she didn’t owe him because he’d helped protect Wiley’s business. Then she’d asked, as nicely as she knew how, if he wanted her to place the rose by his bed.
    Seconds later, he’d become sullen and all but thrown her out of his apartment.
    Men—who could figure them out?
    The porch light gleamed across her neatly manicured lawn, the tidy pots of pansies adding color and a hominess that welcomed her. They also reminded her of the rundown place where Jake lived. All alone.
    Ignoring a twinge of sympathy, she climbed from her car and walked up the stoop, pausing to scoop up her cat, Oreo. The black-and-white feline purred and nestled against her chest as she unlocked the door. Soft light illuminated the entryway, casting golden shadows around the foyer. Hannah smiled at the dozens of photographs framed on the wall. Photos of her family—she and Mimi and Alison growing up, their Dad in some of his silly moments as he entertained them, Grammy Rose.
    But no pictures of her mother.
    Still, the wall painted a picture of family, of love and good times, things that seemed to be missing from Jake Tippins’s life. Compassion welled in her chest and she snuggled Oreo tighter.
    “Poor man. He’s all alone, kitty. I can see why he’s such a grouch. So sad not to have anyone at all.” She poured cat food into a bowl, gently placed the feline on his special placemat, then went to the bedroom to undress. All along the way, reminders of her family seemed to jump out at her—the lace doily her grandmother had made, the Tiffany lamp she’d inherited when her other grandmother had passed away, the Victorian settee her parents had bought when they’d first married, the clay vase Mimi had made for her when she was five, the achievement ribbon Alison had had framed after Hannah had encouraged her to take swimming lessons.
    And in her bedroom—the hope chest her Grandmother Rose had just sent her.
    Flashbacks of her wedding disaster assaulted her. She stared at the beautiful bride doll perched on the chaise beside the hope chest, then walked over and fingered the delicate lace of Grammy Rose’s bridal gown. Her gaze fell on her hand where the heirloom ring winked at her in the light from the window.
    That crazy dream.
    She needed to have her head examined. Determined to end this irrational musing, she decided to make an appointment with a psychiatrist. She’d find someone outside the hospital so she wouldn’t feed the hospital grapevine any more than she already had.

Chapter Seven
    The next morning, Jake hobbled to the desk in the corner of the bedroom and set up his laptop, logging onto the police search engine to check for an update on the movement of any stolen cars. He scrubbed a hand over his tired eyes, automatically reaching for his coffee and sipping the strong black brew while he waited for the requested information. The