Free Lone Star Wedding by Sandra Steffen

believe.
    There was absolutely no reason she should suddenly want to touch him. And yet she leaned forward, and slowly placed her fingertips over the back of his hand.
    Dishes clattered on the other side of the room, and people murmured in low voices at a nearby table. Parker remained perfectly quiet, his gaze trailing in the direction Jason had just taken. When he finally looked at her, his blue eyes had darkened and were filled with intensity. It was easy to get lost in the way he was looking at her, easy to see why his female clients felt inclined to tuck their underclothes into his pockets.
    â€œIf you’re not careful,” she said quietly, “people are going to discover that you have a soft spot in your heart.”
    Parker was aware of the sultry tone in Hannah’s voice. And he could feel the gentle warmth in her touch. He tried to decide whether either of those things were provocative in nature. They certainly stimulated him.
    â€œI’m not feeling particularly soft, Hannah.”
    Her smile changed slightly. “I’m not touching that—” she shook her head when he quirked one eyebrow in silent expectation “—line.”
    An innocent virgin, her? In this day and age? A twenty-seven-year-old woman with her build and sassy grin? No. Uh-uh. Absolutely not. Unexperienced virgins didn’t laugh that way, move that way, touch and smile and react that way. Virgins were timid and unsure. Hannah seemed to know exactly what she was doing.
    And Parker liked what she was doing very, very much.
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    â€œAh, Hannah. You are planning another beautiful wedding, sí? ”
    â€œYes, Consuela.” Hannah glanced up at Parker first, and then down at the elderly woman who was taking a walk with her husband. “I’m working on three. Four, if you count my mother’s. I’m also planning a party following a Bar Mitzvah, two engagement parties, and eight birthday celebrations.”
    â€œYou should concentrate on the weddings,” the woman said, her smile young-looking in her old, wrinkled face. “It is what you were born for, I think.”
    Hannah’s exhilaration grew. “You know weddings are my favorite.”
    The old couple bid Parker and Hannah goodbye in Spanish, then ambled down the street, hand in hand. Inclining his head close to Hannah’s ear, he said, “Do you know everybody in this neighborhood?”
    They’d reached the back of her building. Going up on tiptoe, she plucked a leaf off a vine trailing up the stairs that led to her fire escape on the second floor. “I like people.”
    Parker folded his arms and leaned one hip against a wrought-iron post nearby. They’d left The Pink Flamingo via a side door, and had decided to take the back alley to Hannah’s place. She lived less than a block away. The trip had taken nearly an hour.
    It turned out that Hannah couldn’t pass any of the peoplewho were sitting on stoops or fire escapes facing the alley without saying hello. Parker hadn’t minded. A long time ago he’d learned that some of the best knowledge was easily obtained by simply listening. He’d certainly learned a lot about Hannah. Her neighbors loved her. Of course they did. She genuinely cared for them, asking after grandchildren, brothers and sisters, even an old man’s long lost cousin in Mexico.
    â€œDo you know all your neighbors’ relatives by name?” he asked quietly.
    â€œDon’t you?”
    â€œExcept for Maxwell Lewis, who I met when I handled his divorce a few years ago, I only know my neighbors by the cars they drive.”
    She lowered her voice, being purposefully mysterious. “That wouldn’t work on this street. Half the people who live in these buildings don’t drive.” Angling her head toward the old couple who had ambled away, she said, “Manuel and Consuela have been married for sixty-two years, and they still hold hands. Just goes to