First Impressions by Nora Roberts Read Free Book Online

than angry, Shane ran her fingers through her hair. Later, she told herself, later she would be able to laugh. Now she wanted to scream. “You haven’t changed. You haven’t changed a whit. I bet you still roll your socks into those neat little balls and carry an extra handkerchief.”
    He stiffened a bit. “If you’d ever learned the value of practicality—” he began.
    “You wouldn’t have dumped me two months before the wedding?” she finished furiously.
    “Really, Shane, you can hardly call it that. You know I was only thinking of what was best for you.”
    “Best for me,” she muttered between clenched teeth. “Well, let me tell you something.” She poked a dusty finger at his muted striped tie. “You can stuff your practicality, Cy, right along with your balanced checkbook and shoe trees. I might have thought you hurt me at the time, but you did me a big favor. I
hate
practicality and rooms that smell like pine and toothpaste tubes that are rolled up from the bottom.”
    “I hardly see what that has to do with this discussion.”
    “It has
everything
to do with this discussion,” she flared back. “You don’t see anything unless it’s listed in neat columns and balanced. And I’ll tell you something else,” she continued when he would have spoken. “I’m going to have my shop, and even if it doesn’t make me a fortune, it’s going to be fun.”
    “Fun?” Cy shook his head hopelessly. “That’s a poor basis for starting a business.”
    “It’s mine,” she retorted. “I don’t need a six-digit income to be happy.”
    He gave her a small, deprecating smile. “You haven’t changed.”
    Flinging open the door, Shane glared at him. “Go sell a house,” she suggested. With a dignity she envied and despised, Cy walked through the door. She slammed it after him, then gave in to temper and slammed her hand against the wall.
    “
Damn!
” Putting her wounded knuckles to her mouth, she whirled. It was then she spotted Vance at the foot of the stairs. His face was still and serious as their eyes met. With angry embarrassment, Shane’s cheeks flamed. “Enjoy the show?” she demanded, then stormed back to the kitchen.
    She gave vent to her frustration by banging through the cupboards. She didn’t hear Vance follow her. When he touched her shoulder, she spun around, ready to rage.
    “Let me see your hand,” he said quietly. Ignoring her jerk of protest, he took it in both of his.
    “It’s nothing.”
    Gently, he flexed it, then pressed down on her knuckles with his fingers. Involuntarily, she caught her breath at the quick pain. “You didn’t manage to break it,” he murmured, “but you’ll have a bruise.” He was forced to control a sudden rage that she had damaged that small, soft hand.
    “Just don’t say anything,” she ordered through gritted teeth. “I’m not stupid. I
know
when I’ve made a fool of myself.”
    He took a moment to bend and straighten her fingers again. “I apologize,” he said. “I should have let you know I was there.”
    After letting out a deep breath, Shane drew her hand from his slackened hold. The light throbbing gave her a perverse pleasure. “It doesn’t matter,” she muttered as she turned to make tea.
    He frowned at her averted face. “I don’t enjoy embarrassing you.”
    “If you live here for any amount of time, you’ll hear about Cy and me anyway.” She tried to make a casual shrug, but the quick jerkiness of the movement showed only more agitation. “This way you just got the picture quicker.”
    But he didn’t have the full picture. Vance realized, with some discomfort, that he wanted to know. Before he could speak, Shane slammed the lid onto the kettle.
    “He always makes me feel like a fool!”
    “Why?”
    “He always dots his i’s and crosses his t’s.” With an angry tug, she pulled open a cabinet. “He carries an umbrella in the trunk of his car,” she said wrathfully.
    “That should do it,” Vance murmured,