“Are you done?” He glanced back at the sliding glass window that separated the reception station from the waiting room.

Nodding, Hannah crossed to the coat tree.

Brody reached over her shoulder and lifted her jacket off the hook. He held it open so she could slide her arms into the sleeves. After a slight hesitation, she did.

“Everything all right?” he asked.

“Yes.” She adjusted her collar and headed for the door. “Can I tell you about it later? I have a splitting headache.”

“Sure. I thought doctors were supposed to make you feel better.” Brody opened the door.

“That makes two of us.”

They took the elevator to the ground floor. “Do you want to wait here while I get the car?”

They’d left his sedan in a garage two blocks over.

“No. I’d love some fresh air.”

“We’re in Manhattan. Good luck finding any of that.”

Hannah’s short laugh eased the heaviness in Brody’s chest. Outside, the sidewalks were crowded. They maneuvered around the line for a hot dog cart, Hannah threading through pedestrian traffic with the confidence of a person who spent a lot of time in cities. Her long legs had no trouble keeping up with his. A guy stepped out of a doorway directly in front of Hannah. Without breaking stride, Brody angled his body and shouldered the jerk out of the way. The man stumbled, then righted himself with a self-righteous shout of “Asshole!”

Hannah glanced over at him. Over the pain in her eyes, humor glinted.

Brody lifted a casual shoulder. “He should have been watching where he was going. He could have knocked you over.”

“I can handle myself, but thank you,” she said.

“I know you can handle yourself, but you shouldn’t have to.”

“I’m not disagreeing. The guy was rude. Grant would have accidentally put an elbow into his face.”

“Your brother’s temper is legendary in the department.”

The cool air, exhaust-scented as it was, seemed to perk her up. They took the elevator to the fifth floor of the parking deck and crossed the stained concrete to Brody’s SUV. He opened the passenger door. Hannah flashed him an inquisitive half smile as she took her seat. He rounded the car and slid behind the wheel.

“Something wrong?”

“No. I’m just not accustomed to having my coat held and doors opened,” she said. “Not that I don’t like it. It’s charming.”

“What can I say? I was raised by my grandparents.” Brody steered the car down the spiraling ramp.

“Where did you grow up?”

He lowered his window and punched out with his credit card. “Boston. My parents died in a small-plane crash when I was little.”

“I’m sorry.” Hannah reclined her seat a few inches.

“I was only three. I don’t remember them.”

“Do your grandparents still live in Boston?”