Page 10 of My Favorite Mistake

Brennan’s eyes speared hers for a moment, a subtle smile playing at the corners of his mouth, and then he turned his head forward. He drummed his lap and then said somewhat under his breath, “Yes, youare.”

She peered at him out of the corner of her eye, and her mind flashed a picture of the sexy woman wearing skimpy clothes who had stepped out of the cab before Liza got in. Then there was also his disheveled suit. His unbuttoned shirt. His devilish smirk. The fact that he wasreally attractive.And not that Liza was trying to be alljudge-y, but Brennan suddenly struck her as a certain type of man.

And not to mention, Liza had come here for a job,notto get romantically involved with absurdly attractive men who were professionally involved with her new employer.

She cleared her throat and shifted to sit up straight in the seat, crossing her ankles away from him. “So what is your role at Frenchmen Street, Mr. Riley?”

Brennan adjusted his lapels and crossed his leg over his knee in the opposite direction, as though he perceived her thoughts regarding his appearance and body language. “I would describe my role as a pseudo venture capitalist.” He cut a coy glance at her. “And you can call me Brennan.”

Liza tilted her head, causing a section of her long, brunette hair to fall over one shoulder. “A pseudo venture capitalist.”

He fastened an extra button at the top of his shirt and adjusted his collar. “That’s right. I supplement the label financially so that it stays afloat when things get slow.”

Ahh, so this isthatguy named Riley,Liza mused, pressing her lips together to avoid smirking.He’s the trust fund baby.

“I can’t say I’ve ever encountered anyone in a role such as that at a label that’s so well established,” she said as politely neutral as possible.

“Yeah, it’s not normal.” Brennan gave a deep, rich chuckle that shook his solid, broad shoulders, his natural smile pulling dimples deep into his cheeks. “But the thing is, I really believe in what Jimmy’s been trying to do with his label. The musical landscape of New Orleans is changing, and he’s committed to keeping tradition alive.” He shrugged. “This is my city. The music is part of its cultural DNA. I’m in a position to help him keep it that way, so that’s what I do.”

She lifted her eyebrows, impressed at the explanation and idea. “I like that. Good on you, Mr. Riley.”

“Thanks.” He playfully narrowed his eyes at her. “And seriously, don’t call me Mr. Riley. Call me Brennan.Mr. Hallis Jimmy.” He adjusted his jacket again and slipped on a pair of black, classic Ray-Bans, which only added to the whole handsome, Hollywood leading man vibe he had about him. “Frenchmen Street isn’t a big stuffy corporate label.”

“Well, all right then.” Liza clasped her hands together and rested them on her knees. “Brennan and Jimmy. Duly noted.”

He rested his chin on his knuckles and turned his head to look out the window. “Right on.”

Her gaze lingered on his aristocratic profile for a second, mostly because he really wasthatstriking, and she couldn’t look away immediately. But staring at him was problematic for a lot of reasons, not the least of which was that Liza had a proven history of falling way too quickly for a man just because he wasreally attractiveand really charming.

Handsome Brennan Riley was absolutelynotgoing to be part two ofthat. So she forced her face to turn away from him and toward her own window, and then mentally forced him safely into the colleague box where he would stay for all eternity.

The cab shook and rattled the entire ten-minute drive, and Liza clutched the door handle lest she be thrown across the seat and into Brennan’s lap as the driver whipped around corners, and lest he perceive that as her being interested in him. Her torso pitched forward and slammed back against the seat as the cab screeched to a halt. Brennan practically leaped out of the cab like he was equally ready to end their forced alone time as she was, and Liza took a moment to adjust her well-fitting skirt in preparation for the meeting.

She’d just reached for the handle when the door was pulled open, and Brennan’s hand appeared in her line of sight.

“Allow me,” he offered pleasantly.

“Thank you.” She took his palm as she stepped out, and he led her around the cab as she briefly glanced up and down the street. A few people in dusty work overalls meandered down the sidewalk and a man zipped by on a bicycle. Palm trees flanked the building, their long leaves waving in the breeze as if beckoning them both toward the entrance of an old house featuring a vintage neon sign in one window that declaredFrenchmen Street Records.

Once they arrived at the front door, Brennan pushed it open for her. “After you.”

“Thanks,” Liza said, and she guessed that even acertain type of mancould also certainly have manners.

She stepped inside the house and was immediately greeted by a tall, stocky man, probably early fifties, and wearing a loose Hawaiian shirt and white linen pants.

“Liza Hardin!” he declared, sticking his hand out toward her. “Jimmy Hall, founder of Frenchmen Street Records and fifth generation New Orleanian.”

She shook his hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Jimmy.”

“Likewise.” He stepped aside to make room for both Liza and Brennan, and then his face contorted at the sight of Brennan. “Riley, what are you doing here so early?”

Brennan slipped off his shades as he took a noticeable step away from Liza. “I was dropping off a friend over in the Quarter and happened to bump intoMizzHardin here, so we shared a cab.”

“Huh.” Jimmy chuckled and scratched the back of his head. “Small world in the Big Easy.”

Liza matched his casual laugh. “It is indeed.”

Brennan offered a smile before stepping farther away and then heading toward the back of the house as he pulled out his phone. “I’ll let you two get down to business.” He gave her one last quick glance over his shoulder as he lifted his hand in a small wave. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Liza.”

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