Tea and Destiny (6 page)

The flat tone sent a chill through Hank. “Bad enough to make you steal?”

“When you need a fix bad enough, you don’t worry about how you get it. It wasn’t the first thing I did. It was just the first time I got caught.” Jason made it sound as though
that
were the crime.

Hank felt his stomach churn. Anger and pity welled
up deep inside him. “What you did was wrong,” he reminded Jason.

Jason regarded him defiantly, then retorted with youthful bitterness, “Where I come from you’re taught to mind your parents.”

Hank could see the twisted logic at work. What worried him, though, was how much it was still affecting Jason’s thinking. Was the boy ready to break the law again at any provocation? What kind of influence could he possibly be on all those other kids Ann had taken under her wing? He tried telling himself it was none of his business. He tried telling himself she’d be furious at his meddling. He looked again at the tense, angry kid beside him and decided he had no choice. There was no way in hell he could remain uninvolved. He would talk to Ann the minute they were alone.

Getting Ann alone, however, was no easy task with six children underfoot. It was after nine by the time the little ones were in bed and the older kids were settled down doing their homework. Hank took a beer from the refrigerator, popped it open and held it out toward Ann. She shook her head.

“You want something else?”

“No.”

“Feel like taking a walk by the water? It’s a nice night.”

She regarded him warily. Hank grinned. “Don’t panic. I’m not planning to rip off your clothes and have my way with you.”

Ironically, as soon as the denial was out of his mouth, Hank realized it was a blatant lie. He did want to strip away the layered T-shirts, the too-long skirt and those ridiculous socks. Those socks were orange tonight. With
a blue skirt and yellow and green shirts. She reminded him of a particularly colorful parrot.

She also smelled like strawberries again, which made him want to taste the creamy white skin of her neck. Which made him achingly hard. Which would have made the lie obvious if she’d looked anywhere other than straight past him as she said stiffly, “I never thought you were.”

Hank held the screen door open. As she marched past him, he wondered what perversity made him want a woman who was all sharp angles and tart tongue, a woman who clearly regarded him as a nuisance. There were a dozen other less complicated women he could have called for a date. Unfortunately, the only woman he seemed interested in spending time with tonight was this one.

They walked in silence. It was Ann who finally broke it.

“Was there something you wanted to talk about?”

“Can’t a man just enjoy the night and your charming company without wanting something?”

She regarded him skeptically. “It’s possible, but you don’t strike me as the type.”

“How do I strike you?” he asked, suddenly curious about her impression. She was a psychologist. The possibility that she might be able to read between the lines and detect things about him that even he didn’t admit was troublesome.

“As a man used to getting what he wants, women included.”

He laughed, relieved. There were no uncanny revelations in that analysis. “I can’t deny that. Is there
something wrong with going after the things that are important to you? Isn’t that what life is all about?”

“It depends on who gets trampled in the process.”

“Do you think I’m trying to trample on you, Annie?”

“You’ve only been here two days.”

“Exactly.” He grinned. “And I’ve been on my best behavior.”

“Why doesn’t that reassure me?”

“You’re the psychologist. You tell me.”

She suddenly hugged her arms protectively around her waist. Hank had an urgent desire to push them away, to draw them around his own waist so that he could feel her slender body pressed into his. He figured she’d slug him if he tried. He decided he’d better change the subject.

“I wanted to talk to you about Jason.”

Her gaze shot to his, her nervousness apparent. “What about him?”

“I think you’re taking a bad risk having him here.”

She stopped in midstep and her hands went at once to her hips. Challenging. Defiant. Mother-hen protective. “Why on earth would you say something like that? You don’t even know him.”

“Simmer down,” he soothed. “I know he’s had problems with the police. He doesn’t seem especially remorseful about it, either.”

Her expression changed to one of astonishment. “He told you that?”

“More or less.”

Her face lit up as if he’d just announced that the kid had been accepted at Harvard. “Don’t you see how wonderful that is?”

“Wonderful? It was scary sitting there with this
skinny kid talking about stealing cars and taking dope as if it were perfectly ordinary stuff.”

“In his life, it was.”

“And that’s the kind of influence you want around the others?”

“Jason doesn’t try to influence the others. He practically says nothing at all. The fact that he opened up to you means he’s beginning to trust adults again. He was obviously anxious for your approval.”

“It sounded to me more like bragging. I think he was more interested in shocking me. The boy could be dangerous.”

She waved off his fears. “He’s not dangerous. He’s scared.”

Deep in his gut Hank wanted to believe Ann was right. He’d seen for himself the evidence of vulnerable kid behind the tough, grown-up facade. He’d known a lot of kids just like that in his time. Some of them grew up and made something of themselves. Some of them didn’t. Those were the ones who scared the hell out of him. He reached out and gently touched Ann’s uptilted chin. “What if you’re wrong?” he asked gently.

“I am not wrong,” she said stubbornly. “With the right environment, the right sort of support and a little unconditional love, Jason will do just fine.”

He sighed with impatience at the Pollyanna viewpoint. “You’re too trusting, Annie.”

“And you’re too cynical.”

“Being a liberal do-gooder is just fine, as long as it doesn’t endanger anyone else.”

“I’d rather be a liberal do-gooder than a self-centered jerk.”

“It is not self-centered to worry about you and those
kids,” he retorted angrily, though he was surprised himself at the depth of his concern. That she dismissed his fears so lightly made him indignant. The fact that he wanted her anyway stunned him. His blood pounded. When Ann parted her lips to counter his last furious comment, he settled his mouth over hers. It was the only way he could think of to silence her.

It was also the only way he could think of to still the demanding throb that had his entire body quivering with the irrational, uncontrollable need to know her touch. He expected a fight, perhaps even hoped for one to prove how foolish the attraction was. Instead her lips were velvet soft and trembling beneath his. And, after an instant’s startled stiffening, she relaxed against him. Her arms drifted around his neck. Her hips tilted into his, a perfect fit. Pleasure shot through him. Hot, searing desire replaced casual curiosity.

And Hank knew he was in more trouble than Jason had ever dreamed of.

Chapter 4

A
nn heard the music the instant she turned into the driveway. Beethoven? At full blast? She had to be hearing things. She was used to being greeted by rock and roll at best. She listened more closely. The familiar classical strains swelled, carrying on the turbulent wind. It was definitely Beethoven. The night air was suddenly filled with violins and the sound of waves crashing against the shore. She felt as if she’d stumbled into the midst of an outdoor concert in which man and nature combined to stir the soul.

Exhausted and drained by a nerve-racking series of sessions, to say nothing of the residual impact of Hank Riley’s totally unexpected and thoroughly devastating kiss the previous night, she leaned back in the front seat of the car. The music flowed over her, soothing, working its magic. Her eyes drifted closed. Hank’s provocative
image appeared at once. She opened her eyes to banish him, but the image lingered just as plainly. She gave up the pointless battle and shut her eyes again. Her lips curved in a smile at the pleasantly surprising sensation of peace after so many hours of jarring dissonance.

“Annie?”

Dazed, she blinked at the sound of Hank’s voice.

“You okay?” he asked, leaning down beside the car and peering in at her. His blue eyes were filled with tender concern. Recognizing it, her heart tapped a new and surprisingly sensual rhythm. It had been years since anyone had ever worried about her, even fleetingly. She was the strong, clear-thinking one. She was the one others came to to pour out their troubles. Whether privately or professionally, she was expected to cope, to endure. The fact that this man thought she might occasionally need help in doing that made her feel cherished somehow, even as it sometimes irritated her.
Sometimes?
It almost always irritated her. But not tonight. Tonight she basked in the unfamiliar warmth of the sensation.

“I’m fine,” she told him now. “I was just enjoying the concert.”

He grinned ruefully. “Sorry if it was too loud. The kids haven’t complained, so I didn’t realize how far the sound carried.”

“Don’t apologize. It was wonderful to come home to that. Just what I needed.”

“Bad day?”

“No worse than most others. I just seemed to have less patience with it.” Probably because she’d been up half the night for the second night in a row trying to make sense of the astonishing effect this man had on
her. Her entire body—and her common sense—had melted in his arms. She hadn’t been able to come up with a single, logical explanation for it and she was a woman addicted to logic. Logic made sense of life, brought order out of chaos. And it was tidier by far than being prey to erratic emotions. Even though she knew all that, she looked into his eyes and felt the irrational tug of desire starting all over again.

“Have you eaten?” he said.

She shook her head.

“Then come sit on the porch and let me bring you something. Tracy made vegetable soup. With this chill in the air, it seemed like a good night for it.”

Beethoven? Homemade soup? What was going on here? “Who’s idea was all this?”

“All what?”

“The music and the soup.”

“Tracy had the recipe book out and the soup on when I came in from work. She said something about experimenting. It sounded dangerous to me, but it turned out to be edible. Paul and David actually finished every bite. Melissa picked out all the carrots and Tommy threw them across the room, but I think we found the last of them. It’s safe to come in now.”

She regarded him oddly. He actually sounded as though he’d enjoyed the evening. He was adapting far more readily than she’d anticipated. It sounded as though the children were, too. That pleased her, even as it made her uneasy. How long would it last? How long before he vanished from their lives?

“After all that,” he was saying, “I felt like listening to some music. I hope you don’t mind that I went through your iPod.”

“Not at all. I must admit I’m a little surprised by your choice.”

He turned a knowing grin on her. “I’m sure you expected a preference for twanging guitars over violin concertos.”

“Something like that,” she conceded.

“Loretta Lynn and Tammy Wynette have their places. So do Beethoven and Mozart. I’ll have you know I can even manage a little Chopin on the piano.”

“You?”

“Three years of piano lessons,” he boasted.

“Your mother must have been very strong-willed to manage that.”

“My mother had nothing to do with it,” he said with an unmistakable edge in his voice. “I took the lessons a few years ago.”

Intrigued by his tone, she was more astounded by his announcement. She stared at him in wonder. “You took piano lessons when you were—”

“Thirty-four,” he supplied, chuckling as he held up hands that looked far too large, far too strong, to be used in such a gentle pursuit. Those hands playing Chopin? Those hands caressing…

She brought herself up short just as he said, “Hard to imagine, isn’t it? I’d always wanted to play, though. There was no money for lessons when I was a kid. Besides, I probably would have been laughed off the football team. At thirty-four I had no excuses left.”

“Good for you.”

He winked at her. “Be careful, Annie. You may just discover that I’m full of surprises.”

Her pulse skipped at the teasing challenge in his voice. All at once she recalled every second that she’d
spent in his arms, every sensation that had been aroused by his lips on hers. There was a subtle stirring low in her abdomen. An irrational yearning filled her heart. Wild, magical nights like this were meant to be shared with someone special and she’d been alone far too long. Why couldn’t she put aside her doubts and her tendency to analyze things to death? When had she stopped taking risks and turned her life into a predictable routine or as predictable as any life could be with children around? Why couldn’t she accept for just this one night the possibility that Hank Riley could be that someone, that he wasn’t just an impertinent rogue on the make, that he genuinely cared about her?

Her gaze met his, caught and held. Hers was tentative. His was daring and bold, almost hypnotic in its unwavering intensity. Without taking his eyes from hers, he slowly opened the car door and waited for her to step out. He left just enough room for her to exit without touching him—if she chose. Heart thudding in her chest, she stood, but she couldn’t bring herself to take the one tiny step that would put her back into his arms for another of those inhibition-melting kisses. She wanted to. Dear Lord, how she wanted to. But tonight years of restraint and common sense held her back.

Hank’s smile was slow and gentle and knowing. “It’ll happen, Annie,” he promised in a low voice that sizzled down her spine. “Count on it.”

The vow eased her instant of regret. It also set her blood on fire in a way she’d never dreamed possible. Trembling, she brushed past him and went inside. She fumbled with the ladle for the soup until Hank finally took it from her and poured a steaming bowlful. He put it in front of her at the table, touched her shoulder
with tantalizing tenderness and then he left her to her thoughts.