“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
Ann 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 th
e 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.
They were in turmoil.
It was the damn Beethoven, she told herself. And the Chopin.
It was the kiss, she finally confessed with more honesty. One stupid, meaningless kiss and the man had her feeling like a teenager whose hormones were newly rampaging out of control. She’d taken enough courses, handled enough cases to recognize good old-fashioned lust when it hit her in the gut. Forget his tenderness. Forget the concern. What she was feeling had nothing to do with those gentler qualities. What she was feeling was heart-tumbling, spine-tingling desire for the man’s body. Recognizing it was half the battle. Now all she had to do was ignore it and sooner or later it would wear off.
Or cause her to do something incredibly stupid. The list of possibilities there was enough to make her choke on her soup. It began with falling into bed with him. It ended with falling in love.
“It’ll never happen,” she muttered adamantly.
“What won’t happen?” Hank inquired curiously.
Her gaze shot up. He was standing in the doorway, watching her again, Melissa cradled contentedly against his shoulder. How could a man the size of a truck move so stealthily? Maybe she ought to insist he wear a bell around his neck. She could use the warning in order to get her defenses into place. Right now he was probably seeing naked longing in her eyes. Terrific, she thought with disgust. Just great!
“Hi,” Melissa said with a sleepy smile. She held out her arms. Ann took her.
“Did you have a good day, pumpkin?”
Melissa nodded. “Hank and me builded a sand castle. Wanna see?”
“It’s a little dark to see it now. We’ll look in the morning.”
“Hanks says it’ll be all gone by then.” She gave him a beguiling grin. “We do it again, okay?”
He laughed. “Okay, squirt. Now remember what we talked about.”
She nodded. “I go to bed now.”
“That’s right. Ann will come tuck you in.”
“You, too?”
“Me, too.”
“Okay.”
When she had toddled off, Hank pulled out a chair, turned it around and sat down straddling it.
“I never thought I’d see the day,” he said, his eyes filled with amusement.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she said.
“You, tongue-tied. Makes me wonder what you really were thinking about when Melissa and I arrived.”
“A case,” she improvised hastily. “It’s a tough one. It really has me stymied.”
“Oh, really.”
“Yes. This couple, they, um, they can’t seem to figure out what they want.”
He looked immediately interested. “So, what’d you tell ’em?”
Gathering her defenses, she met his gaze evenly. “I told them if they couldn’t make up their minds about each other, then getting together was probably the wrong decision.”
“But aren’t doubts normal, especially when a relationship is new?”
“Some doubts, yes. But if the love’s not powerful enough to overshadow them, then perhaps it’s not strong enough to survive, either.”
“Perhaps,” he echoed, reaching out to pick her hand up off the table. His thumb rubbed across her knuckles. “No guarantees?”
Ann felt an incredible tension begin to build inside just from the brush of his callused thumb across her hand. Her voice was shaky when she said, “There are never any guarantees, with or without doubts.”
He turned her hand over, lifted it up and kissed the palm. A current of electricity jolted through her as he said solemnly, “So you might as well play the hand out and see where it leads, right?”
She shook her head and nervously snatched her hand away. “Sometimes it’s better just to cut your losses.”
“When?” He asked the question very seriously, but she caught the desire to laugh lurking in his eyes.
She swallowed hard and tried to think straight. “When what?”
“When do you know it’s time to cut your losses?”
Now, she wanted to shout. “That’s a very individual sort of thing,” she said sensibly, struggling against the emotions sweeping through her, fighting the temptation in his eyes.
“Let’s take you and me, for instance.”
He made the suggestion in all innocence. Still, her eyes blinked wide. “What?”
“You and me,” he repeated. “Purely hypothetical, of course. On the surface, yo
u and I couldn’t be more unsuited, right?”
She nodded weakly.
“But we’re living here together for the time being and there’s this attraction growing between us.”
She tried valiantly for indignation. “Attraction?” Her voice was barely above a whisper. Instead of skepticism, however, she merely managed to convey nervousness.
“Sure. Lust. Chemistry. You know what I mean.”
“We’re talking hypothetical here?”
“Naturally. Now is that something that should be played out to its logical conclusion?”
“Absolutely not,” she said in a rush.
“Under no circumstances?”
“None.”
“Why?”
“You said it yourself. We’re unsuited.”
“On the surface.”
“That’s all we know about each other.”
“And we shouldn’t bother trying to dig beneath the surface? Maybe there’s more we have in common than we realize. Where there’s Beethoven, who knows, there could be Wagner.”
She was shaking her head. “Definitely not.”
“Definitely not Wagner?” he teased. “Or definitely not us?”
“Us,” she said, barely getting the word past a throat gone suddenly dry.
He tilted the chair forward and touched his lips to her forehead. “Coward,” he murmured softly.
And then, with a wink that made her heart flip over, he was gone again. One of these days, when she had her wits about her, she was going to have to talk to him about walking out in the middle of a conversation. It was a really lousy way to have the last word.
Super Bowl Sunday. Hank could hardly wait. He’d thought about going back to Miami to hang out with the guys, but by the time he’d finished working on Saturday it had been too damn late to tackle the drive. He considered going to a bar, which would be rowdy and filled with eager fans. But as beat as he was, nothing appealed to him more than settling down in front of the TV at home with a six-pack of beer, some chips and maybe a couple of hamburgers at halftime.
He hadn’t stopped to consider that Ann would regard the entire plan as tantamount to treason.
“You want to do what?” she said when he suggested they flip the channel on the TV away from some documentary on PBS.
Tea and Destiny Page 5