Tea and Destiny

That drew a chorus of cheers. He turned to Jason and said impulsively, “Think we can catch some fish tomorrow?”

Jason regarded him hesitantly, his brown eyes suddenly hooded and suspicious. There was an instant’s tension before he finally said, “Yeah, I guess.”

Ann ignored the hesitation and regarded the two of them with pointed skepticism, then turned to Tracy. “If they’re not back here with the fish by five-thirty, you might defrost that chicken in the freezer.”

“Oh, ye of little faith,” Hank said.

“I’d be delighted to have you prove me wrong,” she retorted cheerfully as she began clearing the dessert plates.

Hank felt his blood stir at the challenge in her voice and the look in her eyes. It was a look that taunted and teased like a delicate spring breeze. No other woman should dare a look like that unless she meant it, but Hank knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Ann didn’t. In fact, he seriously questioned whether she was even aware of its effect on him. He’d never met a woman less interested in using her femininity to lure a man.

Acting on an irresistible impulse, his arm circled her waist and he pulled her down until their eyes were even. Hers were startled and definitely wary.

“You’re playing with fire, lady,” he warned in a low voice, not meant to be overheard, though of course it was. He released her slowly, watching as the color heightened in her cheeks, enjoying the sudden, sharp catch of her breath as giggles erupted around the table.

And, then, he felt like a heel. The woman had done nothing but welcome him into her home, and here he was blatantly taunting her right smack in front of her family. He was deliberately trying to seduce her, when he knew perfectly well they were about as suited as a porcupine and an armadillo. When would he learn that not every challenge had to be taken, not every bet won? When, he thought in disgust, would he learn to walk away before someone got hurt?

This time, he promised, glancing around at six expectant young faces. Definitely this time.

Then he made the mistake of looking into those blue, blue eyes again and his pulse ran wild. Common sense and decency fled, chased by something much more primitive.

Oh, hell. Maybe not this time after all.

Chapter 3

As exhausted as if she’d never once closed her eyes, Ann dragged herself out of bed when the alarm went off at six and stumbled into the bathroom. Bleary-eyed, she stared at her pale reflection in the merciless mirror. She looked like hell and felt ten times worse. What was wrong with her? She usually enjoyed getting up early. It gave her an hour to herself before the house filled with noise and her day became guided by other people’s demands. Today, though, she felt like crawling back into bed, pulling the covers up over her head and staying there until Hank Riley moved out. Unfortunately that was impossible.

Splashing ice-cold water on her face revived her somewhat. She ran her fingers through her hair in lieu of combing it, then pulled on a pair of running shorts and a shapeless sweatshirt. When she’d added her socks and sneakers, she wandered into the kitchen, put the decaf into the coffeemaker and then began a series of warm-up exercises. She groaned with every single stretch.

Her body was tight as a drum, probably due entirely to the tension set off by that look in Hank’s eyes when he’d wrapped his muscular arm around her waist and deliberately taunted her at dinner the night before. Most men did not look at her as if she were a tasty morsel of prime rib and they’d been on a starvation diet. Knowing that Hank probably never looked at any woman in any other way didn’t seem to stop the palpitations.

A long, strenuous run was just what she needed to take her mind off the man’s invasion of her home. She stepped outside and took a deep, reviving breath of the salty air. The sun was just beginning to lift over the edge of the horizon. It would be another hour before it began to burn off the morning fog. For now it was like being all alone in the world. A sense of peacefulness stole over her.

“You’re up early.” Hank’s voice, low and seductive, emerged eerily from the mist. Ann’s just-loosened muscles immediately went taut again. She just barely resisted the desire to curse.

“I’m going running,” she replied briskly instead, stepping off the porch. Waving in the general direction of the house, she added, “Help yourself to whatever you want for breakfast, if you don’t have time to wait for the rest of us.”

She took off at a slow jog. Instead of taking the hint, however, Hank fell into step beside her. She heard the clank of a can as he tossed it in the direction of the porch. Soda? For breakfast? Good God, the man would be dead before his fortieth birthday.

“Mind if I join you?” he asked.

“Would it matter if I did?”

“It might. Try me.”

“Stay,” she ordered as authoritatively as if he were a resistant puppy. He’d obviously had no obedience training. He stayed right beside her.

“I guess that answers that,” she said with a sigh. She glanced sideways and noted that he was wearing a University of Miami Hurricanes sweatshirt that had clearly been through several seasons. The neckline had been stretched, the sleeves cut out. His cutoff jeans revealed powerful legs, corded with muscles. For a man who ate garbage, he looked awfully solid. And strong. And tempting. She dragged her gaze away.

“How far do you usually run?” Hank asked.

“Five miles.”

He uttered a choking sound. Ann grinned. Despite his awesome physique, she doubted if Hank Riley ever ran farther than the corner grocery to grab another six-pack. She deliberately picked up her pace. He easily lengthened his stride to match hers.

“Do you do this every morning?” he asked.

“Just about.”

“Ever do a marathon?”

“I used to. Now I don’t have the time to train properly.”

Hank muttered something that sounded like, “Thank God.”

“What about you?”

“I don’t run,” he said, confirming her suspicion. She figured that gave him maybe another mile before he started huffing and puffing.

“I do work out at the gym every day, though,” he said, sending her hopes plummeting. “I was going to look for a place down here, but maybe I’ll just go running with you instead. I hate to exercise alone, don’t you?”

Actually Ann had always considered the solitude the height of heaven. To declare that now, though, would only lead to all sorts of speculation on Hank’s part. She could tell he was grinning at her. She glanced over. Yep, the smirk was in place all right. There was also a disconcerting gleam in his eyes as he surveyed her from head to toe, lingering an unnecessarily long time on her bare legs.

“You have great legs,” he observed with the authoritative tone of a connoisseur.

Ann could feel the heat begin to rise and it had nothing to do with the exercise. If he expected her to thank him for the compliment, he could wait from now till she won the Boston Marathon.

“Why do you always cover them up with those long skirts?” he persisted.

She frowned at the implied criticism. “I happen to like long skirts.”

“Why?”

“Do I need to have a reason?”

“In the overall scheme of life, probably not. As a psychologist, though, I’d think you’d be a little curious about your motivations.”

“Long skirts are comfortable.”

“And concealing.”

“I am not trying to conceal anything,” she said adamantly.

“I hope not. With legs like yours…”

“I do not want to talk about my legs.”

“So it does make you uncomfortable when men find them attractive?”

“It does not!”

He was laughing at her again. “I thought so,” he said with that infuriatingly self-satisfied tone that made her want to rip the hairs of his beard out one by one.

Ann finished her run ten minutes faster than usual. She’d run, in fact, as though she were being chased by the devil himself. All in all, she figured it was an apt analogy.

Hank was late. In fact, he’d been running late ever since he’d gone jogging with Ann. He’d skipped breakfast to try to catch up, but that lost half hour in the morning plagued him the rest of the day.

It had been worth it, though. The discovery that the woman had an absolutely knockout body under all those layers of clothes had practically taken his breath away. He hadn’t been able to get the image of those slender, well-shaped legs, the smooth white skin and the subtle bounce of her breasts out of his mind. He’d lost a good ten minutes of every hour daydreaming about her. He’d wasted another five cursing himself because of it.

Now he was running behind for his fishing date with Jason. He’d promised to meet him at four, but at three-thirty the construction crew started balking over the quality of some of the materials that had been delivered that morning. Hank went with them to check up on the complaints and found they were valid. The materials were obviously an inferior grade. Whether it was a simple mistake or an outright attempt to defraud the company, it meant a waste of time and money to correct. Had it not been caught, it could have been disastrous down the line. It was the sort of corner-cutting he and Todd had never tolerated on one of their jobs.

Furious, he spent the next hour on the phone trying to reach the supplier, whose assistant was amazingly adept at evasion. No doubt she’d had a lot of practice. He slammed the phone down for the fifth time, then glanced at the clock. It was already four-thirty. He picked up the phone again and called Miami, this time for Todd.

“Do me a favor, would you, and see if you can straighten this mess out,” he requested when he reached his partner.

“I’ll try, but you’ve dealt with this guy before. Can’t you get anywhere with him?”

“I might be able to if I spent the next hour hanging around waiting for him to get back to me, but I have an appointment.”

“One that’s more important than this?”

Hank hesitated. He could understand Todd’s amazement. In all the years they’d known each other, Hank had never walked out in the middle of a fight. He actually enjoyed sparring with the more difficult personalities.

Before he could think of an adequate response, Todd demanded, “Okay, buddy, what’s up down there?”

Hank evaded. “Nothing.”

“Let me guess. You’ve got a heavy date at five in the afternoon.”

“Not exactly,” he mumbled. He was used to the teasing about his active social life, but today it made him even more irritable than usual. He’d have hung up if he hadn’t known that Todd would only call back with more amused taunts. As a recently reformed ladies’ man himself, Todd’s wit could be particularly barbed and uncannily accurate.

“What, then?” he was asking now.

“I’m going fishing.”

Todd’s hoot of laughter could have been heard clear to Marathon without benefit of the phone line. Hank bristled. “What’s so damn funny about that?” he growled.

“The last time you went fishing, you got seasick. You swore you’d never go near a boat again unless it was the size of the biggest liner in Carnival’s fleet.”

“I’m not going in a boat. I’m going to stand on a dock.”

“Ah-ha,” Todd said slowly. “It’s all beginning to make sense. As I recall, Ann loves to fish. Did she talk you into this?”

“Why would you think that?”

“Because you would never decide to spend the evening this way on your own, but with a woman involved, now that’s another story entirely.”

“Actually, it was not Ann’s idea. Not exactly anyway. I’m in charge of dinner tonight. Since she turned down hamburgers and we had chicken last night, that left fish and if I don’t get out of here in the next ten minutes, it’s going to be too dark for me to see to bait the damn hook.”

“You could stop at the fish market.”

“It wouldn’t be the same. Besides, I promised Jason.”

“Jason?”

“One of the kids.”

“I see. Sounds domestic.”

“Cut it out, Todd. Will you call the supplier back or not?”

“I’ll call him.”

“Thanks.”

“Hank?”

“Yes?”

“The fish market’s right on the highway. You can’t miss it.”

“Go to hell, buddy.” He slammed the phone down on another hoot of laughter. He was still muttering about Todd’s uncalled-for glee when he pulled into the driveway at the house. Tracy was sitting on the steps watching Tommy and Melissa play on the swings that hung from the branches of the banyan tree.

“You’re late,” she announced.

“I know. Where’s Jason?”

She shrugged. “He got tired of waiting.”

“Damn.” For some reason, Jason’s attitude the night before had made him nervous. He’d been counting on this time alone with him to see if his uneasiness was justified.

“He took a fishing pole with him, though. Try across the street. There’s a dock over there.”

“Any more poles around here?”

“Ann’s is by the kitchen door. Right over there,” she said, pointing behind her.

“Thanks.” He found the pole and was halfway around the house when he looked back and saw Tracy staring dejectedly at the ground. He realized then that she’d looked just as down when he’d driven up. With Ann not due home for quite a while, he couldn’t bring himself to walk off and leave her that way.

He came back, dug around in the tackle box for a minute and asked casually, “You okay?”

She glanced up, looking surprised by the question. Then her gaze shifted down again. “Yeah, sure.”

“No school today?”

“Yeah. I went.”

There was an odd, flat note in her voice. He couldn’t quite recognize it, but it disturbed him. He sat down beside her. Uncomfortable at being cast in the role of confidant, he searched for the right question to ask a sensitive teenager who was practically a stranger. He opted for being direct. “Did something happen?”

She shook her head. “Not really.”

He recognized the evasion. “Which means something did, but you don’t want to talk about it?”

That drew a slight smile. “I guess.”

“Okay, fair enough,” he said, respecting her need for privacy, even though her mood worried him. “Sometimes things don’t seem quite so awful once you’ve talked them out. Keep that in mind, okay? Ann’s a pretty good listener from all I hear and I’m willing to give it a shot, too, if you need somebody as a sounding board.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

Reluctant to leave her and still hoping that she might unburden herself, he sat there for another couple of minutes watching as Paul came racing out of the house and started shooting baskets. David hovered in the doorway.

“Hey, David,” he called out. “Why don’t you get out there and challenge him? I’ll bet you’re every bit as good at basketball as he is.”

David shook his head.

“He doesn’t play much,” Tracy explained. “Ann says it’s because he got kicked out of so many foster homes for being too much trouble. He was always getting hurt and stuff.”

Hank was shocked. “But that’s what boys do.”

“I know, but some foster parents don’t want to be bothered. Now I guess he’s scared Ann will make him leave, too.”

“That’s…” He couldn’t even think of a word to describe an adult who’d beat down a child’s spirit that way.

“Awful,” Tracy supplied. “I know. Sometimes Jason can get him to do stuff, but most of the time he doesn’t bother, either. Ann figures we just have to keep trying. Sooner or later David’s gonna realize that it’s different here.”

Hank’s respect for the challenges Ann faced with these kids increased tenfold as he studied the wistful expression on David’s face. His heart ached for him. While he was trying to figure out if there was something he could do, Tracy cast a sidelong look at him. “You’d better go catch those fish. Ann will be home soon. She’ll never let you forget it if she has to cook that chicken tonight.”

Reluctantly he got to his feet. “Never fear,” he said, then leaned down to whisper, “I know where the fish market is.”

Tracy giggled at that and, for an instant anyway, her somber expression vanished, replaced by that glorious smile that would turn her into a heartbreaker in another couple of years. An unfamiliar stirring of tenderness welled up inside him and he got the first inkling why some adults got so hooked on parenting. It was the first time he’d experienced the impact that youthful, carefree laughter could have on a jaded heart.

The water was calmer on the gulf side of the key. The setting sun was hovering at the edge of the horizon, a huge orange ball ready to dip below the endless sea of blue. Already there was a chill in the air, which made Hank glad he’d thought to grab his jacket from the truck on the way over. When he spotted Jason, however, the teenager was huddled at the end of the dock wearing jeans and a T-shirt. He could practically see the goose bumps standing out on his skinny arms.

Hank walked to the end of the dock and put down his gear. Jason didn’t acknowledge his presence with so much as a glance. Only a slight stiffening of his shoulders indicated that he was even aware that Hank had joined him.

“Catch anything?” Hank asked.

Jason said nothing.

“Sorry I’m late. I got held up at work.”

The apology was met with silence. Hank’s earlier feelings of guilt were rapidly changing to impatience. “Jason, I’m talking to you.”

The boy turned a sullen gaze on him. “So?”

“I expect you to answer me.”

“Why should I?”

“Because it’s polite.”

“It’s polite to keep your promises, too. Ain’t that right?”

Hank held on to his temper. He recalled what Ann had said about these kids having been mistreated by far too many adults along the way. “Yes, that is right. I’ve explained, though. I am sorry I got held up.”

“Right.” He sounded skeptical and angry. Years of rejection had obviously taken their toll.

Hank tried again with a more neutral topic. “I understand I’m borrowing your room.”

“It’s Mom’s house. She can do what she wants.”

“But it’s your room and I appreciate your letting me use it. I like the posters.”

Jason ignored him. Hank had no idea what else to say in the face of all that pent-up hostility, so they sat on the dock in silence until Jason reeled in a good-size snapper.

“That’s a beauty,” Hank said. Jason almost managed a smile as he unhooked the fish and plopped it into a bucket of seawater. “You’re good at this.”

Jason shrugged, dismissing the success. “There’s not much to it.”

“I don’t know about that. I haven’t caught anything yet.”

After another instant of suspicious silence, Jason suggested grudgingly, “Maybe it’s your bait. What’d you bring?”

“Shrimp.”

“That should be good.”

“You fish a lot?”

“Some.”

“Who taught you?”

“I just did it. All the guys in Key West did.”

“That’s where you’re from? Key West?”

Jason nodded, then said, “Why don’t you just say what’s on your mind?”

“What?”

“Don’t you want to know how I got here?”

Hank knew at once he was treading on treacherous ground. As he had earlier with Tracy, he felt out of his depth. “If you want to tell me,” he said finally.

“I was in jail,” Jason said bluntly. His expression was defiant, daring Hank to react badly.

“Mom bailed me out,” Jason added. “Then she brought me here.”

Hank had to swallow his shock. He didn’t want Jason to see how troubled he was by his belligerent announcement. Was Ann out of her mind, though? What on earth had possessed her to take in some kid who was in trouble with the law?

“What did you do?”

Jason glared at him. “Who says I did anything?”

“There usually aren’t too many innocent people in jail, at least not for long.”

“Okay, so maybe you’re right.”

“And?”

“I stole a car. So what? It was no big deal.”

“Grand theft sounds like a big deal to me. Why’d you do it?”

“I needed to get to the store.”

His sarcasm set Hank’s teeth on edge. Again he swallowed his irritation and repeated, “Why’d you do it?”

“My old man needed the money.”

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.