Tea and Destiny

“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

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.”