Tea and Destiny Read online

  To top it off, his opinions on most subjects were diametrically opposed to her own. At the rehearsal dinner they’d been barely civil to each other. Their introduction had quickly escalated from hello into an argument about something so inane she couldn’t even recall it now. It might have had something to do with the hors d’oeuvres. Liz had witnessed the clashes with interest, which made her plea to Ann for help all the more unbelievable. Ann realized later it should have made her suspicious at once.

  “Think of him as a project,” Liz had challenged. “You’ll have weeks to work on him.”

  “I have six kids staying with me, plus a full-time career. I don’t need a project. I need a maid.”

  “You need a man.”

  “Oh, no, you don’t,” Ann said, just catching on to the direction of her friend’s devious thoughts. “Just because you’re crazy in love and radiantly happy doesn’t mean that everyone aspires to the same state of marital bliss. I do not need a man. I especially do not need a man who thinks that watching wrestling is cultural.”

  Liz had laughed. “Hank does not watch wrestling.”

  “Okay, maybe it was tractor pulls.”

  “You’re just a coward.”

  “Hardly. I just don’t have time to waste trying to rehabilitate a thirty-seven-year-old man. It’s too late.”

  “You’re a psychologist. You know perfectly well it’s never too late to reform someone.”

  “If they want to be reformed. What gives you the idea that Hank Riley has any desire to change?”

  “Think of it as an experiment. You could probably get a great research paper out of it.”

  “You’re stretching, Liz.”

  “I’m desperate,” Liz had admitted finally. “I already told him you’d do it.”

  “Why on earth would you do that?”

  “It was a calculated risk. When have you ever turned down a stray?”

  “Hank Riley has a home to go to. From everything you’ve told me and my own observations, he has more women to look after him than Hugh Hefner. He does not need me.”

  Liz merely smiled. Ann found the reaction irritating. And, unfortunately, challenging.

  “Maybe you’re the one I should be trying to reform,” Ann had finally said with a sigh of resignation. “Send him on. I suppose it won’t kill Jason and Paul to share a room for a couple of weeks. I’ll put Hank in Jason’s room. It’ll probably give him nightmares with all those awful sci-fi posters on the walls.” That thought had cheered her considerably.

  Liz, however, had looked very guilty. It had left her virtually tongue-tied for just long enough to panic Ann.

  “Okay, Liz. What is it you’re not telling me?”

  “Now don’t be upset,” Liz pleaded. “You can still back out if you really want to.”

  She buried her face in her hands. “Oh, Lord. It must be even worse than I thought.” She peeked. “Okay. Out with the rest of it.”

  “It’s just that it’s more like a couple of months, actually. Maybe three or four.”

  Ann had protested loudly at that, but she’d known she was beaten. There were moments when she’d even convinced herself it would be just fine. It would be good for the boys to have a male role model around. Not that Hank was the one she would have chosen, of course, but a little of that macho nature of his might be okay for them for a short time. He could take them fishing, play baseball. She could do those things perfectly well herself, but she knew in her heart it probably wasn’t the same. Whole textbooks had been written on a boy’s need for male bonding.

  Now that Hank was actually here in the kitchen, though, she wondered. He seemed a little overwhelming somehow. At the wedding, he had infuriated her with such frequency that she’d barely noticed that he had an interesting effect on her pulse. She’d assumed that it had been part of her constant exasperation with him, but he’d done nothing in the past five minutes to flat out annoy her and her heart was reacting peculiarly just the same. Maybe it was the sight of all those empty calories—doughnuts, potato chips, corn curls.

  “These have to go,” she said, taking a handful of packages and reaching for the garbage can.

  Hank snatched them away from her, an expression of horror on his face. Indignation radiated from every considerable inch of him. “Are you out of your everlovin’ mind, woman? Liz said you wanted groceries. I brought groceries.”

  “You brought junk. The kids will all be hyperactive if they eat that.”

  “So tell ’em not to touch the stuff. I’ll sacrifice. I’ll eat every last chip myself.”

  “You can’t tell children not to eat foods like that, then put them right smack in front of them.”

  “I’ll hide every bit of it in my room.”

  “See,” she said, waving a finger under his nose. “That is exactly what I mean. You’re addicted to that junk. That’s what it does to you.”

  His blue eyes took on a challenging glint. “I enjoy it. I am not addicted to it. There’s a difference.”

  “Smokers enjoy their cigarettes, too. That doesn’t mean they’re any less addicted.”

  He took one step toward her, which put them toe-to-toe. Close enough for her to smell the minty freshness of his breath and the clean, masculine scent of his soap. Near enough to kiss. Oh, dear heaven.

  “The food stays,” he said softly.

  That gleam in his eyes turned dangerous. It might have been a warning about those damn corn curls, but she had a feeling it was something else entirely. She wasn’t particularly crazy about the alternative. She took a step backward, then lifted her chin to counter any impression of retreat.

  “Keep them out of sight of the children.”

  He grinned. “Yes, ma’am.”

  The response was polite enough, but the bold and brash tone made her want to slap him. Hard. She was shocked by the intensity of her desire to strike that smug, unrepentant expression off his face. She was a trained psychologist, a woman who believed in rational thought and the importance of calm communication. She did not believe in spankings for childish misbehavior, much less in beating up on people just because they infuriated her.

  “Anything else?” he inquired.

  She bit back a whole string of charges about his attitude. He was Liz’s friend. Well, more precisely he was Todd’s friend, but she would tolerate him just the same. He was only a temporary boarder, after all. With any luck he’d chafe at the restrictions of living with them and be gone by the following weekend.

  “Dinner’s at seven. We all help. House rule.”

  “No problem.”

  “There are others. Rules are important, especially for kids who aren’t used to having anyone around who cares enough to enforce them. I’ll explain them as the occasions arise.” She tried her best to make it sound as though the household adhered to strict military discipline.

  “Whatever you say.”

  She hadn’t expected him to be quite so agreeable. For some reason, it increased her irritation. She nodded curtly. “Then I’ll show you to your room.”

  Before they could even gather up his suitcases, though, there was another of those bloodcurdling yelps from the far side of the house. Ann dropped the bag she was holding and took off at a run.

  “Does everyone in this house do that?” Hank said, sprinting after her.

  “Only when disaster strikes.” She hoped that sounded sufficiently ominous to terrify him.

  “Does it strike often?” he inquired with what sounded more like curiosity than panic.

  “If it makes you nervous—” she began.

  “It does not make me nervous. I’m just worried it might be bad for their lungs.”

  “Their lungs are very healthy, except maybe for Paul’s. He’s had a few too many colds this winter.” She paused in midstep. “I wonder why that is?”

  Hank looked confused. “Why what is?”

  “Why Paul was the only one to get so many colds?”

  “Is this something you really need to figure out now? S
houldn’t we find out why someone screamed?”

  “Right.” She turned a corner into the west wing of the house. “My guess is that the tub is overflowing. Sometimes the faucet leaks and the drain stops up. When both things happen together, well, you can imagine.”

  As if to prove her point, her sneaker-clad feet hit a wet patch of floor and shot out from under her. Hank grabbed her from behind and held her upright. She enjoyed the sensation of his hands on her waist far too much. She was almost disappointed when he released her. It was not a good sign.

  “Stay here,” he ordered in the tone of a man used to taking charge. That tone snapped her back to reality. She immediately bristled when he added, “I’ll take care of it.”

  As if she needed him to, she thought with well-honed defensiveness. “I can handle it,” she said, stepping past him and immediately skidding again.

  “Stay put before you break your neck.”

  Leaving her sputtering indignantly, he waded off through water that was already soaking the hallway rugs. She glared after him. She could either make an utter ass of herself by arguing or she could do the pragmatic thing and help. Life had taught her the importance of being pragmatic.

  She grabbed up the rugs and took them outside, then ran back for a mop. She was trying to stem the flow of water when Hank emerged from the bathroom with Melissa and Tommy wrapped in towels and tucked awkwardly under his arms like a couple of sacks of grain. He looked decidedly nervous. He handed them over as if he couldn’t get rid of them fast enough.

  “I’m going to get a couple of tools out of the truck. You might want to find some dry clothes for these two.”

  “Where’s Tracy?”

  “I left her figuratively holding her finger in the dike. Other than her hysterical scream, she keeps a pretty cool head in a crisis. This could have been a lot worse.”

  “She’s used to it. The tub overflows about twice a week.”

  Melissa and Tommy, who’d seemed tongue-tied until now, began chattering enthusiastically about splashing through the water. Unfortunately it had become their favorite form of recreation. Ann had a suspicion they were secretly delighted every time the blasted tub overflowed. Hank listened to their excited stories and shook his head.

  “Hasn’t it occurred to you to call a plumber?”

  It had. She’d dismissed it as too costly. She was not about to admit that to him. “The thought has crossed my mind, but I thought I could handle it myself.”

  “If you handle it any more effectively, you’ll have to replace all these wooden floors.”

  His sarcasm set her teeth on edge. “Mr. Riley, may I remind you that you are a guest in this house. I do not need you to come in here and start telling me how to run my life or fix my house.”

  “Any more than I need you telling me what to eat,” he retorted, matching her hands-on-hips stance. She had to admit he was better at it than she was. He was also grinning, which was not one bit like what she felt like doing.

  “Okay,” she snapped back. “Eat what you darn well please.”

  “I will.”

  “And I’ll fix my own darn tub.”

  His smile widened. Then to her amazement, he backed down so fast it left her head reeling. “As you like,” he said pleasantly. He waded off through the water, leaving her gaping after him. She was left with a throatful of angry words and no target at which to spew them.

  “Where are you going?” she shouted at his retreating back.

  He turned around and shot her a lazy, carefree grin. “I thought I’d have a beer. What about you? Want one? I could pour it while you’re working on the tub.”

  “Go to…”

  He halted her in midsentence by gesturing toward the suddenly silent, wide-eyed children standing beside her. “Tsk, tsk, Annie. No swearing in front of the children. Isn’t that what you told me?”

  As he disappeared from view, she wondered exactly how traumatic it would be for the kids to watch her take a shotgun to their houseguest.

  Chapter 2

  Ann was horrified. The serene, in-control woman she had always thought herself to be did not yell at the top of her lungs in anger. She did not consider using a shotgun to settle an argument. For that matter, until this afternoon, she’d never lifted a butcher knife except to slice a turkey. What was Hank Riley doing to her?

  Bewildered and still fuming, she felt a tug on her skirt and looked down into Tommy’s dark, troubled eyes. She was promptly overcome by guilt on top of everything else. She knew how much violence Tommy had endured in his first three years in war-torn Afghanistan. For the two years that he’d been with her, she’d tried very hard to protect him from irrational outbursts. Even with seven very different people in the house, she’d been able to maintain an atmosphere of relative calm. Her own temper was blessedly even.

  Until today, she reminded herself. In less than an hour Hank Riley had shaken her normal aplomb to its very foundations. That made her very nervous. She knew perfectly well that any man who aroused that much fury could probably arouse an equal amount of passion.

  When hell freezes over, she declared, just as Tommy tugged again and asked in his softly accented voice, “Is he the plumber?”

  “No, he is not the damn plumber,” she snapped irritably, then immediately felt contrite. She hugged the dark-haired boy who was watching her with eyes that were far too serious.

  “Sorry, baby,” she said to Tommy as Melissa happily singsonged, “Bad word. Bad word.”

  Ann considered uttering a whole string of them. Instead she patted the child on her blond head and admitted, “That’s right. That is a bad word and I don’t ever want to hear any of you using it. You two go on to your rooms and put on some dry clothes.”

  “Want to swim,” Melissa protested, her face screwing up in readiness for a good cry.

  “You will not swim for an entire week if you two are not in your rooms by the time I count to three,” Ann said very quietly.

  They recognized the no-nonsense tone. Melissa’s pout faded at once. Tommy was already scampering down the hall, favoring the leg that had been shattered two years ago by guerrilla gunfire. Ann sighed as she watched them go. Another crisis averted. Barely.

  “Ann.” Tracy’s plaintive voice reached her. “I can’t stay like this much longer.”

  “Oh, good heavens!” She ran into the bathroom and found Tracy exactly as Hank had left her, with her finger stuck at an awkward angle in the leaking faucet.

  “Didn’t the man even have sense enough to cut off the water?” she grumbled, turning back toward the door. The man in question was standing in her way, arms folded across a chest that could have blocked for offense on the Miami Dolphins.

  “The water’s off,” he said, apparently unperturbed by her scowl or her denigrating comment.

  “Oh.”

  She glanced at Tracy. “You can let go now.”

  Tracy shook her head. “That’s just it. I can’t. My finger’s stuck.”

  With an impatient, you-should-have-known glance in Ann’s direction, Hank stepped through the remaining puddles and sat down next to Tracy on the edge of the tub. Using a bar of soap, he worked Tracy’s finger loose from the faucet. Ann was astounded by his teasing reassurances. She was even more startled by his gentleness. When Tracy’s swollen finger was freed at last, he wiped it with a damp cloth, inspected it for cuts, then thanked her.

  “You did a great job. Without your quick thinking, this could have been a lot worse.”

  Tracy beamed. Ann felt an odd fluttering in her chest. She hadn’t seen a smile like that on the girl’s face in all the years she’d lived there. Usually Tracy was far too quiet and unresponsive, except when she was taking care of the littlest kids. Her inability to get through to Tracy worried her. The ease with which Hank had astonished her.

  “Honey, are you okay?” Ann asked, kneeling down in front of her, oblivious to the fact that her skirt was dragging in the puddles.

  Tracy turned the radiant smile on her. �
�Sure.” She held out her hand. “Not even a scratch.”

  “Great. Would you go check on Melissa and Tommy for me? After that try to get Paul and David to start cleaning up the kitchen. It’s almost time to start dinner. I’ll be there in a minute.”

  “Sure, Ann.” She looked hesitantly at Hank. “Are you sticking around?”

  “Yep.” He shot a challenging look at Ann. “At least through dinner.”

  When Tracy had gone, Ann got to her feet and quickly began mopping up the floor, her soaked skirt slapping soggily against her legs. She couldn’t quite bring herself to look at Hank, who was still perched on the edge of the tub fiddling with the faucet.

  “You were very good with her,” she finally conceded. “Thanks.”

  He didn’t look up. “She seems like a good kid,” he murmured, then began working a snakelike device down into the drain.

  “Beware of calling an eighteen-year-old a kid. That’s an offense considered on a par with listening to phone calls or denying use of the car.”

  “Umm.” He gave a tug on his probe, which emerged with a small plastic dinosaur. Ann recognized it as one of Tommy’s collection from the zoo. Hank shook his head, tossed the toy aside and went back to poking around. “Sounds like you know her pretty well.”

  “I know teenagers pretty well. I’m not so sure about Tracy.”

  “She’s not yours?”

  Ann shook her head, instantly feeling a familiar defensiveness steal over her. “None of them are mine, not in the biological sense. I thought Liz explained.”

  “Only in the vaguest terms. She said you had several children you’d taken in. I assumed that some of the others might be yours.”

  “No. I’ve never been married.”

  That brought his head up, eyes twinkling. He gave her a grin that was only one quirk of the lips short of being a leer. “From what I hear that’s not a requirement.”

  “It is for me,” she said stiffly.