Her eyes lit up. “You’d do that for him?”
“Why not?”
“I know you don’t really trust him.”
He didn’t bother denying it. “Even so, maybe he just needs a break.”
“That’s exactly what he needs.” She reached over and took his hand. “Thank you, Hank.”
Startled by the impulsive gesture, Hank wasn’t sure how to react. Ann kept him constantly off balance. With any other woman, the touch might have been an invitation. With Ann, it was nothing more than an innocent, friendly gesture of thanks. There was nothing at all innocent about his reaction, however. His pulse was hammering.
“Ann…” he began.
As if she’d guessed the change in his mood, the swift stirring of desire, she patted his hand affectionately once more, then withdrew.
“Tell me about your night,” she suggested. Something in her penetrating gaze hinted that she was after more than a rundown on his experiences in getting the kids to bed. He doubted she gave a hang about what he’d watched on TV, either.
“It was quiet,” he said, intentionally evading what he suspected she wanted to know. “Paul and Tommy had a great time at the construction site. I think Tommy’s going to be a construction worker. It was all I could do to keep him from taking off across those girders. He’s sleeping with the hard hat I gave him.”
“I’m sure he loved all the attention.”
“I couldn’t talk David into going.”
“I’m not surprised, but thanks for trying.”
All the polite chitchat was beginning to grate on Hank’s nerves, even though he was the one who’d started it. “This isn’t really what’s on your mind, is it?” he said finally.
“No.”
“Go ahead. Say it.”
“Your reaction when I got home, it was more than worry, Hank. You were really angry. Tell me why.”
The fact that she sounded as much like a psychologist as a concerned woman really bugged him. He didn’t want to be treated like one of her patients. He wasn’t interested in baring his soul.
“You been reading those textbooks again, doctor?” he said.
She waited, her gaze intent.
He shrugged finally. Holding out was pointless. Ann was better at it than he was. She did it for a living. “Okay. Maybe I was jealous. Big deal.”
She smiled. “I’m flattered, but I’m not convinced.”
He tried to smile back. “I’m making a big admission here and you don’t believe me? What’s the deal?”
“Let’s just say you’re not a man whose confidence is easily shaken. Assuming for a moment that you were actually interested in me, you wouldn’t be the least bit thrown by the fact that I’d spent the evening with another man. You’d chalk it up as a challenge.”
Oddly enough, Hank realized that her analysis had a ring of truth to it. “Uncanny,” he muttered under his breath.
She chuckled. “I’m a psychologist, Hank. Not a wizard.”
“Same difference, if you ask me.”
“You still haven’t answered my question. What I really sensed underlying your anger was resentment. Is that possible?”
Hank thought back to all those unexplained absences that had tormented his childhood. “Maybe so,” he admitted finally.
Ann’s compassion reached out to him. He could feel it stealing over him, easing years of pain. “What happened?” she asked in that gentle tone that might have set off desire under other circumstances. Now, for some utterly absurd reason, it merely made him want to weep. He wasn’t wild about the reaction. He hadn’t shed a tear in more than twenty-five years, not since he’d finally figured out that things weren’t ever likely to be any different.
“Hank?”
Despite his intention to curtail any private revelations, he found himself saying, “I guess I was just remembering some stuff I thought I’d put behind me.”
“And you felt betrayed again,” she guessed with more uncanny accuracy. Even without knowing the details, she’d struck on the truth.
He lifted his gaze to hers. A desire to be completely honest with her compelled him to admit it. “Maybe so. I got left behind all too often when I was a kid.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Hey, it was the kids you left on their own. Not me.”
Ann shook her head. “They weren’t alone, Hank. They had you.”
“It’s not the same.”
“I think it’s pretty darn good.”
Her voice rang with quiet conviction, but he searched her face, looking for evidence of the easy comeback, the quick lie. He found sincerity. The last of his tension eased, replaced by a sudden need to hold her, to feel even closer to her. Then he was struck by a sudden and disconcerting revelation. He felt closer to Ann at this moment than he’d ever felt to any of the women he’d taken to his bed.
Could be he was growing up.
Could be he was heading for disaster.
Chapter 6
Something had changed between them. Ann noticed it at once the next morning. After reluctantly opening up to her, she had anticipated that Hank would be reserved. She had hoped for it, in fact. She desperately needed anything that would put a little distance between them. Instead, the expression in Hank’s eyes was bolder than ever, more speculative. The atmosphere was as emotionally charged as if they’d made love. The edge of anticipation that teased her senses made her nervous.
Her wariness did not, however, keep her from snatching an entire box of jelly doughnuts from in front of Hank before he could swallow the first mouthful of sugar. She’d watched him devour about as many empty calories as she could without intervening. He watched the box go into the trash can with surprising equanimity. Heady with her success, she reached for his can of soda. He clamped it in a death grip.
“No way,” he said. “I need this.”
She decided it was only possible to wean an adult from so many bad habits at a time. She released the can.
“How about a nice bowl of oat bran?” she suggested cheerfully.
“I’d rather eat wood chips.”
The grumpy remark brought forth giggles from the kids, who’d been avidly watching the contest of wills.
“Oatmeal, then?” she said, undaunted.
His injured gaze
