He turned the radio on full blast, hoping to drown out his thoughts. Unfortunately he was tuned to a country station. He’d forgotten that the lyrics of half the songs out of Nashville were all too explicit about the pitfalls of loving the wrong woman. He should have switched the dial. Somehow, though, he felt he deserved the torment. By the time he’d gotten halfway back to Miami, he was thinking very seriously of just walking away, of turning the whole damn Marathon job over to Todd.
Or murdering him for sending him down there in the first place. As for Liz, he might never forgive her for suggesting this living arrangement.
He was not, therefore, in a particularly welcoming frame of mind at ten in the morning when Todd turned up on his doorstep while he was still tossing and turning and trying to get the first minute’s sleep of the endless night. Yanking open the door at what seemed like dawn to find his cheerful, wide-awake partner on his doorstep set his teeth on edge. He scowled, then stomped back inside. Leaving Todd to make what he would of the irritable behavior, he climbed into the shower, turned it to its iciest temperature and stood under it for fifteen minutes. It didn’t do a damn thing except make him shiver.
Tugging on a pair of well-worn jeans and an old shirt that he didn’t bother to button, he went into the kitchen. He didn’t even growl a thank-you for the mug of coffee Todd handed him in silence. He took a couple of swallows of the strong brew, sat the cup on the counter and began slamming pots and pans into the kitchen cupboard. Undaunted, Todd failed to heed the cues to leave.
“How’s it going?” Todd asked instead, leaning nonchalantly against the doorjamb watching Hank’s performance.
Deliberately misinterpreting the how’s-life-in-general scope of the question, Hank said, “We’re on schedule.”
“No problems?”
“Not since you got that supplier straightened out.”
“How’s Ann?”
The question sounded innocent. Hank’s reaction was not. His gut knotted the way an alcoholic’s would at a casual reference to fourteen-year-old Scotch—with longing. He managed a disinterested shrug. It was the greatest acting of his life. “Fine, I suppose.”
“You suppose? You see the woman every day. Don’t you know for sure?”
“She’s a hard woman to read.”
“Oh, really? I’ve always thought of Ann as being the most straightforward, honest woman around. No subterfuge. No games.”
“We don’t sit around having conversations about her state of mind or her health,” he snapped, then gave another offhand shrug. “Like I said, she seems about the same as when I arrived, so I guess that means she’s fine.”
Todd, damn him, laughed. “She’s getting to you, isn’t she?”
“Right,” he retorted sarcastically. “Like poison ivy.”
“Hmm.”
He shot a glance at the man he’d known for most of his life. Todd was looking very smug. “Don’t stand there gloating, old buddy, or you’ll be down in Marathon before you can say goodbye to your wife and children. In fact, with the mood I’m in, I don’t care if that sweet, innocent baby of yours doesn’t see you again before she turns eighteen.”
“That bad, huh?”
Despite the early hour, Hank grabbed a beer from the refrigerator, took a long, slow swallow, then sighed wearily. Further denials were pointless. Todd had always been able to guess what was going on in his head anyway. They’d bolstered each other up during crises far more devastating than this one.
“Worse,” he admitted. “But hardly cataclysmic.”
“Want to talk about it?”
“There’s nothing to say.”
“You falling for her?”
“Hell, no.”
“Oh, really?”
Todd sounded incredibly skeptical. Hank resumed glowering and slamming things around. “Don’t push it,” he muttered.
“I don’t get it. What’s wrong? Ann’s intelligent, attractive. You’re both single. I’ve never known you to miss out on an opportunity to expand your dating circle.”
“Ann Davies is not my type,” he insisted.
“She’s a woman.”
“Very funny.”
“Come on, give. What’s not to like?”
“She’s a terrific lady, okay? Is that what you wanted to hear? That doesn’t mean we get along.”
“I think I’m beginning to get the picture. Is she, by any chance, trying to reform you?”
“She took away my damn doughnuts,” he retorted before he could stop himself.
A sound suspiciously like the beginning of a hoot of laughter was quickly smothered. “That’s serious all right.”
“She wants me to eat oat bran,” he added indignantly. “Can you believe it? The woman does nothing but preach about cholesterol from morning to night. If I eat any more fresh vegetables, I’ll grow ears like Peter Rabbit. I haven’t had a decent steak in the past two weeks. Every time I sneak a cheeseburger for lunch I feel like I ought to go straight to a priest and confess.”
“Just tell her how you feel. She’s a reasonable woman.”
Hank stared at Todd incredulously. “Are we talking about the same woman? The woman who threatened to pour all of my sodas down the drain? The woman who gets hysterical at the sight of potato chips?”
“Don’t you think you’re exaggerating just a little?”
“Exaggerating? If anything, I’m downplaying the way that woman is trying to run my life.”
“I’m sure she’s just thinking of your health.”
“Maybe I should bring her a note from my doctor.”
“If your doctor knew what you ate, he’d probably swear out a warrant and lock you up in a hospital for a month to wean you off all of that junk.”
“You sound just like Ann.”
“Well, she does have a point. You’re at that age.”
“What age? I’m thirty-seven. I exercise. I haven’t had any complaints from the women I date about my stamina.”
“Do you have a date for tonight?”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“Do you?”
“No.”
Exaggerated astonishment registered on Todd’s face. “Hank Riley is back in town and doesn’t have a date! Women across Dade County must be in the throes of despair.”
Hank’s eyes narrowed. Todd chuckled. “Why are you here, by the way? I tried to
