“They always tell you to drink plenty of fluids with this stuff,” he said. He sounded very matter-of-fact, as if he’d played nursemaid to dozens of women. The idea bothered her more than she cared to admit.
“So drink,” he urged.
Ann nodded. The very thought made her insides revolt. “In a minute.”
“Now,” he ordered, much less compassionately. He held a straw to her lips and waited until she’d swallowed several sips of the water. When she had, he placed everything within easy reach, then stood back and surveyed his handiwork, his expression troubled. “Are you going to be okay until I get back?”
She gave a weak nod.
“Tracy’s taking care of the little ones. She’ll feed them and get them to bed. They won’t bother you. She’ll check on you later and I’ll be home in no time to make sure you’re okay. If you need anything in the meantime, shout.”
The idea amused her. She barely had enough strength to whisper. “No shouting,” she murmured sleepily, wondering at the unexpected feeling of contentment that was stealing over her. No one ever fussed over her, took care of her. Not until Hank. With him, it was getting to be a habit. Again the idea was somehow troubling, but she didn’t have the will to try to figure out why.
“No shouting, huh?” he said, chuckling. “That’ll be a pleasant change. I’m sorry I’m not going to be around for it.”
His teasing words faded out. For an instant she was certain she felt the light brush of his beard on her cheek, the touch of his lips, but she knew she had to be wrong. Not even Hank Riley would take advantage of a woman when she was on her deathbed.
Ann awoke to sunlight streaming in the bedroom window. She lay perfectly still, testing her body, waiting for the first ache to make its presence felt. She waited several minutes. She felt…okay. Not ready for wind sprints, but intact and human.
Just as she was about to test the sensation by crawling out of bed, the door swung open and Hank came in bearing a tray.
“Well, it’s about time you woke up,” he said with the sort of forced cheer generally reserved for hospital rooms and uttered by nurses who thought of their patients as dimwits. It more or less suited the way Ann was feeling, slightly off kilter and out of control.
“What time is it?”
“Nearly noon.”
Her eyes snapped wide and she struggled to a sitting position. “Good heavens, the kids! What about school?”
With disgustingly little effort, Hank shoved her back. “They’ve gone. Not a one of them was late. Their clothes could have been a little neater, but I’m lousy with an iron. Feel like some tea and toast? I fixed some earlier, but I didn’t want to wake you. By now you probably need it.”
She regarded him warily. In her weakened condition, she figured a little caution was called for. “Why aren’t you at work?”
“I’ve been. I came back to check on you.”
“I’m better. You can go now.”
“Here’s your hat, what’s your hurry,” he mocked.
She flushed guiltily and fiddled with the sheet, trying unobtrusively to get it above the neckline of what she’d just realized was a practically transparent, very sexy nightgown. She didn’t exactly remember getting into it. She decided it was best not to ask how it had happened or who had chosen it. She usually wore oversize T-shirts to bed. This had been one of those crazy impulse buys on a day when she’d been feeling down and had needed to remind herself of her femininity. She’d never worn it.
“Sorry,” she murmured, not meeting his gaze. “I just don’t want to take you away from your job when it’s not necessary.”
“They can manage without me for a while,” he said matter-of-factly, settling down beside her on the bed. He acted as though he belonged there. She suddenly felt feverish again. He held out the cup of tea. “Drink this.”
She ignored the tea. She was less successful in ignoring his proximity. “Really,” she said, running her fingers through her hair. She could tell it was sticking straight out in every direction. “I can manage.”
“I’m sure you can, but why don’t you relax for five minutes and let me wait on you.”
She met his gaze and saw something there that made her breath catch in her throat. He looked as though bringing her tea and toast was important to him in some unfathomable way. He looked every bit as confused by the need as she felt by her reaction to it. He also looked determined. She recognized that pigheaded expression and gave up the fight.
“Thanks,” she said finally, her breath uneven. She took the cup and sipped. He’d made the raspberry tea. He’d even remembered to leave out the sugar. “It’s wonderful.”
“Now the toast,” he coaxed.
“I’m not so sure…”
“Try it. You should be able to keep it down and you need something in your stomach.”
She took the smallest bite possible, just to satisfy him. “How’d last night go?” she asked, hoping to get his attention away from her continued lack of appetite.
“Fine. David’s teacher had nothing but good things to say about his work. She says he’s improved tremendously in the time he’s been with you.”
“How’d you explain your presence?”
“I said we were living together.”
Ann choked on the tea. “You what!” Her eyes widened in alarm.
He grinned without the slightest hint of remorse. “I tried not to leer when I said it, though.”
She moaned. “Hank Riley, are you determined to ruin my reputation?”
“Annie, my love, your reputation is already well established. That’s why I said it.”
“I beg your pardon.”
He chuckled. “You’re known for taking in strays. Surely one more won’t make a difference.”
“Most of my strays have been under the age of twelve, at least when they arrived. Jason was a little older, but then nobody would ever think that he… None of them have been so…” She was at a loss for words that wouldn’t give away exactly how he affected
