Tea and Destiny. Sherryl Woods

      She grinned. “We have another rule. No one helps on the first night here.”

      “Yeah, but after tonight, watch out,” Jason warned in a sullen tone. They were the only words he’d spoken since the start of the meal. “Mom’s schedules make the army look like summer camp.”

      “Who’d like Jason’s share of dessert?” Ann queried lightly.

      Though he’d been slouched down in his chair, feigning disinterest, Jason immediately scrambled to his feet and reached for the bowl.

      “Hey, hand it over.”

      A grin on her face, Ann held the bowl just beyond his reach. Wiry and swift, he tried to grab it, but she made a move as smooth as any quarterback could have performed and passed it over to David at the table. Jason didn’t waste time bemoaning the loss. He simply nabbed the one remaining bowl on the counter, and clutching it securely to his chest, went back to his place at the table. The lightening of his mood surprised Hank.

      “That’s mine,” Ann said.

      “Oh, really,” Jason said with exaggerated innocence.

      “Give that back this minute.”

      “Gee, Mom, are you sure you should be eating all this rich food? There’s gotta be cholesterol in this stuff, right? We wouldn’t want to watch you die of clogged arteries or something,” he said in a way that brought a laugh bubbling up from deep inside Hank. She glared at the two of them, though he was sure he detected a hint of delight as she watched Jason interacting like the rest of them.

      “It’s really frozen yogurt,” she admitted with a look of supreme satisfaction.

      “Oh, yuck.” David groaned.

      “What do you mean, ‘oh, yuck’?” Ann retorted. “You ate every bit of it.”

      “I wouldn’t have, if I’d known.”

      “Which is exactly why I didn’t tell you. Next time I take you all out for frozen yogurt, I expect a few less protests.” She scowled at Hank and Jason, who were still laughing. “As for you guys, tomorrow the two of you are on KP and I expect something healthier than hot dogs.”

      “Hamburgers,” Hank suggested hopefully.

      She gave him a wilting look that relegated hamburgers to the same junk heap that contained corn curls and potato chips.

      “I will not fix steamed vegetables,” Hank said staunchly.

      That drew a chorus of cheers. He turned to Jason and said impulsively, “Think we can catch some fish tomorrow?”

      Jason regarded him hesitantly, his brown eyes suddenly hooded and suspicious. There was an instant’s tension before he finally said, “Yeah, I guess.”

      Ann ignored the hesitation and regarded the two of them with pointed skepticism, then turned to Tracy. “If they’re not back here with the fish by five-thirty, you might defrost that chicken in the freezer.”

      “Oh, ye of little faith,” Hank said.

      “I’d be delighted to have you prove me wrong,” she retorted cheerfully as she began clearing the dessert plates.

      Hank felt his blood stir at the challenge in her voice and the look in her eyes. It was a look that taunted and teased like a delicate spring breeze. No other woman should dare a look like that unless she meant it, but Hank knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Ann didn’t. In fact, he seriously questioned whether she was even aware of its effect on him. He’d never met a woman less interested in using her femininity to lure a man.

      Acting on an irresistible impulse, his arm circled her waist and he pulled her down until their eyes were even. Hers were startled and definitely wary.

      “You’re playing with fire, lady,” he warned in a low voice, not meant to be overheard, though of course it was. He released her slowly, watching as the color heightened in her cheeks, enjoying the sudden, sharp catch of her breath as giggles erupted around the table.

      And, then, he felt like a heel. The woman had done nothing but welcome him into her home, and here he was blatantly taunting her right smack in front of her family. He was deliberately trying to seduce her, when he knew perfectly well they were about as suited as a porcupine and an armadillo. When would he learn that not every challenge had to be taken, not every bet won? When, he thought in disgust, would he learn to walk away before someone got hurt?

      This time, he promised, glancing around at six expectant young faces. Definitely this time.

      Then he made the mistake of looking into those blue, blue eyes again and his pulse ran wild. Common sense and decency fled, chased by something much more primitive.

      Oh, hell. Maybe not this time after all.

      Chapter 3

      As exhausted as if she’d never once closed her eyes, Ann dragged herself out of bed when the alarm went off at six and stumbled into the bathroom. Bleary-eyed, she stared at her pale reflection in the merciless mirror. She looked like hell and felt ten times worse. What was wrong with her? She usually enjoyed getting up early. It gave her an hour to herself before the house filled with noise and her day became guided by other people’s demands. Today, though, she felt like crawling back into bed, pulling the covers up over her head and staying there until Hank Riley moved out. Unfortunately that was impossible.

      Splashing ice-cold water on her face revived her somewhat. She ran her fingers through her hair in lieu of combing it, then pulled on a pair of running shorts and a shapeless sweatshirt. When she’d added her socks and sneakers, she wandered into the kitchen, put the decaf into the coffeemaker and then began a series of warm-up exercises. She groaned with every single stretch.

      Her body was tight as a drum, probably due entirely to the tension set off by that look in Hank’s eyes when he’d wrapped his muscular arm around her waist and deliberately taunted her at dinner the night before. Most men did not look at her as if she were a tasty morsel of prime rib and they’d been on a starvation diet. Knowing that Hank probably never looked at any woman in any other way didn’t seem to stop the palpitations.

      A long, strenuous run was just what she needed to take her mind off the man’s invasion of her home. She stepped outside and took a deep, reviving breath of the salty air. The sun was just beginning to lift over the edge of the horizon. It would be another hour before it began to burn off the morning fog. For now it was like being all alone in the world. A sense of peacefulness stole over her.

      “You’re up early.” Hank’s voice, low and seductive, emerged eerily from the mist. Ann’s just-loosened muscles immediately went taut again. She just barely resisted the desire to curse.

      “I’m going running,” she replied briskly instead, stepping off the porch. Waving in the general direction of the house, she added, “Help yourself to whatever you want for breakfast, if you don’t have time to wait for the rest of us.”

      She took off at a slow jog. Instead of taking the hint, however, Hank fell into step beside her. She heard the clank of a can as he tossed it in the direction of the porch. Soda? For breakfast? Good God, the man would be dead before his fortieth birthday.

      “Mind if I join you?” he asked.

      “Would it matter if I did?”

      “It might. Try me.”

      “Stay,” she ordered as authoritatively as if he were a resistant puppy. He’d obviously had no obedience training. He stayed right beside her.

      “I guess that answers that,” she said with a sigh. She glanced sideways and noted that he was wearing a University of Miami Hurricanes sweatshirt that had clearly been through several seasons. The neckline had been stretched, the sleeves cut out. His cutoff jeans revealed powerful legs, corded with muscles. For a man who ate garbage, he looked awfully solid. And strong. And tempting. She dragged her gaze