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 away.
“How far do you usually run?” Hank asked.
“Five miles.”
He uttered a choking sound. Ann grinned. Despite his awesome physique, she doubted if Hank Riley ever ran farther than the corner grocery to grab another six-pack. She deliberately picked up her pace. He easily lengthened his stride to match hers.
“Do you do this every morning?” he asked.
“Just about.”
“Ever do a marathon?”
“I used to. Now I don’t have the time to train properly.”
Hank muttered something that sounded like, “Thank God.”
“What about you?”
“I don’t run,” he said, confirming her suspicion. She figured that gave him maybe another mile before he started huffing and puffing.
“I do work out at the gym every day, though,” he said, sending her hopes plummeting. “I was going to look for a place down here, but maybe I’ll just go running with you instead. I hate to exercise alone, don’t you?”
Actually Ann had always considered the solitude the height of heaven. To declare that now, though, would only lead to all sorts of speculation on Hank’s part. She could tell he was grinning at her. She glanced over. Yep, the smirk was in place all right. There was also a disconcerting gleam in his eyes as he surveyed her from head to toe, lingering an unnecessarily long time on her bare legs.
“You have great legs,” he observed with the authoritative tone of a connoisseur.
Ann could feel the heat begin to rise and it had nothing to do with the exercise. If he expected her to thank him for the compliment, he could wait from now till she won the Boston Marathon.
“Why do you always cover them up with those
