Tell Me a Story (10 page)

❧

The jangle of the phone was an unexpected intrusion and Ann jumped, splashing red paint onto a portion of the picture that was designated for blue.

"Drat!" She dabbed at the errant paint and succeeded in smearing it a little farther. The phone rang again, and she dropped the rag and got up. She hesitated, staring at the phone indecisively. What if it was Flynn? In the two days since she'd awakened on his sofa, she'd managed to avoid much contact with him. She saw him only when Becky was present to act as a buffer. A buffer from what, Ann couldn't have said. All she knew was that Flynn threatened her carefully planned life-style. The wine had made the evening a little fuzzy around the edges, but it hadn't blocked out what had been said.

What had gotten into her that she'd said such things to him? She never talked to anyone like that. Not even to herself. There was something about him that made it all too easy to reveal things she didn't want revealed, say things she didn't even want to think.

The phone rang again, and she took a deep breath and reached for it. It wasn't likely to be Flynn and, even if it was, there was certainly nothing to be afraid of. Maybe he was calling to suggest that they leave for their picnic early.

"Hello?"

"Ann?"

"Oh, hello, Dad." The relief was only temporary. Her father hadn't been entirely happy with her when he left two days ago.

"I wanted to let you know that I've taken matters into my own hands."

"What matters?"

"When we talked about that child that McCallister is keeping, I told you that the only thing to do was call the Social Services. After giving it careful thought, I felt it would be best for all concerned if someone did the right thing so I called Social Services this morning and explained the situation to them."

"You did what?" Ann hadn't thought it was possible to be so angry so quickly. Her voice came out on a breathy note. She was surprised she could get it past the tightness in her throat.

"I know you'll agree that this is the best solution. McCallister is clearly unfit to be taking care of a child and—"

"How dare you?"

"What?"

"How dare you interfere like this?"

"There's no need to get hysterical, Ann."

"I'm not hysterical. I'm mad! Damn it! You had no right!" She slammed the receiver down in the midst of his angry protests about her tone. She stared at the wall for several long seconds, taking deep breaths, suppressing the desire to scream with rage.

Flynn. She had to warn Flynn. Barefoot, paint on her fingers, she flew out of the apartment and across the hall. She knocked, hurting her knuckles with the force she put into the simple gesture. It seemed like hours before the door began to open.

"Flynn, I'm so sorry. My father called—"

"Come in and meet Ms. Davis, Ann. She's here about Becky."

Ann dragged her eyes from the rage that glittered in his and looked past his shoulder to the woman who sat in the living room.

Flynn took her arm and pulled her into the hall, shutting the door behind her with a snap. Ann stretched her stiff facial muscles into a smile and hoped she didn't look as sick as she felt.

❧

"You have to understand, Mr. McCallister, this is a very unusual situation. If you'd reported Rebecca to us when you first found her, she would have been placed in appropriate foster care until her mother was found. Now, the child has had a chance to form an attachment to you. And, of course to you also, Ms. Perry. It will make it much harder for her to settle somewhere else."

Flynn gave the woman a coaxing smile. "Then why move her? You can see that she's doing just fine here. Why not let her stay until her mother is found? I realize that I'm not, perhaps, a typical foster parent but

I've done a pretty good job so far. Becky is happy here. Ann keeps an eye on her health and well-being."

"I tell you what. I can't promise anything but I'll see what I can do to allow you to keep Rebecca." She held up her hand to forestall Flynn's thanks. "It will only be temporary. If her mother isn't found soon, more permanent arrangements will have to be made."

Jane Davis got up, gathering up her briefcase and purse. Flynn and Ann rose with her, both of them smiling with relief. She held out her hand. "I'll call as soon as I've talked to my superiors."

Flynn took her hand, but instead of the expected handshake, he raised it to his lips, kissing her fingers with a courtliness that brought a flutter even to a heart toughened by years of social work.

The door shut and Ann turned to Flynn, wanting to offer some explanation, some apology, some excuse for her father's behavior. Before she could speak, Becky's voice interrupted.

"Is she gone?" The adults turned to find her peering into the living room, her eyes wide and uncertain.

"She's gone."

"She's not going to make me go away with her?"

"Nobody is going to make you go anywhere." Flynn bent to catch the little girl as she flew across the room to him. He swept her up easily, accepting her arms around his neck and returning the hug. Ann swallowed a lump in her throat.

"She wanted to take me away, didn't she?" Becky's voice was muffled by Flynn's shoulder.

"She wanted to make sure that you were all right."

"Is she going to let me stay with you?"

Flynn stroked the back of her head, offering her physical reassurance as well as verbal. "She's going to let you stay with me. She was just worried about you and she wanted to make sure Ann and I were taking good care of you."

Becky snuggled her head deeper into his neck. "What about Mama? Are they going to take me away from Mama?"

Flynn's eyes met Ann's in helpless question. His answer was very carefully phrased. "I'm sure they'll want to talk to your mom when we find her but when they see how much she loves you, everything will be all right."

Apparently that was all the reassurance Becky required. If Mr. Flynn said it was going to be fine, she'd believe him. Her arms loosened around his neck, her world set right again.

Flynn set Becky down and pointed her in the direction of the bedroom. "Go get a jacket and I'll get the picnic." She skipped off, confident that all was right with her world as long as Flynn was in it.

Ann shifted toward the door, her eyes settling on a point somewhere beyond Flynn's shoulder. "I guess I'll let you two get on with your picnic. I... I'm sorry about what my father did."

"Where are you going? I thought the three of us had planned this extravaganza of hot dogs and indigestion."

Her eyes flickered to his face and then away. "I didn't think I'd be welcome."

Flynn caught her arm as she moved closer to the door, pulling her forward until she stood right in front of him. There was nowhere to look but at him. She stared at his collarbone, too ashamed to meet his eyes.

"Ann, you can't possibly think I blame you for what your father did? It had nothing to do with you. I know that."

His voice was so gentle that Ann had to blink back tears. It had been a long time since anyone had used that tone with her. It made her want to lean her head on his chest and let him take care of her.

"How can you be so nice about it? If I hadn't told my father about Becky, he wouldn't have called the social worker and you wouldn't be about to lose Becky."

"Don't be silly." He gave her a gentle shake that brought her eyes to his face. "You couldn't have known what your father was going to do. And I'm not going to lose Becky. We're not going to lose Becky. Hey, you've got to cultivate a more positive attitude."

Ann managed a shaky smile, but she couldn't prevent the single tear that slipped down her cheek. Flynn's eyes darkened, his expression softening almost magically. His head lowered, and Ann closed her eyes as he kissed the tear from her cheek. It was a gentle gesture, a comforting gesture and yet, somehow, comfort was not exactly what it achieved. With the touch of his mouth on her cheek, the atmosphere was charged with sexual awareness. As if the awareness had been there all along, just waiting for an excuse to break through.

He hesitated, his mouth against her skin, and Ann forgot how to breathe. His lips shifted, trailing along her jaw, drawing closer to her mouth. Ann's mouth softened, anticipating the touch of his. He was so close. So close.

"Are you kissing Ann?"

Flynn jerked as if slapped. Ann's eyes flew open as he stepped away. Was it her imagination or was his breathing a little uneven, his color a little high? His eyes locked on hers for an instant, but it was impossible to read their expression. And then he looked away, and Ann could almost believe that she'd imagined the entire incident.

"Becky. You got your jacket."

'"Course I got my jacket. I thought we was going to the park." The look she gave him made it clear that he was acting slow-witted. Flynn flushed.

"We are. But Ann has to go and get her shoes and I've got to get the picnic."

"You said you was going to do that when you told me to get my jacket."

"Well, yes, I got distracted."

"What's 'stracted mean?"

❧

"How do kids manage to ask so many questions?" Flynn's tone was exaggeratedly weary, and Ann hid a smile.

"How else are they going to learn?"

"It just seems like they try to learn everything all at once."

Ann looked to where Becky was playing with a group of other children.

"I think that's the first time I've seen her with kids her age."

Flynn's eyes followed hers, settling on Becky's brightly clad figure. "I think she and her mother moved a lot. According to the investigator, they've had six different addresses in the last two years. I doubt if Becky's had a chance to make any friends."

"Has she ever talked about her father?"

Flynn shook his head, reaching for a bite of cotton candy from the cone Ann held. "She hasn't said much. I get the feeling her mother didn't want to talk about him."

"She told me that Frankie was a present from her father and that book she has was his. That's not a cheap edition of Robert Louis Stevenson and it's part of a set. And Frankie isn't a dime store stuffed toy. He's Steiff."

"Steiff? What's Steiff?"

"They make toys. Expensive toys. Collectible toys. The tag is gone but they always put a button in the animal's ear. If her father bought her Frankie, he probably wasn't on the dole line."

"Maybe he stole him."

"Maybe. I can't help but wonder where he is. I can't imagine what kind of a man would abandon his own child."

"Happens all the time. Here." Ann opened her mouth automatically, her thoughts on other things. She was unaware of the intimacy of Flynn feeding her a bite of sticky cotton candy, or of the way his eyes watched her tongue come out to lick the sugar from her lips.

"You're very good with her."

"With Becky? She's easy to get along with." He shrugged off the compliment, pulling off another length of spun sugar.

"You'd make a good father." His eyes went to Becky again.

"At least I know what not to do. You don't pigeonhole your kids from birth. You don't expect a kid to be perfect. I watched what that did to my brother.

Always striving to be exactly what Dad wanted, never feeling like he'd quite measured up."

"What about you?"

"Me? Well, there are advantages to being the black sheep of the family. No one expects anything but trouble out of you." His smile took on a wicked edge. "I was pretty good at living up to those expectations."

He held another bite of cotton candy up to her mouth, and Ann hesitated a moment before taking it from him. They were slipping into dangerous intimacy. His fingers brushed her lips.

Ann felt the sticky sweet melt on her tongue, her eyes never leaving his. It wasn't fair that he should have such blue, blue eyes. It was too easy to get lost in them. The sounds of the park faded into the background. His fingers shifted but didn't leave her face. His hand cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing across her skin.

"You have the softest skin."

Any second now, she was going to make some light remark and draw away. Any second now. But she couldn't seem to move. "I do?"

"Umm." His eyes dropped to her mouth and Ann felt her pulse pick up. It wasn't fair. He shouldn't be able to do that with just a look. "Did you know you have cotton candy on your mouth?"

"I do?" The words were breathy. She couldn't get enough air. His head was lowering and she should be moving away. She didn't want this. Didn't want it at all. Which explained the quivery sensation in the pit of her stomach when his breath touched her mouth.

Her eyes fell shut. His tongue came out, delicately licking the sticky sweetness from her mouth. The touch was so intimate, so hungry that Ann forgot all about not wanting it. Forgot all the reasons she couldn't get involved with him. Forgot everything but the surprising hunger in her own body. She was the one who moved closer. Her hands came up to rest on the front of his light jacket.

Flynn groaned, a low rumbling sound that Ann felt in every pore of her body. Her mouth opened, inviting him inside, and he took the invitation, sweeping her breath away as his mouth closed over hers, his tongue sliding inside, hot with demand.

They were standing under the huge branches of a live oak, the ancient tree sheltering them, giving the illusion of privacy. Ann wasn't sure how it happened but suddenly she was pressed against the tree, the bark rough against her back, Flynn's body a sensual weight against her.

Her hands slid around his neck, pulling him closer. She felt as if all her life she'd been only half alive and suddenly he'd awakened the sleeping half of her. She'd never known such a rush of urgency, of need. Of hunger.

The passion that flared between them was instantaneous, catching them both off guard, leaving no room for pretense, no room for anything but each other.

"Mr. Flynn, you've got cotton candy in your hair."

Ann felt as if she'd just been pushed out of an airplane without a parachute. The return to reality was so abrupt that she was disoriented. Flynn's head came up, his eyes meeting hers for a moment before he stepped away, leaving her to lean limply against the tree. If it hadn't been for its support, she would have simply slid to the ground. There didn't seem to be any stiffening in her knees.

"How come Ann put cotton candy in your hair?" Becky's piping question was another rude introduction to reality. Ann stared at the little girl for a moment, and then her eyes dropped to the crushed paper cone in her hand. The pale pink confection was almost gone but she'd forgotten all about it when Flynn kissed her. He ran his hand over the back of his head, drawing it back with a grimace.

"I think I need a shower."

Ann nodded, still dazed. He wasn't the only one. She wondered if there was a shower long enough and cold enough to slow her pulse down to normal.