Tea and Destiny by Sherryl Woods

kitchen,” Ann said. “Nobody but an inveterate chauvinist would assume that cooking is woman’s work, while building skyscrapers can only be done by big, tough men.”
    “Hey, I didn’t say anything of the kind,” he protested, laughing at her indignation. “I suspect that Melissa here could make a mighty fine engineer one day. I may even train her to follow in my footsteps.”
    Again he saw that off-guard look of wistfulness on Ann’s face. His references to events far in the future seemed to rattle her even more than his touches. Perhaps she was right to be wary. How serious was he? The remarks seemed to come out without conscious thought on his part, indicating some subconscious direction in which he was heading without realizing it.
    He blamed it on weeks of abstinence. Maybe he just needed to recall the experience of having a possessive woman back in his life again. A few carefully veiled references to commitment would put the fear of God back into him. Meantime, he was going to have to learn to think before he spoke.
    Oddly enough, though, he couldn’t keep his mind off the future all evening long. As he watched Ann, a yearning began to build inside him. He wondered what it would be like to know that this was the way it would be for the rest of his life, to know that she would always be there waiting for him, that he would be enveloped inthat loving generosity of spirit that made her care for all these children as if they were her own.
    He also wondered again why she was every bit as wary of the future as he was. What had scarred her so deeply? She’d learned many of his secrets, but what about hers?
    While she put the kids to bed, he stretched out in the hammock, staring up at the inky sky. The scattering of stars seemed so much brighter here, away from the city lights. What did they hold for the future?
    He heard the creak of the back door.
    “Annie?”
    “Yes.”
    “Come join me.”
    She took several steps in the direction of his voice, then hesitated as if she’d just realized where he was.
    “Come on. There’s room enough here for two.”
    “I don’t think so. I really should go in and do the dishes.”
    “They’ll wait. This sky won’t. It may never be exactly this way again. One of those stars may fall.”
    “Why, Hank Riley, I do believe you may have the soul of a poet after all.”
    “I’ve always said you didn’t give me enough credit for having a soul at all. Come on, Annie. How can you be afraid of a poet?”
    He heard her low chuckle as she came closer. “They’re the worst kind of romantic,” she retorted.
    He reached out, grabbed her wrist and pulled her into the hammock. She fell half-across him, torturing him with the press of her breasts against his chest, the whisper of her breath across his cheek. She struggled for just an instant, then seemed to sigh.
    “Stay, Annie,” he pleaded. “Right here beside me.”
    After a long hesitation during which he remained absolutely still, she lifted herself up from his chest and resettled herself beside him in the wide hammock. Her head rested on his shoulder.
    “Watch for a shooting star,” he said softly. “Then make a wish.”
    “Don’t tell me you believe in all that?” she scoffed, her voice amused.
    “You never know. I’m a firm believer in hedging all my bets.”
    “Are you a gambling man, Hank?”
    It was an idle, teasing question, but he took it seriously. He thought about it for several minutes before saying honestly, “I never thought I was until recently.”
    “What’s your game? Poker? Blackjack? Horses?”
    “Love.”
    Ann’s breath caught in her throat. “That’s not a game.”
    “I’ve always played it as though it was. What about you? Have you ever been in love?”
    “Once. A long time ago.”
    “What happened?”
    She was quiet for so long he was afraid she might not answer, but it was a night made for sharing secrets. It was still enough and dark enough to hold a promise of endless privacy no