Tell Me a Story Read online

"Hey, Dad, don't feel too bad. One out of two ain't bad."

  The older man's face darkened, and Ann braced herself for the explosion that was sure to follow. She'd seen that look in her own father's eyes too often to mistake it. Why had Flynn provoked him?

  The explosion didn't come. She didn't even know if it would have come, because the door opened and Louise stepped into the room. Ann felt as if she'd been thrown a life jacket in the midst of a stormy sea. The older woman's eyes took in the situation immediately, and Ann caught a glimpse of her distress before she set about pouring oil on the waters.

  "Are you two at it again? Can't you see you're embarrassing Ann? She's going to think you're a pair of ill-mannered fools. Would you like some lemonade, my dear? Becky is settled in the kitchen and Maggie is teaching her how to bake cookies. I think lunch may be a little late.

  "What a charming child. I'm so glad you brought her to see us, Flynn. Exactly what would you like us to do for her?"

  The next few hours passed on a more calm note, though Ann had the feeling that the hostilities lay just beneath the surface, ready to break out again. Even when the McCallister men agreed on something, it was grudgingly, as if each were reluctant to admit that the other might have had a good idea. By the time Becky's immediate future was hammered out, Ann felt as if she'd witnessed a battle between the superpowers.

  It was agreed that Becky's terror of the welfare department eliminated the possibility of calling the authorities. On the other hand, something had to be done about finding her mother. It was Flynn's suggestion that they call a private detective and, very reluctantly, his father agreed that it seemed like a reasonable alternative. The major disagreement came when the discussion turned to what to do with Becky while the detective searched for her mother.

  "Obviously, the child will stay with your mother and I." David McCallister's bluff voice said there would be no argument. Ann felt herself quail at the tone. It was so familiar. Just the way her father always sounded when he was laying down the law.

  Flynn did not seem impressed.

  "I don't think so. Becky is doing just fine at my place. I don't see any reason why she shouldn't just continue to stay with me until her mother is found."

  "Don't be ridiculous. You've got no business being in charge of a little girl. What do you know about children?"

  Flynn eyes were sapphire blue and just as hard. "I know that you have to give them room to grow and you have to love them for what they are, not for what you want them to be."

  "That's enough, Flynn." Louise's quiet voice discharged the explosion that was building. Flynn pulled his gaze from his father's angry face and glanced at his mother before looking at Ann. He lifted his shoulders in an apologetic shrug, his mouth a cynical line.

  "Sorry. We shouldn't drag you into old family quarrels."

  "That's okay." But it wasn't okay. She could see the pain in his eyes and she was surprised to find that she ached in sympathy. She had the strangest urge to stroke the tousled hair back off his forehead and hold him close until the pain left his eyes. She dragged her gaze away from him, frightened by the strength of the urge.

  The thought slipped into her mind that it was safer to be hostile to Flynn McCallister. He was a dangerous man to care about.

  Once again, it was Louise who brought the conversation back to a more comfortable level.

  "We're discussing Becky's welfare here and I think the least we can do is keep that in mind." Her stern gaze took in both her husband and her son. Her husband grunted and looked away. Flynn gave her an unabashed grin.

  "You're quite right, Mom. We do need to keep that in mind. So what do you suggest?"

  "Why don't we ask Becky?" Ann made the suggestion hesitantly, wondering if perhaps she was sticking her nose in where it didn't belong. But she was supposed to be here to help decide Becky's future.

  The three McCallisters looked at her with varying degrees of surprise. Louise spoke first.

  "What a wonderful idea. I don't know why we didn't think of that right away. Thank you, Ann."

  "I love a woman who can think in the midst of battle. Remind me to kiss you first chance I get." Ann flushed, uncomfortably aware that the idea of him kissing her was not as unpleasant as it should be. In fact, it wasn't unpleasant at all.

  "You can't expect a child to make a decision like that." David McCallister was the only dissenting voice.

  "Why not?" Flynn's question held insolent challenge, all the laughing approval he'd shown Ann gone as if it had never been. His mother rushed into speech, intent on averting a scene.

  "Becky seems like a very levelheaded little girl. I think she has a right to have some say in her future. I'll go get her now." She got up and left the room with quick steps, cutting off the possibility of further argument.

  The three left behind sat in silence for the short time she was gone. Flynn's father stared into space. Flynn looked at Ann and Ann looked at the toes of her shoes, unwilling to meet those bright blue eyes, uneasy with the way her pulse seemed to respond to the warmth of his gaze. It seemed as if hours had gone by, but it was no more than a minute or two before Louise returned with Becky.

  The two of them had barely entered the room before Becky tugged her hand loose from the older woman's and ran to Flynn's side. Flynn slid his arm around her waist as she leaned against his knee. Looking at the two of them, Ann already knew Becky's answer.

  "How were the cookies, urchin?"

  "They were great and Maggie let me help her take them off the pan. Could we make cookies when we get home, Mr. Flynn?"

  "Sure. But first, we've got a question to ask you." She caught the serious tone of his voice and stared at him, gray eyes wide with uncertainty.

  "We're going to hire someone to look for your mom but, until they find her, you need a place to stay."

  "Can't I stay with you?" Her voice quivered slightly and Flynn hugged her reassuringly.

  "Sure you can, honey. But my parents have said that you can stay here if you want. There's lots of room to play here and I could come out and visit you." He was scrupulously honest in his presentation of the choice but it was clear that, as far as Becky was concerned, there was no choice to be made.

  "Do you want me to stay here, Mr. Flynn? Am I too much trouble for you?"

  "Of course not, Becky. I'd love to have you with me. But my parents would love to have you here, too. The choice is up to you."

  "I want to stay with you, please."

  To his credit, Flynn did not give his father a triumphant look. "I'd like that, too."

  ❧

  "Mark and I used to play on those swings. I bet they haven't been used since we were kids." Flynn waved at Becky who was happily absorbed in pumping herself as high as possible.

  Lunch had passed without incident and they had been invited to stay to dinner. It was clear that Flynn hadn't wanted to stay but had agreed for his mother's sake and he'd escaped outside as soon as possible, taking Ann and Becky with him. Ann wasn't sorry to get away from the tension that stretched between the men in the family.

  It was a beautiful day and the grounds that surrounded the house invited casual strolling. Flynn bent and picked up a stick, tossing it to the elderly retriever who'd followed them from the house. She sniffed at the stick and then looked at Flynn as if to say that he was very foolish if he didn't realize that she was long past the age to chase sticks. "Sorry, Bessy. I forgot."

  She yawned once and then turned to make her way toward the house, her steps slightly stiff with age but her dignity unruffled. Flynn watched her cross the wide expanse of lawn that lay between them and the house and then turned back to Ann.

  "I can remember when Bessy would beg me to throw sticks for her. I guess I haven't gotten home much these last few years. I tend to forget how old she's getting."

  "You and your father don't get along very well, do you?" Ann hadn't planned onasking the question. It was none of her business, and she didn't want to become any more involved with Flynn and his family
than she already was. Nevertheless, there the question was and, once asked, she wanted to hear his answer.

  "A masterpiece of understatement if I've ever heard one." Flynn's voice was heavy with sarcasm. "My father thinks I'm a playboy and a wastrel. I haven't done any of the things a McCallister is supposed to do. As far as he's concerned, I haven't done anything right since I was born."

  Ann stared at Becky without seeing her. Flynn's words brought back her own childhood too vividly for comfort. "It must have been hard to please him."

  Flynn shrugged. "I never tried. At least I quit trying so long ago that I can't remember it ever being different."

  "How can you not try to please your father?" The concept was so foreign to her that it was as if he were speaking another language.

  "I suppose I might have been more inclined to try if it hadn't been for my older brother. You see, Mark was perfect. My father didn't just think he was perfect, he really was." His smile twisted with memories. "He was captain of his football team, captain of the debating team. I swear, in kindergarten, he started out as captain of the clean-up squad. He got straight A's right from the start. He was intelligent, polite, handsome and had a great sense of humor."

  He reached out and tugged on a pendulous eucalyptus branch, methodically stripping it of every leaf.

  "The awful thing about Mark was that it was all absolutely sincere. He was truly the greatest older brother any kid could want."

  "But you couldn't compete." Ann's voice was soft. She knew just how he felt, though her competition had been the ideal of a son who'd never existed outside her father's dreams.

  "I couldn't compete." He finished with the branch and reached for another one. "I gave up trying even before I got into school. I don't know, I sometimes think I became a rebel just to give myself an identity. At least Dad noticed me as something other than Mark's shadow. But maybe that's making myself a little too sympathetic. I can't say I don't enjoy doing exactly what I'm doing. The fact that it irritates Dad is just aside effect."

  "Just what do you do?" He slanted her an amused look and Ann flushed, realizing how critical the question sounded. "I mean, you don't seem to go to work or anything...." She trailed off, aware that she hadn't done a very good job of explaining what she meant. Maybe it was because she wasn't entirely sure herself.

  "That's okay. Not many people recognize my profession."

  He released the branch, letting it snap back into place. The smile he turned on her was brilliant. Ann blinked, not wanting to notice how her heartbeat accelerated under that look.

  "Your profession?" She was barely aware of speaking. Was it possible to get lost in a man's eyes?

  "I'm a professional playboy. There aren't many of us left in the world. Our numbers have been decimated by increasing social pressures to be useful and develop careers. I'm one of thelast of a dying breed. The truly useless man about town." He bowed low before her, and Ann had to bite her lip to hold back a giggle.

  "I think you're too hard on yourself. Nobody is completely useless."

  "I am. And proud of it."

  "Don't you get bored?"

  "No. There's so much to see in the world. I travel quite a bit. There's never a chance to get bored."

  She shook her head, unable to imagine a life without the limits of work or school to frame the days. "I can't imagine not having a job."

  "That's the trouble with the world today. Nobody can imagine life without jobs."

  Silence fell between them, not uncomfortable but full of an awareness Ann didn't want to acknowledge. There was something about him that disturbed her in ways she didn't understand. He was so... different. She'd never known anyone like him.

  "Hold still." His voice was hushed and Ann froze as he reached toward her. She felt his hand in her hair and when he pulled away, there was a ladybug resting on the tip of his finger. "She was tangled in your hair."

  He held his hand up and blew gently. The tiny insect hesitated a moment and then flew away. The shadow of the big eucalyptus wrapped around them. The late summer air was still warm. The scent of the rose garden drifted on the air, a faint hint of perfume.

  "You know, for a dragon, you're pretty nice." Flynn's hand came up to tug at a lock of hair that had escaped from her braid, but he lingered, his finger twisted the fiery strand as if tangled in the warmth of its color. "I've always wondered what your hair would look like down." The tone was causal, but there was nothing casual about the way he was looking at her.

  "It just looks like hair." Ann told herself she was imagining the breathlessness in her voice.

  "I bet it's beautiful."

  His head was lowering toward hers, that brilliant blue gaze on her mouth. Her lips were suddenly dry and her tongue came out to wet them, a nervous flicker of movement. She saw his eyes darken and then his hand was slipping around the back of her neck, holding her still. But Ann couldn't have moved if her life depended on it.

  His mouth touched hers and her eyelids fell shut as if attached to weights. She stood as if turned to stone, her hands clenched into fists at her sides, her head tilted to accept his kiss.

  His mouth was warm and dry. She could smell the faint tang of after-shave. Her lips softened under his coaxing and his hand tightened on the back of her neck, tilting her head farther up. Ann's breath caught as his teeth sank gently into her lower lip. Her mouth opened the smallest amount and the kiss deepened. Their breath mingled until it was impossible to tell where one began and the other ended.

  Flynn's free hand settled on her lower back as he stepped closer, and Ann's fingers unclenched, her hands creeping up to rest on his shoulders, her movements tentative.

  There was a warmth in the pit of her belly. A warmth that had nothing to do with the weather. Her toes curled inside her shoes as his tongue brushed ever so lightly against her lower lip. She could feel something waiting just out of reach. Something exciting and dangerous and full of promise. Something she wasn't sure she was ready to reach for.

  "Mr. Flynn."

  The voice seemed to come from a long way away. At first Ann couldn't even make sense of what it was saying.

  "Mr. Flyyynnn."

  Her eyes opened slowly as Flynn's mouth left hers. In his eyes she could see some of the same surprise she was feeling. Her hands dropped away from his shoulders but he was slower to release her. They stared at each other for a few seconds, neither of them quite sure what to say.

  "Mr. Flyyynnn." Becky's high-pitched call wafted toward them and Flynn's hands dropped away from Ann. She took a step back, dragging her eyes away from his face. Whatever had just happened, she wasn't ready to examine it.

  "Becky wants you. I.. .ah... I think I'll go see if I can do something to help your mother with dinner. Set the table or something."

  She walked away before he could say anything, but she was aware of his eyes following her until she turned a corner and was shielded by the bulk of the house.

  Louise McCallister looked up as Ann all but scuttled into the room. Her face was flushed and there was a distracted expression in her eyes as if she weren't quite sure where she was or how she came to be there.

  "Flynn is with Becky. I thought I might be able to help you with dinner."

  Louise bit her lip to conceal a smile and bent her head over her needlepoint. "That's very sweet of you, my dear, but I think Maggie has everything well in hand."

  "Of course. How foolish of me."

  "Not at all. Why don't you join me in a cup of tea?" She poured the fragrant liquid into a Limoges cup, setting it on the edge of the tea table as Ann sat in the chair across from her.

  "Did you enjoy your walk?"

  "Yes, the grounds are lovely." Ann picked up her tea cup, and Louise politely pretended not to notice the faint tremor that made the delicate cup rattle in its saucer.

  "My husband's mother started the landscaping but I've added to it over the years. It's an ongoing job, of course, but I enjoy it. Have you known Flynn very long?"

  The cup ratt
led but Ann's voice was calm. "I live across the hall from him. We don't really know each other that well. Becky fell and hit her head yesterday and Flynn knew that I was a doctor so he came and got me."

  "A doctor. I didn't know that. So you don't know Flynn all that well. I'm surprised. The two of you seem quite comfortable with each other."

  "Comfortable? I'm not sure that word applies to Flynn." She realized that her comment might sound like a criticism because she continued hurriedly. "I mean, he just doesn't seem the type—"

  Louise laughed. "Don't worry. I know just what you mean. And you're right. The word comfortable and Flynn don't really go together. Now Mark was a different story. He was so easy to get along with. Flynn was always too restless and full of questions. I think that's why he and his father have always had a hard time getting along.

  "Mark was a strong boy but he was willing to bend in the direction his father wanted. Flynn is just too much like his father. Neither of them knows how to bend. It's a shame. They have so much to give each other. Flynn especially has so much to give to those he cares about."

  She didn't lift her head from her needlepoint. Ann could either take the point or not as she chose. Louise had seen the way Flynn looked at Ann and her maternal instincts were telling her that Ann could be exactly what her son needed in his life. She didn't want to be a pushy parent, but it wouldn't hurt to nudge just a little.

  Chapter 5

  If Ann had seriously believed that her involvement with Becky and Flynn was going to end after the visit to his parents, she was doomed to disappointment. Over the next few days, the focus of her life seemed to shift.

  Ever since graduating from medical school, her life had centered on her work and, before that, it had centered on school. When she took a vacation, she used the time to catch up on medical journals; her visits with her father were spent discussing ways to advance her career.

  When she'd thought ahead, she'd never really considered whether or not things were always going to be that way. She'd never given much thought to a husband or children. There'd never been any room to think about them. Somewhere in the back of her mind were the usual dreams of a home and family, but they'd never been given any room to grow and solidify and they'd remained vague, nebulous images without real focus.