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“But I haven’t drunk my milk yet!”
“And you haven’t had your bear claw,” Kenzie added meaningfully to Ross.
“What’s a bear claw?” Angus asked, immediately intrigued.
“It’s like a turnover, with almonds in it.”
Angus scrunched up his freckled nose. “I’d rather have another doughnut. Please?” he added, smiling shyly.
The awkward moment was over. Kenzie handed him the plate. “Eat all you like, sport.”
Ross sat down at the table, the tension draining out of him. This had been the first time Penelope’s death had been mentioned to a stranger, and Angus had handled it much better than he’d thought. So had Kenzie, by knowing better than to ask more questions the way other people probably would have.
“If I had your birds I’d try to make pets out of them,” Angus said to Kenzie, a milk mustache painted above his lip.
Grinning, she tossed him a napkin. “So you wouldn’t mind pelican poop all over your room?”
“Yuck. I hadn’t thought of that.” Balancing his empty glass on his plate, he set both next to the sink. “I think I’d rather have a dog. They go outside when they need to use the bathroom and…hey, Kenzie! What are all these drawings?”
Through the opened door leading from the pantry, he had caught sight of her workroom and quickly went in.
“Angus, don’t poke—” Ross warned.
“No, it’s okay. Look at them, if you like.” She rose to pour more coffee into Ross’s mug. “How about another bear claw?”
“They’re hard to resist,” he answered with a smile.
“Tell me about it. I’ll have to run an extra mile this afternoon.”
Ross had already decided that she was a runner—a serious one from the look of her. He realized he liked that about her, because he was one, too. “How often do you run?”
“Every day, if I can.”
“On the beach?”
“Not always. The sand is too soft. I prefer the trails near the lighthouse.” Kenzie thought about asking him to join her, suspecting he was a runner, like her, then instantly squelched the idea. Much as she liked having company on her jogs, she didn’t think he would agree. Besides, who would look after Angus in the meantime?
She stole another glance at Ross to find him looking at the water outside the window. His face was a dark contrast to the brightness outside, and she couldn’t help admiring his profile; his straight nose, his lean cheeks, especially the sensual curve of his mouth. Quickly she dropped her gaze. Why on earth was she studying Ross Calder’s mouth?
Angus’s head appeared around the door. “Hey, Kenzie, are these cartoons?”
She looked up, relieved. “Yes.”
“How come they don’t make any sense?”
She laughed. “Because they’re for grown-ups. They’re supposed to make grown-ups think about things that have happened around the country recently. They’re political cartoons,” she explained, catching Ross’s eye.
“They’re all over the place! Come see. Wow! She’s got a cool computer, too!”
Time to reel in his overinquisitive son.
But Ross, too, stopped short in the doorway, staring. Angus was right. There were black-and-white ink drawings all over the walls, some framed, some pinned or taped, many of them only half-finished. There were more on a huge drawing table in the corner, which was crammed with art supplies, along with a computer and sophisticated scanning equipment. Two televisions were set up nearby, one tuned to CNN, the other to a local news broadcast. VCRs were recording both.
Kenzie appeared behind them.
“Did you draw these?”
She nodded.
“For work or pleasure?”
“I’m the political cartoonist for the Norfolk Messenger.”
“Wow!” Angus breathed. “I’ve never met a cartoonist before.”
Neither had Ross. Thumbs hooked in his pockets, he studied the sketches spread out on the cluttered stand. A few of them dealt with the current administration’s proposal to step up offshore drilling near Point Edwards Bay in Alaska, a controversy that had been commanding front-page headlines when Ross and Angus had left New York two days ago. They were extremely well drawn, politically astute…and cuttingly funny.
Intrigued, Ross studied the ones hanging on the wall. Most of them seemed to deal with local officials he didn’t know, poking not-so-gentle fun at their foibles, while others made scathing statements about political leaders across the nation—especially in Washington.
“You drew these?”
Kenzie’s lips twitched. “You seem incredulous. Why? Do I come across as that much of a dumb Southern blonde?”
“Trust me, Ms. Daniels, you do not come across as any sort of stereotype.”
Kenzie frowned. Was she supposed to take that as a compliment? Being unique, if that was what he meant, could be a good thing…or very bad. It was impossible to tell, because although he was looking at her he wasn’t smiling.
She felt her breath catch on some odd pain in her throat. Why did he always seem to be so darned…vulnerable to her? As though he hadn’t been given much reason in life to smile? Had his wife’s death hurt him that badly? And why the heck did she care?
Fortunately Ross had turned his attention back to the drawings. “You’ve got a very keen eye for politics, Ms. Daniels. But you seem to think extraordinarily poorly of lawyers.”
“Doesn’t everybody?”
The sudden sharpness of her tone surprised him. Turning, he saw that her mouth was set in a hard line and that her eyes were snapping. He’d never noticed before that they were light blue and had flecks of gold in them.
“You don’t, ah, care for lawyers?”
“In general, no. If Washington were a cesspool—and sometimes I think it may be—they’d be the bottom feeders.”
“Oh, really?”
“Yes, really,” she said with unexpected heat.
“That seems rather harsh.”
Her chin tipped. “But accurate.”
“My father’s a lawyer,” Angus piped up helpfully.
Kenzie’s gaze flew to Ross’s intractable face. “Is that right?”
“It is.”
A totally inexplicable feeling of betrayal washed over her. She should have known! He wasn’t vulnerable or hiding some sort of inner pain! She’d misread those feelings, hadn’t realized that his reticence was really an air of superiority and that the inscrutable expression he wore whenever he spoke to her was actually a habit perfected in the courtroom, where it could prove a huge disadvantage if the other side of the bench knew what you were thinking.
No wonder Angus wasn’t entirely comfortable with this man! Not to resort to stereotypes, but all the lawyers Kenzie knew—and being from Washington she knew plenty—weren’t exactly the warm and fuzzy, touchy-feely type. Furthermore, they were rarely cut out to be loving fathers.
Like her own.
Oh, yes, Kenzie knew exactly how hard it was to have a decent relationship with a coldhearted lawyer for a father. And the situation was made even worse for Ross and Angus, who were obviously grappling in different ways to come to terms with the former Mrs. Calder’s death. Grief, instead of bringing them together, was driving a wedge between them.
“Kenzie? Can I let the dogs in? I hear them crying on the porch.”
Her expression softened as she looked down at Angus. The poor kid, she thought, aching. I know something of what he’s going through. “Sure you can, sport.”
When Angus grinned his thanks at her she smiled back, her cheeks dimpling. The gesture was absolutely pure and natural, and Ross, watching them, felt jealous longing flare like a white-hot brand inside him. How come Kenzie never smiled like that at him? And why wouldn’t he share the intimacy between them? Why did he feel himself the outsider here? Okay, so Kenzie Daniels seemed to have made some kind of favorable impression on his son. How could he not admire her bird hospital, her career as a cartoonist, a house on an island and a pair of tiger-striped dogs? With no vested interest in their relationship, she could also treat the boy with the easy familiarity Ross didn’t dare to. Maybe Angus was even beginning to feel some sort of displaced maternal affection for her.
Good God! The thought was enough to make any single father panic.
“Come on, Angus. We’ve got to go.”
His harsh words made Angus look so stricken and Kenzie so disappointed that he had to grit his teeth to resist changing his mind though he didn’t want to admit it, Angus wasn’t the only one falling victim to the warmth of Kenzie’s smiles. “We appreciate your hospitality, Ms. Daniels, but it’s getting late.”
Angus hung his head. “Thanks, Kenzie,” he mumbled. “I had fun.”
Kenzie was tempted to yell “Objection!” but knew better. Just like a lawyer, she thought furiously, taking no notice of anybody else’s feelings!
“You’re welcome, Angus.” She squeezed his shoulder, then hastily shoved the remaining doughnuts into a bag. “For later,” she whispered.
Straightening, she found Ross’s eyes nailing into her. Almost defiantly she tipped her chin. Without another word, he turned and walked out of the door.
She watched the car bump down the driveway and shook with anger. How dare that man treat his son that way? The kid had just lost his mother, for crying out loud! Couldn’t Ross see that what Angus wanted—craved—was simply a little love and warmth?
“Fat chance he’ll get it from the likes of him,” Kenzie muttered, shutting the front door none too gently.
Zoom and Jazz, aware of her anger, lifted their heads to look at her. Kenzie knelt to fondle their ears. “Settle down, guys. I’m not mad at you. I’m just obsessing.”
About the wrong thing. If she was going to fret about a damaged father-child relationship, she’d be better off worrying about her own.
Yeah, right.
And as for the conflicting emotions Ross Calder aroused within her—well, he happened to be good-looking, even sexy, and it was understandable that she, as a healthy young woman, would respond to that. But never mind that there might be a perfectly good explanation for him bolting out of her house like that, dragging poor Angus along with him, or that there were other, kinder emotions burning beneath his icy demeanor. He was still a lawyer, a bottom feeder of the lowliest kind, and she’d be darned if she’d respond to him in any positive way or feel the least bit sorry for him. Provided she ever saw him again.
Scowling, she turned to tackle the dishes in the sink.
Chapter Three
“I’m telling you, Delia, he’s a different kid around her. Totally open, friendly, eager to please. It’s almost a kind of hero worship. Everything she says and does is ‘supercool’ to him. I don’t understand it.”
“Do you think she reminds him of his mother?”
Ross tucked the receiver under his chin and pulled the pizza from the oven. Setting it on the counter, he envisioned Penelope, tall and darkly elegant, accompanying him to the opening night of the London symphony in a clinging Halston dress. Then Kenzie Daniels in shorts and a T-shirt, pulling dead fish out of a freezer. If he wasn’t so busy brooding, he would have smiled at the comparison.
“Not a chance.”
“Maybe she reminds him of somebody else. A housekeeper or nanny?”
Ross had met both women at Penelope’s funeral. One had been extremely old, the other dumpy and dark. “No way.”
“Maybe she just has a natural way with kids.”
“Meaning I don’t?”
He could actually hear Delia hesitating over the phone line. He gripped the receiver hard, dreading her answer. Bad enough that Delia had taken it upon herself to call and check up on them, and even worse that Angus had told her all about Kenzie the moment he’d answered the phone. Gushed on and on about her, actually, so that Delia had asked Ross for clarification when it was his turn to talk.
Now he was going to have to listen to things he didn’t want to hear and to admit things he didn’t want to acknowledge.
“He misses his mother, Ross. And maybe, in a way, he’s blaming you for her loss.”
His heart cramped. “Now wait a minute—”
“It’s totally unfounded, I know. But he’s a little boy, Ross. Kids tend to look at things differently. They really don’t know how to weigh what’s fair and what’s not. And you took him away from his home, his grandparents—”
“Who are even more cold and unloving than I am.” He tried to sound as if he was making fun of himself, but his voice was flat. He’d never felt less like joking.
“Give him time, Ross. And you, too. It’s only been a few months! He’ll warm up to you once he gets to know you better. After all, you’ve been a stranger to him all his life, and I wouldn’t be surprised if Penelope said unkind things about you to him when you first sued for visitation rights.”
Which had happened just before she’d died. Did Angus blame him in some way for that? Ross wondered suddenly. But who could have known that Penelope would be killed in a plane crash while locked in a bitter legal dispute over the son she had never acknowledged to Ross?
For God’s sake, some strange lump was forming in Ross’s throat as he wondered if his chances with Angus were doomed. He closed his eyes only to feel them stinging. Were those tears? It was definitely time to get a grip.
“Is that your closing statement, counselor?”
But Delia wasn’t about to let him off the hook. “Please, Ross.”
“Okay, okay.” Damn! Now he’d burned himself on the pizza tray. Cursing inwardly, he held his thumb under the faucet. “Look, gotta run. Supper’s ready.”
“Just remember what I said. And relax, will you? Stop trying so hard.”
“Always have to get in the last word, don’t you?” he countered, but this time he succeeded in sounding as though he didn’t mind.
Delia chuckled. No doubt she was relieved that he’d chosen to lighten up—though in reality Ross’s heart couldn’t have been heavier. He wished she’d never called him, wished she’d refrained from overstepping professional lines to discuss such personal matters with him. “Gotta run,” he said again, and was relieved that this time his voice didn’t waver. “I’ll check in with you at the office tomorrow.”
“Not until Thursday, Ross. You promised.”
“Okay, okay.”
He hung up to find Angus lying on his stomach in front of the TV watching cartoons. Handing him a slice of pizza, Ross gestured toward the characters cavorting on the screen. “Who are they?”
