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The radiator, of course. She’d been nursing the old one longer than she should have with a gallon of coolant she kept in the bed. The tow truck had taken too long, the radiator hadn’t been in stock, and she had whiled away the afternoon at the convenience store across the street reading pulp magazines and wondering how she was going to afford the repairs until a replacement part was shipped down from Elizabeth City.
Now she was stuck behind a slow-moving vehicle and about to succumb to a screaming bout of road rage. Didn’t the driver ahead of her know she had a date—with two good-looking guys, no less? Couldn’t he pull over and let her by?
Angus had sounded so grown-up when he’d called to ask her to dinner. Surprised and flattered, she’d accepted at once. Then she remembered that Ross would be there, too. “Are you sure your dad doesn’t mind?”
“Oh, no. He said you should come.”
Yeah, sure. Kenzie could picture him agreeing with that stoic lawyer’s look that Angus was too young and unsophisticated to read. Still, she was surprised at how much she was looking forward to the evening. She had a number of friends among Buxton’s permanent residents and went out with them often. But she’d never been invited to celebrate a seven-year-old English charmer’s birthday. Not at the Boathouse, which, after all, was outrageously expensive.
“Eight. Angus is eight as of today,” Kenzie reminded herself. She had spent most of yesterday working on his present. She couldn’t wait to see what he thought of it. No doubt Ross would find it silly. Like most of the lawyers Kenzie knew, he probably had no sense of humor.
The dump truck put on its blinker, downshifted, and turned into a construction site. Honking and waving her thanks, Kenzie sped away.
She fed the dogs and the birds in record time, then leaped into the shower. After wrapping her wet hair in a towel, she dried herself off and padded into the bedroom. No time to obsess over what to wear. She seized a dress from the closet and pulled it on, whipped out the blow dryer, then raced to put on her makeup.
“Kenzie!”
Crud! She hadn’t even heard the car drive up, and here she was still barefoot and lacking mascara. “Come on in! Be careful not to let the dogs out!”
The screen door slammed. Angus’s light footsteps sounded, followed by his father’s.
“Where are you, Kenzie?”
“In the bedroom. I’ll be out in a minute. There’s juice in the fridge. Help yourselves if you’re thirsty.”
She slipped on her watch, fastened a thin gold chain around her neck, spritzed on a trace of perfume. Her sandals were by the kitchen door. Barefoot, she waltzed out to fetch them.
“Oh, my,” she said.
Ross and Angus were at the counter, Ross pouring orange juice into a glass. They turned at the sound of her voice. She stared.
“Angus! You look super!”
He was wearing a new set of shorts and a collared shirt, obviously purchased from a local surf shop. The cargo shorts were sage in color, the Hawaiian shirt a riot of palm trees, hibiscus and exotic birds. His shoes were also new, the slouchy kind of sneakers worn by surfers and skateboarders. His still-damp hair was neatly combed.
“Do you really like it?”
“Way cool. I’m glad I dressed up, too.”
She had put on a knee-length sundress with spaghetti straps in periwinkle-blue—her favorite color. She wore her blond hair down. Her only jewelry was the delicate gold chain that nestled in the hollow of her tanned throat.
Shifting her focus from Angus to his father, she felt her cheeks grow warm. Like him or not, you had to admit that Ross Calder was one good-looking man. Angus must have talked him into buying something new, as well, because the fine white muslin shirt he wore was bright and crisp. The sleeves were rolled back in a casually masculine way and the open collar revealed an even more masculine expanse of muscled chest. Kenzie wasn’t sure how a pair of ordinary khaki pants could look so sexy, but Ross Calder definitely pulled it off.
She struggled to regain her composure as she slipped on her sandals. Reminded herself that, good-looking though he might be, he was still a member of that greedy, grasping, heartless class of professionals who lived for the thrill of making money, of working a judge and jury until their clients went free whether they knew them to be guilty or not.
Like her father.
Whom she had loved desperately as a little girl but who had betrayed her in the end, and who had turned everyone in her family but her mother against her when Kenzie had courageously exposed him for the man he was.
Even after all this time the pain of it clawed at her.
“Kenzie?”
She had to swallow before she could answer. “Yes, Angus?”
“You look really, really pretty.”
She gave a strangled laugh of gratitude and relief and pulled him impulsively into her arms. “Happy birthday, you little goof-ball! How does it feel to be eight?”
“I feel very grown-up, thank you.”
Was it her imagination, or did he look a little disappointed when she let him go? She hugged him again for good measure. Funny, but she’d forgotten how good it felt to hug a kid.
Straightening, she found herself eye-to-eye with Ross. He was wearing his lawyer’s look again, revealing absolutely nothing of what he was thinking.
Her chin tipped. “Thanks for inviting me.”
“It was Angus’s idea.”
“Oh.” Her heart sank.
“And he’s right. You do look really, really pretty.”
Heat flooded her cheeks. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure.”
The way he said it made a shiver flee down her spine. Confused and breathless, she gathered up her purse, sunglasses and a padded envelope from the kitchen table.
Angus’s eyes lit up. “What’s that?”
“Your present, of course. As if you didn’t know.”
“It’s not very big.”
“There are a couple of saying here in America, Angus. Maybe you have them in England, too— Good things come in small packages. And curiosity killed the cat.”
“My grannie always used to say that to me.”
“She probably had good reason to.”
Outside, Angus gallantly held open the car door for her.
“But you’re the birthday boy. You should sit up front.”
He dimpled. “But you’re the guest of honor.”
Returning his smile, she slid in next to Ross. It was the closest she’d ever been to him. He must have showered and put on aftershave recently, because he had a decidedly pleasant smell about him. Clean and…and sexy. Muscles rippled in his arm as he switched on the ignition. “Seat belts, Angus, Kenzie.”
She reached for the strap, glad to have an excuse to wriggle away from him. For some reason she found herself completely unnerved by his presence. Maybe it was the intimacy of their outing together; after all, it was easier dealing with him in the familiarity of her own home. Or maybe it was the fact that he looked so drop-dead handsome tonight. Either way, something about him was doing odd things to her inside.
Angus leaned forward as far as his belt would allow. “Will your birds be okay while you’re gone?”
“They prefer peace and quiet.”
“Did you let the pelican go?”
“This morning.”
“Oh. Too bad. I wish I’d seen it.”
“That’s okay,” she said brightly. “Maybe next time.”
“Will you be letting something else go before next Saturday? That’s when we leave.”
“The blue heron might be well enough by then.”
“Oh, good!” He leaned forward to address his father. “Can we watch Kenzie let it go?”
“We’ll see.”
“It’s a pretty neat experience,” Kenzie said. “Before I let the birds go I band them with a number so people will know who they are if they’re ever caught again. To band them, I have to put their heads in a coffee can.”
Angus’s eyes went wide. “How come?”
“It may seem cruel, but when you stuff them down inside a can they instantly relax. Then you can slide the band on their feet without a struggle.”
“Maybe they’re frozen with terror, not relaxed,” Ross said.
“Actually, research shows that their heart rates slow dramatically. So they really are relaxed.”
Angus bounced up and down in his seat. “I want to watch!”
“We’ll see,” Ross said again, but he sounded a lot more positive this time.
“Ever been to the Boathouse, Kenzie?” Angus demanded in the next breath.
“Only once, when I first moved here.”
“How long ago was that?”
“A little over a year.”
“Where did you grow up?”
“In Washington, D.C.”
“Washington!” Angus leaned forward to eye his father. “Have you ever been there?”
“A few times.”
“Is it nice? Would I like it?”
“You’d probably enjoy the museums and the zoo. Tell you what. I’ll be going there on business in October. Maybe you can come along.”
Angus’s face fell. “I’ll be in school then.”
“Second or third grade?” Kenzie asked.
“I—I don’t know. We had forms in my old school, not grades.”
“You’ll be in third grade here in America, son.”
Had Ross noticed the slight tremor in his son’s voice? Kenzie certainly had. Her heart ached, picturing Angus facing his first day at a strange new school with a new teacher and new classmates. She hoped he’d had the chance to meet a few of them already, managed to make friends with them. That he’d been taken on a tour of his new classroom so the place wouldn’t seem so strange and scary come September.
Did Ross know enough about parenting to arrange those things?
“Do you and Angus live alone?” she asked impulsively.
“At the moment, yes.”
What in heck did that mean?
She waited for an explanation, but none came. Instead Ross switched on his turn signal and pulled into the parking lot.
Kenzie mulled over the comment as she got out of the car. Was Ross planning to get married again? Angus had never mentioned a stepmother-to-be. Not that she cared, of course. She only hoped the woman would be the warm and loving person Angus—and his father—needed so badly.
They were seated at a booth with a huge picture window overlooking the sound. Angus sat down beside her, Ross opposite them. A waitress brought menus, requested drink orders.
“Can we have cocktails?” Angus asked eagerly. “It’s my birthday,” he added importantly.
“Why, sure you can, honey. How about a Shirley Temple? On the house. You’re the best-lookin’ birthday boy we’ve had in here all summer.”
Kenzie had to smile. Obviously she wasn’t the only female to fall instantly for the freckle-faced charmer with his proper British accent.
“You’ll have to have the same,” the waitress added to her and Ross. “We’re a dry county.”
“They don’t serve alcohol,” Kenzie explained after the woman had gone. “No hard alcohol. Just beer and wine. It’s not uncommon here in the South.”
Ross nodded. “Blue laws. I’ve heard of them. But if you ask me, it’s barbaric.”
Tonight she was inclined to agree with him. She didn’t care much for either beer or wine but she would very much have liked a cocktail to calm her nerves. For some reason Ross Calder was taking up too much room as he sat across the table from her. The booth was too small, too…intimate. Her gaze always seemed to be falling on him no matter where she tried to look. His face, his blue eyes, his unsmiling but strangely disturbing mouth. What on earth was the matter with her?
“Can I see what’s in the package now, Kenzie?”
“Gladly.” Anything to distract her.
But Ross had spied the waitress making her way toward them. “Let’s order dinner first, okay?”
