For His Son's Sake

Ross turned. Angus was pointing at the back wall, which was divided into rows of cages, as well as pens that opened into fenced outdoor aviaries. About a dozen birds were staring back at them, some uneasily, some calmly. Ross recognized a pelican, a hawk and an egret. The rest escaped him.

Angus was tugging at Kenzie’s arm. “Kenzie! What kind of bird is that?”

“A red-tailed hawk. Don’t get too close. He’s just getting over being sick. If you startle him he’ll try to fly away and hurt himself on the wire. Do you know what that one is?”

“A pelican?”

“Right.”

“What happened to him?”

“His bill got tangled in fishing wire and he couldn’t feed himself. He was half-starved when he came here, but he’s gained a lot of weight since then. I may set him free tomorrow.”

“But why would he want to leave? He’s got his own swimming pool!”

They were both whispering. Still, Ross noticed that Angus was practically shaking with both excitement and the strain of not showing it so he wouldn’t scare the birds. Ross had seen him this overwhelmed only once before—when they’d gone to a toy store in Manhattan and he’d been allowed to operate a model train by himself. He was usually so withdrawn in public, but right now he certainly didn’t look like a kid who was shy or scared or had recently lost his mother. Right now he was looking at Kenzie with his eyes glowing a bright, happy blue.

“I’d keep him if I were you. He’s the prettiest bird in the world!”

Even Ross had to laugh at that.

“Don’t you like him?” Angus demanded.

“It has to be the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“That’s not true!”

“Oh, yes it is. He reminds me of…of some throwback to the dinosaur age.”

Ross had been teasing, but Angus glared at him tearfully. “You don’t like anything!”

Ross turned away, but not before Kenzie saw the glimmer of pain in his eyes. “You’ve got to admit they’re a little bizarre,” she said quickly. “And there’s nothing pretty about that bill when he decides to use it.”

“Do pelicans bite?”

“Oh, my, yes.”

Angus backed away quickly.

“How’d you get into this business?” Ross asked, determined to ignore Angus’s outburst. “Are you a veterinarian?”

“Just a volunteer.” Kenzie opened the chest freezer and began rummaging inside. “When they run out of room at the raptor refuge up in Manteo they send them down here. I’m sort of an overflow center.”

“How long have you been doing this?”

“About a year. I had to learn the ropes the hard way. Like what to do with a vomiting owl and how not to get your eyes gouged out by a heron. Want to feed them some fish, Angus?”

“Could I really?”

“Sure.” She leaned deeper into the freezer, unaware that she was giving Ross a clear view of…well, of a very firm, muscular body. White shorts and long, tanned legs. A cropped T-shirt that rose higher as she leaned over farther, revealing more sun-browned skin.

Ross’s hurt at Angus’s remark seemed to fade at the simple pleasure of admiring Kenzie’s sweetly sexy curves. She seemed so wholly unaware of her appeal. Surely she had to realize the affect she had on every man who met her? And what about the way she was affecting him? Much as he disliked admitting it, he was starting to view Kenzie Daniels in a far more personal light than he wanted to. Yes, he was aware of the sweetness and warmth that Angus had responded to so readily, but this purely sexual pull of attraction was more than he’d bargained for—and something he certainly didn’t welcome. He had enough to worry about just dealing with his son!

“Eeeww!” said Angus, pulling Ross back to the present.

Kenzie had pulled a glassy-eyed fish from the freezer.

“Change your mind?” she asked with a grin, dangling it in front of the boy.

“Um—”

“Would gloves help?”

“Oh, yes, thanks.” Angus looked relieved.

“Don’t blame you, sport. I hate touching slimy stuff, too.”

She helped him pull on the heavy gloves while Ross watched, then showed him how to feed each of the birds. Angus didn’t even flinch when a gannet with a long, pointy bill lunged forward to snatch the fish. And he whooped aloud when a great blue heron swallowed its meal whole.

“Did you see that? Did you see that, Kenzie? It went down his throat sideways!”

“Pretty amazing,” she agreed, laughing.

When Angus had given each bird a treat, Kenzie led him away to wash up while Ross followed without speaking, muscular arms folded in front of his wide chest. Pushing a footstool up to the sink, Kenzie lifted Angus onto it, chatting unconcernedly all the while. “Let’s scrub that smell away, okay? Here, use plenty of soap. How about something to drink? Are you thirsty?”

“Uh-huh.”

“And hungry? I’ve got pastries in the house.”

“Ooh! What kind?”

She twinkled at him. “We’ll have to go see. Wait, wait. You missed a spot.”

He scrubbed quickly at the offending hand she’d tapped, then jumped off the stool and rushed outside without asking his father’s permission.

Kenzie hung away the towel. “Hope you don’t mind him having sweets.”

“How do you do that?” Ross countered gruffly.

She turned to look at him. “What?”

“Make it seem so easy.”

Her hand stilled. He was standing there with his thumbs hooked in his belt, his expression unsmiling and oddly vulnerable. She’d never noticed before, but his eyes were a darker blue than Angus’s.

Something in her heart seemed to turn over. No way, she told herself firmly. No way was she going to start feeling sorry for this man!

But she wasn’t going to pretend to misunderstand him, either.

“Because it is easy. With a boy like that—”

“I don’t mean just Angus. You’ve obviously been around a lot of them. How many children do you have?”

She blinked. “I—I don’t—I’m not married.”

“Oh.” He was silent for a moment, then looked at her with something very close to helplessness. “Then how do you do it?”

Kenzie bit her lip. Something obviously wasn’t right here. While she had no idea what it was, her heart had started aching in a funny way. “It isn’t anything you can explain,” she said softly. “It’s just something you know. In here.” When she touched her heart, his expression changed, and she knew for sure now that what she saw in his eyes was pain.

“I wouldn’t know about that,” he said roughly.

Heaven help her, but some strange compulsion was making her reach out to cover his big hand with hers. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”

“What do you mean?”

His fingers had closed over hers and the heat rushed to Kenzie’s cheeks because of the way he was looking at her—as though so much depended on her answer.

“I mean that deep down you do know the right things to do for Angus. It’s supereasy when you…um…you love somebody.”

For some inexplicable reason that word—love—stuck in her throat. She’d never minded uttering it before. The heated color in her cheeks deepened and she snatched her hand away before Ross noticed. What in heaven’s name was wrong with her?

“Kenzie?” Angus was peering around the door at her. Those blue eyes, that cute grin, made her feel instantly in control again.

“What is it, sport?”

“Would you hurry up, please? I can hear those pastries calling me from your kitchen.”

Lost in thought, she followed him across the yard. Something was definitely not right between Ross Calder and his son. They seemed uncomfortable with each other, as though they weren’t used to—or even liked—being together. And Ross was so uptight around Angus that the tension was almost a physical thing humming through him. And as for that oddly vulnerable moment they’d just shared…surely that had been an unspoken plea for help?

Kenzie tried to ignore the painful squeezing of her heart. She knew all about bad relationships between parents and their offspring—she and her father hadn’t spoken for more than a year. In fact, the last thing he’d said to her was that he didn’t consider her his daughter anymore.

But Angus was only seven. How could you get on bad footing with a kid that age?

And where did Mrs. Calder fit into this?

Unless Ross and his wife were divorced? Or in the process of divorcing? That would explain her absence and the awkwardness Ross exhibited around his son. Maybe Angus resented him for the breakup, and this trip to the Outer Banks was Ross’s way of trying to make up for it.

A weekend father. Kenzie knew the type: caught up in their careers, they took no part in raising their own kids and in fact were little better than strangers to them. Then the marriage ended and they found themselves on the outside of the fence, trying desperately to squeeze a loving relationship into those brief, alternate weekend visitations.

Which didn’t always work.

Poor Ross! And poor Angus!

She opened the back door for the boy, resisting the urge to ruffle his dark curls. Her heart ached, imagining how he felt, knowing how hard it was to mend a damaged relationship. Sometimes impossible.

“The doughnuts are on the table. Help yourself. I’ll pour you a glass of milk.”

Ross came in through the screen door behind her. He nearly filled the small kitchen, reminding Kenzie that he was more the rugged male type than the vulnerable man of a moment ago. “Coffee?” she asked quickly.

“If it’s not too much trouble.”

“No. I’ve already ground the beans.”

Ross looked around the room while she fetched cream and sugar and arranged the pastries on a plate. An old farmhouse sink, a few lopsided cabinets painted white, a laminated countertop straight out of the 1940s. Nothing like the sleek Corian-and-stainless-steel condo kitchen he once owned in New York before leaving his old law firm at the beginning of the year, when the battle over Angus had started heating up overseas.

Clearly whatever Kenzie Daniels did for a living didn’t pay much. Granted, you didn’t need a lot to live like this.

By now Angus had made himself at home at the oak table. The boy’s short legs dangled from one of the mismatched chairs as he munched on a buttermilk doughnut and looked around him with the bright interest of a typical seven-year-old. Again he seemed not at all shy in his surroundings.

“This place reminds me of Norfolk,” he announced.

“Your grandfather’s place?” Kenzie asked, much to Ross’s surprise. What did she know about Angus’s family?

“Yeah. Everything’s old there, too.” He talked around a mouthful of doughnut. “I like it.”

“Did you spend a lot of time in Norfolk?”

Angus hesitated a moment, then said with a shrug, “Summer holidays and Christmas, too.”

Kenzie set a mug of coffee in front of where Ross was standing. “Why is it that Angus has a British accent and you don’t?”

“I’m American, he’s not.”

“Oh. Then Angus’s mother—”

“My wife…my ex-wife is…was English.”

Kenzie caught her breath. Was?

“She passed away earlier this year.”

The shock of those words jolted her. She glanced quickly at Angus, who sat with his eyes glued to his plate. “Oh, Angus, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” But he wouldn’t look at her and she saw his little Adam’s apple bob convulsively as he swallowed. Her heart contracted and she glanced at Ross, who was studying his son with the same pained intensity.

“Maybe we’d better go, Angus,” Ross said quietly.

“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.”