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“I’ll be eight on Wednesday,” he told her proudly.
“There aren’t any lifeguards out here,” Kenzie said firmly. “And there’s usually a rip current running along the shore break.”
“Angus knows the rules.” She could almost feel the heat of the man’s glare. “He’s not to go near the water.”
But Kenzie could be tough too. “A seven-year-old should have an adult with him when he comes down to the beach, Mr.—”
“Calder. Ross Calder.”
He might not be too thrilled to have her lecturing him, but at least he was civil.
Kenzie reached out to shake the hand he extended. “I’m MacKenzie Daniels.”
Ouch! He’d squeezed too hard—deliberately, she wouldn’t doubt, as though wanting to let her know he was still in charge. She gritted her teeth to keep her smile from wavering. At the same time, she removed her hand slowly, resisting the urge to snatch it away. Not because he’d hurt her, but because of the way the contact between them had run like a physical jolt up her arm and through her body. His big hand had almost swallowed hers in a very masculine way.
But he was still a jerk. And too tough on his kid. Hopefully Mrs. Calder was nicer. “Here’s your kite, Angus.”
Angus took the handles from her. The kite, ignored, had landed in the sand behind them. “Thanks,” he said glumly.
“Keep practicing. You were doing great.”
“Was I?”
She resisted the urge to put her arms around him. To stick out her tongue at his father for being such a spoilsport. “Absolutely.”
“Will you help me tomorrow?”
“If I’m out this way, maybe. But I live down in Buxton.”
“Where’s that?”
“The town with the lighthouse. I just happened to be here today because I needed groceries.”
Avon had the only chain supermarket south of Nags Head. Every now and again Kenzie skipped the offerings at Buxton’s mom-and-pop grocery stores and drove the few miles to Avon to do her shopping.
“Okay. Maybe I’ll see you.” Angus was looking at her as though he was miserable. Why?
She gave his father a hard look. “Nice meeting you, Mr. Calder.”
“Likewise, Ms. Daniels.”
She watched them disappear over the dunes. So much for a sunbath. She was much too worked up to relax now. At the way Angus had changed the moment his father had shown up, like a dark cloud blocking out the sun.
And the way she had reacted to Ross Calder’s handshake. Instead of being furious at his unspoken message of superiority, she’d found herself reacting to it on a purely physical level.
Nuts.
Gathering up her things, she went back to the car.
She’d parked in one of the National Park Service turnouts that dotted the highway running south from Oregon Inlet to the end of Hatteras Island. The neighborhoods that made up the southernmost part of Avon ended here, where Cape Hatteras National Seashore parkland resumed. The boardwalk to the parking lot led past the last few cottages on the edge of town.
Angus had said he was staying in one of them. Kenzie scanned the decks for a sign of him, trying to look as if she wasn’t. But all of them were empty.
She sighed. Just as well. Even though something about that blue-eyed boy had touched her, she didn’t need to run into him again. Or his father, either, thank you very much.
Chapter Two
But Avon was a small town. Running into acquaintances was the rule, not the exception. Only, Kenzie didn’t expect to see Ross Calder and his son again quite so soon—like that very evening.
She had spent the afternoon inking her drawings and preparing them for mailing. Afterward she’d gone down to the dock behind her house to check on the minnow traps. They were filled with fish, including one or two good-sized spots and a croaker, but as usual there wasn’t enough for all the hungry mouths she had to feed. So she’d driven up to Avon to spend some of her precious cash at the bait-and-tackle store.
She was walking back to her truck when someone called her name. Shifting her packages to one hip, she turned. “Angus! What are you doing here?”
“Going to the movies.”
He was wearing a navy T-shirt with “England” written on it in red and white, khaki cargo shorts and high-topped black sneakers. She’d forgotten how cute he was. Or how good-looking his father was. Ross Calder was wearing khakis, too, and a denim shirt with rolled-up sleeves. He folded his tanned arms across his chest as he came around the car he’d just locked. The movie theater was right across the parking lot.
“Good evening, Ms. Daniels.”
“Hi.” Kenzie looked beyond him for Angus’s mother, but the two of them were alone.
Angus was hopping excitedly in front of her.
“What’s in the bag?”
“Angus,” his father warned.
“No, it’s okay,” Kenzie said quickly. “Minnows.”
The boy’s eyes widened. “Can I see?”
Obligingly she opened the container. As he leaned over it, she caught his father’s eye and smiled. Was there anything more endearing than a curious seven-year-old? Besides, it gave her an excuse to look at Ross, because he was certainly what you’d call easy on the eye.
Only, Ross didn’t return her smile. The expression on his rugged face was that of a man looking at a…a specimen under a microscope or something. It was a probing look, as though he was trying to figure out what made her tick.
“Are you going fishing with those?” Angus was obviously fascinated with the contents of the foam container.
“I’m going to feed them to my birds.”
“Wow!” he breathed. “What kind of birds eat minnows?”
“Shore birds, mostly. Like herons and egrets.”
Could those blue eyes get any wider? “Do you own a heron, Kenzie?”
She laughed and felt something wicked stirring inside her. Maybe because Ross Calder was standing there looking so impatient, as though letting Angus talk to her was the last thing he wanted. “Tell you what. If you’d like, and your father says okay, you can come over to my place tomorrow and see for yourself. I think you’ll be pretty impressed.”
Angus whirled. “Can we?”
“We?”
“I can’t drive myself, can I?”
Kenzie bit her lip to keep from grinning. He was a cheeky little Brit all right, and more of his father’s son than had been evident at first.
“We’ll see.” Ross’s tone didn’t hint at what he was thinking. But his expression made Kenzie wonder if maybe he wasn’t having trouble making up his mind. He almost appeared to be feeling uncertain about whether to give in to the boy’s wishes or tell him no outright. Surely an odd reaction coming from a man who seemed as self-confident as Ross Calder?
“Please?”
“Angus. We can talk about it tomorrow. Right now we’re late for the movie.”
“Better hurry,” Kenzie agreed. “It’s the only theater around and it fills up fast. Come on over after ten, okay?” She gave them directions to her house, said goodbye and walked off feeling pretty pleased with herself for having made up Ross Calder’s mind for him.
Okay, so maybe she shouldn’t have. After all, she wasn’t stupid, and she strongly suspected that Ross Calder didn’t want to have another thing to do with her. You’d have to be blind to miss the body language. He was obviously used to giving orders and having them followed. And his orders were clear: Keep away from my kid.
Not that Kenzie didn’t respect those wishes. But it irked her that he could be so standoffish when Angus was so much the opposite.
Besides, she hadn’t given him a single reason to dislike her, had she? Was she sending out the vibes of an ax murderess or something?
Oh, the heck with Ross Calder. Angus’s reaction when he saw her birds up close would be well worth his father’s unwilling participation. Kenzie had joined the local shorebird rescue society about a month after moving to Buxton. Her whitewashed cottage had had an aviary in the back, and when Kenzie’s landlord had told her that the former tenants had been rescue volunteers, Kenzie had immediately decided to do the same. The moment she had been given her first orphaned baby bird to hand feed, she’d been hooked. Now she had more than a dozen feathered orphans under her care, and a tour of the aviary was a real treat for any youngster. Kenzie ought to know—she’d hosted Hatteras Elementary School field trips often enough.
But even as she stowed her bags in the back of her pickup, Kenzie’s thoughts returned to Ross. Why did he act so uptight all the time? If he wasn’t careful he’d wipe that sunny smile off Angus’s face for good.
“I should know,” Kenzie muttered ruefully.
But she wasn’t going to think about her own father right now. No, sir. She’d only end up feeling as grumpy as Angus’s dad.
It was a beautiful evening and she intended to enjoy it. Once she got home and finished her chores, she was going to sit on the dock, dangle her feet in the water of Pamlico Sound and watch the sun go down. And she would pretend she didn’t have a care in the world.
Which, at the moment, she hadn’t. She’d finished enough drawings to meet publication deadlines until the end of the week, and she didn’t have any appointments in Norfolk until Thursday. That meant she was free to do whatever she wanted tomorrow, a delicious thought after all the work of the past few weeks, when she’d sat up all night waiting for the drawing muse to hit and enduring harassing phone calls from her editor, because Maureen hated missed deadlines.
As for Ross and Angus Calder, if they didn’t show up tomorrow she wouldn’t be at all surprised.
Only, to be honest, a little disappointed.
I must be crazy, Ross was thinking to himself. Taking Angus to a strange woman’s house to look at her birds. What on earth did the kid want to do that for? After all, he’d spent nearly an hour that morning tossing bread crusts to the seagulls on the back deck. Surely Kenzie Daniels’s birds couldn’t be as interesting as those dive-bombing scavengers that had made the boy laugh out loud for the first time since coming to America? Or worth a drive in the growing heat of the day?
But here he was, easing the rental car onto the highway heading south toward the town of Buxton.
“Hey, look!” Angus pointed to the black-and-white Cape Hatteras lighthouse on the horizon. “Is that the one we climbed yesterday?”
“Sure is.”
A few years ago the lighthouse had been moved several thousand feet inland, away from the eroding beach where it had stood for more than a hundred years. Ross had enjoyed studying the photos of this engineering phenomenon at the small National Park Ranger Station nearby, but Angus had been more excited about the climb itself.
They had made it all the way to the top without stopping, Angus ducking beneath the legs of the tourists puffing along ahead of them in order to be there first. He hadn’t wanted to go back down again for the longest time, and Ross had allowed him to look his fill of the ocean, the beach, the rooftops of the houses far below, pleased to see him so animated.
Admittedly it was the first time Ross had felt a little bit at ease with his son. Not worried that he was going to say or do something to make the boy withdraw into himself, the way he had when they’d first met in England after Penelope’s death.
What a bleak meeting, Ross thought, recalling how awkwardly he had stood in his former in-laws’ icy drawing room while Angus, led in by a servant, had ducked his head and refused to say hello. Penelope’s parents weren’t even there. They had flown to Majorca, hoping the sunshine would help them get over their only daughter’s death, which had occurred several weeks earlier when Penelope’s commuter plane had crashed while carrying her on holiday. They had left no message for Ross, although they had known he was coming to take his son to America—nor, apparently, had they told Angus about it, either.
Angus had been unaware of the recent upheaval in his life—that his father, having only recently learned of his existence, had tried to see him, only to be denied visitation rights by his mother. When no amount of pleading, arguing or, finally, threatening had swayed Penelope from her stubborn stance, Ross had reluctantly resorted to intervention from a court of law.
A lot of good that had done him, he thought briefly. Not only had he unleashed a media frenzy thanks to the Archers’ well-known name, but Angus had been spirited away to some isolated Norfolk estate. And Penelope, pleading a fragile constitution, had flown off to Naples with some millionaire boyfriend, providing even more fodder for the gossip columns.
Grimacing at the memory, he massaged the tight spot in his chest. He didn’t like thinking back on those days or dwelling on how little progress he and Angus had made since then.
On the other hand, Angus seemed to have had fun being with him yesterday and there was no reason things should be different today. Maybe a visit to MacKenzie Daniels’s birds would recapture a little of the spontaneity they’d felt while touring the lighthouse together.
That, in effect, was why he’d agreed to take Angus to Buxton.
On the other hand, he had to admit that he, too, was a little bit curious. Not so much about MacKenzie Daniels’s birds, but about the woman herself.
Of course, his curiosity was purely academic. It had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that he felt guilty at how curtly he’d treated her on the beach yesterday. He’d not meant to do so, of course. But when she’d pointed out to him how dangerous it was to let Angus go near the water by himself he’d all but panicked at the thought of what might have happened, and at how absolutely ignorant he was of the commonsense rules of parenting. So he’d retreated behind a facade of rudeness, telling himself that he resented Kenzie Daniels for the sweetly easy way she treated his son—and the way Angus responded to her.
Okay, so maybe he did resent her a little. Ross didn’t care to admit it, but you’d have to be blind not to see how much more relaxed and outgoing Angus seemed in Kenzie’s presence. Far more so than he’d ever been with his father.
Ross thought back to the way Kenzie had lectured him for letting Angus go down to the beach alone, and a cold hand settled once again around his heart. Had she been right in saying Angus was too young to be trusted near the water? But how was he supposed to know these things?
Cripes, it was proving harder to be a father than it was to practice law! Maybe Alex hadn’t been entirely wrong. There were so many rules to learn and so many things you had to figure out intuitively. How on earth was he ever going to get the hang of it?
“Kenzie’s lucky to live here,” Angus said suddenly.
Ross realized the sand dunes on either side of the highway had given way to the small shops and filling stations of Buxton. “Think so?” Ross hadn’t been too impressed with the town yesterday although, to be fair, they’d turned off at the lighthouse without seeing much of it. But looking around now he wasn’t inclined to change his mind, except for liking the fact that Buxton was less developed than Avon, crowded as it was with rental houses, restaurants and souvenir shops.
“What kind of birds do you think she has?” It was a question Angus had been asking pretty regularly since last night. Even the comedy he and his father had seen at the theater hadn’t held his interest as long as the thought of Kenzie’s birds.
“She said something about herons and egrets,” Ross reminded him. Although why anyone would want to keep one of those as a pet was beyond him. He didn’t like animals in general, and certainly couldn’t see anyone owning anything more exotic than a goldfish.
“Look, isn’t this where she said to turn? Right after the fire station?”
The road sign read Soundside Lane. “Good eye, son.”
Angus grinned shyly. “Thanks.”
The car bumped down a narrow paved road past thinning trees and marshland. In the distance the waters of Pamlico Sound shimmered in the sunshine. The road ended at a curving shell driveway. Ross recognized the old black pickup truck he’d seen outside the bait-and-tackle shop last night.
“Looks like this is it.”
A sandy path led to the house, which was built at ground level, not elevated like newer ones designed to meet federal flood regulations. Its age showed in the weathered white siding and tin roof. A gnarled oak tree shaded the front deck. Ross had noticed yesterday that, unlike Avon, Buxton had a number of older cottages like this one, which must have been built by the original families who had populated the island. They had probably planted the trees, too, because the oak in this front yard had obviously been around for half a century or more.
Was MacKenzie Daniels a local of long standing? She didn’t talk like a rural North Carolinian.
“I’m going inside.” Angus was already unbuckling his seat belt.
Ross watched him race up the path toward the house, showing none of the painful uncertainty he usually exhibited in new situations.
“What is it about that woman?” he muttered in despair.
From her kitchen window, Kenzie saw the car turn into the driveway. A sudden wave of panic overwhelmed her. “Oh, my gosh, they’re really here!”
After drying her hands at the sink, she hurried into the front room. “Thanks for the warning, guys,” she scolded the dogs lolling on the rug.
Both of them thumped their tails on the floor but made no move to rise. If they were aware of her panic they didn’t show it.
Kenzie froze as she reached for the doorknob. Was there time to brush her hair, check her makeup for smudges? She hadn’t really expected them to come, although she had taken the precaution of getting up early to run a vacuum over the floors and cart the newspapers out to the recycling bin. And just in case they did show up and were hungry, she’d driven down to the Gingerbread House in Frisco for doughnuts and almond bear claws.
But there wasn’t time to take a final look in the mirror. Through the front windows, she saw them coming up the walk, Angus in the lead. Kenzie switched her gaze to Ross, noticing the way the sun painted chestnut highlights in his dark hair. The way he had thrust his hands casually into the pockets of his jeans. He was wearing a faded blue T-shirt, which was stretched tight over his wide shoulders and chest.
A totally unfamiliar feeling of shyness crept over her. What had she done, inviting this man into her house? Her home was her private domain and she’d never asked a stranger to come in before. Not a darkly virile man like this one, at any rate.
She looked around as though seeing the place for the first time. What would he think of the cluttered rooms, the shabby furnishings? The peeling paint on the windows and walls? She had the feeling that Ross Calder lived in a decidedly more…genteel environment than this one.
Instantly sanity returned. She had no reason to be embarrassed by the bare wooden floors of her living room, the slouchy slipcovers on her sagging sofa, the shells and driftwood lining the windowsills.
Besides, Ross Calder and his son were here to see her birds, not to judge her for the kind of housekeeper she was.
Her skittering heartbeat slowed as she opened the front door and saw Angus clattering up the steps. She returned his bright smile, resisting the urge to sweep him into a hug. “Hi! I wasn’t sure you were coming.”
“I told you I wanted to see your birds, didn’t I?”
Kenzie looked past him. Ross was still standing on the path below her, she on the deck. Their eyes were level as she looked a challenge at him. “How about you? Are you here under protest or as a willing participant?”
Her directness startled him. But then the corners of his mouth turned up. “Guilty as charged, I’m afraid.”
Kenzie had never seen him smile before. Good grief! Did the man know he was armed and dangerous when he smiled like that? Her heart started tripping again and she could feel herself blushing. This was ridiculous! Good-looking men had smiled at her before—her former fiancé wasn’t exactly homely, either, but even Brent hadn’t caused this fluttering awareness of his masculinity deep inside her.
“To which charge are you referring?” she asked tartly, glad for something to say.
“To the latter. Rest assured, Ms. Daniels, there’s nothing I’d rather be doing than bringing my son here to visit.”
She’d never wonder again where Angus had come by his charm. When Ross Calder chose to turn it on, it hit you like a ton of bricks. And he seemed to mean what he said—unless he was a superb liar, like her father.
“Please. Just Kenzie.” Again she was glad for something to say and for the fact that her voice sounded calm.
“Hey, Kenzie! Who are they?”
The dogs were sniffing at Angus through the screen door, tails wagging.
“That’s Zoom and Jazz. And you should be honored. They don’t get up for just anybody.”
“Can I let them out here on the porch with us?”
Kenzie motioned Ross through the gate at the top of the stairs, then closed it behind him. “Go ahead.”
“They look like tigers! What kind are they? Are they nice?”
“They’re greyhounds. And yes, they like everybody. That orange-and-black color is called brindle.”
Angus stroked the dainty heads while the dogs’ tails wagged harder. “Which is which?”
“Jazz has more black in his coat.”
“Retired racers?” Ross asked.
Kenzie nodded, surprised he knew.
“They’re racing dogs?” Angus breathed.
“They were. In some parts of the country greyhounds are raced for sport, like horses. Zoom and Jazz ran on a track in Florida. When their careers were over they needed a place to live. I got them from a friend who runs a greyhound rescue near Disney World.”
“Do they still like to run?” Angus was clearly fascinated.
“You bet. That’s why I never let them outside without a leash. They’ll take off like a shot. But most of the time they sleep. They’re couch potatoes, really.”
His freckled nose wrinkled. “Couch potatoes?”
Ross grinned. “An American word. They like to lie around watching TV.”
Angus brightened. “So do I.”
Ross and Kenzie both laughed. And all at once warmth bubbled inside Kenzie’s heart. No doubt about it, she liked being on friendly terms with Ross much better than being at odds with him, like last night in the parking lot, when she couldn’t figure out what she’d said or done to make him seem so distant toward her.
Angus turned to his father. “Could we have a greyhound?”
“When you go to college.”
“That means no, doesn’t it?”
“I’m afraid so.”
But Angus didn’t seem to care. He whirled back to Kenzie. “Are the birds here in your house?”
“They’re out back. C’mon.”
Leaving the dogs on the deck, she led Angus and Ross through the yard. The boy danced excitedly beside her, while Ross followed more slowly. Kenzie opened the padlock on the screen door to the shed. “This used to be a garage. Now it’s kind of a hospital for sick birds.”
Angus’s eyes were completely round. “A bird hospital?”
“That’s right. So you’ll need to be quiet. These are wild birds, not pets. They’ll be scared of you, so don’t move too fast or get too close, okay?”
“Okay.” His voice had dropped to an awed whisper.
Grinning, Kenzie’s eyes sought Ross’s. Didn’t the guy know how adorable his kid was?
Apparently not. Instead of smiling indulgently at his son, he was studying the sagging roof of the shed, probably wondering, Kenzie didn’t doubt, if it was safe to enter.
Her mouth set. “Come on in. It won’t collapse on you.”
The front half of the shed was crammed with boxes, cabinets and mismatched drawers. Two refrigerators and a chest freezer took up one wall. Ross looked around at the cluttered workbench with its scale, storage bins and stacks of kitchen and medical utensils. Heavy leather gloves were draped over the sink. It was cleaner than he’d expected, and apparently structurally sound after all.
“Oh, wow! Look at that!”