For His Son's Sake. Ellen Tanner Marsh

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СКАЧАТЬ of shying away from serious relationships since he and his former wife, Penelope, had parted ways—and not on the best of terms. Heck, he’d made a point of shying away from women altogether, but this woman wasn’t the kind any red-blooded male could ignore. With tanned legs that seemed to go on forever and curves in just the right places, she had the knockout good looks that could set any man’s pulses racing. But it was more than sex appeal. There was something about her, in the way she was smiling at Angus, in the way she tossed her head and set her ponytail dancing, that seemed sweet and natural and irresistible—even to him.

      “Here, hold them like this.”

      The kite was controlled by a pair of strings attached to bright red handles, and the woman was showing Angus how to hold one in each hand, then change the kite’s movement by slowly raising and lowering them.

      “Look at me! Look at me!”

      Angus was crowing with excitement as the kite responded. Ross had never once seen the boy look animated since first laying eyes on him at Penelope’s parents’ house in London.

      It shamed Ross to remember that he and Angus had shaken hands at that meeting, Ross feeling truly out of depth for the first time in his life. He remembered wondering awkwardly whether he was supposed to hug the kid or not. Scared that if he did, Angus might burst into embarrassed tears or, worse, push him away.

      And Angus had seemed equally ready to do either—or both.

      There was that pain in his chest again.

      He left the boardwalk, frowning. “Angus! You were only supposed to stay twenty minutes!”

      Startled, Angus and the woman turned. Ross had been standing up in the dunes where neither could see him. Now he stalked across the sand toward them, brows drawn together.

      “Is that your dad?” Kenzie whispered to Angus. “He looks mad.”

      “He hates when I’m late.” There was a thread of panic in Angus’s voice. “Kenzie, I don’t even know when twenty minutes is.”

      And why should he? He didn’t even have a watch.

      Kenzie turned, steeling herself to take the offensive. There was no doubt the man striding toward her was Angus’s father. Those blue eyes and untidy black hair were definitely the same. But Angus’s sweet, smiling expression was infinitely preferable to that rugged, unpleasant look. He was wearing jeans, expensive boat shoes and a worn T-shirt, the kind you bought from Eddie Bauer or J. Crew to make you look outdoorsy.

      Only, this man didn’t need to invent an image for himself. He already had a style of his own—in spades. He exuded the aggressive maleness of a man in control of his world, a man not used to being ignored. Kenzie made the conscious effort to keep her mouth closed so her jaw wouldn’t drop as she stared.

      “Where have you been?” Ross demanded.

      Angus lowered his head. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “I didn’t know I was late.”

      His father folded his arms across his chest. Definitely not a conciliatory stance. “Then I guess you have no business coming down here by yourself.”

      This time Kenzie’s jaw did drop. “Excuse me?” she blurted, astounded by his tone. “I’m confused as to who’s at fault here. Angus seems a little young to be allowed on the beach alone.”

      “Does he?”

      Was there a crack in that tough-guy veneer? Even though he’d shot the question back at her, Kenzie thought he suddenly sounded uncertain. She turned to the boy. “How old are you, Angus? Six? Seven?”

      “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 СКАЧАТЬ