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
