LITMIR.BIZ

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shifted over to give his older brother a bit more room, he checked out the violinist again. She was looking over her shoulder now, giving him an excellent view of her appealing profile. Leaning back slightly, Nathan caught a glimpse of a little blond-haired boy sitting behind her on a white folding chair. Her son?

      Checking out her left hand, he noted the glint of gold in the early afternoon sun. It figured. She appeared to be in her thirties, and most women that age were married.

      Not that it mattered.

      The odds of connecting with the first woman to catch his eye were miniscule at best.

      But maybe…just maybe…there was a woman out there somewhere who would be able to overlook his past. Who would delve into his heart and see that it had been transformed.

      “I, Marci, take you, Christopher…”

      As his sister’s words echoed strong and sure in the still air, Nathan shifted his attention to the weathered gazebo. Marci stood framed in the lattice archway, her head tipped back, her gaze on the man she loved as she repeated the words after the minister.

      Today she would begin a new life.

      And so would he, Nathan vowed.

      So would he.

      An hour later, a piece of cake in one hand and a glass of punch in the other, Nathan stepped into the garden of The Devon Rose. He wasn’t surprised Marci and Christopher had decided to have their reception at Heather’s tearoom, Lighthouse Lane’s most prestigious address. It was where fate—or perhaps the Lord—had brought them together for the second time, setting things in motion for their courtship.

      Once more, the genteel music of a string quartet drew his attention. Weaving through the crowd, he followed one of the brick paths that crisscrossed the formal garden with geometric precision.

      When the ensemble came into view, he stepped off to one side. It was the same group that had played at the wedding, he noted, homing in on the slender violinist. The musicians must have packed up their instruments and headed straight for the reception the instant the ceremony ended.

      The little blond boy was here, too, tucked into a nook a few feet away from his mom, who was shooting him frequent, protective glances. He was sitting on a folding chair, swinging his dangling feet, not in the least interested in the book lying in his lap. Instead, he was hungrily eyeing the plates of cake being juggled by the guests who were milling about.

      On impulse, Nathan worked his way through the crowd and headed for the child. Holding out his untouched plate, he smiled. “Would you like some cake?”

      The little boy’s eyes lit up, but he hesitated and cast a silent plea toward his mother.

      As Nathan glanced her way, his stomach knotted at the mistrust in her eyes. He was used to suspicious looks. They’d been part of his life for as long as he could remember. But he’d hoped he’d left them behind.

      Summoning up a stiff smile, he waited for her decision.

      Finally, without missing a beat of music, she gave a slight nod.

      “Oh, boy!”

      At the youngster’s enthusiastic reaction, Nathan’s taut smile softened and he handed over the plate. “How come I knew you liked cake?”

      The boy dived in, spearing a hunk of frosting with the fork. “I like the icing best.” He proved it by putting the whole glob in his mouth at once. “Than koo.”

      Chuckling at the garbled expression of gratitude, Nathan lifted his cup of punch in salute. “Well, enjoy it.”

      He started to walk away, but the boy’s voice brought him to a halt. “My name’s Zach. What’s yours?”

      A quick look confirmed that the violinist’s jade-green irises were fixed on him. Watchful. Warning him off. Her tense posture was in direct contrast to the soothing classical music emanating from her violin.

      Instead of moving back toward the boy, Nathan responded from where he stood. “Nathan.”

      “You want to see my book?” Zach held up a Dr. Seuss classic, his expression hopeful.

      “I don’t think your mommy would like that.”

      Zach’s face fell and he lowered the book to his lap. “Yeah. I guess not.” He poked at his cake. “The only good thing about weddings is the cake.”

      “Do you go to a lot of weddings?”

      “Uh-huh. They’re all the same. Boring.”

      In his peripheral vision, Nathan could sense the boy’s mother still watching him. He wanted to ask Zach some more questions. Find out why he wasn’t home with his father. Or a babysitter. Sitting still for such an extended period had to be torture for a youngster.

      But he didn’t think the woman would appreciate his interest. Not in light of the strong back-off vibes she was sending.

      It couldn’t be personal, though, he consoled himself. He’d noticed her protective behavior at the wedding, too. And here, as well, even before he’d spoken to Zach. She was just wary, period.

      And that raised more questions.

      None of which were likely to be answered, Nathan conceded.

      Writing off the encounter, he smiled once more at Zach. “Hang in there, champ. It’ll be over before you know it.”

      “That’s what Mom always says.” The youngster heaved a resigned sigh and continued to shovel the cake into his mouth.

      “She’s right. It will still be daytime when this party is over. Maybe you can play with your friends later.”

      “I don’t have any friends.”

      Before Nathan could follow up on that unexpected response, the song ended and the little boy’s mother spoke in a soft but insistent voice.

      “Zach, come over here and let me wipe that sticky icing off your fingers or it will get all over your jacket.”

      The youngster speared the last bite of cake and shoved it into his mouth. Scooting off his chair, he trotted over to Nathan and handed him the empty plate. “Thanks a lot. That was good.”

      “You’re welcome.”

      He took the plate and watched the boy join his mother, she gave him another suspicious scan as she fished a tissue out of her purse and pulled her son close.

      Taking the hint, he turned away and strolled back into the crowd of guests. Still wondering why the precocious little blond-haired boy had no friends.

      And why the green-eyed beauty was so wary.

      “Mom! You’re gonna rub all the skin off my face!”

      At Zach’s protest, Catherine Walker eased off on the vigorous scrubbing she was giving her son’s cheeks and double-checked to confirm that the tall, brown-haired man with the slightly gaunt face had disappeared into the throng of wedding guests.

      “Sorry, honey.” She took one more swipe at a stubborn speck of icing that had somehow found its way to his eyebrow, then pocketed the sticky tissue.

      “How much longer is this thing gonna last?”

      “A while.”

      He huffed out a sigh. “That means a really long time.”

      “I brought a lot of books for you. And there are paper and crayons in the tote bag, too. Why don’t you draw some pictures?”

      “I’d rather go to the beach.”

      “I know. We’ll go tomorrow, okay?”

      “Yeah. I guess.” He stuck his hands into his pockets and surveyed the wedding guests. “Maybe that man will come back and talk to me again.”

      “You know the rule about talking to strangers, Zach.”

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