eating his breakfast, a plate of eggs and ham and biscuits. Finally Sarah turned her attention to his companion and smiled. "I do beg your pardon, but do you think I might have a moment of Mr. Kane's time?"
The woman raised one eyebrow and, very slowly, rose from her chair until she was towering over Sarah by at least six inches. With only a single pointed glance at Morgan, she turned and walked out the door. Sarah tried to relax. The effort was futile. Moving to the vacated chair, she sank into it.
"Hungry?" Kane asked as he continued to cut his ham.
"I didn't come here to eat," she replied. "I came here to talk."
He shoved his plate away, then wiped his mouth with a napkin. Sitting back in his chair, he fished inside his shirt pocket, withdrew a toothpick, and slid it between his lips. "So talk."
The way he was looking at her made it difficult for Sarah to breathe. He no longer wore the white suit she'd seen so often in the past days, but had reverted to the garb of a dock worker. She found her eyes drawn to the vee of his shirt that plunged open to the middle of his chest.
"Well?" he prompted, making her gaze fly back to his face.
"I—I feel we should discuss our plans for the journey." She swallowed hard.
He slid the toothpick from one corner of his mouth to the other with his tongue. A moment's silence ensued, then, "The arrangements have been taken care of."
"By whom?"
"By me."
"Didn't you forget something?"
He shook his head, spilling a fringe of hair over his brow. "I don't think so."
"You forgot to consult me."
Kane smiled. "I didn't forget, Miss St. James. I just didn't do it."
Her mouth dropped open as he reached for his hat, then shoved his chair back from the table. She sprang from her seat as he moved toward the lobby.
The Brits remaining in the spacious foyer leapt to their feet at her entrance, but she rushed on to keep up with Kane's longer strides. They were halfway across the street by the time Sarah lost her patience completely and grabbed his arm, stopping him in his tracks. Jerking him around, she glared up into his face. "Don't you dare walk away from me when I'm talking to you. I have a few things to say to you, and you are going to listen!"
"Yeah?"
"Yeah." She mocked him.
He pivoted on his heels and continued toward the docks. Sarah watched him go, her anger escalating beyond control.
Never had she met a man so arrogant, so rude, so lacking in morals or etiquette or respect for propriety. It took all her willpower to recall that a lady should never show anger in public. Clenching her teeth, she opened her parasol with a snap, planted it none too gently against her shoulder, and struck off after him.
By the time she reached the supply store, the boardwalk was crowded with children, their small, dark, mostly nude bodies pressing toward the doorway. Their eyes were alight with an anticipation that nearly crackled the air, their faces beaming with pleasure.
Then Sarah saw Kane step from the store. Suddenly the children were swarming around him, jumping and grabbing for the candy sticks he had piled high in his hat.
Sarah stared. She felt weak-kneed and dizzy, as if some- thing had melted inside her. Gone was the hateful twist to Morgan's mouth, the iciness in his eyes. There was a warmth in his smile, an easiness in his manner, a kindness in his laughter as the children crawled over him in quest of the treats. The sight brought the myth, the legend of his special magic with people, surging up to remind her that there was goodness buried deep inside this man—no matter how callously he behaved toward her.
At last, candy in hand, the children scattered up and down the street. All, that is, but one. A tiny girl, hardly taller than Morgan's knee, clung to his leg with one arm while she sucked on her lolly and gazed adoringly up at him. He grinned, stooped beside her, slid his arm around her middle, and pulled her up against him. She held out her candy for him to lick, then kissed him
The woman raised one eyebrow and, very slowly, rose from her chair until she was towering over Sarah by at least six inches. With only a single pointed glance at Morgan, she turned and walked out the door. Sarah tried to relax. The effort was futile. Moving to the vacated chair, she sank into it.
"Hungry?" Kane asked as he continued to cut his ham.
"I didn't come here to eat," she replied. "I came here to talk."
He shoved his plate away, then wiped his mouth with a napkin. Sitting back in his chair, he fished inside his shirt pocket, withdrew a toothpick, and slid it between his lips. "So talk."
The way he was looking at her made it difficult for Sarah to breathe. He no longer wore the white suit she'd seen so often in the past days, but had reverted to the garb of a dock worker. She found her eyes drawn to the vee of his shirt that plunged open to the middle of his chest.
"Well?" he prompted, making her gaze fly back to his face.
"I—I feel we should discuss our plans for the journey." She swallowed hard.
He slid the toothpick from one corner of his mouth to the other with his tongue. A moment's silence ensued, then, "The arrangements have been taken care of."
"By whom?"
"By me."
"Didn't you forget something?"
He shook his head, spilling a fringe of hair over his brow. "I don't think so."
"You forgot to consult me."
Kane smiled. "I didn't forget, Miss St. James. I just didn't do it."
Her mouth dropped open as he reached for his hat, then shoved his chair back from the table. She sprang from her seat as he moved toward the lobby.
The Brits remaining in the spacious foyer leapt to their feet at her entrance, but she rushed on to keep up with Kane's longer strides. They were halfway across the street by the time Sarah lost her patience completely and grabbed his arm, stopping him in his tracks. Jerking him around, she glared up into his face. "Don't you dare walk away from me when I'm talking to you. I have a few things to say to you, and you are going to listen!"
"Yeah?"
"Yeah." She mocked him.
He pivoted on his heels and continued toward the docks. Sarah watched him go, her anger escalating beyond control.
Never had she met a man so arrogant, so rude, so lacking in morals or etiquette or respect for propriety. It took all her willpower to recall that a lady should never show anger in public. Clenching her teeth, she opened her parasol with a snap, planted it none too gently against her shoulder, and struck off after him.
By the time she reached the supply store, the boardwalk was crowded with children, their small, dark, mostly nude bodies pressing toward the doorway. Their eyes were alight with an anticipation that nearly crackled the air, their faces beaming with pleasure.
Then Sarah saw Kane step from the store. Suddenly the children were swarming around him, jumping and grabbing for the candy sticks he had piled high in his hat.
Sarah stared. She felt weak-kneed and dizzy, as if some- thing had melted inside her. Gone was the hateful twist to Morgan's mouth, the iciness in his eyes. There was a warmth in his smile, an easiness in his manner, a kindness in his laughter as the children crawled over him in quest of the treats. The sight brought the myth, the legend of his special magic with people, surging up to remind her that there was goodness buried deep inside this man—no matter how callously he behaved toward her.
At last, candy in hand, the children scattered up and down the street. All, that is, but one. A tiny girl, hardly taller than Morgan's knee, clung to his leg with one arm while she sucked on her lolly and gazed adoringly up at him. He grinned, stooped beside her, slid his arm around her middle, and pulled her up against him. She held out her candy for him to lick, then kissed him
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