Harlequin Superromance January 2014 - Bundle 1 of 2: Everywhere She Goes\A Promise for the Baby\That Summer at the Shore (56 page)

Jamie swallowed a yawn. She would have preferred having this debate after a decent night's sleep. “I have a deed
and
it's in my grandfather's will—the one he revised when he sold his other parcels. The real estate he left me is the section with the house and barn, plus the acre on the beach.”

Kim removed a folder from her briefcase. “Over eighteen months ago, Zack purchased several tracts north of the road. He understood they included everything to the water's edge. You're welcome to see the sales agreement.”

“There's no need. Granddad wanted to leave my brother some cash, so he sold some of the land he owned, but not my two sections. He was a romantic—that's why he gave them to me.” Jamie smiled. She'd loved her grandfather's idealistic streak. “My brother doesn't have a sentimental bone in his body, which is strange. That trait commonly passes through the males in our family.”

“So you're the sentimental sibling?”

“I don't cry at sad movies, but I'll keep the land, and David wouldn't.”

“May I see the deed?”

Jamie went into her office and opened the document file Granddad's lawyer had given her. She flipped through the contents and found both deeds. She made duplicates on her scanner-printer and took them to the living room.

Kim Wheeler studied the deed to the waterfront property. “I have to compare this to Zack's paperwork,” she said finally. “And we may require an official survey.”

Jamie shrugged. “Fine, but I'm not budging, and the Little Blue Fruit Stand is opening on Wednesday to get the business going smoothly by the Memorial Day holiday. Granddad's records indicate it's a busy weekend.”

Kim tucked the copies into her briefcase. “If you don't mind me asking, why run your business on
that
land? It's on a dirt road, at the dead end of a public access. There must be more profitable locations.”

“It makes a profit, which I can use, but the stand isn't solely about selling produce. Granddad could have gone closer to the highway, but he
didn't
because he wanted to spend his days by the beach. His customers liked going there, too. It can happen that way in small towns. And he got tourist traffic, too.”

“I see.”

Jamie yawned again. “Sorry. I was awake till four.”

“Couldn't sleep?”

“I was working—got caught up in a new design and didn't notice how late it was. I make jewelry and market it in local tourist and gift shops.”

“You'll have to show me your jewelry sometime,” Kim said politely. “But I should go now and let you go back to bed.”

“Don't you need a ride?” Jamie asked.

“If I know Zack, he's likely arranged for a car to collect me.”

“And forgot to tell you, right?”

“He's concentrating on other things.”

Jamie tried not to sound bitter as she said, “Sure, there's
always
an excuse for people acting badly.”

* * *

Z
ACK
DROVE
INTO
the airport and parked. He raced inside the terminal and read the arrivals and departures boards—he wasn't late after all; Brad's flight had just landed.

At the security checkpoint, Zack watched the passengers greeting friends and family, or searching for the baggage-claim area. It took a minute to recognize the thin form limping in his direction. Somehow his mental picture of Brad as a healthy, muscular marine hadn't changed, even though he'd visited his brother in the hospital. Brad still had the military haircut and neat appearance, yet the man beneath the clothing seemed shadowed and broken.

Hell, he
had
been broken.

But he was getting better; the therapists said so. He'd simply hit a plateau and would benefit from a fresh environment.

“Good to see you, bro.” As they clasped hands Zack tried not to reveal anything except a hearty welcome.

“I know. I look like crap.” Brad grinned wryly, obviously seeing through Zack's effort. “I wish you hadn't needed to drive so far to get me, but the doctor recommended I travel on a larger plane.”

“I was happy to come. Got your luggage checked?”

“A small duffel.”

“Not
that
small, I hope,” said Zack, and then realized he sounded overly jovial. His father had warned him to act natural—only, what was natural? Certainly not having your brother nearly blown apart by a roadside bomb. “Aren't you staying for a while?”

Brad's face was hard to read. “I don't require much and I can buy more. There must be stores in town.”

“And a shop at the resort.”

“Thanks, but I'll stick to something less grandiose. I'm sure the shop caters to your high-toned guests, not ordinary jarheads.”

“Hey, those high-toned guests pay the bills,” Zack reminded him jokingly. “But it
is
mostly golf gear and leisure stuff, so it may not suit you. Feel free to borrow from my closet if you can't find what you want.”

They stopped for the duffel bag. Zack carried it easily and slowed his steps to Brad's pace.

Brad whistled when he saw the Mercedes. “Pricey vehicle.”

“We have to provide an atmosphere of luxury. It's part of the aura that keeps visitors returning. They come to be pampered.”

“You're the expert.”

Settling into the passenger seat, Brad eyed him. “You seem okay. But what's going on? Mom hasn't gotten any emails from you for a week and she says that's odd.”

“It's nothing to worry about,” Zack said calmly, and realized he should send a note so it didn't appear as if anything was wrong; his folks didn't need to lose any more sleep. “A woman is squatting on my land next door. She has a deplorable trailer and thinks she's going to use it to sell fruits and vegetables. Kim is here, attending to the situation.”

“What about the police?”

“Ms. Conroe claims she owns the property, and the sheriff insists it's a civil matter. She has this way of verbally twisting things. Kim actually seems to
enjoy
her,” he ended in disgust.

“What's she like?” Brad asked.

“Long brunette hair, stubborn chin...smart mouth.”

“Hmm. She's made quite an impression on you. I'll have to meet her.”

“It won't be on
my
beachfront land if you do.”

Brad chuckled, at the same time sending him an odd look. Zack wasn't sure how to react, so he remained silent as his brother tilted his seat back and went to sleep.

Quite an impression.

True. Jamie Conroe had done that, dragging her ugly trailer to the site and putting up those signs. He'd remembered that she was pretty, but still had thought of her as a rugged farmer type in overalls. This morning the sun had gleamed on shining, sleep-rumpled hair, and her worn pink bathrobe had sagged, revealing soft skin that sloped into very sweet curves. Not that he'd seen much. Nor was he interested.

Ten minutes passed and Brad stirred restlessly. “Sorry for flaking out.”

“Go ahead. Sleep.”

“I'm a master of cat naps. We had to grab them whenever we could in Iraq and be alert at an instant's notice.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Brad shifted and massaged his left leg. “I appreciate the offer. Mom and Dad try, but I can see it bugs the hell out of them.”

“What about post-traumatic stress. Is that a problem?” Zack probed. The frank question was a risk, yet he and Brad had always been honest with each other, and Dad had said to be himself.

“Some. I've spoken with the counselors, and they think I'm handling it.”

“I'm here if you want to talk about anything.”

“I know,” Brad agreed. “Right now I'd rather focus on something different. Tell me more about this woman who's got you so bothered. Is she attractive?”

Jamie Conroe wasn't on Zack's list of favorite topics, but he couldn't refuse after offering his brother his choice of subjects.

“If I'm being honest, she's very...attractive,” he said, picturing the woman he'd seen earlier. “Mid to late twenties. A delicate complexion, particularly for someone who works outside. And she's got gorgeous blue eyes.” It was strange that he recalled so many details.

“You mentioned she had a smart mouth. What kinds of things does she say?”

As Zack reluctantly described some of the conversations he'd had with his neighbor, Brad smiled, finally laughing so hard that he started coughing.

“My God, bro.” Brad caught his breath in his damaged chest. “This woman really has your number.”

“I guess she knows what buttons to push. Maybe she's a con artist.”

“Kim will deal with it. How's she doing, anyway?”

“She's high profile now, really in demand.”

“But how is she personally?”

“Terrific,” Zack said. “Stunning as ever. And you know Kim—she's unflappable. The perfect attorney.”

Brad scratched his ankle. “Is she spending the night?”

“Trudy assigned her a guest room. I'd invite her to stay with us, but she draws a distinct professional line. I'm her client. She's my lawyer.”

“That's Kim's style.”

“She's looking forward to seeing you.”

Brad didn't respond. He stared at the passing scenery and Zack wondered what he was thinking. Did it upset him to be with people who'd known him before he was injured? Zack almost asked, then saw Brad was asleep again.

As the SUV approached the resort's entrance, Brad roused himself.

“Are we here?”

“This is it,” Zack said, hearing the pride that crept into his voice. He slowed to prolong the moment; none of the family had visited until today.

He'd spent a hefty sum on the stone entry to establish a defined border between the outside world and the place he'd created. The words
Mar Vista
were fastened to the stone arch in bold bronze letters. The coastal air was already putting a subtle patina on the metal.

“Mar Vista?” Brad questioned.

“It means ‘Sea View,'” he explained. “We're in California, so it seemed fitting to have a Spanish name—something catchy and easy to remember.”

“I thought your name would go on the thing.”

“The corporation is Denning Enterprises, but a resort should have a gracious title.”

The road curved through a grove of evergreen trees and then opened to the buildings nestled on the gentle slope. Care had been taken during construction to preserve as many of the trees as possible, and the buildings were reminiscent of the great lodges built in the Edwardian era. To the north occupants had a view of the coastline; to the west was the golf course and the brilliant blue ocean.

“Lord, Zack,” Brad said, staring at the vista. “You've done a damn fine job.”

“I'm glad you like it. Every penny I have is riding on this, and money from the folks, too. I'm going to make it a success.”

“That's what you'd say when we were kids and the teacher declared something couldn't be done.”

“And I never failed to pull it off.” Zack parked in his private space and gestured. “My apartment is above the offices. You can rest or do whatever you want. There's a garden with reclining chaises, or a pool if that appeals— Oh, and a hot tub and sauna. In the meantime, I should go to—”

“Work?” Brad finished.

“I can free up some hours later this afternoon.”

“Don't change your routine. I'm sick of people tiptoeing around me and making special arrangements. Mom and Dad haven't had a normal life since I came home.”

Yeah, Brad would hate that. Zack was the bullheaded son, determined to win no matter what, while his brother was the easygoing one. Few things had surprised Zack more than when Brad entered the Marine Corps. Yet he'd done well, rising in the ranks and becoming highly respected by the soldiers under his command.

He showed Brad the apartment, urged him to order from room service or one of the Mar Vista restaurants and trotted downstairs.

It was time to locate Kim and find out how soon Jamie Conroe and the Little Blue Fruit Stand would be gone.

CHAPTER THREE

T
HE
SURVEYORS
ARRIVED
with their gear the following Thursday morning. Jamie had a steady stream of customers the first hour, and soon the surveyors drifted over. They bought three baskets of strawberries and ate them on the spot.

During a quiet pause in business, Jamie settled in her Adirondack chair and took in the familiar scents and sounds. Her grandfather's heavy wood chair had dated to the 1950s. Instead of dragging it from the house, she'd found two made from recycled plastic. It would be too weird to use his, anyhow. Even as a kid she'd never sat in his chair—it belonged to Granddad and nobody else.

The day was unusually warm. This part of the coast didn't get much hot weather; it was moderate most of the year.

Mmm.

Jamie yawned.

Ocean waves crashed on the shore and the sea shimmered brilliant blue with streaks of greenish-aqua. It was no wonder that Granddad had loved this place; it was peaceful and wholesome. The sunshine was blissfully soothing, and she could always sketch a pendant or bracelet design if inspiration came to her.

Crunching gravel nudged her eyelids open. The approaching vehicle was a black van with Mar Vista in gold lettering on the door and Denning Enterprises in smaller print below. The logo was striking—a lone cypress and soaring seabird.

Jamie stretched, ready to rev up her brain for another verbal bout, but neither of the men who climbed from the van was Zack Denning. The driver seemed genial and innocuous, and his passenger was thin and pale, with a narrow scar above his left eye. He walked with a limp and hugged his arm to his rib cage as if it hurt. She recognized the cautious posture too well.

“Hello,” the driver called. “I'm Gordon Chen. Your sign says you carry certified organic fruits and vegetables.”

“Yup. More and more people are eating pesticide-free.”

“That's great. I'm looking for someone to supply the restaurants at Mar Vista. Dealing directly with growers is time-consuming, so I was hoping we could come to an agreement that would benefit both of us.”

Jamie shifted in her chair, clinging to her tranquillity. “Let me guess. You'll be able to buy all of my produce, so there won't be any reason for me to keep the stand going.”

Gordon frowned. “I'm not sure what you mean. I don't want you to quit your business. Quite the contrary.”

“In that case, you'd better get oxygen for your boss. He'll be gasping for air when he hears the news.”

The second man laughed and Jamie was struck by the difference it made in his appearance.

“Morning,” he said. “My name is Brad Denning. I hitched a ride to come and meet you.”

She extended her left hand to shake so he wouldn't have to move his injured side.

“I'm missing something here, but it isn't important. Are you interested?” Gordon asked. “I'm choosy about what goes into my kitchen and want someone equally careful to coordinate my produce.” He must be the chef, which accounted for his air of confidence.

“I'm interested,” she assured him. “And I can work with the organic farmers to get you a wider variety than what I stock. The biggest problem is that I don't have a large enough truck, and there's no point in getting one for a single customer.”

Gordon shrugged. He seemed unusually easygoing for a high-priced chef. “I can send a guy to get my orders. It's still an improvement over having a dozen sources delivering throughout the day.”

“The other problem is that for now the stand is only open for the summer and I may not want to do it year-round,” Jamie explained. “At present I'm a one-person operation.”

“Let's have a trial period and see where we go from there,” Gordon suggested.

They discussed the arrangements, and he took her email address so he could send his orders electronically. As they were leaving, Brad Denning gave Jamie a friendly smile. He was nothing like his obnoxious brother.

“It was good meeting you, Jamie.”

“Likewise,” she said, yet she couldn't help sniggering once she was alone.

She was now a Mar Vista supplier.

How much oxygen was Zack Denning going to need?

* * *

B
RAD
WINCED
AS
the van bounced entering the public road. His fist went instinctively to his aching thigh, but he dragged it away. They'd told him the pain would ease; his shattered bones would strengthen and wasted muscle rebuild. In the meanwhile he was treating it as survival training...one step, one minute at a time.

“Nice lady,” Gordon commented. “What was that stuff about her closing?”

Brad hesitated. He didn't think Zack would relish the staff gossiping about his disagreement with Jamie Conroe. His brother had changed; in some ways he was nearly a stranger.

“I'm sure it's nothing,” Brad said as Gordon parked close to the kitchen. “Ms. Conroe seems to have a unique sense of humor.”

“Yes. It should be entertaining getting to know her.” Gordon hung the keys on the central message board and returned to his kitchen. He was a nice guy and hadn't minded Brad dropping by one afternoon to scrounge a snack. Gordon had prepared the sandwich himself—a masterpiece of roast beef, cheese, sautéed mushrooms and spicy peppers piled on fresh-made sourdough bread. Brad had eaten it with Gordon clucking over him like a brood hen.

Since then the chef had pressed a number of dishes on him that he claimed were experiments, but were obviously intended to tease the appetite of a recuperating patient.

Clearly, if Gordon hadn't become a chef, he would have been a mother.

Brad set out to walk the perimeter of the resort, willing his body to cooperate. At the hospital they'd dictated the amount of exercise he should get, but he'd outmaneuvered them by covertly visiting the rehab center in the middle of the night and using the equipment on his own.

Lord.

It was tough accepting that his old life might be over...a life in which he'd served his country. People didn't always understand. It wasn't the battles or adrenaline he missed; it was doing something for folks he'd never even met.

“Hi there,” Rick Lopez called as Brad passed his open office window. “I saw you on the course. Are you taking up golf?”

“There's no chance in hell. Knocking a ball around a manicured lawn isn't my style.”

Rick chuckled. “I beg your pardon.... Manicuring those greens is hard labor. But you're right—it isn't for everyone. Between you and me, I don't believe our fearless boss loves the sport, either. Zack is so grim practicing his swing. I swear he only plays so he can converse with the guests and join with a group in unavoidable circumstances.”

Naturally.

Everything Zack did nowadays was to support his dream. The resort was a marvel, but it wasn't an atmosphere where Brad felt comfortable.

Nonetheless, Mar Vista and its ritzy counterparts were Zack's world.

And Kim Wheeler's.

Kim.... Brad rubbed his jaw. He'd enjoyed seeing her, however briefly. She was more polished and beautiful than ever, wearing discreet evidence of her professional achievements. He imagined those diamond studs on her ears would cost three or four months of a soldier's pay.

* * *

O
N
T
UESDAY
AFTER
the Memorial Day weekend, Zack read the surveyor's report in disbelief. It plainly indicated that the real estate he'd purchased
didn't
include the section where Jamie Conroe had her fruit stand. He owned the beach north of it, not the entire waterfront.

“Hey, Zack. Snap out of it,” Kim commanded over the video-teleconference connection.

“How did this happen?”

“There were a number of parcels involved, Zack. You were preoccupied with construction and made the deal in a hurry.”

“In other words, I should have had your office check it.”

Her lips curved in humor. “Actually, few buyers have a lawyer review a real-estate transaction until closing, although large companies usually bring in an attorney from the beginning. I didn't check your other purchases and they were successful.”

That was six years ago, when the land had cost less and he'd bought it on speculation. Had success with his first batch of acquisitions led him to a hasty decision with the second?

“What are my options?” Zack asked.

“You might have a chance in court if you think the seller was deliberately misleading.”

“I don't know if Jenkins did anything wrong, and I doubt we could prove dishonest intent if he did. It would be a nasty fight. People liked the old guy, odd as he was.”

Kim nodded. “And they'll be protective of his granddaughter. You're a smart businessman, Zack. Negative relations with the local community is extremely costly in the long run. My suggestion is to work it out with Ms. Conroe. She isn't a bad sort.”

Zack pictured Jamie's stubborn face. “
She
doesn't like
me.
”

“And whose fault is that?”

“Don't rub it in. I'll have the real-estate agent contact her with an offer.”

Kim tapped her pencil on the desk thoughtfully, and a corner of his mind appreciated the technology for doing video teleconferences. It wasn't face-to-face communication, but closer to it than the phone. This way he could read her body language and get a feel for what she was thinking.

“I have a suspicion Ms. Conroe won't sell,” Kim said. “There's a sentimental attachment. Other solutions are possible, though. For example, she makes jewelry. How about featuring her pieces in the gift shop? In return, she may relocate the stand.”

He stared at the computer monitor, appalled. “For Pete's sake, I can't put cheap bits of beadwork on sale here. We carry top-end items like art glass and original sculptures.”

“Look for an accommodation.”
Kim sounded exasperated. “Talk to her. She might compromise if she realizes the potential impact on your operations.”

Zack glanced at the map on which the property lines had been clearly drawn. “You've got higher hopes for her goodwill than I do.”

“If nothing else, you have your contingency plan to build around her and border it with a tall hedge or stone wall. Your guests would still have a private beach since you aren't required to provide access between her two sections. She has to use the public road the same as everyone.”

Zack groaned. He'd gotten used to the idea of having all that lovely, undeveloped land to himself. It was so much less complicated.

“Make nice,” Kim ordered. “You do it with difficult patrons. Swallow your pride and pretend she's a VIP client staying in your King Louis suite.”

“I don't have a King Louis suite. What's your schedule over the next couple days? Unless you ticked her off, I'm sure she'll listen to you more than me.”

“We got along fine.” Kim scanned her iPhone, and then shook her head. “I can't get away for a while. Anyhow,
you
should be the one to take care of this. Like it or not, she's your neighbor and you've got to mend fences. Begin with an apology for trying to get her arrested. It wasn't your finest moment.”

He groaned again.

“I have to go, Zack. I've got a meeting with the mayor in twenty minutes.”

“The mayor? Show-off.”

She laughed as he disconnected.

Zack was convinced Kim was getting malicious amusement from the situation. He grasped his coffee and sucked down half the cup, wishing it had a dash of whiskey. Aside from his emergency fund, he'd sunk every penny into Mar Vista, along with the assets his parents had insisted on investing. If the resort didn't turn a profit and his loan defaulted, could he at least salvage their money?

Hell.
There was no reason to assume the worst; he'd deal with it. And in the meantime, he would ensure everything continued to run properly.

He hit the intercom button on his desk. “Trudy?”

“Yes, boss.”

“Do you have those purchase orders and invoices ready for me to review?”

“I forwarded them to your computer.”

“Thanks.”

He clicked on the files, making notes and adding his approval as needed. Trudy had rejected a requisition for room deodorizers and sent a memo to housekeeping that guest rooms were to be so clean that fragrance wasn't necessary.
Excellent.
Trudy knew his position on the issue. Apparently, the housekeeping supervisor was pleased with the replacement linens. The prior lot must have been defective, though they'd come from a leading company for luxury hotel linens.

Zack started on the invoices, only to grit his teeth when he saw the third one.
Of course.
Jamie Conroe must have chortled when she topped her paperwork with Little Blue Fruit Stand Enterprises.

Resigned, Zack added his authorization for payment. Maybe the Mar Vista restaurants would furnish enough income that she'd abandon her trailer. It had to be easier to manage supplies for one customer than to spend a full day vending vegetables to dozens of different people.

The lunch hour passed before he was finished. He got out his keys and squared his shoulders. No more procrastinating; he had to tackle his chief headache.

On the way, he drank the cup of stale coffee sitting in the SUV. Caffeine might help him cope with the woman.

The blue trailer wasn't quite as vivid as his memory had made it, or else the shock value had diminished.

Jamie was half reclining in a green chair, legs extended in long, languid lines. She seemed to be asleep. Her dark hair fluttered in the breeze and her creamy complexion was highlighted by the eyelashes resting on her cheeks. Today she wore jeans and a T-shirt that revealed the curves he'd glimpsed at her house.