Harlequin Superromance January 2014 - Bundle 1 of 2: Everywhere She Goes\A Promise for the Baby\That Summer at the Shore (59 page)

“My apologies for being late,” she told Zack as he waited by the office door.

He wore a nicely fitted sports jacket, and she mused idly how many of his guests were single women on the hunt for a husband. He'd be a decent catch provided they didn't object to his love affair with Mar Vista.

“Not a problem.”

Jamie decided it was best to keep him on the defensive. “Your employees must learn by osmosis how to find their parking area, since it isn't marked.”

“I should have given you directions.”

“What if FedEx has to make a delivery? Or someone else? Must they call and get directions?”

“Delivery folks have always found us.”

“Maybe not,” she countered. “Some of them could be wandering the salt flats, thin with hunger, thinking the office is a figment of the imagination.”

His expression was so pleased that she wondered if he was up to something. “You might be right.” He led the way to a golf cart, escorting her into the passenger's seat and settling behind the wheel. It was extremely quiet when he turned the key, and she figured it had to be electric. He headed away from the buildings, saying, “I'll give you a quick tour before dinner. That way you'll know where everything is located, so you won't get lost again.”

They glided around the golf course as he pointed out various features.

“Trade magazines are predicting the course will eventually receive a top-one-hundred ranking,” Zack enthused. “We went for a more natural type of construction, with only certain sections manicured. It plays just over eight thousand yards, and our ninth hole rivals the sixteenth at Cypress Point in Pebble Beach.”

Jamie understood. Her father was a golfer and had played a number of the top courses in America and Scotland, so she recognized that Mar Vista's design was top-notch. Not that her dad could afford to golf at Mar Vista. The family had gotten together on a Father's Day gift for a weekend at Pebble Beach four years ago, but it was plain that Zack's resort was equally exclusive, and extravagantly expensive.

Zack directed the cart toward the buildings. But he didn't stop; he drove on to an airstrip a mile away, then to a series of paddocks and horse stables. Lately she'd seen more riders around, so she'd suspected he had stables. Granddad hadn't cared if people used his land as long as they respected his privacy and didn't litter, so the area was already a popular location for horseback riding.

Next Zack showed her a display of shiny bicycles for the energetically inclined. Afterward they went down a winding road to a private marina where guests could take kayaks or sailboats out into the cove, or moor their private yachts.

“I've tried to include a wide variety of activities for my guests,” he said as they drove back. “All the rooms have a view, and we have plenty of carts for transportation, with frequent recharging stations around the resort. That's a big improvement on combustion engines running everywhere.”

Jamie checked her watch. More than an hour had passed since she'd arrived—Zack's “quick tour” was anything but. And it had the flavor of something he'd planned in order to prove the resort was of greater importance than her trailer and fruit stand. That was why her comments concerning the difficulty getting to the office had pleased him; they'd given him an excuse to take her all over his resort. She took a deep breath, trying to contain her frustration.

They approached a building not far from the office.
At last.
It had been a busy day, and aside from everything else, she was hungry. She climbed out and Zack led her through doors to an elegant lounge. There was a tasteful bar, but no sign of a restaurant. A side room had mahogany billiard tables with the air of a fine English country manor.

They went up a hallway...again no restaurant, only numbered doors. Zack stopped at one and opened it with an electronic card key.

“I thought you'd like to see one of our guest rooms.”

That clinched it; he wouldn't have had the card key in his pocket unless he'd planned his tour.

Temper simmering, Jamie entered the well-appointed suite. It oozed luxury and had a private deck overlooking the cove. As for the bathroom, it was enormous, with numerous plush towels flanking a separate shower and bathtub. She'd visited nice hotels with her ex-husband, but nothing like this.

The reminder of Tim soured her mood further. Apparently, her ex had been boasting that he'd reached a point in his career where he could pay for the very best on business trips. She hadn't understood why people from her old life kept bringing him up until Caylie Browning confessed that Tim was
asking
them to mention him to her. Since then Jamie had cut off contact with all of their mutual friends. Whatever Tim's game, she wasn't playing.

In the hallway, Zack took her arm. “I think you'll be impressed with the business center in the reception building. We'll go there next. You could virtually run an international corporation from our facilities. We also have pools, one of them heated, saunas that—”

Jamie yanked free. “You are an incredible jerk, Zack Denning. You invite me to dinner to discuss a business proposition that I'm not interested in, and instead you drag me all over your lavish resort to try and awe me into submission. No wonder you wanted to pick me up—you were going to keep me here at your mercy. But it wouldn't have worked. I'd have walked home rather than put up with this nonsense.”

The bartender stared, but Jamie didn't care. She stormed out of the building, stopping only to get her bearings.

Zack caught up with her. “I'm sorry you see it that way,” he said, his polished exterior obviously ruffled. “We can go to the restaurant now.”

“Why do public-relations people believe that sort of thing works?” she asked incredulously. “You're not saying you're sorry for being a jackass. You're saying you're sorry
I
see your behavior a certain way—implying that I'm seeing it the
wrong
way. That just makes people madder. You really don't get how rude you've been, do you?”

“I was simply—”

“Rude,” Jamie repeated. She stalked toward the employee parking lot, with Zack following.

“Look, I apologize.”

“Forget it. You can't impress me with the sixty unique offerings on the menu or caviar that drips from crackers or rare French wines. I don't want cheese specially flown in from some village in Tuscany or olives soaked in two-hundred-year-old brandy or whatever absurdity is currently a fad of the rich and bored. I'm done, with you
and
this place.”

Her furious voice seemed to catch more than one ear. In the employee lot, out of view from the guest areas, several staff members quit chatting among themselves and hurriedly ducked into their cars.

“Please, Ms. Conroe...
Jamie,
” Zack said. “We'll go straight to the restaurant.”

Jamie groped for her car key and thrust it into the lock. “Oh, sure, with a detour past twelve more features of your precious resort.”

“I assure you—”

“Don't bother. I refuse to sell my land, so there's no point in us even talking, much less eating together. It's mine and you'll have to live with that.”

“Be reasonable,” he said through gritted teeth. “You run a seasonal fruit stand. This is a high-end resort. I can make it worthwhile. If you insist on keeping the property, I'll buy you a piece of land on the highway and move the stand there, so at least the beachside area will be visually appealing to my guests. And selling your product on the main road would increase your profits. Or I could pay for better signs and an attractive structure on your present site.”

“What part of
no
don't you get?” Jamie snapped. She slid inside and slammed the car door. She drove out, senses on alert; angry drivers were often careless drivers and she didn't need the owner of a Mercedes blaming her for a dented fender.

The sun was bidding a glorious farewell to the day as she pulled into the garage. Fortunately, she had a large salad prepared from her leftover produce. She added a hard-boiled egg and grilled chicken and took it to the porch to eat and watch the sky.

The
gall
of the guy.

Jamie stabbed a spinach leaf, only to drop her fork in disgust.

The one positive was her speech to Zack, declaring she'd never sell, which had been the entire point of going to Mar Vista in the first place. Her jangled nerves relaxed. She'd wanted him to understand the land was hers, no matter what, and she'd said it in no uncertain terms and loud enough that some of his employees had heard it, too.

Mission accomplished.

She leaned back in her chair and began eating again, her good humor restored. It had cost her more than two hours, but was worth every minute.

CHAPTER FIVE

K
IM
SIGNED
THE
last letter her assistant had given her, tossed the pen aside and gazed through the window at her view of the Golden Gate Bridge.

It was noon on a Friday and she was done for the week. Naturally, there was always something she
could
do, but lately she'd scaled back her workload, handing portions off to her junior partners. There had to be an advantage to having her own firm, such as reducing her hours to a reasonable number. It would be tough to meet anyone and get married while working a ninety-hour week, much less have children. And even if she didn't ever have a family, what was the point if all her tombstone said was that she'd had a prominent law career?

The biggest barrier was that she didn't know what to do with time that wasn't filled with legal briefs or meetings or tussles in court. Sitting in her apartment wasn't appealing, and she didn't feel energetic enough to jostle elbows with tourists at Fisherman's Wharf or Golden Gate Park. A relaxing activity was more tempting, such as a weekend at a resort.

She stared at the phone and a piece of paper lying next to it with Mar Vista's number.

Why not?

She could certainly afford a few days on the coast, and Zack's resort was an unquestioned wonder. It had been years since she'd gone horseback riding or boating or taken a drive to see beautiful countryside. Actually, a drive sounded great—it would be easier on Brad than vigorous pursuits, and she'd love catching up with him. Zack had been so consumed by his fruit-stand worries on her last trip that she hadn't had a real visit with either one of the brothers.

She dialed and the phone rang once before being answered. Of course, a business run by Zack Denning wouldn't make someone wait longer.

“Mar Vista,” said a voice with a faintly British accent. “How may I help you?”

“Hello, this is Kimberly Wheeler. Do you have a single room available for tonight through Sunday or Monday?”

“Yes, I would be happy to reserve one for you, Ms. Wheeler. Shall I also reserve a tee time on our golf course?”

“I won't be golfing. I'm flying in and will get there mid to late afternoon.”

“I'll notify the airfield manager, Ms. Wheeler. Is there anything else I can do?”

“Not right now.”

On her way out Kim asked her assistant, Chloe, to call the airport to get her plane ready and file a flight plan. It wouldn't take long to pack and she might miss the worst of the commuter traffic if she hurried.

“I'll phone Mr. Denning to let him know you're flying in,” Chloe said eagerly. She was enamored with Zack and undoubtedly hoped to speak with him personally.

“Don't bother. It's not a business trip.”

“But wouldn't he want to know you're coming?” Chloe persisted.

Kim tried not to smile. “I'll contact him when I arrive. See you next week.”

Two hours later Kim was in the air. A pilot's license was convenient for the rare occasions she needed to travel to see clients such as Zack Denning, but it was the freedom she loved.

She landed on the Mar Vista runway and the airstrip manager assured her the plane would be refueled, inspected and put in a hangar until she was ready to leave. In the meantime, another employee arrived to drive her to the reception area.

Okay, Zack might be obsessed with Mar Vista, but his idea of luxury was pretty nice. He hadn't cut corners in any area, including support staff.

“The resort must have created an employment boom in and around Warrington,” she said as they left the airstrip.

“Yes, ma'am,” the driver agreed courteously. “I grew up in Warrington and we're pleased there are more jobs now.”

“Do you enjoy working here?” she asked.

The man hesitated. “I suppose so,” he said finally.

It was odd. The employees under Zack's supervision had always been more than satisfied. Then Kim remembered that when she'd come to meet with Jamie Conroe, his office manager had seemed unusually tense. Was something going on?

All at once she wrinkled her nose. She was going into attorney mode...or was she? Zack wasn't just a client; he was an old friend. Once she'd even thought they might make a life together. So she couldn't help being concerned. It was probably her imagination, anyway. Zack was a consummate manager, but with so many employees, there would inevitably be a few with personal issues and an occasional malcontent.

At the marble-and-mahogany reception desk, she registered and was ushered to her room.

“You said you weren't golfing, so we selected a room with a water view instead of the golf course,” the bellhop explained. “Is that satisfactory?”

“It's fine.”

When she was alone, Kim opened the French doors and stepped onto the small deck, looking at the shimmer of sunlight on the ocean. Rather than traffic noises, she heard the peaceful, distant tumble of waves and the call of a seabird as it swooped low.

She smiled and sat on a comfortable lounge chair. This was a far better way to spend a Friday than working on a legal brief.

* * *

I
T
WAS
Z
ACK
'
S
custom to scan the list of reservations and arrivals each afternoon. He liked to greet old acquaintances, and would write a note of welcome to be delivered to their room. He'd been surprised to see a Kimberly Wheeler of San Francisco listed. He checked the address to be sure it was “his” Kim, then headed to her room. Why had she returned to Warrington? Was it too much to hope she'd found a legal loophole to get rid of Jamie Conroe's blue trailer?

On the way, he grabbed a courtesy basket of fruit, and when Kim answered the door at his knock, he practically shoved it into her arms.

“Hi. I saw you'd registered and thought you could use this to snack on. Have you come up with a legal maneuver we can employ? I'm not trying to cheat Ms. Conroe—I'll pay fair money. I just want her out.”

“Wow,” she said, waving him into her room. “I'm here for twenty whole minutes and you couldn't wait to find out if I flew up with news that I could have given faster by phone.”

He ran his fingers through his hair and dropped into one of the easy chairs in the living-room section of the suite. “Sorry. Last night was a disaster.”

“What do you mean?”

“I invited Jamie to dinner so I could make an offer, either to sell the land or make it worthwhile to move that awful trailer to another location. At the very least, I wanted to convince her to let me construct a less offensive building.”

“I hope you didn't use the words
awful
and
offensive
when you made your proposal, or is that why it was a disaster?”

“Hell, I didn't get a chance to make an offer. I was showing her the resort when she suddenly got mad and left.”

Kim raised an eyebrow. “Suddenly?”

“Yeah. And now Gordon is upset since he fixed a special meal for her and she didn't get to eat it. He went to a lot of trouble because she'd refused to go to the Grotto, so he'd gotten it together to send to the Clam Shell.”

“But isn't everything cooked in the same kitchen? He didn't go to any trouble, Zack. He was just upset because Jamie left.”

“I know. It's just that...” Zack groaned with exasperation. He'd been holding it in all day. Confiding in Brad was out; it wasn't fair to bother him. And he couldn't say anything to Trudy—she'd already told him the employees were gossiping about an argument some of them had witnessed and he didn't intend to confirm the story.

“What happened?” Kim ordered.

“To start with, she wouldn't let me pick her up and insisted—”

“Smart lady,” Kim interjected.

He scowled. “What is it with you? Are you starting an admiration society for Jamie Conroe?”

Kim sat down, and for the first time he noticed she was casually dressed. He hadn't seen her don jeans in years; she always wore suits in their business meetings.

“Look, Zack,” she said, crossing her legs. “I know how hard it can be for a woman to make it in the world of men. Jamie obviously has good instincts and kept a measure of control in her own hands. I respect that. Now, what did you do when she got here?”

“Well, I'd suggested she come to the employee parking lot and she had difficulty locating it.” The corners of Kim's mouth twitched and Zack ground his teeth. What was so damned funny? “Anyway, it seemed the perfect moment to take her on a tour.”

“Did she know in advance that you were going to show her around?”

“No, it was just the right timing. Then she accused me of trying to awe her into submission or something equally absurd. I simply wanted her to understand how important Mar Vista is—to think of the jobs and tourist dollars we're bringing in.”

Kim pursed her lips. “How long was this tour?”

“I don't know. She got in past seven, a little late, but that didn't matter. I guess it was after eight-thirty when she left.”

“An hour and a half. That's some tour. Was it over or did you have more you planned to show her?”

“Not quite. I was taking her to see...” Zack's explanation trailed off and he groaned again.

He didn't need Kim to tell him he'd been an idiot. It was painfully clear now that he'd seen things from a different perspective—and he
had
been a jackass. Jamie Conroe and her ridiculous fruit stand had fried the circuits in his brain.

“Listen, Kim, could you go with me and—”

“Forget it, Zack. We're old friends so I let you blow off steam, but I'm not your lawyer this weekend. I'm here to relax. Maybe you and Brad and I can have dinner at the Grotto tonight,
if
you promise not to mention the fruit stand,
or
Jamie Conroe,
or
anything having to do with real estate and Mar Vista.”

Zack opened his mouth, then shut it. What
were
people conversing about these days? Mar Vista had been his sole focus for so long he'd lost touch with the rest of the world.

Kim chuckled as if she'd read his mind. “We can debate politics, chat about our families, or even the mating habits of the pelican. You just can't bring up
you know what.
I'm a paying guest this visit and I get to call the shots.”

Zack counted to ten. Kim had every right to call the shots, and he had no business expecting her to invent a magic solution for something that was his own fault.

He'd messed up royally and had a dismal conviction that he owed Jamie Conroe another apology.

* * *

F
RIDAY
AFTERNOON
WAS
busy at the fruit stand. Jamie had a steady stream of customers planning to make jam over the weekend. She'd ordered extra produce to meet the increased demand, and when four o'clock came she was still waiting for several people who'd requested her to hold berries and other items for when their work shift ended.

It kept her on her toes, particularly since Mar Vista employees were among her customers. A couple of them were actually swapping rumors about a verbal sparring match their boss had gotten into the evening before; she was pretty sure they didn't realize she was involved or they wouldn't have discussed it in front of her. She didn't want anyone to know she was the one in the conflict.

Worse, now she couldn't stop comparing the fruit stand with the chic elegance of the resort, which was precisely what Zack had hoped she'd do.

“Thanks for holding the berries,” said one woman who came by around four-thirty. She wore a Mar Vista housekeeping uniform. Her shoulders sagged and she kept rubbing her neck.

“Looks as if you've had a long day,” Jamie commented sympathetically.

“Yes, lots of people checking out and in, so we had a huge number of rooms to do. It wouldn't be so bad if...” The woman's voice trailed off.

“If?” Jamie prompted.

“It's nothing. I should be grateful to have a job, even if it isn't going anywhere. Well, I'd best get these berries cleaned. We're having a tea at my church tomorrow and I volunteered to make the strawberry shortcake.”

“Mmm. Sounds delicious.”

As the woman drove away, Jamie saw Brad Denning walking up the road.

“Hi. I'm later than usual,” he said. “I didn't think you'd still be here.”

“I don't have much regular stock left, but several folks are coming to pick up their berry orders.”

Brad nodded. “Do you mind if I borrow your chair for a while?” Though he came by nearly every day, he always asked. He was good company, whether they talked or simply listened to the ocean waves.

“You're welcome to it. I'm leaving in an hour or so if you'd like a ride.”

“Maybe.” He slid into the chair next to her and leaned his head back, closing his eyes. Then he roused himself. “You totally discombobulated Gordon yesterday. That's Gordon's description, not mine.”

“Yikes. Did I get the produce order wrong?”

“No, but he thought you were eating at the Clam Shell last night.”

“Oh?” Jamie said warily.

“He'd cooked a special dish and you didn't come.”

“I'll have to tell him I'm sorry I didn't make it.”

She had an urge to ask when Gordon had been told she'd arrive. Seven? Eight? Nine? It hadn't occurred to her that he would prepare a particular dish, or that Zack would have mentioned she was coming. If she
had
known, she might have swallowed her outrage and gone to the restaurant anyway, though she wouldn't have been able to appreciate the meal after Zack's tactics. In some circles his actions would be considered smart business; to her they were just lousy manners.

Jamie pulled out her BlackBerry and keyed a quick text to Gordon saying she hadn't known he'd expected her and wished she'd gotten to taste his cooking. She didn't make any excuses or say why she hadn't made it to the restaurant.