Harlequin Superromance January 2014 - Bundle 1 of 2: Everywhere She Goes\A Promise for the Baby\That Summer at the Shore (71 page)

Jamie put down her fork and sipped her coffee, her brow creased. “I don't think so. I think he's hoping I'll run to him for protection. He was quite confident in divorce court that I'd never make it on my own.”

“Has he done this kind of thing before?” he asked.

“Not that I know of. Tim's an ass, though. In business he'll do whatever it takes to make a profit—cut a shady deal, lie his head off.”

“He doesn't sound like a very nice guy, but it's a big leap from corrupt business practices to the violence of this vandalism.”

“True.” She didn't want to say anything more, but Zack was obviously suspicious.

“Jamie? Was he violent?” Zack pressed. “Was he, I mean...?”

She bit her lip and sighed. “He had his moments. I feel like an idiot for not realizing what a jerk he was. Our marriage was doomed from the start, though it took me a while to acknowledge the truth.”

“He hit you?”

“Not...often. I should have walked the first time he did something out of line. He wants to win and will try anything before giving up. All this stuff with the fruit stand— If he's responsible, it isn't because he loves me. He just wants to prove he was right.”

“I'm staying here until he's arrested,” Zack declared. “You shouldn't have to deal with him alone. Bastards shouldn't get fair odds.”

Warmth flooded Jamie. Zack believed the odds were even between her and Tim, at least on an intellectual level. Still, she couldn't relax her guard. Zack was temporary; she couldn't make the mistake of starting to rely on him.

“I have to get going,” she said, checking her watch.

“Too bad we're not people of leisure. We could...”

He raised his eyebrow suggestively and she gave him a strained smile. Much as she wanted to head back to the bedroom with Zack, it was a bad idea.

“You're spending too much time with your wealthy guests,” she answered lightly. “They forget you're a working man. But whether you do or not,
I
have responsibilities.”

“Okay. If there are any problems, and I mean
any,
call 9-1-1 and then dial me immediately. Aside from that, I'll see you tonight.”

“You really don't have to.”

“Yeah, I really do.”

* * *

T
HEY
HEADED
TO
their respective vehicles and Zack watched Jamie climb into her old truck and drive out.

No wonder she was so determined to prove her independence. Her ex-husband must be desperate to think he could make Jamie question her ability to take care of herself. How dare he try to torment her with acts of violence and cruelty? But Tim wouldn't get the better of Jamie; she was smart, beautiful and feisty as hell.

Jamie turned onto the road toward the beach and Zack forced himself to head to his apartment. He
wasn't
a person of leisure, but it was time to back off and let his staff do their jobs. No more daily rounds. No checking purchase orders and invoices. No more reviewing every detail of how his department supervisors were handling things, inevitably giving the impression that he didn't trust them. He had a sudden urge to contact the prior maintenance supervisor and ask if that was why he'd left. No. Best to cut his losses and move forward. He'd return to the management style that served him best in the past...one that didn't scream “insecurity” and “paranoia.” It might even be a good idea to take a day off.

When Zack walked into the living room of his apartment, he was struck by how cold it seemed in comparison to the pleasant home Jamie had made in her grandfather's house. Of course, he hadn't intended to live permanently at the resort. Someday, down the line, he'd figured on building his own house and using the apartment for his convenience or for an on-site manager.

“Good morning,” Brad said from the kitchen. “Where were you all night, or do I need to ask?”

“I was at Jamie's house. Turns out her ex-husband might be the person who hired the jerk doing the vandalism, and I don't think she should be out there alone until it's all sorted out. Hope you don't mind me deserting you, but I'll be spending the nights there for the next little while.”

Brad frowned. “Good idea. From what Kim says, I gather the house is isolated.”

“Sure is. Nice for privacy, not so great for a woman alone with a jerk on her tail.”

“Yeah. You know, I guess I'm not too civilized. I'd give a lot to find her ex and show him what it means to be scared.”

“You and me, both,” Zack agreed. “Might as well accept it, brother—we're only a step or two out of the cave ourselves. But there are worse things than wanting to protect the women in our lives.”

“That's true.”

Zack scratched his neck. “I've been thinking of taking the day off. You want to do something?” He didn't know what to do with free time after being so obsessed over Mar Vista.

“Kim and I were going sailing. Would you like to come?”

“No, thanks. The two of you go. I don't want to be too far out of touch, in case Jamie has a problem.”

“Why don't you spend the day with her? She says Sundays are slow at the stand.”

“Not a bad idea, big brother. Not bad at all.”

Zack showered and changed, thinking about it. Why shouldn't he go down to the fruit stand? He could pick up lunch at the restaurant; she hadn't had time to pack anything before she left this morning. They could eat, play a game and maybe take a walk on the beach if she had a lull between customers. It was a far better option than sitting in his apartment, forcing himself to do nothing. Working seven-day weeks needed to become a thing of the past.

He called the kitchen to order a picnic lunch and dashed down to the reception desk.

“Hi, Betty,” he said, glad he remembered the woman's name without checking her brass name tag. “I'll be off the grounds for part of the day. I can't imagine anyone will need me, but if they do, you've got my cell number, right?”

“Of course. But Mr. Cole stopped by the desk on his way to breakfast to ask if you were free this afternoon to join his party for golf.”

“I'll talk with him,” he promised.

Zack went into the Clam Shell and asked the server for Greg's table. Greg waved as Zack approached.

“Zack, old buddy. How about it—can you join us for a round today?”

He wavered. Greg Cole was an avid golfer who could spread the news of Mar Vista far and wide. But Zack wasn't an activities director any longer; he owned the resort and wanted to spend time somewhere else for once.

“Thanks, Greg,” he said casually. “I'm afraid I've got plans. Maybe another time.”

“Sure thing. This place of yours is tops. We've got to get a tournament going here.”

“I'm open to it.” Zack couldn't tell him that Don Courtland was already talking about moving his tournament to Mar Vista. For one thing, it might not happen. For another, Don needed to talk to his own people before it got around that he was considering a new site for the prestigious event. At any rate, having more than one tournament would be terrific.

“Great. We'll break into the circuit somehow, and I'd be willing to make it worthwhile for a pro. We can call it the Greg Cole Classic, or something equally grandiose.”

It was a fantastic offer and Zack smiled. “Perhaps I'll hire an event organizer.”

“Good idea. Get someone who knows what they're doing.”

“Will do. Have a nice day, Greg.”

“I'm sure that won't be a problem.”

Zack went into the kitchen to collect the picnic basket. He'd finally said no to a guest and the world hadn't fallen apart.

“The message said No Strawberries,” the chef in charge said hesitantly. “Was that right? I went ahead and put in a selection of chocolate-dipped berries. They're particularly good now and a popular picnic item, but we can take them out.”

“That sounds terrific. Plain strawberries are plentiful where I'm going, but chocolate-dipped is another matter,” Zack answered easily. “I'm sure what you put in is fine. You all know what you're doing.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Now, time to get out before he succumbed to the temptation to do or say something else.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

O
N
W
EDNESDAY
J
AMIE
sat in her chair staring at an ocean so blue it didn't seem real. In fact, at the moment her entire life didn't seem real. Zack had shown up at the stand on Sunday, carrying a picnic basket, and spent the afternoon with her. He'd said it was her fault for alerting him to the mistakes he'd made overmanaging his resort, so now she was required to help him resist temptation. Somehow he'd made it sound erotic.

He had taken the table from the trailer and set it up outside so they could play chess in the open air, and later they ate lunch, the Pacific Ocean providing atmosphere that was every bit as appealing as the Sunfish Grotto. He'd even charmingly assisted with selling vegetables to some of his own employees, putting them at ease with a few humorous comments.

She'd been a little surprised—and disappointed—that he hadn't tried to lure her into the trailer, but he'd made up for it that night at the house.

The next morning he left, cheerily saying he'd see her that evening.

Temptation... Jamie dropped her head and groaned.

Zack wasn't the only one who needed to resist temptation.

She'd called Curt and asked him to tell Zack it wasn't necessary to stay at her house every night. Unfortunately, Curt thought it was an excellent idea that she had company. So then she'd looked into an alarm system, figuring Zack wouldn't have an excuse to come if she was otherwise protected, but the company couldn't give her an installation appointment for more than three weeks.

A seagull lit on the other chair and sidestepped a few times, looking at her hopefully. He was one of her regular avian visitors, identifiable from his unusual markings and the cockeyed feathers on one of his wings. It didn't seem to impair him, though; he could fly and appeared quite well fed.

“No handouts,” Jamie informed the bird.

He squawked and hopped to the arm of the unoccupied chair, flexing his wings.

“I ate my sandwich early. You're out of luck.”

A louder squawk came from the gull and it took off, swooping low and landing on a sand dune thirty feet away. He padded about, keeping a close eye on her, plainly suspecting she had food she wasn't sharing. It was true, but she didn't dare feed the seabirds strawberries or other fruit; they'd surround the place and bring friends.

Jamie's faint humor faded as her thoughts drifted back to Zack. For all his cordiality, especially under the sheets, she knew he remained unhappy about the fruit stand. The carefully planted evergreens and other native shrubbery along the edge of the course kept it from being seen easily by golfers. But anyone going to the beach or horseback riding saw it, and they often appeared surprised by her presence.

“Hi, Jamie,” Brad called, interrupting her thoughts. Now that Kim was gone, he was back to his normal morning exercise. The days of rest seemed to have been helpful for him.

“You're looking good,” she commented. “Am I imagining it, or are you moving more easily?”

He hadn't shown up until late Monday afternoon, mentioning that he and Kim had spent most of the day together—the weekend, actually. Jamie hadn't fished for details, but it sounded as if he was still stubbornly resisting his feelings, which was Zack's opinion of the situation, as well.

“I think I've passed the hump,” Brad said. “There's a point, after an injury, where it hits you that you're definitely getting better. I've been there before and know what it feels like.”

She nodded, remembering that “hump.” Emotional injuries could have a hump, too. She'd gotten past hers during the winter. The vandalism at the stand and realizing Tim was likely involved had dug everything up again. But she could deal with it, though she was looking forward to the final resolution—basically, Tim being found and arrested. Once she might have said “castrated,” but he didn't warrant that kind of hostility.

“Do you have any immediate plans for the future?” she asked.

“No. I'll have a medical evaluation at some point. That will determine if I'm fit for active duty.”

It amazed her that he was still interested. “I've never really known anyone in the military. Now that I do, it's hard to think of you going back.”

“Thanks, but it can't always be someone else's friend or relative who goes.”

“No. Uh, Zack mentioned you'd had several surgeries. Are those finished now?”

“The doctors say so. The last was a couple of months ago.” He ate some strawberries and sat in silence awhile. “Zack told me about your ex-husband.”

“Guess I could have saved everyone a bunch of trouble if I'd thought of Tim earlier.”

“There was no reason to suspect him until you knew the vandal had been hired.”

“Maybe not.”

It was more awkward being with Brad than usual. After all, his brother had been in her bed the past three nights. She hoped Brad didn't sense her uneasiness; she couldn't detect any sign that he did. He ate more berries and they discussed the baseball standings—she was a rabid Dodgers fan because of her grandfather, and he was equally devoted to the Cubs.

“I'd better get going,” he said after they'd mutually agreed that there was always next year for each of their teams.

Once she was alone again, Jamie wanted to take a nap—extracurricular activities had cut into her sleep lately—but a busload of tourists showed up and cleaned out the stand. All that was left were the berries she was saving for several women who worked at Mar Vista.

She sank into her seat again when everyone was gone. Working every day was tiring, and the summer was less than a third over. It hadn't seemed fair to hire anyone until the vandalism issue was resolved, but maybe when they caught Tim, she could hire a manager. Part-time would be much better—she'd have more opportunity to work on her jewelry, and more solitude to get back the serenity she'd found before meeting Zack Denning.

* * *

“S
O
WHAT
DO
you think?” Zack asked Trudy on Thursday morning as they sat and drank the coffee he'd brewed.

“It's the best I've ever had,” Trudy said blissfully. “Why didn't you introduce me to this ambrosia before I got pregnant and could have more than one cup a day?”

“Gordon likes it, too, though it won't suit everyone.”

“No, of course not. But if Jamie doesn't mind, it could become Mar Vista's signature brew.”

“That's what I had in mind. We're planning to call it George Jenkins's Special Blend.”

“A nice tribute. I'll miss my coffee even more now. I hope you appreciate my sacrifice,” Trudy told her still-flat tummy.

Zack grinned. “Hey, look at it this way—you don't want junior to stay up all night on a caffeine binge.”

“Perish the thought. The doctor keeps reminding me that I'm not a teenager and need my extra rest.”

“I'm glad you're paying attention to him. Now, what about my proposal on increasing opportunities for local employees?”

“I think it's a great idea. It'll be popular.”

“No question of that. It's...been a challenge for me to let go of managing too much. Thanks for your patience over the past few months.”

Trudy grinned. “You didn't make it easy. Rick kept saying, ‘Give him time. He'll settle in.'”

Five days after making a concerted effort to stop micromanaging, Zack could see further improvement in the way Mar Vista was working. Employees were relaxing and conversed with him more easily. The supervisors were less tense and genuinely welcoming when they did see him. With the ones he knew best, he'd discussed the matter bluntly, also asking their opinions on how to provide promotion potential for local employees, something
they
were interested in, as well. Now Trudy could pass on the official policy. She'd also assured him she would come back after maternity leave as his general manager. He hadn't mentioned his idea of starting another resort, one that would be more family oriented, but he knew she'd approve of it, too.

Forcing himself to take time off had been hard, and rewarding. The past few days he'd spent more time with his brother than he had since they were kids. They'd discussed Brad's experiences in the marines and what it took to move past the trauma of the violence. Brad showed equal interest in how Zack had marshaled everything through the years to finally build Mar Vista, admiring the organization and discipline it took. They talked of their parents and world events, of sports and food and wine. They'd talked about nearly everything...except Kim and Jamie.

Obviously something was still holding Brad back from a relationship with Kim, but he'd have to work it out on his own, and Zack didn't want to pry. As for Jamie, maybe it was old-fashioned, but it didn't feel right to admit he was doing more than standing watch at her house.

Thinking about it was enough to shorten his breath and get him rigid with anticipation.

“Uh, Zack?” Trudy drew his attention.

“Gosh, sorry, Trudy. My head was a million miles away.” He gulped some coffee, knowing he'd lied. His head was only a few miles away, in Jamie's bed.

“What about the fruit stand? Is it going to stay where it is? Rick wants to know if more plantings will be needed. He's got his eye on some stuff the Warrington nursery is carrying—they specialize in native vegetation. I'm voting for huckleberry bushes—that way I can pick them every year and make jam.”

Zack had come up with a new idea to negotiate with Jamie, but hadn't discussed it with her yet. There were a couple of options he would offer. He'd have to swallow his pride, along with some of his plans, but he thought it might work.

“I'll have to let Rick know,” he said. “Can he wait a few days?”

“Of course.”

“Thanks.”

His challenge now would be to sit and calmly discuss business with Jamie. Since he'd had dinner with Brad the past three nights, he'd arrived at her house an hour before dusk and the evenings had fallen into a pattern. He read while she sketched or worked on her silver casting. At some point one of them made a hot drink, and by the time their cups were empty, the bed wasn't.

That night, to keep his mind on business, he'd asked her to dinner at the Clam Shell. He didn't dare suggest going to the Grotto—if she wore that green number again, his brain would be too befuddled for a rational discussion.

* * *

J
AMIE
DROVE
THE
daily receipts into town to deposit and stopped by a small dress shop. It was silly to buy something just for tonight; she had a perfectly suitable skirt and blouse she could wear. Zack had mentioned discussing a proposal for the land, so it was a business dinner.

She went into the shop anyway.

It took a while, but she finally found something she liked—a midnight-blue dress that left one shoulder bare, gathered at the waist with a Grecian flair and swirled to below the knees. It could serve for either casual or formal functions, and seemed the kind of gown that would throw a man off balance. The mystery was why she was playing with fire. Zack was becoming far too important; he was a temporary lover and this was an unreal interlude.

Back at home, looking at herself in the mirror with the dress on, she smiled. If it had to be an interlude, she might as well make it a memorable one.

The doorbell rang at seven. She hadn't given Zack a key; it would make him seem too much a fixture in the house.

With the habit of caution, she peeked through the door to be sure it was him. Marlin curved around her ankles yowling. Zack had become one of his favorite people, and to her surprise, Zack reciprocated. After all, the man had never enjoyed the privilege of a pet and was now discovering its delights.

In the golden glow of the evening sun, Zack was too handsome for her own good. But she raised her head, smoothed her new dress and opened the door.

“Hi, I just need to get my purse.” She strolled to the living room, savoring how his jaw had dropped when he'd seen her. “Ready,” she announced.

He was still staring. “Are you, uh...? Don't you need a coat or something?”

“Hmm.” She shrugged elaborately and he paled, watching the fabric shift over the single shoulder it draped. “I suppose I could bring a shawl. It might get cool, though we aren't staying late, are we?”

“No, I suppose not, no...not late at all.”

Picking up a black silk shawl, she raised her eyebrow at him. “Are we going?”

“Yes, of course.”

She climbed into his SUV, allowing her skirt to shift and show an expanse of bare leg. To keep the casual look, she'd chosen not to wear stockings.

At the Clam Shell they were escorted to one of the tables in the upper section, overlooking the cove. The view was magnificent.

She ordered the special of the evening, then leaned forward. “So, what is this proposal you have about the land?”

The muscles in his throat contracted. “You don't play fair, do you?” he murmured. “Wearing a dress like that sends a man's sense reeling.”

“You want me to go home and change?”

“Hell, no.”

“Then don't complain,” she advised.

“Believe me, I'm not.”

“So what's your...proposition?”

* * *

Z
ACK
FASTENED
HIS
gaze on Jamie's face and tried to ignore everything else. Her gown didn't reveal much, not even the edge of her bustline, but it stimulated the imagination. For example...was she wearing a creative bra, or going without? Was the strip of fabric over her shoulder secure, or could it slip down?

“I had a couple of ideas,” he said hastily. “First, let me say that I know how badly I acted when we first met, and later, as well. You have a right to be in business and that's that.”