Blackberry Beach

by Irene Hannon

  “So Frank told me. He said it’s the one he used the day he asked his wife to marry him.”

  Stephanie’s eyebrows rose. “Is there more to this date than you’ve told me?”

  “No.” He’d filled her in on Katherine’s decision about the movie, since it would soon be public knowledge anyway. “But I thought I’d launch this courtship in style—and give her some sweet memories to think about while she’s busy being a movie star.”

  “That ought to do the trick.” She waved a hand over the accoutrements he’d assembled.

  “Frank said the two of you were having dinner together too.”

  “We are. He wants to take me to a fancy restaurant up in Coos Bay. I tried to talk him out of it, told him we should save that for a special occasion, but he said any date with me qualifies for that designation.”

  Zach grinned. “I didn’t know my assistant barista was such a smooth talker.” He leaned back against the counter and folded his arms. “He must really be sweet on—” His phone began to vibrate and he pulled it out. “Speaking of sweet . . .” He held up the cell.

  “My cue to exit. Besides, I have to finish primping.” She patted her hair and sashayed out.

  Zach let the phone ring again as he waited for his aunt to disappear. After the door to her room clicked shut, he put it to his ear. “Couldn’t wait another twenty minutes to see me, huh?”

  “I’ve been ready for the past half hour—and looking forward to a whole evening on the beach in your company.”

  Her reply should have stoked his libido.

  Instead, an underlying thread of wistfulness—and a touch of emotion that could be regret—put him on alert.

  “Why do I hear a but in there?”

  One second ticked by.

  Two.

  Three.

  She sighed.

  He braced.

  “Under the circumstances, I don’t think getting together with you would be wise.”

  Suspicion confirmed. She had bad news to share.

  “What circumstances?” He wrapped his fingers around the edge of the counter and held on.

  As she filled him in on Simon’s leak to the media, he struggled to tamp down his anger.

  Didn’t work.

  If her agent was standing in this room, he’d be tempted to flatten the man for ruining his remaining days with Katherine.

  A strong reaction from a man who abhorred violence—and a telling measure of the depth of his feelings for his neighbor.

  “So rather than subject you to that sort of scrutiny and turf invasion, I think we should cancel the picnic. I’m sorry, Zach.” Katherine’s voice was shaky—as if she was on the cusp of tears. “I bet you went to a lot of trouble.”

  He surveyed the hamper packed with all the gourmet goodies he’d rounded up during a whirlwind trip to a specialty food store in Coos Bay.

  This picnic was happening.

  “I’ll tell you what. I’ll wait until after dark and sneak over with our food. You can shut all the drapes and we’ll have complete privacy.”

  “I’d like to believe that would work, but you don’t know how dogged these photographers can be. For all I know, there are a couple camped out in my bushes—or hanging from trees outside my property line, cameras pointed at the house. Not to mention the guy on the boat. They could be equipped with night vision cameras.”

  He jammed a fist on his hip. “Would they honestly go to such extremes just because you signed a movie deal?”

  “Depends on what Simon ‘leaked.’ He wasn’t all that forthcoming with details. But in light of what happened in LA a few weeks ago at that party—yeah, they might. And if they see you sneaking over and manage to get a picture, I can imagine the headline now: ‘Jason Grey’s grieving girlfriend finds solace in Oregon coast love nest.’”

  A muscle spasmed in his jaw. “How can people read that type of garbage?”

  “I have no idea—but I don’t want to put you in the position of having to deal with the fallout if any of those rag reporters find out about us and decide to make a nuisance of themselves after I’m gone.”

  “I can handle them.”

  “I don’t want you to have to.”

  “It’s worth it to have a couple more days with you.”

  A moment of silence ticked by.

  “I’ll tell you what. Let’s put the picnic on hold for today. I’ll touch base with you first thing in the morning. For tonight, it’s safer if you keep your distance.”

  “I can find a way to get over to your place without being detected, Katherine.” At least he was 99 percent certain he could.

  “Zach—do this for me. Please. I don’t want our relationship tainted by being splashed all over the scandal sheets that pass for magazines in the show business world.”

  Her impassioned plea was impossible to refuse—and much as he wanted to see her, her peace of mind took priority.

  “If that’s what you want, I’ll stay on this side of the property line tonight—as long as you call me in the morning.”

  “I will.”

  “Early.”

  “I promise.” Her voice caught. Like she was trying to hold back a sob.

  “Hey.” He gentled his tone. “We’ll work this out. Everything will be fine.”

  “I hope so. Talk to you soon.”

  She ended the call before he could respond.

  After a few moments of silence, he lowered the cell.

  Down the hall, Stephanie’s door clicked, and less than half a minute later she poked her head into the kitchen. “Is the coast clear?”

  “Yeah.”

  She joined him. “You don’t look happy.”

  “Change in plans.”

  He recounted his conversation with Katherine.

  Stephanie wrinkled her nose. “Bummer.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  She tucked her purse under her arm and regarded him. “For what it’s worth, I have a feeling she’s in tears as we speak—and battling more than a few regrets about taking that movie role.”

  “It was the right choice, much as I would have preferred her to turn it down.”

  “In that case—if I may offer one piece of advice—follow her lead on how to handle this development. She already has more than her share of pressure and stress in Hollywood. She doesn’t need any more here. And she knows the nasty side of that business better than you do.”

  A knock sounded on the door, and Stephanie motioned toward the front of the house. “That would be Frank. You want me to stay here tonight and keep you company?”

  He summoned up a smile. “No reason two romantic evenings should be ruined. Go. Have fun. I’ll give Dad a call, finish the thriller I picked up at the airport for the trip home, and make it an early night.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.” Another knock rattled the door, and he shooed her toward it. “He seems anxious. Go ahead and answer.”

  After a brief hesitation, she nodded. “Okay. I’ll see you in the morning.” She picked up her sweater from the island, rose on tiptoe to kiss his cheek, and disappeared down the hall. After a short, muffled exchange, the front door clicked shut as they headed out for their dinner date.

  Leaving him alone to face the whole lonely, empty evening that stretched ahead.

  After expelling a breath, he put the hamper back on the counter and began unpacking the contents. Surely if he applied a hefty dose of brainpower to the logistics of arranging a clandestine picnic, he could come up with a solution that would placate Katherine.

  But the plan he formulated during the long evening and the longer, restless night came to naught.

  Because at some point in the early hours of the morning, Katherine left.

  He made that discovery after the fact, as the first pale light of dawn began to seep around the drapes in his room.

  Finally giving up on sleep, he swung his legs to the floor, reached for his cell on the nightstand—and found an email from her waiting for him. />
  Zach—Please don’t be mad, but I can’t in good conscience stay here any longer with paparazzi on my tail. Sorry as I am to leave without an in-person farewell—and our picnic on the beach—there’s nowhere safe for us to get together . . . and if we talk again, I’m afraid you’ll convince me to attempt a rendezvous. So I left with Simon early this morning.

  I promise to stay in touch every day during the shooting, by phone and text and email—to the point you may get tired of hearing from me. (I hope not.) Please know that you’ll be constantly in my thoughts—as I hope I’ll be in yours. Until we meet again . . .

  Your Katherine

  P.S. I finished the truffles for the Hope House benefit in the wee hours. You’ll find them on the island in my kitchen. The house key is under the pot of flowers on the deck.

  Gut twisting, Zach forked his fingers through his hair and stared at the screen.

  Hard as he tried to be mad, he couldn’t summon up one ounce of anger. Walking out without a good-bye had to have been as hard on Katherine as it was on him.

  And you had to admire a woman who did what she believed was best for someone she cared about, despite the cost to herself.

  Zach pushed himself to his feet and crossed to the window. Moved the drapes aside.

  From here, the house next door wasn’t visible through the needle-bedecked boughs of the trees.

  But it was there.

  Just like Katherine would remain in his heart during the weeks ahead, even if he couldn’t see her.

  Lifting his cell again, he tapped in a response.

  I’m not mad . . . and I’ll never get tired of hearing from you. As for you being in my thoughts—goes without saying. Will miss you at the Hope House benefit.

  And so she’d know he’d caught the significance of her sign-off, he ended his email the same.

  Your Zach

  Then he geared up for the day at The Perfect Blend.

  Because at this stage of the game, with the woman who was fast claiming his heart far away from Hope Harbor and once again immersed in the glamor and fast-paced life of Hollywood, the outcome of their relationship was in the hands of a power far greater than either of them.

  28

  “The turkey smells divine, Zach.” Stephanie entered the house on a gust of chilly air and gave an appreciative sniff. “Happy Thanksgiving.” She handed him a casserole dish, shed her jacket, and slid her damp umbrella into the stand by the door.

  “The same to you.” He leaned down and kissed her cheek. “Where’s Frank?”

  “Running an errand. He’ll be along soon. Is your dad in the great room?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll go say hello—and take advantage of the fireplace. You do have a fire going, don’t you?”

  “Wouldn’t be Thanksgiving without one. Let me put this in the fridge”—he hefted the casserole—“and I’ll join you in a minute. Can I bring you a drink?”

  “I’ll help myself to one after I warm up, thanks.”

  As she continued toward the back of the house, Zach detoured to the kitchen and slid her sweet potato casserole into the refrigerator, then pulled out his cell and scanned the screen.

  Nothing more from Katherine since a text at dawn—all he had to console himself on this holiday they’d planned to spend together, until the location shooting schedule in Texas had been delayed by rain and the studio honchos had decided to forge ahead and try to regain the lost ground. From what Katherine had said, they’d planned to film until last night.

  He reread her brief message, sent at the crack of dawn.

  Zach—Missing you. This isn’t where I want to be for the holiday. Will be in touch later.

  Your Katherine

  At least she’d promised to call.

  But after eleven weeks with only texts, emails, and phone calls to sustain him, having to forgo their much-anticipated reunion stunk.

  “You joining us, Zach?” His father called out the question from the great room.

  “I’ll be right there.”

  Taking a deep breath, he did his best to banish his negativity. After all, he had much to be grateful for this day—including the fact that he was spending the holiday with all his remaining family members.

  The reconciliation with his father alone ought to lift his spirits. It was nothing short of miraculous—as was his father’s attitude. Nervous as Zach had been about his dad’s reaction to his business and the life he’d created here, the older man had apparently come to terms with his elder son’s choices. He’d not only been interested in exploring the town and visiting The Perfect Blend since his arrival on Tuesday, he’d been complimentary about both.

  To buy himself another few seconds to fire up his enthusiasm, Zach crossed to the refrigerator and pulled out a soda.

  Having Katherine here as he gave thanks for all the blessings his move to Hope Harbor had brought would have made the day perfect—but if their relationship continued to progress, they’d be spending future holidays together. Christmas wasn’t far off, and the location shooting would be over. The studio filming should conclude by the end of January.

  Then she’d be free.

  And from all indications, she was sticking to her plan to exit the movie world after this film.

  She hadn’t yet decided what she wanted to do instead, but as far as he was concerned, she could take as long as she needed to figure that out.

  And what more perfect place to do that than in Hope Harbor?

  A case he intended to argue during their next in-person visit—or sooner.

  Swigging his soda, he left the kitchen and strolled toward the living room, where his dad and aunt were sitting side by side on the couch in front of the fireplace.

  “You picked a cozy spot.”

  “Perfect for a day like this.” His father waved a hand toward the deck, where tendrils of fog were engaged in a sinuous dance outside the sliding door. “You get socked in often?”

  “Fog’s part of life here—but in general it comes and goes fast.” Zach sat in an overstuffed chair at a right angle to the couch. “You get used to it after—”

  The doorbell chimed.

  “Must be Frank. You want to do the honors?” He motioned toward the hall with his soda can as he directed the question to his aunt.

  “To tell you the truth, I’m too comfortable to get up.” As if to reinforce that, she burrowed into the cushions. “I haven’t quite shaken the chill I got driving over.”

  Zach arched his eyebrows. “Your significant other is waiting on the porch and you aren’t in a hurry to see him? Shouldn’t you be flying toward the door, cheeks flushed, heart racing?”

  She snickered. “That could be a quote from one of my romance novels. Don’t tell me I’ve converted you to my favorite genre.”

  “Hey—if his girl is far away, a guy has to live out his fantasies where he can find them.” Grinning, he set his soda on the side table and rose. “Fine. I’ll let Frank in. And I won’t tell him you preferred to warm up in front of a fire instead of in his arms.”

  “I’ll hug him after he sheds his wet-weather gear.”

  “I may tell him that.”

  “Not if you want to stay in my good graces.”

  Chuckling, Zach strolled down the hall. It had been fun to watch the romance between his part-time barista and his aunt blossom over the past few months. If this kept up, wedding bells shouldn’t be far off.

  Corners of his mouth tipped up, he twisted the knob and pulled the door open.

  Stopped breathing.

  What the . . . ?

  His jaw dropped as he took in the blonde woman holding an umbrella who stood on the other side of his door.

  “Happy Thanksgiving, Zach.”

  Somehow he managed to find his voice. “Katherine?”

  “None other. Did the blonde hair throw you?” She patted her tresses, longer now and back to their natural color.

  “No.” She’d been sending him production stills and selfies for weeks,
so her appearance wasn’t a surprise. Her arrival on his doorstep? Different story. “What are you doing here?”

  Before she could respond, Frank slid out from behind the wheel of the car in the driveway, hustled over, and gave him a disgusted look. “If that’s the best you can do when your girl arrives out of the blue after weeks apart, you deserve a kick in the pants. And I’m not waiting out here in the car for you to get yourself in gear and give her a proper welcome while my girl is waiting for me inside.” He elbowed past and disappeared into the house, juggling a box in one hand.

  “I guess I surprised you.” The spark of excitement in Katherine’s eyes flickered, and her smile dimmed a few watts. As if she was uncertain of her welcome.

  Better fix that. Pronto.

  “Come in out of the rain.” He took her arm and tugged her inside.

  “I thought it would be fun to show up unannounced, but I should have—”

  “Let me take your coat and show you how happy I am to see you.” He peeled it off. Relieved her of her umbrella. Grabbed her hand and towed her down the hall.

  On the threshold of his bedroom, she balked. “Um . . . this might be the other extreme.”

  “I intend to give you the proper welcome Frank mentioned, and I don’t want an audience.” He pulled her inside, shut the door with his foot, and wrapped his arms around her. “You ready?”

  A dimple appeared in her cheek, and she tossed her purse on the bed. Snuggled closer to him. “Lay it on me.”

  He lowered his lips to hers—and gave her a no-holds-barred kiss that should leave no doubt about how much he’d missed her.

  She reciprocated, all in, all the way.

  When they finally surfaced for air, her lipstick had disappeared and her hair was mussed.

  “Wow.” She leaned her forehead against his chest. “I think Frank would be impressed.”

  “I’m more interested in whether you were impressed.”

  “I’d rate that an A+ welcome.”

  He stroked her back, then eased off a few inches to see her. “So tell me how you managed to pull this off.”

  “We finished yesterday afternoon, ahead of schedule. Booking a last-minute flight over the Thanksgiving weekend is a challenge, but if you’re willing to take a red-eye, lady luck can grant you a few favors.”