Harlequin Superromance January 2014 - Bundle 1 of 2: Everywhere She GoesA Promise for the BabyThat Summer at the Shore

by Janice Kay Johnson

  “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

  THE 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?

  * * *

  BRAD 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 no
wadays 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.

  * * *

  ON TUESDAY 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.

  No cosmetics.

  No jewelry or accessories.

  No special attempt to look attractive or appealing.

  Yet something in the scene tugged at Zack’s gut. It didn’t make sense. Jamie was the opposite of the women who inhabited his world. True, he’d been living like a monk, too buried in work for socializing, but still....

  “Are you going to buy strawberries, or keep examining me for weak points?” she said suddenly, startling him.

  “I thought you were asleep.”

  “The sound of tires on gravel is a decent alarm system.” Jamie raised her eyebrows. “If you’re here to complain some more, go ahead and give it your best shot.”

  “I...I want to apologize. I shouldn’t have called the sheriff. And you were correct—this is your land. The surveyors’ report came this morning.”

  “Wow. That must have hurt.” She rose from the low-slung chair in a
graceful twist.

  Zack grimaced. She couldn’t know how much it hurt, or how hard it was to follow Kim’s advice to be nice. “As I said, I’m very sorry. I was under the impression your grandfather sold me everything, including this beachfront acre.”

  Her blue eyes grew stormy. “Are you saying he cheated you?”

  “I’m only...” Zack stopped. It was galling; even if George Jenkins had cheated, it meant he was the chump. Zack couldn’t afford that kind of reputation in corporate circles. “No, not at all, but I would like to acquire this section. Name a price.”

  “It isn’t for sale.”

  “Are you planning to build?” he asked.

  “Heavens, no. Granddad would haunt me.”

  That was reassuring. All he had to worry about was a summer fruit stand—except summer was his busiest season. In the next few months the resort was solidly booked with reservations from high-profile guests, as well as old friends and clientele who knew him as a manager in other locations. Most were coming because of their acquaintance with him, and they’d keep coming if Mar Vista met or exceeded their expectations. And while it was possible that Jamie’s hideous trailer wouldn’t sabotage the resort, it wouldn’t be good for it, either.

  “I’ll pay you a fair amount,” he said. “Extremely fair.”

  “It isn’t a question of price.” Her gaze was clear and seemed free of guile. Yet it made no sense that she didn’t care how much she could get. A woman who eked out a living peddling fruits and vegetables had to be short on money.

  “If you aren’t going to develop the site, why not take the cash?”

  “To be sure no one else builds on it. It isn’t you personally. No one gets this land. It’s Conroe soil and it stays in the family.”

  The scent of strawberries wafted into Zack’s consciousness. His stomach grumbled, a reminder that he’d skipped both breakfast and lunch. Jamie grinned at the noise and held a bowl of fruit in his direction. “Have some. My treat.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “It’s a free sample of what your restaurant is serving for dessert tonight,” she said. “You do know that we’re in business together, don’t you?”