“I hope not,” he said. The coach’s job included playing with guests in need of an opponent, but he generally wasn’t on duty until 9:00 a.m. He must have come in early. Hardly a surprise—most men fell over themselves to accommodate such a beautiful woman.
She examined him from head to toe. “What’s going on—did you sleep in your clothes?”
He shrugged, deciding he ought to shower before encountering another guest. “It’s a long story. I’d better get going. See you later.”
After cleaning up, Zack went by the front desk and had them make a reservation at the Sunfish Grotto for six-fifteen.
“Yes, sir. By the way, the new koi fish for the serenity garden have been released in the ponds.”
Pleased, Zack went to see the exotic newcomers drifting in the water. He still wasn’t sure the Japanese-style garden was right for Mar Vista, but the guests weren’t complaining. At night the low lights and hidden corners offered privacy to couples who didn’t want to walk the ocean bluffs or find other romantic locations.
He hadn’t shown Jamie the garden, and he likely wouldn’t be doing so anytime soon. Whatever Jamie believed, he played fair. And it wouldn’t be fair to show her so much as an extra blade of grass, because she’d have to stay to protect her silly fruit stand. Besides, pretending to be on cordial terms with him would stretch her minuscule patience to the limit without provocation.
Why did she charge through the world with her fists ready? His dad would call her a worthy opponent, but while Zack admired self-reliance, her determination to take care of herself and fight all comers was unusually strong.
Soon after three he got a text from Jamie. It wasn’t a cancellation, but she was reminding him that she’d prefer going to the Clam Shell. He’d wanted to show off the Grotto, but he could take her there another evening. It was a reasonable request; she would barely finish at the fruit stand in time to get home and be ready for their public meal out, so it should be her choice where they dined.
* * *
BRAD THOUGHT IT was curious that Kim was back at Mar Vista so soon, but he was glad to see her. The awkwardness he’d expected from their quarrel never materialized. Kim simply hugged him and suggested they explore the art galleries in town.
The resort had loaner vehicles for guests, but Zack had tossed him a set of keys the day he’d flown in, saying he hardly ever used his car, so Brad might as well. Like everything with Zack, his ride was quality—a sleek, sporty BMW. He didn’t know many jarheads who could afford a Beamer, and he pictured his own vehicle, a twelve-year-old SUV, stored behind his parents’ garage. It was somewhat beat-up, but it ran smoothly and had come with no monthly payments.
“You haven’t been into Warrington before now?” Brad queried as he parked on the central shopping street in town. “Zack said you came to the grand opening.”
Kim grinned. “You know Zack—I was lucky to have a minute to eat, much less do sightseeing.”
It was true, and who would understand Zack better than Kim?
The community seemed to be flourishing, particularly the businesses catering to the tourists. Off the main street they strolled into a small art studio, where Kim was taken with a sculpture of seabirds, though she did a double take when she glanced at the identifying information.
“Too pricey?” Brad asked.
“It’s not for sale, but check the artist’s name.”
Brad read the placard explaining it was a piece by a George Jenkins. “So?”
“That was Jamie Conroe’s grandfather. The same name, at least.”
He read the placard again. It was dated 1952. “You think it’s the same guy?”
“Anything’s possible. The decor in Jamie’s house is exquisite. I thought she must have completely redone it after her grandfather died, but maybe not.” Kim turned to the gallery attendant. “Was this a local artist? I heard there was a George Jenkins who used to live near the new resort.”
“Yes, ma’am. It’s the same man. He didn’t sell many pieces in Warrington, but he gave this one to my aunt in the 1950s.”
Next they went across the street to a picturesque café. Brad ordered the mocha latte for Kim and regular black coffee for himself, along with two slices of blackberry pie. According to the sign out front, it was the “most delicious pie in the county.”
Kim shook her head as she sipped her foamy concoction. “It’s odd that we saw a sculpture by Jamie’s grandfather. He was quite talented.”
“Not so odd.” Brad swallowed a bite of pie. It was delicious, and much more his taste over the elaborate dishes they served at Mar Vista. “You wouldn’t believe the flukes that occurred overseas. I once had two guys assigned to my unit who were cousins—they hadn’t seen each other since they were ten. But Jamie’s grandfather was an artist, so it’s really not a coincidence to find his work in the same town where he lived.”
“I guess you’re right. Listen, Brad. One of the reasons I came up this weekend...” Her voice trailed off and Brad wondered what the problem might be. As a rule, Kim was more articulate than most people.
“Yes?” he prompted.
She took a deep breath. “Saying that stuff about you getting blown up was terribly insensitive of me.”
He began laughing. It was the best chuckle he’d had in ages. “Good God, Kim. If you think that was insensitive, you ought to hear the things we hurled at each other in the hospital.”
“It’s not funny,” she said stiffly.
“You don’t have to tell me, but if I didn’t laugh, I wouldn’t see the point of going on.”
“Well...I wanted to apologize and I’m relieved it didn’t offend you.”
“Actually, I liked it. You can’t know how tiresome it is to be around people always walking on verbal eggshells. You forgot to watch your mouth and it was a treat.”
* * *
IT WAS AFTER five when Jamie was able to stash the remnants of the day’s stock in the truck. She dropped the receipts into the night deposit at the bank and got home shortly before six. A long hot shower would have been nice, but instead she ducked in and out in nothing flat.
“Be there in a second,” she called as the doorbell rang. She pulled a robe on and dashed to peek out the front window. It was Zack. She opened the door. “Come in. I only got home a couple minutes ago and I’m hurrying as fast as I can.”
“Don’t rush,” he assured her, though his voice was rough, making her aware that she had nothing on under the old pink terry.
Jamie hurried to her bedroom. She sternly reminded herself this was not a date; she and Zack didn’t even like each other, though it hadn’t kept her from imagining how he looked without clothing.
Hmm.... No time for lustful fantasies. She searched her closet for something suitable to wear—the kind of outfit you wore to dinner with a friend or for an informal business meal. Her aqua T-shirt and tan A-line skirt would have to do. A pair of silver earrings her grandfather had cast years ago completed the outfit.
She went into the living room and found Zack on the couch, defending himself against Marlin’s determined advances.
“Did you get my message about going to the Clam Shell?”
“Yeah.” He lifted Marlin from his lap, but the feline promptly jumped back onto Zack’s legs.
“Come on, boy,” Jamie urged, luring the cat to the floor with a handful of treats. “Sorry. He got spoiled last winter when I was here all day, so now he’s hungry for attention.”
Zack stood and brushed himself off. “Doesn’t he know when people don’t want him on top of them?”
“You don’t have experience with cats, do you? If someone doesn’t want them around, that person becomes their favorite target.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Not a bit. It’s part of their twisted feline sense of humor. I love cats, but
I admit that dogs are easier animals to get along with.”
“I wouldn’t know.”
“You wouldn’t?” Jamie broke off in amazement. “You’ve never had a dog or a cat, even as a kid?”
“No. Mom was allergic to pet dander or something, and I don’t have time for an animal now.”
What an insight to the guy’s life, and he didn’t even seem to know what he’d missed.
“Are you ready?” he asked.
“Sure.”
Zack’s hand on the small of her back was just a polite gesture as they left the house, but it sent electric currents up and down her spine anyway.
CHAPTER EIGHT
AS JAMIE SANK onto the butter-soft leather of the Mercedes passenger seat, she reminded herself to keep a friendly appearance.
Friends. Pals. Buddies.
What a joke. Fortunately, it didn’t have to be genuine; they just had to make it look good.
Zack drove into the parking lot and parked in the most visible spot, near the parking valet.
“Hello...Brian,” he said as they passed the valet, his pause nearly imperceptible as he glanced at the employee’s name tag. Jamie had already noted the Mar Vista staff wore tags identifying them for guests—and apparently for their boss.
“Good evening, Mr. Denning,” the valet replied.
“Brian, have you met our neighbor, Ms. Conroe?”
The man barely blinked. “She may not remember, but I knew Jamie when we were kids and she was visiting her grandfather.”
“Of course I remember you, B.B.,” Jamie said, using his old nickname and giving him a wink. She was surprised by his lack of expression. Brian Berk had been one of the funniest boys Jamie had ever met; he’d told the stupidest elephant jokes and made them hilarious. “Is your sense of humor still getting you in the dog house?”
For a moment Brian’s bland mask slipped and he grinned. “I swear I wasn’t the one who painted the dog blue.”
“No, but you were the one who added the eight ball.”
“Hey, I was twelve and the paint wasn’t toxic.” All at once Brian looked at his employer apprehensively. Perhaps he wasn’t supposed to be too informal with the resort clientele.
Zack smiled easily. “Someday I’ll have to hear the whole story. I hope you have pictures.”
“I...er...think my mother has some,” Brian stuttered.
“She’s probably saving them to embarrass you when your kids are old enough. There are a few my own mother is holding over my head, even though I keep reminding her blackmail is illegal.”
“That would be Mom’s speed.”
Zack extended his arm and they shook hands. “We’d better go so we can make our dinner reservation.”
The Clam Shell might be the resort’s casual restaurant, but it was elegant enough in Jamie’s opinion. At least she wasn’t too underdressed. There were people in evening clothes, but also men in shorts and women in jeans—designer jeans, to be sure, but still jeans.
“Evening, Sean.” Zack greeted the maître d’ without the hesitation he’d shown with Brian. No doubt he ate there often enough to know the restaurant employees.
“I understand you’re eating in tonight, Mr. Denning.”
“Yes. Sean, this is Jamie Conroe, one of Mar Vista’s neighbors. Jamie, this is Sean Deacons. He keeps things running at the Clam Shell.”
The maître d’ stepped forward and bowed. “Ms. Conroe—our chef has spoken of you.”
“I’m sure he has,” Zack inserted casually. “We’re fortunate to have Jamie coordinating the purchase of organic produce for our restaurants. She’s brought the quality to an exceptional level.”
The maître d’ led them to a section of tables on a low platform and Jamie figured Zack had chosen the location for its visibility. Sean would have held Jamie’s chair for her, but Zack beat him to it.
As Jamie looked around the restaurant, she noticed various employees covertly watching their boss. Whether it was curiosity or concern that he was inspecting their work, she didn’t know. The comments from the woman at the fruit stand implied he was a micromanager and a nitpicker of major proportions.
A server came with the menus and Zack introduced them with rare charm.
Once the employees got through gossiping about the evening, Jamie guessed she’d practically be seen as a member of the Denning family.
She opened the menu and studied it, recognizing some of the dishes that Zack had brought the past few nights. Prices were conspicuously absent—asking the cost would probably be considered gauche at Mar Vista’s rarefied strata.
“How nice to see you, Zack,” a woman said, stopping by the table, a tall man next to her.
“Cheryl, Linc.” Zack stood to shake her hand and that of her husband. “Welcome to Mar Vista. I noticed your names on the reservation list.”
“Oh, yes, we got your note. Our investment manager told us he’d visited your resort, so we had to see it for ourselves,” the man explained.
“Terrific.” Zack turned to Jamie. “Let me introduce you to my neighbor and friend, Jamie Conroe. Jamie, this is Cheryl and Linc Augustine. I’ve known them for fifteen years. We met when I was working at a resort in Pennsylvania.”
The woman gave Jamie a swift visual inspection, blatantly assessing her. Jamie lifted her chin, thinking of cats circling and trying to decide who was alpha in the crowd. Well, she didn’t have to be top cat, but she wasn’t settling for bottom of the heap, either.
“Nice to meet you.” Linc shook her hand; unlike his wife, his eyes were filled with frank appreciation. Not that he seemed the type of guy who strayed—he simply wasn’t blind to other women.
“Could we get together tomorrow, Zack?” Cheryl asked. “We’d love a personal tour of Mar Vista. From what we’ve seen, it’s everything you intended it to be. Linc is already planning our next visit.”
“It would be an honor for such old friends,” Zack assured her. “I enjoy showing it off to people.”
“I can vouch for that,” Jamie said with a straight face.
Zack coughed and picked up a goblet of water.
Luckily the Augustines moved on at Sean’s urging, who was waiting to seat them.
“Thanks a lot,” Zack muttered, sitting and gulping the rest of his water. “I almost choked to death.”
Additional guests strolled by and Jamie marveled at how well Zack remembered them, especially when he seemed to have trouble recalling the names of some employees. Of course, Mar Vista did have a large staff, and they’d only been up and running for a few months. With turnover, there also could be new people he hadn’t met yet. At the thought, she pressed her lips together. She was making excuses for him.
“Sorry for the interruptions,” he said. “I should have gotten a different table. You haven’t even had a chance to study the menu.”
She shrugged. “That’s okay. How do you know so many of your guests?”
“I’ve managed at a number of resorts and you get to know the people who visit on a regular basis. That’s why they’re here—because they know me. I hope they’ll return because of Mar Vista itself.”
Jamie thought she saw a hint of concern in Zack’s expression and she supposed it was natural for him to be worried for his investment. It sounded as if he’d been planning Mar Vista for a long time.
Or he could be playing on her sympathy and wasn’t concerned in the slightest.
Lord. When did she get so cynical? Zack had suggested she was a bitter divorcée, but he was wrong. Her view of the world had nothing to do with her divorce; it was from years of contact with Tim and his kind. Her ex-husband had attracted similar-minded people—men and women who cared less for kindness and honesty than for profit and winning the game. It would take a while to shed the excessive caution she’d learned
from being around them. Still, it had proved an education on how some people operated—a lesson she shouldn’t altogether forget.
“Pardon me, Mr. Denning.” It was the maître d’. “Mr. Chen asked if you were available to step into the kitchen.”
“Certainly. Jamie, do you mind?”
“No problem.”
She read the menu while she waited. Everything looked fabulous, with the unique flair she’d expect from a top chef. But Gordon also wisely offered a range of familiar dishes for the less adventurous. Nearby diners, studying the menu as well, were joking about the notation on certain items, stating they could be prepared with organic products upon request.
“Only in California,” declared one. “What does our daughter call it—the land of bean sprouts and gurus?”
“And Disneyland,” the wife added.
“That’s right.”
Despite their humor, the couple opted for organic ingredients when they ordered their meal. It made sense; there was a growing focus on eating healthier, and she felt a flash of satisfaction, knowing she’d helped get the best produce to Gordon’s kitchen.
Jamie looked around the restaurant again. In an upper section she saw a circular dining area with broad windows overlooking the cove to the south of the resort. She didn’t expect to be back, so it would have been nice to sit there, but the more public location was best.
The evening was going the way it should.
Zack was making sure as many guests and employees as possible knew who she was, and that their relationship was friendly. If their conversation occasionally had an edge to it, she doubted anyone had noticed. Once the news got out, the problems at the stand might go away. And once she got Zack to accept that she wasn’t selling Granddad’s land, there would be little need to see each other. Life in Warrington would be much simpler, the way she’d planned it to be.
* * *
ZACK HURRIED INTO the large kitchen that was the hub for two restaurants and a banquet hall. Gordon directed the various chefs and circulated food similar to a maestro conducting a symphony. Patiently he waited until the chef saw him.
Harlequin Superromance January 2014 - Bundle 1 of 2: Everywhere She GoesA Promise for the BabyThat Summer at the Shore Page 67
