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

by Janice Kay Johnson

  “No, I don’t. But never mind that now. Do you think your security cameras caught anything?”

  “I did a fast review and it looked like an identifiable face was recorded. Curt will follow up.”

  “Did you recognize him?”

  Jamie gave a quick shake of her head. “No. I don’t even know if he’s local or not, and I can’t imagine why he’d care about the stand. He wasn’t a teenager. I’m lucky he didn’t do more inside the trailer, or he might have spotted the cameras.”

  “How did you sleep last night?” he asked.

  “Like a log,” she claimed, though he wondered if she was telling the truth. She’d played an extremely alluring game the entire evening at the Grotto, stirring him up enough that it had taken a long cold shower to settle down. It was hard to believe she’d escaped unscathed.

  Tempted as he was to test his theory, Zack decided it was wisest to leave her alone—she’d had a tough enough start to the day. Besides, a customer was driving down the road, the woman waving at Jamie, so he kissed her cheek again.

  Her voice followed him to the SUV. “The show is for Brad and Kim, not the general public.”

  * * *

  AT 11:00 A.M., Jamie assessed the stock she had left. In three hours she was supposed to meet Kim Wheeler. She’d either have to leave and let people put money in a box until she came back, or she could close early and pack it all up. She hadn’t promised to hold anything, so it could go either way.

  Annoyed as she was with Zack, there was no denying that the help from his men had made things easier. But she would reduce the charges on her invoice to Mar Vista for the day, to pay for the work the employees had done.

  At one she decided to load her leftovers. Word had spread about the vandalism and many curious or concerned folks had come by to check things out and then to shop, so she didn’t have much left anyhow. She drove home to brew coffee and pull cookies from the freezer to serve when Kim got there.

  With lawyerlike punctuality, Kim arrived right on time and Jamie welcomed her into the house. “I’ve got coffee on if you want a cup,” she said.

  “Sounds great.”

  They sat in the living room, drinking coffee and discussing the vandalism at the stand. After a while, Kim examined the trays of jewelry Jamie had laid out on the dining-room table.

  “These are really good,” Kim enthused. She pointed at one tray. “Especially that group.”

  “Those are the ones I’ve made for the art gallery. The rest of the pieces are for regular tourist shops. I’ve decided to make the higher-end ones in limited groups and number them.”

  “Like an artist has numbered prints,” Kim said. “That’s a good idea. You know...maybe I shouldn’t say this, but these would fit in with the merchandise in the shops at Mar Vista. I could show a few pieces to Zack and—”

  “No,” Jamie cut in swiftly, then winced. After all, she and Zack were trying to make Kim and Brad believe they were a couple. And considering the passionate night they’d spent together, it wasn’t entirely a lie, even if it also wasn’t the truth. “I wouldn’t want to presume, you know, on the fact...that we...see each other,” she said, tempering her tone.

  “Don’t worry. Zack won’t let that influence him.”

  “Even so, I wouldn’t be comfortable. Things are tricky at this...stage.”

  “Brad said you wouldn’t like it, but I wanted to ask.”

  Jamie tried to think if she could say something about Brad that might help push the two of them together, and she laughed to herself. The matchmaking bug was hard to escape.

  It truly wasn’t her business. Besides, she couldn’t claim any expertise in the romance department.

  “Any plans for dinner?” she asked instead. “I could fix a salad or something.”

  “Oh, thanks,” Kim answered, suddenly seeming flustered...a very un-lawyerlike condition. “But Brad and I are going into town. There’s an Italian place we want to try.”

  “You must mean Martine’s. They’re great,” Jamie said, deciding that Brad and Kim needed no one to push them together; from now on they could figure it out for themselves.

  It was just as well that Kim hadn’t stayed. Shortly after she left, Curt knocked on the door. He was delighted to get the leftover coffee and polish off the rest of the cookies.

  “I went by the fruit stand first,” he said. “It’s amazing. How did you get things going again after the mess I saw in those pictures?”

  “Zack Denning insisted on having a group of his men clean up and do repairs,” she said, hating to admit it.

  “Zack Denning?” Curt asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “Zack Denning of Denning Enterprises and the Mar Vista Resort?”

  “That’s the one.”

  “Wow. I never saw that one coming. Do you think he could be sending a vandal out by night, and cleaning up by day?”

  “When did you get so cynical, Curt?” Though Jamie had teased him about getting elected sheriff, it was something he’d talked of doing when he was a boy—with visions of being the Grand Marshal in the Founder’s Day parade and riding a white...squad car.

  “Working in law enforcement doesn’t leave you innocent.”

  “Look, I’m pretty sure Mar Vista isn’t involved, but I can’t figure out who could be doing it.”

  “That I can answer. We’ve got the jerk under arrest. His name is Gus Hewitt. He’s a local guy, never involved in anything major, but pretty seedy.” Curt’s voice got low and gruff. “He was hired and dunno why and can’t finger his boss cuz he didn’t meet the dude, just got the dough in the mail, see?”

  Jamie grinned at the impersonation. “Sounds as if Gus has seen too many old crime shows.”

  “No question. I’m also sure he knows more than he’s revealing and actually has met his boss. I suspect he’s hoping to get more cash to stay quiet. Do you have any ideas? You say you don’t think the Denning fellow could be involved, but are you certain? The man was plenty pissed off about the fruit stand.”

  Jamie shook her head. People could be incredibly two-faced, few people knew that better than she did, but her instincts said neither Zack nor his people were responsible.

  “No. This isn’t because of the resort. It’s...” An unsavory suspicion suddenly occurred to her. Could it be Tim? Hiring someone to do his dirty work sounded exactly like her ex-husband’s style. He was basically a coward at heart, tearing other people down to make himself feel more powerful.

  “Don’t keep it to yourself if you’ve thought of something,” Curt prompted. “All possibilities should be considered.”

  “It’s just that my ex-husband... Well, he didn’t exactly take the end of our marriage as the final word.”

  Curt pulled out a notebook and pen. “What has he done?”

  “Nothing in person, at least nothing I know of. But he kept calling last winter, even after I changed my number. And he asked our mutual friends to talk about him. I thought he’d given up, only now he’s started phoning my parents, putting on a concerned act about my welfare out here.”

  “Is he the kind of man who would do something like this?”

  “Yes.”

  He looked at her sympathetically. “I’m sorry, Jamie. Sounds as if it was a rough breakup.”

  Jamie hesitated, hating to admit how bad her judgment had been in picking a husband, and decided there wasn’t any point in keeping her mouth shut. If Tim was behind the vandalism, everyone would wonder how she’d gotten together with him anyway.

  “The most galling part is that I didn’t realize before we were married what he was really like,” she said slowly. “It was only later, gradually, that his true character peeked out.”

  “Some people put on a good show. When I started out as a deputy, I once let a guy go because he said he ha
d to get his wife to the hospital because she was having a baby. It turned out she had fifteen pounds of cocaine shoved beneath her shirt.”

  “How’d you find out that?”

  Curt grinned. “Well, because I’m a lunkhead and believed him, I decided to escort them to the hospital. When the car turned the opposite direction, I got suspicious.”

  It was good to laugh and release some tension. Curt poured himself another cup of coffee, loading it with cream and sugar.

  “What’s your ex-husband’s full name?” he asked.

  “Timothy Wendell Gardiner.”

  Curt wrote it in his notebook and tapped the paper with his pen. “If your ex is responsible, he couldn’t have simply picked Gus Hewitt’s name out of the phone book. He would have to have known Gus was the lowlife type.”

  At the implication, Jamie wrapped her arms around her stomach. It was true. If Tim was the one behind all this, he must have come to Warrington, perhaps numerous times, watching and planning. Those times he’d called her, he could have been parked outside the house or down the driveway.

  “You’re right,” she agreed. “He must have been here long enough, or often enough, to figure out who to hire.”

  “That means I can show a picture around and see who might recognize him. It might even scare Gus into turning evidence against his boss. He’ll be shopping for a deal since we can try him on several different counts—the D.A. wants to throw everything possible at him, including stalking charges. With his record, the judge won’t be lenient. Do you have any pictures I can use? Or did you cut them all up into tiny pieces after the divorce, the way my sister did with photos of her ex?”

  Jamie chuckled ruefully. “I considered it, but some of those pictures have people I care about in them.”

  She fetched her photo album and they went through it until Curt spotted a couple he thought would be good to use.

  “We’ll get right on it,” he said, tucking the photos in his pocket.

  As he went to his car, she noted that the late-afternoon sun was now hidden behind a deep fog bank. A cheerful fire would be nice. With Gus Hewitt in jail she shouldn’t find any vandalism tomorrow, and she might have a chance to start sorting out the emotional garbage that had collected. But not tonight. This evening she planned to sit in front of the hearth and try to forget everything for a while.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  IT WAS LATE that afternoon when Zack stopped by the front desk to greet some arriving guests, and stayed to chat with the clerk, Michael Brookings.

  “You sound British,” Zack noted after a while. “How did you end up in Warrington?”

  “I came as a tourist and met a girl. We’ve been married five years last April.”

  “Did you come from a small town in Britain?”

  “No, quite the opposite—London. But I enjoy living in Warrington, even if it is tiny by comparison.”

  “I’m glad you decided to make it your home.”

  “Thank you.”

  Zack continued toward the Sunfish Grotto, thinking the conversation had flowed better than most he’d had in recent months with employees. He’d been trying to get to know them, but it wasn’t easy with such a large number, and they often appeared reserved when they were around him.

  Strangely, things seemed to be running more smoothly at Mar Vista. The vague uneasiness he’d had over operations was starting to diminish; things were getting better. Was it because he was handling things differently? He’d have a chat with Trudy on Monday to get her impressions. She was still thinking about the promotion he’d offered...and he genuinely hoped she would take it. He was three kinds of an idiot not to have suggested it earlier. And somehow the way he felt about her pregnancy had also changed; in the beginning, he had worried about the impact on the resort—now he was truly glad for the Lopezes. He’d even suggested the possibility of an employee day-care program, which had put a pleased gleam in Trudy’s eyes.

  Zack suspected a day-care center was the sort of thing Jamie would applaud, probably with an it’s-about-time comment. And he couldn’t deny that some of the shifts in his thinking may have come from his contact with her.

  At the Sunfish Grotto he checked to see if they had a table available for that night in case Jamie found something she felt comfortable wearing. They did, but it would be in the overflow area, a group of tables in the banquet room. It was still elegant, and had the bonus of being on the other side of the dance floor’s aquarium wall. The tables were less private, but they still had terrific atmosphere.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Denning,” the maître d’ apologized. “By noon, our regular table reservations were filled from six to nine. We can’t book too tightly because people enjoy lingering over their meals more than usual at the Grotto. I could bump someone if you insist.” He ended diffidently, obviously concerned that as Mar Vista’s owner, Zack would be upset if denied seating.

  “Absolutely not. Having people stay longer because they appreciate our atmosphere is a nice problem.”

  The man beamed in return. “Very true. We’re getting quite a few calls from local hotels for their guests. But we’ve been saving some of the private tables so Mar Vista guests have first choice.”

  “Excellent. Whose idea was that?”

  “One of our dishwashers, Sue Griffin.”

  “Put her down for a bonus. Those are ideas we need and I’m glad you listen to everyone.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Denning.”

  Elation filled Zack. It wasn’t his imagination; things were running more smoothly. What troubled him was that he didn’t know all the reasons. It was a humbling lesson; owning his own resort wasn’t quite the same as simply managing it for someone else.

  As he was leaving the Grotto he saw Don and Nina Courtland on the way out and stopped to say hello. Don had inherited a fortune from his industrialist grandfather, and the time he didn’t spend on the family’s philanthropic foundation, he spent on golf. He’d fallen in love with Mar Vista’s course and wanted to move his foundation’s annual golf tournament to the resort. It was a major event that would bring in top golfers from around the country and raise Mar Vista’s profile even higher.

  “Don’t you have a contract with the current home of the tournament?” Zack asked.

  “It’s coming up for renewal,” Don said, waving his hand. “I haven’t been happy with their management for the last couple of years anyway.”

  “Have your coordinator call and we’ll talk.”

  “Will do.”

  The Courtlands’ meal was delivered and Zack left them to eat. It was an incredible opportunity—he’d managed a facility on the PGA Tour and knew how much work a major tournament entailed, but it would be well worth the effort.

  Better yet, the proceeds for the Courtland Foundation Tournament went to help families in crisis.

  The thought reminded Zack of the conversation at dinner the night before...about how he’d become interested in building his own resort. Until Jamie had asked, it hadn’t occurred to him that his mom and dad could never have afforded such a high-end resort as Mar Vista when he and Brad were kids. It was disconcerting to realize that he’d focused so much on luxury that he’d outpriced most ordinary families, even if they were splurging.

  His original goal was still possible. Once things were more secure at Mar Vista, he could find land in the Warrington vicinity and build something special for people who weren’t wealthy. Or maybe it wasn’t necessary to wait; he didn’t need investors for Mar Vista, but he could work on putting a group together for a new project.

  Buoyed by the idea, he strolled back into the reception area and saw a sheriff’s deputy talking with the desk clerk. He hurried to the man’s side.

  “Is there a problem?” he asked.

  “Not exactly, sir,” Michael said in a low voice. “The deputy show
ed me a picture and wanted to know if the man had been a guest. I explained he’s stayed here periodically.”

  “Hello, Officer. I’m Zack Denning, owner of Mar Vista.”

  “Arthur Harris. Nice to meet you.” The deputy handed him the photo and Zack also recognized the man; he’d stayed several times, always keeping to himself and showing no interest in the resort’s amenities.

  “What’s his name?”

  “Timothy Gardiner,” said the officer, “though according to your registration desk, he registered as Thomas Smith.”

  “Our records show he had proper identification,” the clerk asserted quickly. “He also paid cash in advance.”

  Some guests walking through the lounge on their way to dinner were staring curiously at them, so Zack gestured to a door next to the reception area. “Shall we go into an office? I’d like to know what this is about.”

  “Certainly.”

  Seated in the small, elegant room established for private consultations, the deputy seemed uncomfortable, so Zack offered him a cup of coffee. But before he could even ask for some to be brought in, the clerk knocked and handed him a tray.

  “Thank you,” Zack told him quietly and set it on the polished-wood table.

  “One thing they told us at the police academy,” the deputy said. “Don’t turn down a cup of coffee honestly offered.”

  Zack laughed. “Good advice.” He poured two cups and sat back with his own. “Is Gardiner wanted for something? Naturally, I have a concern for the safety of my guests.”

  “I understand, Mr. Denning. You see, today we caught a man who’s been committing vandalism locally and—”

  “The one who’s been hitting Jamie Conroe’s fruit stand?” Zack interrupted quickly.

  “Yes, sir. I suppose you would have heard about that, but he wasn’t doing it on his own initiative and we’re hunting for whoever hired him.”

  “Why would this Gardiner fellow care about Jamie’s stand?”

  “I understand that he’s Ms. Conroe’s ex-husband.”

  Jamie’s ex-husband?