That Summer at the Shore

Humming, she began scrubbing the trailer floor with a bleach solution. The small interior space was for personal use and she wanted it clean.

“I need you to deal with this, Deputy.” She heard a voice through the open door.

It was Zack Denning.

He must have summoned the authorities to enforce his opinion. Fine. The overbearing jerk would learn what immovable meant after dancing that tango with her. She scrambled to her feet and stepped out to see a blond man in a khaki uniform standing next to the darker and leaner Zack Denning.

“Is something wrong?” she asked.

“Uh—yes.” The officer shifted nervously. “Trespassing is against the law. You have to...um...leave if you don’t want to be arrested.”

“Hmm,” she said. “That’s a serious threat, and I won’t resist if you take me in. However, false arrest is also serious, particularly since you haven’t questioned my side of the story. Sadly, it could be a career-ender if the people of Warrington hear you helped a rich outsider bully a resident who’s legally on her own property.”

The young man swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing with ridiculous speed.

“Not that I want that to happen to you, Officer,” Jamie assured him. “But even if folks appreciate the income Mr. Denning brings to the community, they won’t like him using the sheriff’s office to throw his weight around.”

She turned and assessed Zack Denning.

“You know, Mr. Denning,” she said, “you ought to be law-abiding and neighborly in these rural parts. For example, I could have charged you with trespassing and disturbing my peace, but I chose to let bygones be bygones.”

A second official vehicle drove in and parked near the trailer. “Good God,” the driver exclaimed as he slid from the front seat. “It’s Jamie Conroe—or didn’t you get married?”

“Married, divorced and back to Conroe,” she said. “So you’re finally on the right side of the law, Curt. How did you get elected sheriff after painting Badger’s Suck, Warrington Wolverine’s Rule on the city water tower following your senior homecoming game?”

Curt chuckled. “Easy—I convinced everyone that reformed troublemakers spot trouble quicker than anyone else.” He hauled her into a hug. “This is great. You’re here and the Little Blue Fruit Stand is opening again. Mom will be thrilled. She’s big on organic lately. When did you come back to Warrington?”

“Last September.”

“No kidding? What happened to getting in touch with old friends?”

“I needed to regroup...after losing Granddad.”

Sympathy crossed Curt’s face. “It must have been rough with the two of you being so close. All the same, it’s terrific to see you. What’s going on here?”

Jamie tried not to laugh as she glanced at Zack Denning. The deputy was edging away from the entrepreneur as if he had symptoms of the plague. Nevertheless, the “genius” seemed up for the challenge.

“Sheriff,” he said, “I’m Zack Denning, owner of the Mar Vista Resort.”

“Should we all genuflect when you say that?” Jamie mocked.

He scowled as Curt choked and vigorously rubbed his hand over his mouth before responding. “Curt Saldano, Mr. Denning. I must have missed meeting you at the monthly chamber-of-commerce gatherings. I’m usually asked to attend, along with the Warrington Police chief.”

“Did he go to any of those meetings?” Jamie asked in an aside to Curt, and he gave her a single, negative shake of the head.

Hasn’t joined, he mouthed.

“This woman is intruding on private property,” Denning said, scowling at Jamie. “You don’t have to arrest her as long as she removes those signs and gets that contraption out of here. Immediately. I run a high-end resort and this eyesore is unacceptable.”

Curt pondered it silently and then lifted an eyebrow at Jamie. “What have you got to say, kiddo?”

“This is Granddad’s place.” She folded her arms over her stomach. “And has been for sixty years. He gave it to me in his will.”

“And that wily fox would have nailed it tight with titanium,” Curt affirmed with a grin.

Zack Denning’s features smoothed into the bland mask Jamie had endured at too many official lunches with her ex-husband. Tim loved to spar with people and knew exactly how to conceal his emotions...and the truth. The thought had barely formed before she mentally spanked herself. It wasn’t fair to compare anyone to Tim, and it didn’t encourage her resolve to leave the past behind.

“Sheriff,” said Denning, “I recognize what’s happened. Ms. Conroe trespassed in ignorance. I presume her grandfather was George Jenkins. Apparently, she isn’t aware that he sold this property to me a year and a half ago.”

“’Fraid not,” Jamie countered. “He sold some other pieces. Trust me, he would never sell this parcel.”

“Fortunately, I have the deed in my safe,” Denning said coolly. “I’ll give you four hours to move your belongings. That’s all.”

“Wow. Your staff must tremble when you look at them with that calm, intimidating stare.” Jamie stretched lazily. “Luckily, I don’t work for you and I’m on my own turf, so I’m not quaking in my boots. And by the way, you’re not the only one with a deed.”

“You’re trespassing,” he said furiously. “You have to—ˮ

“We can’t initiate action without proof of who holds the title, Mr. Denning,” Curt interjected. “At present it’s a civil disagreement over boundary lines. Not a criminal matter.”

Denning’s eyes narrowed. “I see. Ms. Conroe, my lawyer will be contacting you.” He climbed into his gleaming-black SUV and sent gravel flying as he made a sharp U-turn.

Curt frowned. “Yikes, Jamie. That’s one angry man. Ring me if he causes trouble.”

“I’ll be fine,” she asserted, her jaw stiffening. Curt had once acted as a big-brother defender during her childhood trips to California. But she’d acquired a few life lessons since then—you had to stand up to bullies, if only for your own self-respect.

* * *

ZACK WENT DIRECTLY toward the office instead of finishing his morning rounds, keeping his speed low to avoid drawing attention. Mar Vista was doing even better than he had hoped and he wouldn’t let anything blow it. Jamie Conroe was a blip on his problem radar. He’d teach that smart-mouthed brunette the definitions of land purchase and title. The sheriff might be swayed by a pretty face, but the state police could be brought in if necessary.

“Boss, have you got your ears on?” Trudy asked over the radio, and Zack grabbed the microphone.

“Here, Trudy.”

“You okay? Did you take care of the intruder? I hope they didn’t have a weapon.”

“No weapon,” he answered, “but her trailer might be lethal.”

“Excuse me?”

“Never mind.” Zack checked his watch. “Call my lawyer. I want a video conference when I get back.”

“She might not be in this early, or she could be with another client.”

“Try. Warn her that she may need to fly here today or tomorrow.”

Trudy whistled. “What’s in the frying pan this time?”

“A property-line dispute. It’s got to be dealt with ASAP.”

“Gotcha.”

Putting the microphone on its hook, Zack saw a familiar couple ready to tee off. The Langianos waved. He drew to a stop and forced a pleasant smile.

“Roger, Suzy, how are you doing?” he asked.

“Mmm, wonderful,” the woman said. “But I’ve been eating so much that I told Roger we had to walk it off rather than take a golf cart. Restaurants like your Sunfish Grotto ought to be against the law.”

“I’m glad you’re enjoying it,” Zack replied; years of practice as a manager had taught him to show amiable hospitality to his guests, and nothing else. When people were on vacation they expected a world where difficulties just disappeared.

“We appreciate your chef’s candor about his ingredients,” Roger added. “With Suzy’s allergies, it makes things easier.”

“I’ll share your comments with the kitchen. Chef Gordon has a daughter with food sensitivities, so he understands.”

The investment in a top chef was paying off. None of the other chefs Zack had interviewed were willing to provide a list of ingredients for their special recipes. These days a lot of folks were concerned about their food. It fit the modern trend toward health awareness, so Zack had kept searching for someone who shared his vision. Oh, Lord.

Yesterday Gordon had mentioned that a produce stand was opening nearby. He wasn’t happy with their current supplier and hoped for a new source. It had to be Jamie Conroe’s trailer, and Zack could imagine how appalled his patrons might be if they discovered their fruits and vegetables were coming from that hideous place. Maybe he was overreacting, but you couldn’t predict what would alienate clients.

The Langianos continued to the course and Zack drove to the administrative parking lot. He got out, moving casually until he was beyond the view of guests. The management area was more austere than the rest of the facility; the luxurious ambience was saved for their clientele.

“Trudy,” he barked, “did you reach Kim?”

“Yep. She’s waiting for you.”

Zack tapped his fingers as Trudy put the call through to his office. The computer screen opened to Kim Wheeler. She was one of the most beautiful women he’d ever met, though at the moment he was interested only in her keen legal mind.

“There’s a woman, Jamie Conroe, squatting above the beach with a decrepit trailer. And the color it’s painted is downright offensive,” he said without preamble. “She’s planning to sell fruits and vegetables there and is claiming she inherited the land from her grandfather. Something has to be done. Now. Mar Vista golfers, and anyone going to the beach, might see it. Other guests going horseback riding and—”

“Good morning to you as well, Zack,” Kim interrupted. He reluctantly nodded a greeting. Kim rarely let him get away with anything. In college they’d lived together for several months until she had told him they weren’t suited for each other. Although they were no longer lovers, they’d stayed friends, and when she had gone into corporate law, he’d put her on retainer as his attorney.

“Sorry,” he apologized, “but this is important. This woman claims to own the first acre adjacent to the state beach on the northwest section. It’s where the public road ends at the water and a dirt road takes off at a right angle in the middle.”

Kim pulled up something on a second computer. “I see it on the map, a rectangular chunk along the waterfront. That’s some of the real estate you rushed to buy without checking with me, isn’t it?”

Ouch.

She’d ragged him unmercifully for failing to consult her on the transaction. There just hadn’t been enough time—old George Jenkins had insisted on closing the sale as fast as possible. Zack had also been distracted by his brother’s hospitalization and the construction commencing on the resort, but he wouldn’t make excuses.

“Yes,” he said shortly. “It’s one of the last parcels I bought.”

“I doubt we can resolve this today. Chances are we’ll need an official survey to settle the matter.”

“Can you get a court order to get her out in the meanwhile? I guarantee she’ll ignore any no-trespassing signs I post, and they wouldn’t look good to my guests anyhow. Oh, and get this—the county sheriff is a pal of Ms. Conroe’s. I probably can’t expect support from him or his deputies.”

Kim shook her head. “I don’t think a judge can issue an injunction unless there’s substantive evidence that it’s not her property.”

“Damn.”

“I’ll keep you updated on our progress. Just don’t purchase any more real estate without talking to me first.”

The screen went blank before Zack could devise a suitable retort. He sank back in his chair and gazed into space. Jamie Conroe’s fruit stand might not be so bad if it was charming or offbeat instead of just tacky. He could hide the more obvious signs of her presence with a tall hedge, but planting fully grown shrubbery was a costly remedy for a temporary condition.

And it shouldn’t be necessary. That was the galling part.

To think he’d congratulated himself on securing that particular piece of land, protecting his resort from this sort of thing.

Now?

He’d simply have to take care of it. Ms. Conroe would soon be investigating a different site for that shabby little trailer.

CHAPTER TWO

JAMIE OPENED BLEARY EYES, awakened by the persistent noise from her BlackBerry cell phone.

No one, repeat, no one had the right to call before eight in the morning, particularly when she’d spent most of the night doing her silver casting. Not that anyone else knew she was short on sleep. She focused on the caller ID to see if it was her ex-husband. Tim had begun phoning her last winter, though she’d changed her cell number twice to avoid him. It was jarring to know his voice was a single button away, so she’d stopped listening to messages and never answered unless she recognized the caller.

She switched the BlackBerry off without answering and dropped a pillow on top of the landline extension. Rolling onto her side, she fell asleep.

A heavy pounding on the front door woke her an hour later. Didn’t anybody respect a woman’s right to sleep in? Apparently not, since the pounding continued. She dragged herself out of bed and donned a clean bathrobe.

Swell. It was Zack Denning and a blonde woman in a business suit.

“Coming,” she yelled over the racket, waiting until it stopped before turning the knob.

The woman was finely coiffed and sculpted, a sharp contrast to Jamie’s faded pink terry wrap and messy morning hair. It probably accounted for why Denning was staring at her. Tough. She was done with trying to impress men with clothing and makeup.

She smiled sweetly. “Can I help you? The vegetable stand isn’t operating yet, but I can put you on a reservation list for strawberries. How many flats can you use?”

Denning’s lips thinned and she could have sworn she saw a vein throbbing in his forehead.

“Ms. Conroe?” the woman queried.

“That’s me, aside from the part I left in my bedroom.”

“Please excuse us for waking you, but I’ve been calling for several days. I also tried your mobile number after my assistant got it from your business license. You never answered so I left a message, but maybe you weren’t able to get back to me.”

“If that’s a nice way of asking whether I bother answering the telephone, the reply is usually no, unless I know who’s on the other end. Basically, that means no blocked numbers. And I don’t listen to messages.”

The woman blinked. “Oh. I was working from home and should have considered that.”

Jamie tightened the belt on her robe. “Not everyone has my bias about it—and you still haven’t explained who you are.”

“I’m Kim Wheeler, Zack Denning’s lawyer.”

“You mean a macho tycoon actually hired a woman as his attorney? But I bet he was the one hammering dents into my door. Those manicured hands of yours never did anything so rude.” To Jamie’s satisfaction, Denning’s jaw clenched.

“Ms. Conroe,” he said, “you’ve delayed resolving this too long already and name-calling is hardly appropriate under the circumstances.”

“I didn’t call you a name, but I’d like to know when you think it’s appropriate to throw one around.”

“That’s...”

The lawyer’s elbow hit him in the ribs, cutting his words short. Interesting. It was a safe wager that Kim Wheeler and Zack Denning knew each other quite well.... They were the classic image of a power couple.

“Please ignore him, Ms. Conroe,” the woman said. “Mr. Denning is impatient concerning this matter since his resort is nearby. I agreed to bring him if he...”

“Kept his trap shut?” Jamie cheerfully completed the sentence.

“I told him to let me handle things.”

“Good luck.”

The corner of the attorney’s mouth twitched. “May we come in and discuss the problem regarding your property lines?”

“It isn’t my problem. It’s his. Or do you think my grandfather’s will could have been probated for a piece of property he didn’t own? This is a waste of effort.”

“Can we try?”

Jamie scrunched her bare toes and shivered. “You’ll have to wait a few minutes. I don’t argue real estate while wearing a bathrobe.”

“Wait?” Denning exploded. “So that you can duck out the rear while we’re standing here?”

The woman’s elbow slammed his ribs again and Jamie laughed. “I like you, Ms. Wheeler. And because of that, I’ll invite you—and only you—into my living room. After I get dressed we can talk without testosterone getting in the way.”

Denning started to say something, and Kim shook a furious finger in front of his nose. “Zip it,” she ordered.

Laughing some more, Jamie gathered her bathrobe close and unhooked the screen door, then secured it again once the lawyer was in the foyer. “There’s a porch swing you can use,” she offered to the glowering man outside. “Fair warning, though, the cushions may be coated with cat fur. I’ll give Ms. Wheeler a ride when she’s ready if you want to head back to your resort.”

Or I’m ready to kick her out, Jamie added silently. No, most likely that wouldn’t be necessary. She guessed that Kim Wheeler, Attorney-at-Law, would be on her best behavior.

Jamie shut the door and motioned toward the main room. “Go on in.”

“Is the furniture furry there, too?” Kim inquired with a friendly tilt of her head.

“It isn’t as bad. I regularly vacuum the house, but admitted defeat on the porch. Marlin’s fur is overwhelming in the middle of his spring shed.”

“Holy Toledo.” Kim gazed at the massive black cat lying in a patch of sunlight on the hardwood floor. Marlin stretched, lazily flexing his claws. “Is he a special breed?”

Jamie gave Marlin an affectionate stroke with the arch of her foot. “Officially, he’s a house cat. Unofficially, I heard that a panther ran away from a wildlife park and spread his genes before being caught, except that might be a tall tale. I’m not sure if there are bobcats in this region. Supposedly they can interbreed with domestic felines, so that’s another possibility.”

“Maybe he’s a mutant.”

“Could be.”

Leaving Kim to get acquainted with Granddad’s aging companion, Jamie shuffled to the bedroom and stared in the mirror, wondering what she could wear. Should she retrieve the remaining clothing from her previous life, a time when her ex-husband had expected her to wear outfits as fine as Kim Wheeler’s? She’d sold the majority through a consignment shop, but she had some left in a box at the back of the closet. The right apparel made an undeniable impact—look how she felt with Ms. Wheeler sitting on her couch, garbed in a high-priced suit.

Pulling out the box, Jamie suppressed a wave of nausea. The green evening gown on top was strapless and too taste-specific for the consignment shop. She’d worn it once, the night they went to the company Christmas dinner, the year prior to the divorce. Tim had admired how chic and sexy she appeared until they got to the banquet hall and he saw the CEO’s wife dressed in a similar color. She couldn’t have known what the woman would wear, but he’d told her if she’d had a speck of sense she would have chosen black, same as the other wives. His cold fury had made her shrivel inside.

Suddenly Jamie crammed everything into the carton and booted it across the floor. She refused to be intimidated. An expensive suit collected cat fur the same as her jeans, but jeans didn’t need dry-cleaning.

* * *

ZACK LEANED AGAINST the solid porch pillar after seeing the volume of cat fur on the cushions.

He’d supposed Jamie Conroe would be living in a ramshackle beach shack, not a large and well-maintained home from the early-twentieth-century Arts and Crafts era. It was an architectural style he liked, though he’d emulated an earlier period for Mar Vista. And it wasn’t just the Conroe house that was so striking. The north side had an incredible view across the tidal flats to the ocean, and the front boasted a restful forest scene.

A signal came over the SUV’s radio and Zack hurried to his vehicle.

“Boss, are your ears on?”

He lifted the microphone. “I’m here.”

“Your mother didn’t know whether you’d replaced your cell phone yet. She wanted to remind you that Brad is arriving. His flight lands at 11:20.”

Crap. The resort had an airstrip for private planes and chartered flights, but Brad was coming into a commercial airport, eighty miles from Warrington. Zack ground his teeth in frustration. How had he forgotten? He was the one who’d suggested Brad come to California after the doctors and therapists advised a change of scenery might be beneficial.

Zack checked his watch. “Thanks, Trudy. I’m leaving immediately. Can you send a car to the Conroe place for Ms. Wheeler?”

“I’ll call the garage.”

He signed off and dialed Kim on his cell phone.

“She’s getting dressed,” Kim said crisply. “And I’m making friends with a mutant cat. Practice patience for once.”

“Mutant? Forget it. I have to go. Brad is flying in, and I’m picking him up.”

“Great! Do you have a vacancy at the resort? I’d love a chance to visit with Brad.”

“We’ll take care of you, Kim. Listen, don’t let that Conroe woman try to wiggle out of the situation. Be firm.”

“I’m curious, Zack. When did you receive your law degree? I missed the graduation ceremony.” The light humor in Kim’s tone didn’t conceal the underlying warning. Don’t interfere. She seemed to think he’d done enough damage.

“Okay, okay,” he grumbled. “It’s just that she has a habit of talking in circles.”

“Sounds smart. She should be a lawyer.”

“I’m counting on you being smarter.”

“That’s what you’re paying me for. And wait till you get the bill for this trip—I’m adding twenty percent for the extra trouble you’ve caused. Tell Brad hello and that I’m looking forward to seeing him.” The phone disconnected.

Zack started the SUV. It was galling. He’d been required to cool his heels on a porch as if he were a delivery boy. Now he had to go before anything was settled.

He hit the accelerator until he was going the speed limit...and a little above.

* * *

KIM WHEELER RUBBED the cat’s big ears and listened to the purr rumbling from his chest.

“Marlin, huh?” she said.

“Marrooow.”

“Fur flying or not, you are magnificent,” Kim whispered.

She cocked her head, her thoughts drifting. So, Brad Denning was visiting his brother. The last time she’d seen Brad, he was en route to Iraq—the perfect spit-and-polish marine. He could have walked off a military recruiting poster. She’d met him at the airport during a five-hour layover. They’d discussed his upcoming tour of duty over dinner and she’d hidden her concern for his safety.

“Don’t forget I’m trained for this,” he’d told her—apparently, he’d seen her concern after all.

She’d hugged him and watched as he disappeared down the concourse. Brad had been in her life almost as long as Zack, and the idea of something happening to him was unbearable.

That was, what...three years ago?

And something had happened, but now he was home and slowly recovering.

Kim glanced around the room. It glowed with sunlight, satiny wood floors and cream-colored paint. Lovely paintings hung on the walls, and beautiful pottery and glassware sat in strategic spots.

A thud echoed in the house. Kim didn’t worry that another exit was being used for a secret departure—Zack wasn’t rational when it came to Jamie Conroe or Mar Vista. Kim understood his reasons, but he wasn’t helping. It would be simpler to investigate the matter without him. Inheritance was a potentially emotional subject, though Jamie had been calm when she’d made that excellent point about her grandfather’s will going through probate.

Acting as Zack’s attorney was challenging. Before she’d agreed to represent him, they’d had an in-depth discussion, which involved assurances that their past relationship wouldn’t be an issue. It had worked so far, and he probably followed her advice slightly more often than he would for someone he didn’t know as well.