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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.
Marlin shoved his nose into her palm.
“By the way,” she announced to the feline, “I’m a lawyer. Any objections to that?”
The cat shut his eyes sleepily and purred. A very un-lawyerly giggle escaped her throat. She’d met at least two people who’d taught their dogs to growl when they even heard the words lawyer or attorney.
* * *
JAMIE FOUND KIM WHEELER seated on the large, comfortable sofa. Marlin, never a slouch in demanding attention, was draped over her lap, purring like a diesel motor.
“You must be covered with fur,” Jamie said. “I’ll put him out back.”
“Don’t be silly. I think cats are great.”
“I doubt the hothead on the porch feels the same.”
Kim snickered. “That’s his problem. But it doesn’t matter anymore because he’s driving to the airport. His brother is arriving from Maryland.”
“And the jerk would have had a fit if you’d gone along.” Jamie sat on the arm of the couch and swung her legs. She was glad she’d kept Zack Denning and his bad vibes out of her home—it made maintaining peace and tranquillity easier.
“He wants to clear things up as soon as possible,” Kim said diplomatically.
“Yes, I figured that out when he asked the deputy sheriff to throw me off my own property.”
Kim frowned. “I apologize about that.”
“I’m not holding it against him. Don’t have to—it’s my land.”
“You seem quite certain.”
Jamie swallowed a yawn. She would have preferred having this debate after a decent night’s sleep. “I have a deed and it’s in my grandfather’s will—the one he revised when he sold his other parcels. The real estate he left me is the section with the house and barn, plus the acre on the beach.”
Kim removed a folder from her briefcase. “Over eighteen months ago, Zack purchased several tracts north of the road. He understood they included everything to the water’s edge. You’re welcome to see the sales agreement.”
“There’s no need. Granddad wanted to leave my brother some cash, so he sold some of the land he owned, but not my two sections. He was a romantic—that’s why he gave them to me.” Jamie smiled. She’d loved her grandfather’s idealistic streak. “My brother doesn’t have a sentimental bone in his body, which is strange. That trait commonly passes through the males in our family.”
“So you’re the sentimental sibling?”
“I don’t cry at sad movies, but I’ll keep the land, and David wouldn’t.”
“May I see the deed?”
Jamie went into her office and opened the document file Granddad’s lawyer had given her. She flipped through the contents and found both deeds. She made duplicates on her scanner-printer and took them to the living room.
Kim Wheeler studied the deed to the waterfront property. “I have to compare this to Zack’s paperwork,” she said finally. “And we may require an official survey.”
Jamie shrugged. “Fine, but I’m not budging, and the Little Blue Fruit Stand is opening on Wednesday to get the business going smoothly by the Memorial Day holiday. Granddad’s records indicate it’s a busy weekend.”
Kim tucked the copies into her briefcase. “If you don’t mind me asking, why run your business on that land? It’s on a dirt road, at the dead end of a public access. There must be more profitable locations.”
“It makes a profit, which I can use, but the stand isn’t solely about selling produce. Granddad could have gone closer to the highway, but he didn’t because he wanted to spend his days by the beach. His customers liked going there, too. It can happen that way in small towns. And he got tourist traffic, too.”
“I see.”
Jamie yawned again. “Sorry. I was awake till four.”
“Couldn’t sleep?”
“I was working—got caught up in a new design and didn’t notice how late it was. I make jewelry and market it in local tourist and gift shops.”
“You’ll have to show me your jewelry sometime,” Kim said politely. “But I should go now and let you go back to bed.”
“Don’t you need a ride?” Jamie asked.
“If I know Zack, he’s likely arranged for a car to collect me.”
“And forgot to tell you, right?”
“He’s concentrating on other things.”
Jamie tried not to sound bitter as she said, “Sure, there’s always an excuse for people acting badly.”
* * *
ZACK DROVE INTO the airport and parked. He raced inside the terminal and read the arrivals and departures boards—he wasn’t late after all; Brad’s flight had just landed.
At the security checkpoint, Zack watched the passengers greeting friends and family, or searching for the baggage-claim area. It took a minute to recognize the thin form limping in his direction. Somehow his mental picture of Brad as a healthy, muscular marine hadn’t changed, even though he’d visited his brother in the hospital. Brad still had the military haircut and neat appearance, yet the man beneath the clothing seemed shadowed and broken.
Hell, he had been broken.
But he was getting better; the therapists said so. He’d simply hit a plateau and would benefit from a fresh environment.
“Good to see you, bro.” As they clasped hands Zack tried not to reveal anything except a hearty welcome.
“I know. I look like crap.” Brad grinned wryly, obviously seeing through Zack’s effort. “I wish you hadn’t needed to drive so far to get me, but the doctor recommended I travel on a larger plane.”
“I was happy to come. Got your luggage checked?”
“A small duffel.”
“Not that small, I hope,” said Zack, and then realized he sounded overly jovial. His father had warned him to act natural—only, what was natural? Certainly not having your brother nearly blown apart by a roadside bomb. “Aren’t you staying for a while?”
Brad’s face was hard to read. “I don’t require much and I can buy more. There must be stores in town.”
“And a shop at the resort.”
“Thanks, but I’ll stick to something less grandiose. I’m sure the shop caters to your high-toned guests, not ordinary jarheads.”
“Hey, those high-toned guests pay the bills,” Zack reminded him jokingly. “But it is mostly golf gear and leisure stuff, so it may not suit you. Feel free to borrow from my closet if you can’t find what you want.”
They stopped for the duffel bag. Zack carried it easily and slowed his steps to Brad’s pace.
Brad whistled when he saw the Mercedes. “Pricey vehicle.”
“We have to provide an atmosphere of luxury. It’s part of the aura that keeps visitors returning. They come to be pampered.”
“You’re the expert.”
Settling into the passenger seat, Brad eyed him. “You seem okay. But what’s going on? Mom hasn’t gotten any emails from you for a week and she says that’s odd.”
“It’s nothing to worry about,” Zack said calmly, and realized he should send a note so it didn’t appear as if anything was wrong; his folks didn’t need to lose any more sleep. “A woman is squatting on my land next door. She has a deplorable trailer and thinks she’s going to use it to sell fruits and vegetables. Kim is here, attending to the situation.”
“What about the police?”
“Ms. Conroe claims she owns the property, and the sheriff insists it’s a civil matter. She has this way of verbally twisting things. Kim actually seems to enjoy her,” he ended in disgust.
“What’s she like?” Brad asked.
“Long brunette hair, stubborn chin...smart mouth.”
“Hmm. She’s made quite an impression on you. I’ll have to meet her.”
“It won’t be on my beachfront land if you do.”
Brad chuckled, at the same time sending him an odd look. Zack wasn’t sure how to react, so he remained silent as his brother tilted his seat back and went to sleep.
Quite an impression.
True. Jamie Conroe had done that, dragging her ugly trailer to the site and putting up those signs. He’d remembered that she was pretty, but still had thought of her as a rugged farmer type in overalls. This morning the sun had gleamed on shining, sleep-rumpled hair, and her worn pink bathrobe had sagged, revealing soft skin that sloped into very sweet curves. Not that he’d seen much. Nor was he interested.
Ten minutes passed and Brad stirred restlessly. “Sorry for flaking out.”
“Go ahead. Sleep.”
“I’m a master of cat naps. We had to grab them whenever we could in Iraq and be alert at an instant’s notice.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
Brad shifted and massaged his left leg. “I appreciate the offer. Mom and Dad try, but I can see it bugs the hell out of them.”
“What about post-traumatic stress. Is that a problem?” Zack probed. The frank question was a risk, yet he and Brad had always been honest with each other, and Dad had said to be himself.
“Some. I’ve spoken with the counselors, and they think I’m handling it.”
