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“That must make it easier.”
He seemed drowsy and his left hand scratched his shoulder before settling onto his lap.
Jamie’s sensation of peace returned. She liked Brad Denning. It was bizarre that he was the brother of such an arrogant jerk, but siblings could be very different. Her own brother didn’t look like her, and they certainly didn’t have much in common.
As Brad slept, her brain chewed on designs for her next jewelry project. She’d taken a silver-casting class in college for fun. Tim used to be snide regarding her efforts, so it was an ironic triumph that selling the expensive clothes he’d insisted she wear during their marriage provided the money she’d needed for tools and supplies. Hopefully, marketing her jewelry would be a real supplement to her fruit-stand earnings.
Jamie stiffened, despite the comforting warmth of the sun. Tim had been nauseatingly smug in court, claiming she wouldn’t be able to live without him. Fat chance, just like the split lip he’d given her when she told him she was leaving for good. She restrained a giggle as she recalled the contempt in the expression of the judge, who’d privately congratulated her on getting rid of a pompous jackass.
Her last customer, Mrs. Kruger, came and Jamie loaded the four flats she’d bought into her car.
“Thank you, Jamie.” The elderly woman gave her a check in payment. “The jam tastes different made with berries from the Little Blue Fruit Stand. I suppose that sounds silly.”
“It isn’t silly. Granddad used to say this place had a blessing on it.”
“I believe it.” Mrs. Kruger glanced at Brad. He was awake and blinking sleepily at the ocean. “Are you all right, dear? I understood you’ve had trouble with your neighbor.”
“No worries—we’ve straightened it out,” Jamie said. “It was a miscommunication over the property lines.”
“I’m so glad. And you’ve gotten divorced? What a shame.”
“Some marriages aren’t meant to be.”
“Gabe and me, we’ve had fifty-two happy years.” Mrs. Kruger’s attention kept moving in Brad’s direction. “Do you think you’ll ever get married again?”
“I don’t know, Mrs. Kruger. Right now I’m focusing on my business,” Jamie answered patiently. The motherly types who remembered her from childhood were interested in her romantic plans, though some of the younger wives were also inquisitive, but for entirely different reasons. Jamie had already learned a sour truth—a youthful divorcée was considered dangerous by some women, although her genuine friends weren’t worried.
Mrs. Kruger’s curiosity was transparent as she squinted at Brad Denning. “Is he a friend?”
“He’s from the resort. He just stopped to sample the berries.” Jamie didn’t want to say that Brad had needed to rest.
Disappointment clouded the kindly woman’s features. “What a shame. Your grandfather prized a good gab. Gabe would come to get the berries for me, and they’d sit for hours talking baseball. Speaking of which, I should go and get that jam started.”
Waving cheerily, Mrs. Kruger drove away and Jamie walked to the trailer. Brad was eating strawberries and his brow was less tense.
“We can go now, unless you’d rather hang out here,” Jamie told him.
“You don’t lock up?”
“There’s no point. It’s easy to break in and then I’d have to repair the latch.”
Brad asked to be dropped at the resort entrance, saying it was only a short distance to his brother’s apartment. Jamie didn’t push; the man had the right to decide things for himself.
Later as she snuggled onto her smooth cotton pillowcase with Marlin purring against her on the bed, Jamie’s mind wandered through the day’s events. It was annoying that she kept thinking about Zack Denning. She’d appreciate it if he would stay on his property and leave her alone, but it was a reasonable bet that she’d have another encounter with his lordship in the near future.
The man hadn’t given up. He was probably in a tactical retreat while he devised a new plot to get Granddad’s land.
CHAPTER FOUR
JAMIE YAWNED AND glanced at the lit display on the clock. 4:00 a.m. She relaxed, grateful she didn’t have to get up and rush out to the fruit stand.
Gordon Chen had originally wanted his produce picked up in a single load, but since the resort restaurants needed strawberries for their breakfast menu, it had required her getting up at an ungodly hour to coordinate everything. She’d finally told Gordon it made too long a day for her. He’d offered a compromise; he would take direct delivery of the berries from a grower she trusted, and send two of his guys midmorning for the rest. The new arrangement was beginning today.
“Mrrroow?”
In the faint light she saw Marlin stretch and yawn a few inches from her face. If he wasn’t such a lazy old guy, it might be scary to see those gleaming teeth so close to her jugular.
“I know you miss Granddad,” she murmured. He let out a feline sigh as if he’d understood. She doubted her grandfather had allowed Marlin to get on the bed, but she didn’t have the heart to banish him. He slept each night lying against her, snoring, his huge head on her shoulder.
Marlin was a typical cat—he knew a sucker when he saw one. I’m lonely, he’d practically screamed when he’d launched himself at her the day she’d arrived in Warrington, yowling for all he was worth. The man watching the house had taken care of his basic needs, but there was no substitute for affectionate company.
Petting him absently, Jamie thought about a design for a piece of cat jewelry, but wasn’t sure it would work.
Mr. Peterson had called to tell her that four of her pendants had sold that weekend and that he’d be glad to take more. It was a victory. Mr. Peterson owned the finest art studio in town and had been reluctant to carry jewelry. If she hadn’t been George Jenkins’s granddaughter, he probably wouldn’t have agreed; apparently, her persistence was paying off for both of them. She’d have to go through her stock to see what might work for him. And now that she’d have more free hours, perhaps she could concentrate on the higher-end market, which gave a better rate of return than regular tourist shops.
She drowsed another hour, then pulled away from a protesting Marlin, who settled into the pile of blankets with a sulky expression.
“Sorry, pal. I’ve got a business to run.”
He closed his eyes and twitched the tip of his tail.
Dressing quickly, Jamie took care of some household chores and dashed to the fruit stand. Deliveries were now scheduled for eight-thirty.
By ten o’clock, the Mar Vista restaurant staff had picked up their order and she was ready for business. The sun was shining and seemed to promise a clear day, although it could change in nothing flat. That was one of the interesting parts of living on the coast.
During a lull she discovered a cell phone under the edge of the trailer while tidying the area, the second since opening the stand. A customer had already claimed the first, and another had come by, saying his was missing and wondering if he’d dropped it there. Pleased, she phoned the number the man had left.
“Mine showed up,” he said. “Darnedest thing, it slid between the driver’s seat and the emergency brake and was nearly invisible. My ten-year-old unearthed it while scrounging for loose change.”
“I’m glad you found it.”
“Me, too. I’ve lost three and didn’t want my wife to know there could be a fourth.”
Jamie got off and checked the cell she’d found, hoping to retrieve its phone number, but the battery was dead.
Drat.
Then she remembered Zack Denning hunting through his pockets before using his vehicle radio.
Jamie gazed at the phone speculatively. It wasn’t a gadget-packed iPhone, but a genius entrepreneur might be too busy for bells and whistles. She hoped the phone was Zack’s; he’d hate owing her a favor, however minor.
After dealing with several customers, she dialed Mar Vista’s office.
A woman answered. “Denning Enterprises. Trudy Lopez speaking.”
“Hello, this is Jamie Conroe.”
“Oh, hello, Ms. Conroe. How may I help you?” The woman’s voice became rigidly correct.
“I found a cell phone at my produce stand and wondered if it could be Mr. Denning’s. He seemed to have lost something when he was here.” She almost mentioned it was when he’d tried to have her arrested for trespassing on her own property, but thought she should save her gibes for the man who deserved them.
“May I put you on hold while I ask him?”
“That’s fine.”
“I apologize for the delay, Ms. Conroe,” Trudy said when she came back. “Mr. Denning did lose his phone and he’ll be right there to see if it belongs to him.”
“That’s not necessary,” Jamie replied hastily. “I’ll send it with Gordon’s guys tomorrow. They can return it the next day if it isn’t his.”
“It will be faster if he comes.”
Jamie tensed. “I know he’s got another cell phone to use in the meantime—he contacted his lawyer at my house after he was out here.”
“Yes, he does have a spare, but—”
“So there’s no reason for him to come,” Jamie interrupted.
“Nevertheless, he should be there in a few minutes. Thank you for calling.”
The woman on the other end disconnected without letting Jamie protest again, and she stuck her tongue out, annoyed. The tables had gotten turned and it was her own fault—Denning must have wanted an excuse to come over, and she’d provided one. Owners of fancy resorts didn’t rush to a fruit stand because of a cell phone; they sent flunkies to do it.
On the other hand, knowing he had ulterior motives could level the balance of power.
She washed two baskets of strawberries and sat down to wait.
* * *
ZACK HAD BEEN deep in financial reports and purchase orders when Trudy came in and said that Jamie Conroe may have found his cell phone. The timing was amazing. He’d spent most of the morning mulling over how to approach Jamie. Somehow he had to get her onto the resort and make her understand what he was trying to do. He didn’t know what was keeping her in that particular spot, but getting her to move that hideous trailer from sight was a top priority.
Despite Jamie’s protests to stop him from coming, his misplaced cell phone was the perfect opportunity. With luck there’d be a free moment when he could invite her to lunch or dinner to talk about alternatives.
A young couple was at the stand when he arrived, dithering about whether to buy one or two boxes of strawberries, and if they should get organic. He admired Jamie’s patience as they posed a dozen questions and finally left with a lone basket of fruit.
He gestured to the departing car with a smile. “Business would be easy if it wasn’t for the customers, wouldn’t it?”
Jamie put the money away and shrugged. “They’re newlyweds. Figuring out how to buy things together is a part of marital adjustment.”
It was a curious observation to make. According to what she’d told the sheriff, she was divorced and using her maiden name. Was she bitter? Relieved? Indifferent? Probably wise not to open that can of worms.
“You were very patient,” he commented.
“Granddad used to say couples have to learn how to be married. He saw it when they came and shopped here, and how it changed as they grew together.”
“He sounds like a smart man,” Zack said, finding to his surprise that he meant it.
“Very.” She reached behind the counter and took out a cell phone. “This must have fallen under the edge of the trailer and gotten covered up by the mat, but the good news is it didn’t get as damp as it would have otherwise. The morning dew can be heavy.”
He flipped the phone open. “I appreciate your call. I’ll have to charge the battery to verify it’s mine.”
“No problem.” She grinned wickedly and held out a bowl of gleaming strawberries. “You really should try one. They’re something special.”
She had him at a disadvantage, and knew it. If he kept refusing, he’d appear obstinate and childish.
“They look delicious.” He took a large one. The sweet taste burst in his mouth and his senses sharpened with pleasure. How long had it been since he’d paid real attention to the flavor of food? The ambition to build Mar Vista had taken over everything else. Even when testing menu items, he’d analyzed the appeal for his customers, rather than enjoying Gordon’s talent.
Her eyes danced and she offered the bowl again. “As they say about potato chips, it’s hard to eat just one.”
Swallowing his pride, he took a second berry. How should he introduce the subject of a dinner business meeting? If he’d wanted a date he would suggest it as a thank-you for the strawberries, or for locating his phone. But it wasn’t that kind of situation.
“Please have dinner with me at the resort,” he said, belatedly realizing that lunch wouldn’t work because of her hours at the produce stand. “That way we can discuss things without disruption. I’m really not a morning person. I’m much more charming at night.”
“We don’t have anything to discuss, and I have no interest in your ‘charm.’”
He winced. Apparently, aspects of his interpersonal skills were getting rusty. “I’d still like to talk. Plus, we have two fine restaurants which you supply produce for. Don’t you want to sample Gordon’s menu?”
He had her there. No one disliked Gordon.
“Of course I would, but I can sample his food whenever I please. Aren’t both of your restaurants open to the public, not just guests of the resort?”
“Yes,” he said smoothly. “But why not eat with me, as well?”
Negotiation 101—try not to ask questions that can be answered with a yes or no. Push for a more complex answer.
She shrugged. “As I said, we don’t have anything to discuss.”
Zack intended to stand there as long as it took to convince her. “Indulge me. At worst, it will cost you an evening, and you’ll get a gourmet meal out of it.”
* * *
JAMIE DIDN’T WANT to accept the invitation, but it would delay the inevitable. Zack genuinely thought he could change her mind, and wouldn’t give up until she made it clear his pursuit was pointless.
“Okay,” she agreed and was amused by the surprise on his face.
“Excellent. Our Sunfish Grotto is superb.” There was a hint of triumph in his voice that warranted a hole punched in it.
“Not the Grotto. I understand your other restaurant is less formal, and I’d rather not have to get dressed up after working out here all day.”
His jaw clenched. “If that’s what you prefer. We’ll do the Sunfish Grotto another day.”
Like hell they would. They’d eat dinner. He’d propose his purchase. She’d turn him down flat and tell him to quit trying. End of the matter.
But she smiled pleasantly. “Does Thursday work for you?”
“Sure. I’ll pick you up at seven.”
He must think she was an idiot. No way would she let herself be dependent upon him for transportation. “I’ll meet you at the restaurant.”
“That wouldn’t be courteous of me.”
