That Summer at the Shore. Callie Endicott

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      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.”

      “This isn’t a date. It’s business.”

      Zack seemed to hesitate. Was he regretting his invitation? “Then how about coming to the office?” he suggested. “There’s a parking lot for employees and it will have extra space. We can walk to the restaurant, or take one of the golf carts.”

      He was likely worried that she’d show up in Granddad’s battered pickup and park by the Mercedes, BMWs and Acuras belonging to his customers. God forbid she get dust on one of them.

      It was tempting to yank his chain by doing the opposite to what he expected. Granddad had left her a beautifully maintained 1940s-era Jaguar stored in the barn. Zack would probably love to see it in his customer lot, not tucked out of sight. She’d have to consider whether it was worth getting the battery charged...or was it so old it had to be cranked? Her knowledge of classic vehicles was woefully lacking.

      “I’d be delighted to come to the office,” she said, which seemed to make him suspicious.

      With a small nod, he got into his car. Before he turned onto the paved road, she saw him halt and stare back at her, no doubt evaluating how he’d handled the encounter and what his next move would be. Too bad. She held the trump card because no one could force her to sell.

      The next few days Jamie determinedly put Zack and their upcoming dinner meeting out of her mind. Her success at the Peterson Gallery was great incentive to focus even harder on her silver casting. She sketched several designs between customers during the day, and made good progress on the casting and finishing work at night before going to bed.

      Brad Denning dropped by the produce stand every afternoon. He was comfortable company. At rare moments he spoke of his deployment overseas, mostly relating stories about the children he’d met. Yet from the shadows in his eyes, Jamie knew he had far darker memories he could have recounted. He usually walked back to the resort on his own steam, only once letting her give him a ride to the front gate.

      When Thursday came, Jamie woke up and realized she hadn’t checked Granddad’s old Jaguar to see if it was running. It was just as well, since the Jag wouldn’t operate the same as modern cars and she’d look ridiculous driving into Mar Vista, jerking and stalling. Her Honda would have to do.

      At six-thirty that evening, she dressed in a simple skirt and blouse. For a minute she examined herself in the mirror. Her outfit wasn’t the height of fashion, which was fine. The choice of a red blouse was deliberate; red was supposed to be a “power” color.

      It felt odd driving through the gates of the resort. She’d spent her childhood summers on the uninhabited point sticking into the ocean, yet Zack Denning had managed to give Mar Vista the air of having been there for decades, instead of months. Then she hit a snag. She had no idea where the office was and there were no directions to the employee parking lot, just discreet signs for guest registration. In exasperation she finally asked one of the valet-parking attendants how to get to the business office. He gave her directions and she got there shortly past seven.

      “My apologies for being late,” she told Zack as he waited by the office door.

      He wore a nicely fitted sports jacket, and she mused idly how many of his guests were single women on the hunt for a husband. He’d be a decent catch provided they didn’t object to his love affair with Mar Vista.

      “Not a problem.”

      Jamie decided it was best to keep him on the defensive. “Your employees must learn by osmosis how to find their parking area, since it isn’t marked.”

      “I should have given you directions.”

      “What if FedEx has to make a delivery? Or someone else? Must they call and get directions?”

      “Delivery folks have always found us.”

      “Maybe not,” she countered. “Some of them could be wandering the salt flats, thin with hunger, thinking the office is a figment of the imagination.”

      His expression was so pleased that she wondered if he was up to something. “You might be right.” He led the way to a golf cart, escorting her into the passenger’s seat and settling behind the wheel. It was extremely quiet when he turned the key, and she figured it had to be electric. He headed away from the buildings, saying, “I’ll give you a quick tour before dinner. That way you’ll know where everything is located, so you won’t get lost again.”

      They glided around the golf course as he pointed out various features.

      “Trade magazines are predicting the course will eventually receive a top-one-hundred ranking,” Zack enthused. “We went for a more natural type of construction, with only certain sections manicured. It plays just over eight thousand yards, and our ninth hole rivals the sixteenth at Cypress Point in Pebble Beach.”

      Jamie understood. Her father was a golfer and had played a number of the top courses in America and Scotland, so she recognized СКАЧАТЬ