That Summer at the Shore. Callie Endicott

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 that Mar Vista’s design was top-notch. Not that her dad could afford to golf at Mar Vista. The family had gotten together on a Father’s Day gift for a weekend at Pebble Beach four years ago, but it was plain that Zack’s resort was equally exclusive, and extravagantly expensive.

      Zack directed the cart toward the buildings. But he didn’t stop; he drove on to an airstrip a mile away, then to a series of paddocks and horse stables. Lately she’d seen more riders around, so she’d suspected he had stables. Granddad hadn’t cared if people used his land as long as they respected his privacy and didn’t litter, so the area was already a popular location for horseback riding.

      Next Zack showed her a display of shiny bicycles for the energetically inclined. Afterward they went down a winding road to a private marina where guests could take kayaks or sailboats out into the cove, or moor their private yachts.

      “I’ve tried to include a wide variety of activities for my guests,” he said as they drove back. “All the rooms have a view, and we have plenty of carts for transportation, with frequent recharging stations around the resort. That’s a big improvement on combustion engines running everywhere.”

      Jamie checked her watch. More than an hour had passed since she’d arrived—Zack’s “quick tour” was anything but. And it had the flavor of something he’d planned in order to prove the resort was of greater importance than her trailer and fruit stand. That was why her comments concerning the difficulty getting to the office had pleased him; they’d given him an excuse to take her all over his resort. She took a deep breath, trying to contain her frustration.

      They approached a building not far from the office. At last. It had been a busy day, and aside from everything else, she was hungry. She climbed out and Zack led her through doors to an elegant lounge. There was a tasteful bar, but no sign of a restaurant. A side room had mahogany billiard tables with the air of a fine English country manor.

      They went up a hallway...again no restaurant, only numbered doors. Zack stopped at one and opened it with an electronic card key.

      “I thought you’d like to see one of our guest rooms.”

      That clinched it; he wouldn’t have had the card key in his pocket unless he’d planned his tour.

      Temper simmering, Jamie entered the well-appointed suite. It oozed luxury and had a private deck overlooking the cove. As for the bathroom, it was enormous, with numerous plush towels flanking a separate shower and bathtub. She’d visited nice hotels with her ex-husband, but nothing like this.

      The reminder of Tim soured her mood further. Apparently, her ex had been boasting that he’d reached a point in his career where he could pay for the very best on business trips. She hadn’t understood why people from her old life kept bringing him up until Caylie Browning confessed that Tim was asking them to mention him to her. Since then Jamie had cut off contact with all of their mutual friends. Whatever Tim’s game, she wasn’t playing.

      In the hallway, Zack took her arm. “I think you’ll be impressed with the business center in the reception building. We’ll go there next. You could virtually run an international corporation from our facilities. We also have pools, one of them heated, saunas that—”

      Jamie yanked free. “You are an incredible jerk, Zack Denning. You invite me to dinner to discuss a business proposition that I’m not interested in, and instead you drag me all over your lavish resort to try and awe me into submission. No wonder you wanted to pick me up—you were going to keep me here at your mercy. But it wouldn’t have worked. I’d have walked home rather than put up with this nonsense.”

      The bartender stared, but Jamie didn’t care. She stormed out of the building, stopping only to get her bearings.

      Zack caught up with her. “I’m sorry you see it that way,” he said, his polished exterior obviously ruffled. “We can go to the restaurant now.”

      “Why do public-relations people believe that sort of thing works?” she asked incredulously. “You’re not saying you’re sorry for being a jackass. You’re saying you’re sorry I see your behavior a certain way—implying that I’m seeing it the wrong way. That just makes people madder. You really don’t get how rude you’ve been, do you?”

      “I was simply—”

      “Rude,” Jamie repeated. She stalked toward the employee parking lot, with Zack following.

      “Look, I apologize.”

      “Forget it. You can’t impress me with the sixty unique offerings on the menu or caviar that drips from crackers or rare French wines. I don’t want cheese specially flown in from some village in Tuscany or olives soaked in two-hundred-year-old brandy or whatever absurdity is currently a fad of the rich and bored. I’m done, with you and this place.”

      Her furious voice seemed to catch more than one ear. In the employee lot, out of view from the guest areas, several staff members quit chatting among themselves and hurriedly ducked into their cars.

      “Please, Ms. Conroe...Jamie,” Zack said. “We’ll go straight to the restaurant.”

      Jamie groped for her car key and thrust it into the lock. “Oh, sure, with a detour past twelve more features of your precious resort.”

      “I assure you—”

      “Don’t bother. I refuse to sell my land, so there’s no point in us even talking, much less eating together. It’s mine and you’ll have to live with that.”

      “Be reasonable,” he said through gritted teeth. “You run a seasonal fruit stand. This is a high-end resort. I can make it worthwhile. If you insist on keeping the property, I’ll buy you a piece of land on the highway and move the stand there, so at least the beachside area will be visually appealing to my guests. And selling your product on the main road would increase your profits. Or I could pay for better signs and an attractive structure on your present site.”

      “What part of no don’t you get?” Jamie snapped. She slid inside and slammed the car door. She drove out, senses on alert; angry drivers were often careless drivers and she didn’t