Then, having had all the family reunion he could handle for one day, he turned and stalked back toward his trailer. Neither Montoya followed him. Good thing.
He loaded PJ, locked the tack compartment, pocketed his keys. Now that his mission was accomplished, he had to stop by the rodeo office and then grab a hamburger for the road before he put a couple hundred miles between himself and his old man. If he could choke a burger down. Talk about a bad taste.
“Great run, Ryan!” a young voice called as he approached the rodeo office.
Ryan smiled and nodded at the boy dressed in chaps and carrying a red, white and blue rope. “Thanks, bud.”
He conducted his business in the rodeo office, which took about fifteen minutes longer than it should have, and got into the concession line.
People stopped and said hello as he waited, congratulating him on his run—still the winning time—and Ryan chatted with a few of them even though he wanted nothing more than to get the hell out of there. He’d just made it to the counter and was about to give his order when a collective gasp went up from the crowd, followed by silence. The nasty kind of silence that indicated something bad had just happened. Ryan’s gut tightened as he waited for the hubbub that would erupt when the injured cowboy got back to his feet. The crowd remained stubbornly silent.
“Oh, no,” the elderly lady in the booth gasped, craning her neck to see, but the solid gate panels blocked the view.
“Our medical team is on the scene, taking a look at this cowboy,” the announcer finally said in a reassuring voice. “As you know, these guys are the best in the business.” The ambulance rolled past the concession stand then, and the wide arena gate swung open to give access. The lady gasped again and Ryan instantly understood why.
The sorrel horse with the distinctive white spot on his side standing near the crouched group surrounding the downed cowboy belonged to the crowd favorite.
His brother. Matt Montoya.
* * *
JUST WHEN ELLIE was beginning to think the dusty single-track road was never going to end, she rounded a corner and a rustic ranch spread out in front of her in postcardlike perfection. She pulled her leased Land Rover to a halt, taking in the large red barn and several smaller outbuildings on the edge of green fields. The single-story, shake-roofed house with a porch surrounding it on three sides nestled close to a stand of evergreen trees. Cows and horses grazed in the pastures and a pair of large birds flew in lazy circles over the pond at the edge of one of the fields.
Milo had bought the place eight months ago and since then had spent a grand total of one week there, shortly after the purchase, but didn’t seem to be able to stop talking about “his ranch” to anyone who would listen. Now Ellie understood why. It was gorgeous.
Gorgeous and really, really close.
After fifteen hours of travel Ellie was more than ready for a hot bath and a bed. Ten minutes later she parked at the end of the flagstone walk, not liking the fact that the place felt as deserted up close as it had appeared from a distance. Had Angela or Milo told the staff she’d be arriving? A question Ellie hadn’t thought to ask. Ellie, who always thought of everything.
She’d been rattled lately. Disorganized. Not herself.
Ellie rang the bell. After the second ring she knocked, then, after a suitable amount of time, tried the handle. Locked. Okay. She set down her handbag and stood for a moment, hands on hips, surveying the ranch, watching for some sign of movement around the barn and outbuildings. Nothing.
Great. Her feet hurt and the small of her back ached from sitting for too long and she wanted to get inside. Now.
She started walking around the house, her heels clunking hollowly on the wooden porch, looking for another way in and wondering if she was going to have to call Angela to get the number of the caretaker. She tried the side entrance, the back entrance, the sliding door. No luck. She’d just pulled her phone from her jacket pocket when she heard the sound of an engine.
Salvation.
Ellie rounded the corner of the house in time to see a woman with long dark hair scramble out of the open Jeep.
“Miss Bradworth?” she called as she strode up the walk, her long flannel shirt flapping loosely over very worn jeans.
“Hunter,” Ellie called back. “Mrs. Bradworth is my aunt.”
“Oh.” The woman quickly crossed the distance between them, taking the porch steps two at a time. “Sorry about the wait. I didn’t know you were coming until half an hour ago.”
“Really?” How was that possible?
The woman held out a wad of keys and then, after Ellie automatically took them, shoved her hands into her back pockets. “I was in town when Walt called and got here as quickly as I could. I hope you haven’t waited for too long.”
There was nothing about the woman’s tone that was impolite, but there was nothing that was particularly friendly, either. Ellie felt rather like an interloper. Well, she was an interloper related to the owner of this place.
“Thanks for hurrying,” Ellie said, holding out her free hand. “Ms....”
“Garcia. Jessie Garcia.” Jessie met her gaze directly as they shook hands and Ellie was struck by how really gorgeous the woman was, with high cheekbones and amazing dark eyes.
“I’m Ellison Hunter. Milo and Angela’s niece.”
“Will you be staying long?”
“My stay is open-ended.”
Jessie pulled her mouth into a polite smile, yet Ellie sensed she was not pleased with the answer. Why?
Probably because life was easier when the staff had the place to themselves.
“I hope you enjoy your time here,” Jessie said coolly.
“I’m sure I will.”
“There’s no fresh food in the house, but you should be able to find some things in the freezer and pantry.”
“Thanks.”
Jessie smiled slightly then started back down the steps.
“Excuse me,” Ellie called, waiting for the woman to turn back before she said, “How can I get hold of Mr. Feldman?”
“Walt?” A shadow crossed Jessie’s face. “It’s Sunday.”
“Yes.”
“It’s his day off.”
“I see. And after that?”
“I’ll have him give you a call. Okay?”
“Thank you.”
Ellie had the distinct impression that Jessie wanted to escape and was getting annoyed at the prolonged conversation, but her tone was courteous when she said, “Anything else?”
I want to meet with the staff.... But she’d pass that along through Mr. Feldman when they got a chance to talk. “Not right now.”
“Well, have a good one.”
The woman climbed into the Jeep. It coughed once, then the engine caught and roared to life. Jessie raised a hand then turned the Jeep into a tight U and sped back down the road in the direction from which she’d come.
Ellie held up the ring of nine keys, frowned a little and then picked one at random. Surprisingly, it slid into the lock and the mechanism clicked open. A bed and a bath awaited.
Maybe her luck was changing for the better.
Copyright © 2014 by Jeannie Steinman
ISBN-13: 9781460324547
A PROMISE FOR THE BABY
Copyright © 2014 by Jennifer Lohmann
All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Dunca
n Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.
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www.Harlequin.com
Who does Zack Denning think he is?
As if Zack has any right to come onto Jamie Conroe’s property and demand she sell to him. So what if he wants to buy this land for the guests at his high-end resort to enjoy? This was Jamie’s grandfather’s land—where he fell in love with her grandmother—and now this shoreline property is her fresh start.
Still, Zack’s persistent, she’ll give him that. And when he isn’t issuing ultimatums, he’s quite good-looking—sexy, even. But he can’t have her land. And no matter how many dances they share, and kisses they steal, he can’t have her heart, either….
“Jamie, have dinner with me at the resort.”
Zack sounded tired. “We can discuss everything without disruption. I’m really not a morning person—I can be much more charming at night.”
“We don’t have anything to discuss and I have no interest in your ‘charm.’” Jamie didn’t want to accept the invitation, but not doing so would likely only delay the inevitable. Zack wouldn’t give up until she made it clear it was pointless to pursue the land.
“Indulge me. At worst, it will cost you an evening, and you’ll get a gourmet meal out of it.” It seemed Zack intended to stand there as long as it took to convince her.
“Okay,” she agreed, and was amused by the surprise on his face.
“Excellent. Does Thursday work for you? I can pick you up at seven.”
There was no way she’d let herself be dependent upon him for transportation. “No, I’ll meet you there. This isn’t a date—it’s business.”
“Right. See you then.” And 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 else he’d have to do. Well, too bad. She might not have his experience in the business arena, but she held the trump card; she owned the land, and no one could force her to sell.
Dear Reader,
My favorite memories are connected with the ocean and wandering on the beach, or tide-pooling with my siblings. Once we found a baby octopus. Another time on the beach we actually discovered a message in a bottle—a scientific message. Admittedly, I would have enjoyed more being part of rescuing someone on a deserted island, or maybe a hundred-year-old love letter. But it was still pretty cool finding a bottle that held a message. We delivered it to the nearest university, where it helped them track tides and such.
All this was part of the inspiration for my heroine, Jamie Conroe, whose childhood Augusts were spent on the beachfront land with her grandfather. Of course, this land now has a neighbor—a new luxury resort, the building of which was the lifelong ambition of its owner, Zack Denning. I loved telling this story of mismatched lovers and hope you enjoy it also.
Happy reading!
Callie Endicott
That Summer at the Shore
Callie Endicott
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
As a kid, Callie Endicott had her nose stuck in a novel so much it frequently got her into trouble. She majored in English in college to support her addiction to stories, but it wasn’t enough. Out of desperation she turned to writing, and now when she isn’t walking on a beach or taking a mountain forest trail, she usually has her nose stuck to a computer screen. That is, when she isn’t feeding her cat, scooping the litter box…and listening to Myna purr. The guy in her life doesn’t appreciate the distractions, but that’s another story.…
Callie enjoys hearing from her readers. You can reach her at Harlequin Enterprises Ltd., 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.
For Mom and Dad.
Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Excerpt
PROLOGUE
ZACK DENNING BREATHED in the tangy scent of seaside vegetation as the bulldozer bit deep into the soil. For seventeen years he had worked for this moment.
Mar Vista. My own resort.
He’d saved, invested, made the right contacts, learned along the way, calculated for everything imaginable...and now he was finally breaking ground.
“It’s a big day,” said Phillip Atchison, his architect, during a lull in the noise from the heavy machinery.
“Yes.” Zack nodded, holding his triumph at bay. This was just the beginning, with the greatest risks and challenges still ahead. Nevertheless, he could see it all in his head, the way he’d been seeing it since he was a kid and everyone thought it was a pipe dream.
Phillip understood his ideas and had been excited by the opportunity to design classic architecture that recalled an era of gracious stability. Equally important, they’d incorporated luxury amenities, state-of-the-art electronics and a killer resource center. A guest could run an international company from Mar Vista...or forget the outside world existed.
Leaving the bulldozer, they walked toward the trailer, which would serve as Zack’s home and office while the construction phase progressed. Later he would have an apartment over the administrative offices.
“It’s too bad your family couldn’t be here for the groundbreaking,” Phillip commented.
“My folks were going to come, but something...came up.”
Zack’s mood chilled. He didn’t want to explain his brother’s damaged body and the months of surgeries and therapy yet to come. Brad had gone through hell since being hit by a roadside bomb in Iraq. Their parents were in Bethesda, Maryland, where he was being treated at National Naval Medical Center. The doctors kept saying they had to be patient, but it wasn’t easy.
“Maybe they can come for the grand opening. And you’ve taken lots of photos that you can send them,” Phillip said, dropping his arms. “They’re on the internet, aren’t they? Or do they resist using computers and email like my folks?”
It took a second for Zack’s brain to refocus. “No, they love email,” he answered, patting his digital camera. He’d already sent dozens of pictures to his parents and brother, hoping it would raise their spirits. His jaw hardened. The resort had to be a success—the family needed something to go well.
They climbed onto the landing in front of the trailer and studied the terrain leading down to the Pacific Ocean. Weather reports indicated relatively dry conditions for the next several months—ideal for contouring the acreage for the golf course and completing the major structures. They were disturbing as few of the natural features as they could, which helped their timeline. Mar Vista would nestle into the land as though it were always meant to be there.
The golf-course design also employed existing features, while still c
reating eighteen holes that each had its own unique challenge. Zack didn’t care much for playing golf himself, but he’d paid close attention to what the enthusiasts of the game had to say about a good course.
“It would be nice if there wasn’t a public road on the north end,” Phillip said.
Zack kicked a clod of dirt from his shoe. “True, but I’ve examined similar issues at other resorts. It doesn’t seem to be a problem if the atmosphere is right, and the situation here is better than most because the road only leads to the public beach.”
“What about the section north of the road? I noticed the old for-sale-by-owner sign is still there. That strip of land is too narrow for the main resort, but the view is spectacular and your guests would love exclusive access to the water.”
Zack suppressed a laugh. Phillip “noticed” that for-sale sign whenever he came to Warrington. “Actually, my real-estate agent is contacting the owner with an offer.”
“Wonderful.”
Zack saw the wheels turning in his architect’s eyes. “Don’t get busy with blueprints,” he warned. “Even if the seller accepts, I can’t afford to develop for at least two years.” If it wasn’t for a recent investment in his portfolio panning out better than expected, he wouldn’t have been able to consider buying the property in the first place.
“What if the owner decides not to sell and builds something that clashes with Mar Vista?” asked Phillip.
Zack grimaced. “My landscape architect and I have a contingency plan. We’re leaving green space with trees where we can plant one of those tall evergreen hedges as a buffer if necessary. It isn’t a great solution, but it would help.”
Phillip whistled. “That’s expensive, particularly if you put in mature bushes.”
“Less expensive than losing the right atmosphere.”
“Can’t argue with that. Well, best of luck. I’ll be back regularly to meet with the contractor and monitor the progress.”
Harlequin Superromance January 2014 - Bundle 1 of 2: Everywhere She GoesA Promise for the BabyThat Summer at the Shore Page 56