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 need the owner of a Mercedes blaming her for a dented fender.
The sun was bidding a glorious farewell to the day as she pulled into the garage. Fortunately, she had a large salad prepared from her leftover produce. She added a hard-boiled egg and grilled chicken and took it to the porch to eat and watch the sky.
The gall of the guy.
Jamie stabbed a spinach leaf, only to drop her fork in disgust.
The one positive was her speech to Zack, declaring she’d never sell, which had been the entire point of going to Mar Vista in the first place. Her jangled nerves relaxed. She’d wanted him to understand the land was hers, no matter what, and she’d said it in no uncertain terms and loud enough that some of his employees had heard it, too.
Mission accomplished.
She leaned back in her chair and began eating again, her good humor restored. It had cost her more than two hours, but was worth every minute.
CHAPTER FIVE
KIM SIGNED THE last letter her assistant had given her, tossed the pen aside and gazed through the window at her view of the Golden Gate Bridge.
It was noon on a Friday and she was done for the week. Naturally, there was always something she could do, but lately she’d scaled back her workload, handing portions off to her junior partners. There had to be
