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Authors: Kate Angell

No Tan Lines

BOOK: No Tan Lines
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No Tan Lines
Kate Angell
Kensington Books (2012)

Product Description

There's a place where the ocean meets the shore, where kicking off your shoes and baring some skin is as natural as sneaking under the boardwalk for an ice cream cone and stolen kisses.

But life isn't all a beach for Shaye Cates, even if her idea of an office is a shady umbrella at the water's edge equipped with cell phone and laptop. Steely-eyed Trace Saunders is the incredibly irksome fly in her coconut tanning oil. And running a kids' softball team with her longtime rival is going to have everyone in her little Florida town buzzing. Her scads of laid-back relatives and his whole uptight clan know that Shaye just wants to play ball while Trace thinks only of business. But beneath the twinkling lights of the ferris wheel, the magic of sea and sand can sweep away every inhibition . . .

Suddenly, it's summertime, and the lovin' is easy.

"Hot, sexy and smart!" --Carly Phillips,
New York Times
bestselling author

Praise for Kate Angell and her novels

"Fast-paced. Fun characters." –Lori Foster,
New York Times
bestselling author

"Her stories are delightful with a satisfying ending." –
RT Book Reviews

"No fan of the genre should miss Angell's surefire romances." –
Booklist

No Tan Lines

 

KATE ANGELL

 

 

KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.
www.kensingtonbooks.com

 

All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.

Table of Contents

 

Title Page
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Prologue

 

One

 

Two

 

Three

 

Four

 

Five

 

Six

 

Seven

 

Eight

 

Nine

 

Ten

 

Eleven
Did you miss the last in the series, SWEET SPOT?
Copyright Page

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

 

Friends and family are so very important: Debbie and Ted Roome, Sue-Ellen Welfonder, Jina Bacarr and the Browns—I appreciate you.

 

The doctors and staff at Mission Hills Veterinary Clinic, Naples, Florida: Dr. Angela Butts, Dr. Amelia Foster, Cincy, Eddie, Lauren, Shannon, Tracy—you are amazing!

 

My editor, Alicia Condon: thanks for everything.

Prologue

 

“W
e’ve got customers.” Kai elbowed Shaye Cates in the side. Their summer job placed them behind the candy counter of the Snack Shack on the Barefoot William Pier.

Tonight’s outdoor movie,
Babe,
was being shown on the outer wooden wall of the concession stand. The family film flickered through the open window above the popcorn machine as a pink pig raised by sheepdogs learned to herd sheep with the help of Farmer Hoggett.

Shaye straightened from her slump behind the counter. She brushed her hair out of her eyes, then tugged down the hem on a T-shirt that had started life five years ago a much brighter shade of blue. Her jeans were bleached white. She was barefoot, and her pomegranate nail polish was in need of a fresh coat.

She’d been stocking oversized boxes of Jujyfruits, red licorice whips, and Sno Caps when Trace Saunders, the hot boy with the cool name, walked in. He carried two navy vinyl beach chairs under his arm, as moviegoers were required to supply their own seats.

His date trailed behind him. Crystal Smith was sixteen going on twenty. She appeared relaxed, whereas Trace looked restless and bored by the ten o’clock feature. He apparently wasn’t into talking farm animals.

Shaye despised him. Her dislike surpassed her hatred of cooked cabbage, alarm clocks, cold weather, and shoes. Trace was an ass.

What did she expect from a hotshot jock? He was the star of a rival high school team. He was a sophomore who played varsity. He’d gone through a growth spurt and now stood six feet tall, all lanky and smug. He was big enough to play in Major League Baseball. If he ever did, that was one bubble gum baseball card she’d trash. And fast.

That very afternoon Shaye had sat on the bleachers at Gulf Field and watched Trace hit a line drive between the shortstop and the second baseman in the top of the fifth. His team was already ahead by four runs, yet Trace had rounded the bases as if his hit would win the game.

The boy could sprint, long strides, pumping arms. Not that she noticed. She was more interested in her cousin Kai, who played catcher. He’d crouched low for a throw from the center fielder as Trace slid home. Trace’s shoulder caught Kai in the chest and sent the catcher flying. Kai sailed several yards, slamming into a metal post. He’d bruised his spine.

Trace’s fan club applauded his run. Ten clueless teenage girls bounced on the bleachers like pogo sticks with boobs.

Shaye was a tomboy and broke the school rule of non-players on the field. She’d climbed the chain-link fence and raced straight for Kai. She dropped to her knees and asked, “You okay?”

Kai fought to catch his breath. “Wind knocked out of me.”

She placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, then looked at Trace. The boy dusted off his uniform pants, all smiles and puffed chest. Shaye
despised
his cocky smile and wanted to wipe it off his face. He’d hurt Kai. The incident was unforgivable, and she let him know it with a dirty look. Which Trace ignored.

Trace topped Kai’s shit list as well. Kai had always been the athletic superstar until Trace moved to town, coming from a private boarding school. Trace was Kai’s chief competitor in both sports and dating. Trace had gone as far as to steal Kai’s girlfriend, which was unacceptable to Shaye. Crystal belonged with Kai.

Shaye’s hatred of Trace was bone deep. He was a Saunders, and she was a Cates. Their century-old feud killed all pleasantries between them.

Over a hundred years had passed since her great-great-great-grandfather William Cates left Frostbite, Minnesota. He’d been a farmer broken by poor crops and a harsh, early winter. He’d sold his farm and equipment, then hand cranked his Model-T and driven south. The trip was long and hard, yet he pushed on until the Florida sunshine thawed him out.

On a long stretch of uninhabited beach, William rolled up his pant legs and shucked his socks and work boots. Once he experienced the warm sand between his toes, he vowed never to wear shoes again.

He put down roots, married, and named the fishing village Barefoot William. The town expanded slowly, as family and longtime friends moved to the Gulf Coast. Even after he was elected mayor, William walked barefoot through city hall, as did the other town officials. Back then, life existed on a man’s word and a solid handshake. For two decades, the village remained small and laid-back.

Until the day Evan Saunders disrupted the peace. He was a capitalist with big-city blood. He wore three-piece suits, a bowler hat, and polished brown oxfords. It was rumored the man never broke a sweat even in summer.

Evan set his sights on real estate. He contacted Northern investors, and, within six months, the Saunders Group began to buy up land. Evan wanted to citify the small town. He sought to turn Barefoot William into a wealthy winter resort.

William Cates and Evan Saunders sparred for sixty years. William battled zoning and expansion. He was comfortable with the short boardwalk and long fishing pier. He valued friendships and a sense of community, whereas Saunders was a developer. Evan built his own boardwalk and yacht harbor and snubbed the barefoot mayor.

Hostility flared between the two men, and Barefoot William became a town divided. On an overcast day with thunderheads roiling, the conservative and the capitalist drew a line in the sand, which neither crossed during the remainder of their lifetimes. The line later became Center Street, the midpoint between Barefoot William and Saunders Shores.

The Cateses’ northern cement boardwalk linked to a wooden pier that catered to fishermen, sun worshippers, water sports enthusiasts, and tourists who didn’t wear a watch on vacation.

Amusement arcades and carnival rides drew large crowds to the Barefoot William boardwalk. The specialty shops sold everything from Florida T-shirts, ice cream, sunglasses, sharks’ teeth, and shells to hula hoops.

A century-old carousel whirled within a weatherproof enclosure. Its wall of windows overlooked the Gulf. The whirr of the Ferris wheel was soothing, while the swing ride that whipped out and over the waves sent pulses racing.

Barefoot William was as honky-tonk as Saunders Shores was high-end. Couture, gourmet dining, and a five-star hotel claimed the southern boundaries. Waterfront mansions welcomed the rich and retired. Yachts the size of cruise ships lined the waterways. Private airstrips replaced commercial travel. The wealthy were a community unto themselves.

In Shaye’s mind, Trace Saunders didn’t belong on the Barefoot William Pier. Not tonight. Not ever. He was like gritty sand rubbing against her skin. She wanted to wash him off.

She leaned her elbows on the candy counter and gave him a hard stare to let him know where she stood. “You’re trespassing.”

Trace crossed the wide wooden planks of the candy shack and came to stand before her. Her breath caught. He was tall. “I’m slumming.” His boy’s voice was manly deep, a baritone that gave her goose bumps.

She looked him over with careless indifference. His hair was short, black, and spiky. His eyes were blue-gray and as pale as the crest of a wave. Movie night was casual—tank tops, T-shirts, shorts—yet Trace wore a white button-down and dark slacks. She wanted to kick sand onto his polished loafers. No doubt he’d kick it back.

She felt Kai tense as Crystal joined Trace. She wore a pink sundress with a narrow turquoise necklace strap. Shaye tried not to stare. Crystal was all girly and hot, everything Shaye was not. From the corner of her eye, Crystal glanced at Kai for all of two seconds. Kai, on the other hand, glared a hole through her.

The two had a history. They’d grown up together. Crystal had claimed Kai as her boyfriend in the third grade. She’d pulled his hair on the playground until he agreed. They’d hung tight for seven years, up until her sixteenth birthday, when Crystal decided she looked too much like a kid and wanted to appear more adult.

The Scissorhands Salon in Barefoot William no longer suited her. She’d called the stylists juvenile and silly. Crystal crossed to the dark side and booked an appointment at Zsuzsy, an exclusive day spa in Saunders Shores. The spa achieved the desired effect. The girl entered through its mint-green and gold double doors and emerged a young woman. Shaye and Kai hardly recognized her.

Crystal had cut her long brown hair, dyed her eyelashes, then gone on to purchase a wardrobe from Eclipz, a new teen designer.

Kai had made the mistake of saying he missed Crystal’s ponytail. Crystal had yet to forgive him. Shaye kept silent when it came to Crystal’s lashes, which were so sooty and thick, her brown eyes appeared black.

Trace Saunders was the only one to compliment Crystal’s haircut, a style as geometrically sharp as her tongue when she later dumped Kai.

BOOK: No Tan Lines
3.94Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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