No Tan Lines (2 page)

Kai still suffered a broken heart. It was painful for him to see Trace and Crystal together now. Shaye needed to move them along.

She tapped the top of the candy counter. The colors on her mood ring shifted from calm blue to midnight dark. She loved retro jewelry and shopped the local flea market every Saturday.

“Buy something or say good-bye.” She was being rude to Trace but didn’t care. He never gave her one good reason to be nice to him, so why start now?

Trace raised an eyebrow. Tonight he looked more amused than affronted. He was used to her behavior. She constantly blew him off and, on occasion, openly cheered when he struck out at baseball, missed a hoop in basketball, or came in second at a track meet.

He wasn’t crazy about her either. His girlfriends had boobs and hips. Shaye was an A-cup and all legs. Trace had called her Toothpick for as long as she could remember. She hated the nickname.

“I’d like cotton candy,” Crystal announced.

“We’re sold out, and the machine’s being cleaned,” Shaye took pleasure in telling her.

“A bag of popcorn, then,” was Crystal’s second choice.

“All that’s left is unpopped kernels,” Shaye said. “You could chip a tooth.”

“Hot dog?” Crystal tried a third time.

“Steamer’s turned off.”

Crystal pouted until Trace suggested, “Candy bar?”

His date perked up. “We can play Sweet Treat,” she was quick to say. “Shaye created the game. She asks a question, and if you answer it correctly, the candy’s free.”

“Free sounds good,” Trace agreed.

Shaye preferred that he pay. Her family owned the Snack Shack, and any item given away cut into their profits. Even something as small as a candy bar. She was annoyed that Crystal had shared a game played only by close friends. Trace was her enemy. She must never forget that.

“I’ll go first,” Crystal said.

Shaye had always liked Crystal, until the girl dumped Kai. Crystal was an average student, more into appearances than schoolwork. She often got confused by the wording of a question. “How is cotton candy made?” Shaye asked.

“In a cotton candy machine.”

Shaye shook her head. “Sorry, wrong answer. I was looking for either corn syrup or granulated sugar.”

Crystal’s shoulders slumped.

Trace frowned and took his date’s side. “Technically her response was correct.” He gave Shaye a disapproving look that made her uncomfortable. “If you’d wanted ingredients, you should have said so.”

“I was certain she’d say the candy was made from cotton,” Kai muttered from behind Shaye.

“She deserves another chance,” said Trace.

Shaye didn’t like where this was going. Obviously, Trace was determined to see how far he could push her. She didn’t like being pushed.

“I want to go again,” Crystal pleaded.

Shaye debated. Second questions weren’t part of her game. Still, whatever she asked, chances were good Crystal would botch the answer. “Superman’s other identity. Name the candy bar,” she said.

“Jimmy Olsen.”

Shaye didn’t look at Crystal; she met Trace’s gaze instead. She was surprised by the sympathy that darkened his eyes. He seemed embarrassed for his date. If it was anybody else, she would have admired that in him. Not Trace. His expression sought Shaye’s help to ease the situation.

She scrunched her nose. This boy was a Saunders; she owed him nothing. But because of his genuine concern for Crystal, she gave him something. “Clark Bar. Clark Kent was Superman. Both Kent and Olsen were reporters at the
Daily Planet
. You were close, Crystal.”

Crystal sighed. “Close is good.”

“Correct would’ve been better,” said Kai.

Shaye removed a pack of gum from a shelf beneath the counter. “Bubble Yum Cotton Candy?” she offered the girl. It was her favorite flavor.

Crystal opened the pack and removed four pieces. She unwrapped each one and popped them into her mouth. Her cheeks bulged as she started to chew. “I can blow a bubble as big as my face,” she bragged.

Trace leaned left. “What if it pops?”

“Have fun getting the gum out of her hair.” Kai was aware of the consequences.

Crystal ignored her ex-boyfriend. She blew a small practice bubble and sucked it back into her mouth. “It’s Trace’s turn to play Sweet Treat.”

Shaye shook her head. She was done for the night. She’d wasted two good questions on Crystal. She wanted Trace and his bubble-blowing date to move on. “We don’t have time.”

“Make time.” Trace reached into the back pocket of his slacks and removed his wallet, then a twenty-dollar bill. He set the money on the counter. “I’m buying five minutes.”

Shaye bristled. Did he think she was that hard up for a sale? Even if she was, she’d never admit it to him. Still, she debated taking the bill.

Kai, on the other hand, had no such qualms. He snatched the twenty and put it into the cash box, a box with five singles and a handful of change.

Business was slow. Too slow to give Trace back his money. Kai had polished off six hot dogs, eating the profits as he shut down the steamer. Bored herself, she’d eaten a bucket of cheddar cheese popcorn.

Shaye had several tough questions she could ask Trace. She’d love to stump him. She went with the one that caused most people to draw a blank. “Name the colors of candy corn, base to tip.”

“Candy corn.” He rocked heel to toe, his stance tense and competitive. “Give me a minute. I’m thinking.”

Shaye rolled her eyes. Trace was such a dork. He didn’t have an answer, yet he drew out the game. Was that a hint of a smile? No, she was imagining things.

The silence within the shack grew as hot and heavy as the humidity on the pier. A full minute passed. Sweat gathered on Kai’s forehead and at the crease of his neck. Moisture slicked Shaye’s palms. She rubbed the flat of her hands down her blue-jeaned thighs, then curled her fingers into fists.

She soon nudged Trace. “Your answer?”

“Candy corn celebrates a lot of holidays,” he slowly said. “Which seasonal colors do you want? There’s gingerbread, candy cane peppermint, reindeer, patriotic raspberry lemonade, Indian corn, and eggnog to name a few.”

Shaye’s jaw dropped. No player had ever named
flavors
. Put to the test, she herself couldn’t name the colored stripes on holiday corn. Trace Saunders was either a candy connoisseur or a bullshitter. She clamped her mouth closed, growing uneasy. “Your basic corn,” she said.

“Yellow, orange, white.”

Damn. Her stomach sank. She was dealing with a candy corn fanatic. What else would he try to put over on her?

Crystal giggled. “Isn’t he amazing?”

Amazing
wasn’t the word Shaye would’ve chosen.
Asshole
fit him better. She eyed him with suspicion. “You know a lot about candy corn.”

He shrugged, then admitted, “Jelly beans and holiday corn are my two favorite candies.”

“Trace gave me a box of gourmet jelly beans last week for my birthday,” Crystal bragged. “You could eat the jelly beans individually or toss an assortment into your mouth and mix the flavors. Jelly beans are the new birthday cake.”

“I’d rather have cake and ice cream,” Kai said.

“And candles.” Shaye hadn’t meant to speak her thought aloud. Birthday candles sounded childish. Not that she cared what Trace thought of her.

Behind her, Kai yawned and scratched his stomach. His camouflage T-shirt was as wrinkled as his khaki shorts. It was getting late.

Shaye tapped a finger on the countertop, avoiding looking at Trace. “Pick your free treat,” she said.

“Select one for me.”

She went for Lemonheads, only to change her mind. A solution came to her, and she dipped her head so he wouldn’t see her smile. She had no conscience where this boy was concerned, so she grabbed a box of Skittles from the lower shelf instead. She passed it to him.

He accepted the candy. “We’ll play again, Toothpick.”

She hated the humor in his eyes and the fact that he teased her. “Not on my pier, we won’t.”

“You don’t want to get even?” he called over his shoulder as Crystal took his hand and tugged him out the door. The girl was so possessive.

Shaye grinned now. He’d soon realize she’d gotten him back already. He just didn’t know it yet. The Skittles were a year old, left over from the previous summer. They’d be stale, hard as rocks. She’d only kept the box around as a reminder to order a new case.

Taste the rainbow, Trace Saunders.

One

“S
kittles?” Kai offered Shaye a handful of candy as they walked the length of the boardwalk. The majority of kiosks and colorful wooden storefronts stood open to the public, but customers were few and far between.

She shook her head. “I can’t stomach them.”

Fifteen years had passed, yet Skittles still reminded her of Trace Saunders. The man was on her mind today. They were scheduled to meet for lunch. A meal she dreaded.

He was now CEO of Saunders Shores, and she presided over Barefoot William Enterprises. Trace had only recently taken on his position. He’d previously worked from New York City, where he oversaw his family’s real estate holdings.

It was rumored the Saunders family owned a block of skyscrapers and several hotels as well as held stock in companies that owned national landmarks. Future stock in the Empire State Building was on their acquisition list.

Trace had returned home following his father’s unexpected fall from a ladder. Brandt Saunders’s attempt at replacing a shutter on a window had landed him flat on his back. He’d dislocated his shoulder and broken his hip. He was homebound for six months.

Gossip had spread with Trace’s return. He went on to surprise everyone by staying on after his dad’s recovery. He sold his summer house in the Hamptons and closed his eyes to the bright lights of Times Square. He left the rapid pulse of the city for the slow-changing tides of the Gulf. He’d been home two years now.

Shaye had never left southwest Florida. She couldn’t imagine living anywhere else. As a kid, she’d followed her grandfather and father around town, learning the business from the moment she could walk. Her very first steps had been on the pier. Her heart belonged to Barefoot William.

She was the youngest in a family with four older brothers who had all left town for college and never returned. They’d gone on to play professional sports or started businesses in big cities.

Shaye had never wanted to leave. She lived on a land-docked houseboat once owned by her grandfather. Despite their age difference, Frank Cates was both a friend and an ally. He’d given her the houseboat, which was no longer seaworthy, as a gift when she graduated from high school and wanted to move out of her parents’ house. It was quite large and her mother and father traveled a great deal, and Shaye wanted her own place, something smaller, cozy and comfortable. The houseboat was perfect. It held wonderful memories. The past had been good to her.

Today, however, looked bad. She and Trace had business to discuss. A proposed professional/amateur beach volleyball tournament required his approval. Trace still straddled the fence.

Her dozen phone calls and countless e-mails hadn’t changed his mind. Trace remained noncommittal in sharing
his
beach with her for the event. What was wrong with the man? The tour players would draw a huge crowd and boost slow summer sales for everyone.

That very morning he’d requested a meeting at his office, no doubt surrounded by a bunch of suits. She’d declined. Her idea of an office was sitting under a shady umbrella on the sand with her cell phone and laptop.

They’d argued for thirty minutes about a location. He’d finally agreed to lunch at Molly Malone’s. The diner was located on the north side of Center Street, on
her
side of the beach.

Shaye’s aunt owned the restaurant, which was known for its home cooking. Molly was as round as a hamburger bun and happy with her shape. She relished food and life and offered a free slice of pie with each luncheon special. Shaye hoped coconut cream was on the menu today. It was her favorite.

Kai adjusted his black baseball cap with
Hook It, Cook It
scripted on the bill, an advertisement for two of his shops. Hook It sold bait and tackle, and Cook It stood next door, a small chef’s kitchen where fishermen could have their daily catch cleaned and filleted for a small fee, then baked or fried for lunch or dinner. A salad, hush puppies, and fries came on the side. The tourists found it a novelty to eat their meals fresh from the Gulf.

When times were slow, Kai worked as a handyman. He remodeled the boardwalk shops when they changed hands among the family. He’d worn a tool belt much of the spring.

Beside her now, he shifted his stance. “When does Dune expect an answer on the event?” he asked.

Dune was her older brother. He’d played professional beach volleyball for seventeen years. He was a dominant force and a major voice in the sport. He planned to use his popularity to draw players south for a weekend.

Volleyball had very loyal fans. This wouldn’t be a sanctioned tournament, but with media coverage, Barefoot William could turn a profit. This was exactly what she needed to keep the family businesses in the black after a slow start to the summer season.

“Time has run out. Trace needs to make up his mind today.” She cleared her throat, swallowing her guilt. She was not looking forward to this meeting. “I, on the other hand, have already made up mine. I called Dune late last night, and we set dates. The players will be in town over the Fourth of July. He will guarantee top seeds from both the women’s and men’s tour. He’ll send a list of names for promotion.”

Kai rolled his eyes. “You make crazy look sane.”

She had crossed the line, and she knew it. She’d set the date without Trace’s consent. She hated the fact that she desperately needed him. All she required was two hundred feet of his beach to set up the final volleyball net, concessions, and bleachers.

Saunders Shores would benefit as much from the competition as Barefoot William. However, her southern neighbors weren’t as financially strapped as her own family’s businesses. Her side of the street was sucking summer air.