No Tan Lines (9 page)

The Sandcastle was a Saunders hotel.

Trace treated his woman to the finest accommodations.

“You won’t sleep a wink,” he teased Nicole. “You’ll pull out your sketchbook and lay out your shop, then make a long list of renovations.”

“You know me too well,” Nicole said.

“You also need to unwind.” Trace went on to massage the tension from the back of Nicole’s neck.

Shaye stared, transfixed by each slow, circular motion. Nicole momentarily closed her eyes. Pleasure softened her features. She released a slow, appreciative breath, then licked her lips moist.

Shaye blew out her own breath. Her sigh was embarrassing. How could she get so lost in Trace when he touched another woman? Yet she had. She’d felt as if he was stroking her rather than Nicole. She didn’t like the sensation one bit.

He sensed his effect on her. It was evident in the banked heat of his gaze. His look alone was a sexual burn. He was toying with her for no apparent reason other than to get under her skin. Her nerves frayed.

Kai nudged her shoulder. “We should get to the ballpark. I need to open the concession stand and set the scoreboard. Several lightbulbs need to be replaced before tonight’s game. The kids always show up early.”

Parks and Recreation ran two sandlot leagues for nine-to twelve-year-old boys. Barefoot William and Saunders Shores each supported four teams. They played on separate ball fields for most of the summer, but on the third weekend in July the two top teams faced off in the all-star game. Both towns turned out in force. The rivalry was fierce.

Saunders Shores’ brand-new recreational facility had locker rooms, a raked infield, and a mowed outfield. Their uniforms were new and dry-cleaned after every game. They would host the play-off game this year.

The Barefoot William teams practiced every night and played a rotating schedule. The players’ T-shirts sported logos for Pinscher’s Crab Shack, Saltwater Sharkey’s, Goody Gumdrops, and Crabby Abby’s. Some shirts had been worn several years in a row. Hand-me-downs were an athletic ritual.

Players on the Barefoot William teams had to toss rocks from the baselines before each game, and after nine innings every fielder had sand in his sneakers.

Pinscher’s Crab Shack’s team would play Saltwater Sharkey’s at twilight. Most of the town would turn out for the game. Play would be close. Both teams had strong hitters and base-stealers.

Shaye needed to find a home plate umpire to fill in for her Uncle Paul, who owned a charter fishing boat. Red snapper were running near Key West. A group of Chicago stockbrokers had hired her uncle to take them out to catch their limit.

Without Paul, there was no one to call balls and strikes. Her uncle had a great eye for runner and catcher disputes at home base. He instinctively knew who was safe, who was out. He was fair and was respected by the players.

Shaye had crouched behind home plate more times than she could count. She was up, down, up, down with each pitch. The next day her legs were so sore, she could barely walk. Stiffness was not her friend.

“Off to the park,” she finally said.

Nicole perked up. “I haven’t seen a kids’ game in years. It might be fun.” She smiled at Trace. “Take me out to the ball game?”

Shaye’s stomach sank all the way to her toes. Nicole could have an intimate dinner with Trace at Slip Twelve. Why in the world would she want to sit on splintered bleachers in the late heat of the day? She didn’t know the name of one child on either team. This was family night for the Cateses. Was Nicole that hard up for entertainment? Surely Trace could find something else for them to do.

Apparently he could not. Amusement lightened his eyes. One corner of his mouth tipped. He knew his attendance at the park would needle her. “Hot dogs, popcorn—I’m game.”

Nicole glowed.

Kai growled.

Trace grinned.

Shaye felt grumpy. Trace was taking advantage of her. His approval of the volleyball tournament was his ticket to all Barefoot William events. No Cates would be rude or openly disapprove of his presence. Her family and relatives would tolerate Trace for three weeks. Only after the event would her life return to normal. Then Center Street would once again separate Barefoot William and Saunders Shores.

She couldn’t stop him from attending the ball game. Or could she? An idea formed, took hold. She tried not to smile. “Don’t waste your time.” She waved them off. “My Uncle Paul is in the Keys. No home plate umpire, no game. We may have to reschedule.”

The game would go on, with Shaye behind home, but there was no need to share that information. Let them believe play would be suspended.

Nicole looked disappointed. “No one can sub for Paul?”

“We have a strict sandlot rule: parents aren’t allowed to umpire if they have kids on the field. Everyone attending the game is related to the players. We don’t have instant replay. No one wants to make a bad call. Paul’s a bachelor and unbiased. He’s our best bet.”

Nicole was thoughtful. “What about Trace?”

“What about him?” Shaye’s heart slowed. She was instantly suspicious.

“He knows a little about baseball,” Nicole said. “He has no ties to the Cateses, other than his friendship with you.”

“Trace and I aren’t terribly close,” Shaye was quick to say. “We’re doing one business deal together, and that’s it. There won’t be another. Ever. Besides, I wouldn’t want to interfere with his plans for the evening.”

“I’ve got nothing going on,” Trace said easily. “Ask me. I might do you a favor.”

His goodwill would cost her dearly, she suspected. She’d be forced to repay him in due time. Trace had played baseball all his life. He’d been an All-American shortstop and played in the college World Series. He’d been good enough to turn pro.

Major League Baseball was not his destiny, however. After college, his father insisted Trace head Saunders New York, the headquarters for their international holdings. Trace had left Florida State to sit on the board of directors. He was the youngest chairman in the history of the firm. His father supported his every initiative.

Shaye scrunched her nose. Trace was all about big business, not sandlot ball. “But if you umpire, Nicole will have to sit in the stands alone,” she pointed out.

“Kai can keep her company,” said Trace.

Kai stiffened. “I work the concession stand.”

“I can sell popcorn,” Nicole was quick to say. “I’ve worked trade shows. I can bring out the best in a product.”

“It’s popcorn,” Kai snorted. “It sells itself.”

“Do you want our help or not?” asked Trace.

Shaye debated. She needed an umpire and could also use another worker in concession. Desperate times called for desperate measures. She looked from Trace to Nicole and forced herself to be civil. “If you can help out, it would be appreciated.”

“What time?” asked Trace.

“Be at the park at seven. Game starts at seven-thirty,” Shaye said.

“Equipment?” Trace asked.

“Mask, chest protector, and shin guards are stored on-site.” She paused, and her cheeks warmed. “Wear a—”

“Cup,” he finished for her.

“There could be a wild pitch.”

“Thanks for the warning.”

Shaye was relieved. The game would go off without a hitch. She had her home plate umpire, whether she wanted him or not.

“Dress down,” she told Nicole. “We supply an apron, but the snow cones can be messy.”

“I have the perfect outfit.” The woman was excited.

Shaye took a step toward the door. She couldn’t afford to waste any more time. “Any questions?” she wrapped up.

Trace cut her a glance. “How much does it pay?”

Pay?
He didn’t need the money. “Twenty dollars.”

He nodded. “Let’s do it.”

Nicole left first and Shaye second. Trace fell in behind her. His breath was once again hot on her neck. The man knew no boundaries. Kai locked up the store.

“All mine.” Nicole took a final look at the storefront. “I want to paint the door a brilliant emerald green, like a gemstone. Lime and avocado are too fruity.”

Trace looked pointedly at Shaye. “I’m sure that can be arranged.”

Shaye refused to commit. Dollar signs danced in her head. Costs were adding up fast. “Something to consider” was all she could say.

Nicole took Trace by the arm, then waved to Shaye and Kai. “See you tonight.”

“Can’t wait.” In truth, Shaye wished she could stop time, cancel the baseball game, and forget Trace Saunders existed. From the corner of her eye, she watched the couple move down the boardwalk.

Trace had the athletic stride of a jock, and Nicole took two smaller steps to his every one. His neon board shorts could be seen a block away. He remained barefoot.

He stopped twice on the boardwalk, once to listen to a guitarist strumming for tips. Trace tossed money into the man’s guitar case. A half block farther, he added a few dollars to the daily earnings of a young girl who danced on stilts.

His generosity to her relatives surprised Shaye. At that moment he looked nothing like a Saunders. He wore surfside, sand-in-the-crack beachwear, a far cry from designer casual. Dressing less straight and stuffy made him
almost
human, but he could never fully pull off beach bum.

He would become an eyesore the moment he crossed Center Street. Saunders Shores was all about pricey fashion. Shoppers kept to the redbrick sidewalks—sidewalks swept clean of sand. The trash receptacles were emptied hourly.

She released a long-suffering breath. They would endure the volleyball tournament. Then get on with their lives.

Kai’s cell phone rang. He took the call. “I’m walking your way now,” he told the caller. “Be there in ten.” He disconnected.

“Aunt Molly’s dishwasher is stuck on the rinse cycle,” he said. “I need to stop by the diner on our way to the ball park. All her equipment is old. I fixed her grill yesterday, and the fryer the day before that.”

Shaye was well aware of the deteriorating diner. “Her kitchen needs a major overhaul.”

Kai hooked his thumbs inside his tool belt. “Molly’s not going to spend money on new appliances. Her spare change goes to feeding those who can’t afford a meal. Her diner’s become a soup kitchen for many. Molly never turns anyone away. She runs a long tab.”

Shaye tucked her clothes bag under her arm, then crossed her fingers. “Let’s hope the tournament increases cash flow.” The boardwalk hadn’t been in the black for a very long time, but she believed better days were ahead.

They struck out at a fast pace. “Explain your deal with Nicole Archer,” Kai said as they dodged a juggler, then a unicyclist.

She gave him the abridged version, ending with, “I took advantage of Trace, and he got back at me.”

Kai slowed. “He used Nicole against you?”

“I owed him,” she said wearily. “I don’t know their history. Trace did, however, appear relieved to find her a store.”

“On
our
boardwalk.” Kai was ticked.

“All the boutiques at Saunders Shores are filled.”

“So he says.”

They soon reached the corner, and Molly Malone met them at the door to her diner. Her round face was red and damp with perspiration. The front of her apron was grease-streaked. “I tried to fix the dishwasher,” she huffed. “I wasn’t successful.”

Kai headed for the kitchen. Molly directed Shaye to a table. “Lemonade? Iced tea? Coconut cream pie?” her aunt offered.

Shaye agreed to a glass of raspberry iced tea but passed on the pie. Coconut cream would now forever remind her of Trace. He’d eaten the filling off her hip, as if he were tasting her. The image made her stomach twist.

Molly went for her drink, and Shaye located an empty table. She pulled out a chair and sat down heavily. She set her bag of wet clothes on the floor by her feet. It had already been a long day. And it wasn’t over yet.

Molly returned and stood over her. “What’s with the T-shirt?” she asked.

“I got caught in the rain and stopped at Three Shirts to change.” Shaye kept it short.

“You chose the Beaver?”

“I grabbed the shirt without paying attention.” And Trace hadn’t let her switch designs. “It wasn’t what I wanted.”

You should’ve seen Trace,
she wanted to say. Oh, well. Eventually word would trickle back to her aunt. More than one Cates had seen Trace barefoot and wearing neon-pink board shorts. He’d been hard to miss. Everyone would have a good laugh.

“I have a question,” Molly said, keeping one eye on her customers. “People have been asking all day where you’re setting up shop for the tournament. We know you work at the beach, but you’ll need an office for the event, a central contact point.”

There was so much to do. And so little time. She needed to get organized fast. That meant working closely with Trace. The very thought of having the man in her life twenty-four/seven nearly stopped her heart. He made her nervous.

Shaye ran through her options for an office. Her niece Eden was already setting up Old Tyme Portraits. Eden would open for business at the end of the month. Kai would be starting renovations for Nicole Archer tomorrow. There were no more empty spaces.

Trace had office space; she was sure of it. But she refused to set up the headquarters in Saunders Shores. It was too damn ritzy. She’d be forced to wear shoes.

“I’ll let you know as soon as I’m situated,” she promised Molly. “Give me a day or two.”

Molly glanced at her watch. “I need to batter the grouper for the fish fry tonight. Can I fix you a take-out?”

Shaye shook her head. Food was the last thing on her mind. She’d grab a bag of popcorn at the ballpark.

Her aunt took off for the kitchen, and Kai joined Shaye moments later. Sweat dampened his brow, and his shirt was wet. “Dishwasher sprayed like a fire hose,” he said. “It’s fixed for the moment.”

She pushed off her chair. “I need to change clothes. I’ll meet you at the park.”

He snagged a napkin from a nearby table and wiped off his forehead. His jaw shifted, locked. “I could’ve worked the concession stand alone tonight,” he said. “Nicole will only get in my way. If she accidentally gets squirted with ketchup ...” He left the sentence hanging.