Sweet Kiss (5 page)

“Then ask her about tomorrow. Before she goes out to Fay’s house.”

“That’s more than one favor.”

“Melanie, please.” Pouting, he tried his best sad puppy dog face.

“Oh, all right.” Within a minute, Melanie relayed the information to Kate and returned, shaking her head. “She says the jam-making will take up all her time and most of the night. Sorry.”

“How about putting a good word in for me?” he asked. “I could use some inside help here.”

Melanie stiffened at his request and folded her arms across her chest. “I’m warning you, Tappe Vanderberg, if you start a relationship with Kate again and waltz away and break her heart, I’ll break your knees.”

“Wow, Melanie. Someone’s in a black mood today.”

She glowered at him and shook a finger inches from his nose. “Look, she’s my best friend and business partner. I don’t want to see her hurt. Get it?” Without waiting for a reply, she turned, dismissing him, indicating their conversation was finished. She greeted a gray-haired older man who had sauntered up to the counter. “Can I help you, sir? Coffee? Tea? Or some delicious treats?”

Chapter Four

Tuesday morning, coffee and vanilla cappuccino in hand, Tappe strode half a block up the street to Benton’s Seaside Realty Office on Canal Street where Violet Meyers worked as a receptionist. The office was quiet, without any customers, when he entered. Violet looked up at him, two deep lines of worry appearing above her dull red-rimmed eyes. Her stringy brown hair, tied back into a sloppy ponytail, looked little better than a used string mop head. She seemed dull-looking, unkempt and almost fatigued. Her blouse, once white, was now gray and was so rumpled it looked as if she’d slept in it. Lackluster eyes revealed signs of desperation and despair. Tappe had never seen her so out of sorts. She reminded him of a weary, abandoned dog drying out from a trek in a rainstorm.

“Tappe?” She rose from her chair and spoke, her voice with a sharp edge to it. “I’m surprised to see you here. I heard you bought the marina. You should have come to
our
office first. We would have helped you, and we certainly could have used the commission.”

Tappe set the cappuccino down on her desk and dropped into a seat in front of it. “Actually, I was still traveling here in the States as well as abroad. Dad handled the sale. Privately. Like the owner requested.” He studied her and suspicions crowded into his thoughts. Her face was thin and drawn, and she looked nervous and strung-out. “So how are you doing? I was sorry to hear about your aunt.”

Violet snorted out a soft disdainful sound. “Hah, the old biddy left us the house and a heap of old junk, and an insurance policy guaranteed to be gobbled up by taxes.” She sat and fiddled with a pen on her desk. “And Kate has no interest in selling.”

“But you do?” He noticed how she tried to quell her trembling hands by playing with the pen. Her ragged-looking nails had half the polish bitten off. Her lips, chapped and devoid of lipstick, looked as if she had chewed on them as well. Something was not right.

“Of course. Haven’t you heard? My husband flew the coop?” There was bridled anger in her voice now. Her lower lip trembled. “Donald took what he considered his half…and more.” She sniffed and reached for a Kleenex.

“I’m sorry to hear it,” Tappe admitted. He had known Violet all his life. Unlike Kate, she was always impulsive and had a track record of making poor decisions—in life, with men, and with financial situations.

“Then you’re one of the first to feel sorry. I’m sure everyone in town thinks I got what I deserved.” She dabbed at her eyes and lifted the lid on the cappuccino, allowing the steam to escape, but she didn’t take a drink.

“Without being presumptuous, can you handle the debt?” he asked.

“Are you kidding? With back mortgage payments, utilities, car payments and other Donald Meyers bills about town, I owe a good $35,000 or more. If Kate sells the house, I could get my head above water. I’m about to file for a divorce as soon as I can scrape up enough money for a lawyer. Donald wants an additional $15,000 or he won’t sign for me to keep the condo.”

“Did you try to get a loan?” Tappe took a sip of coffee, regarding her over the lip of the cup.

“With Donald’s credit and a string of outstanding bills around town? Yeah, loaning me money would be right up a bank’s alley.” There was no mistaking her sarcastic anger. “I’ll bet my deadbeat husband tanked our credit score right down to rock bottom.”

“Does Kate know about this?”

“Even if she suspects it, she doesn’t care. She never liked Donald. Anyway, my life is not her problem. She’s just being Kate. Selfish and self-centered.” She stabbed an accusing finger in the air. “And stubborn!”

Tappe forced himself to suppress an angry retort. The Kate he knew was the least selfish person in all of Little Heron Shores. Like her Aunt Kay, Kate would open her heart and wallet and give anyone her last dollar. According to his father, everyone around town would rather shine a bushel of apples than take a shine to Donald Meyers whom they considered a loser.

A plan began to swirl around in his head. “What if I said I could loan you the money?”

Startled, Violet took a quick breath and sat up straighter in her chair. “Why? Why would you do that?”

“We grew up together, Violet.” He offered her a sympathetic look. “And to be honest, I’m looking for land. I’ve always liked the properties out by our old homesteads. If you come to a mutual agreement where you and Kate may consider selling, I’d like both of you to allow me to make the first offer, or at least give me a heads up.” He rose. “Think about it.”

“I don’t have the time to think about it.” Violet jumped up and rushed around the desk. She threw her arms around him. “Yes, yes! I’ll see what I can do to convince my bull-headed sister to sell. Thank you, Tappe. Thank you so much! You don’t know what this means to me.”

Tappe gently patted her back, then pushed her away and peered into her drawn face and watery, bloodshot eyes. “Do me a favor, will you?”

She looked at him expectantly. “Anything. Anything. You name it.”

“Get off the booze, Violet. And meet me tomorrow morning at the bank.”

****

It was near closing time, and Kate was exhausted. Tuesdays were the coffee shop’s pick-up and clean-up days. All the little things unfinished on Mondays, like the restocking of food, paper products, and supplies, were postponed to Tuesdays. Yesterday had been especially hectic since she had to reserve time to interview applicants for part-time work and for after school and weekend hours—which meant Melanie had to do two people’s chores besides working the counter.

The coffee shop was doing a vigorous business with free WiFi for the internet, and already Melanie was hinting they needed to repaint the far wall and set up a display where people could gather information about the town and local businesses. Kate thought it was an excellent idea and wanted to install a special rack to hold business cards, and a cork board where bulletins, notices, and announcements could be available for the public to view. She also wanted an area where she could showcase various local artists and writers. They had discussed the possibility of cleaning out a storage room and adding tables where businessmen, authors, or high school and college students could gather to have discussions or study in a quiet, private setting.

Kate sighed as she headed for her Jeep. There never seemed to be enough time to get everything done. And now she had an SUV full of strawberries waiting to be cooked and stuffed into jars to be used during the Valentine’s Day Festival and strawberry month. She looked up to see Tappe Vanderberg standing there, leaning against the back fender of her Jeep. His truck was parked behind it.

Despite her annoyance, she couldn’t deny the instant pull of attraction as she drank in the sensuality of his physique. Both hands holding the ends of a rope, he was grinning as he showed a group of boys crowding around him how to tie a tricky maritime knot. Tall and broad-shouldered, he looked the part of a marina owner in his faded, torn jeans and a five o’clock shadow. Kate couldn’t think of anyone who affected her to such a primal depth. He was sexy and alluring, so sexy and alluring every woman in Little Heron Shores couldn’t help but notice. Or for that matter, any woman on the planet.

When he saw her, he handed the rope to a nearby boy and said, “If you guys come down to the docks, I’ll show you some different ways to tie off a boat.” Heads nodded, faces grinned, and the gang scattered, half heading up and half heading down the street.

“Are you stalking me?” she asked, squinting up at him. In her haste, she had forgotten to put her sunglasses on.

“Define stalking.” He burst into a grin and removed his shades, revealing sparkling eyes with a hint of mischief in them.

“Oh, for goodness sake, Tappe, I don’t have time for silly banter. I don’t have time for dinner either.” She rummaged through her purse, removed her keys, and pushed the button to unlock the doors. She jammed a pair of sunglasses on her face.

“You have a flat.” His voice was low and composed. He pointed downward at the pavement.

She tore off her glasses and studied the back tire where he was pointing. “Oh, no!” Her shoulders slumped. “Why today? I have twenty pints of ripe strawberries in the back I need to make into strawberry jam tonight.”

“I can smell them.” Tappe gestured to the partially opened back window, pushed away from the fender, and straightened. “I called the garage and they’re coming to fix it, but they can’t get to it until first thing tomorrow morning.

“Those berries can’t wait until tomorrow.”

“Then we’d better get them loaded into the back of my truck. I’ll take you out to the house.”

“They’re going to bounce out all over the bed of your truck. They’ll be smashed to bits. And I’ll need a ride back from the house to town.”

“Oh, come on.” He gazed at her with his old childhood look that seemed to say,
and what’s the problem here?
“Go back to the coffee shop and get a table cloth to throw over them. You’re going to mash them anyway before you heat them with…with…” His hands flew up. “…with whatever you put in them to make jam. I can take you back to town when you’re finished.”

She groaned. “I can’t ask you to stay for hours while I play with twenty-five jars of strawberries.”

“Why not? I’ve nothing better to do. Dad’s watching the marina. I can help, and you can catch me up on the latest news around Little Heron Shores.”

She gave him a wary gaze. “You know how to make jam?”

“No, but I’m trainable. How difficult can it be? Fay and my mother made it every summer.” He paused. His mouth quirked with a humorous smile. “Anyway, it might be a great anger-reducing activity. Pounding a few berries to pulp? What do we use? Mallets?”

His playful attitude brought back memories of their days in high school when he’d joke and prod to get her out of a dark mood. “Oh, Tappe, please.” Kate shook her head and blew out a sharp breath. This was going to be a long night if she was forced to tolerate his impish behavior and his unflagging jovial nature. “You know, you can be annoying sometimes!”

“Hey, name me a guy who doesn’t enjoy smashing things.” He nudged her toward the coffee shop. “What you waiting for, girl? Go, go! Get what you need. I got this berry transfer under control.”

Minutes later, with the bottles, berries, and sugar bouncing around in the bed of the truck, they headed to Kate’s childhood home outside town. The windows were down, and the evening winds blew balmy and warm mingling the salty smell of the sea and the sweet fragrance of beach flowers with the heady scent of the berries in the cargo bed. Between them on the seat was a white paper bag.

“What’s in the bag?” Kate asked.

“I picked up some lobster rolls and salads at the deli. I figured you wouldn’t have time to eat with all those berries wilting in your trunk.”

“Wilting? Honestly, Tappe. Leaves wilt, berries get overripe and rot.”

“Perish the thought of decomposing berries,” he said in a deadpan voice. “And frankly, I didn’t know whether I could handle you on an empty stomach.” He grinned.

“Handle me?”

“You know, your hell-bent, driven mode that consumes you when you’re on a mission and you decide you have to have the job finished yesterday?”

This was the old Tappe. The Tappe who knew her better than anyone else, even her sister. He had always been able to tease her, affectionately, not maliciously, into a better mood. “You haven’t changed.” She laughed and shook her head, then leaned back against the seat and breathed deeply, just enjoying the comfort of his friendship, the easy silence between them, and the steady sound of the tires drumming on the road. Minutes later, they broke the silence together.

“I have to tell you—” The exact same words flew simultaneously out their mouths and their gazes locked. Soft hazel eyes with caramel-colored ones.

Smiling, Kate said, “You first.”

Hands gripping the wheel, Tappe cleared his throat and hesitated. When he spoke, his voice was calm, but calculated. “I don’t know how to say this, Kate. Not without offending you. I was sorry to see you were getting married even though I hope, to all the heavens above, you’ll be happy. Whoever he is, he’s one damn lucky guy. What’s his name?” He looked over at her, and his gaze hardened with disdain. “But I swear, if the SOB ever breaks your heart, remember I’m still here to pick up the—”

“Stop, just stop!” Kate sliced the air with both hands, then brought them to her forehead and pushed her bangs out of her eyes. “I’ve been trying to tell you ever since the day you tried to demolish the drainpipe with that wrench—I’m
not
engaged to
anyone
.” She shot him a withering glance.

His eyebrows rose in amazement. “
What
did you say?”

“I said I’m not engaged.”

“What about the ring?”

“It’s an inheritance from my Aunt Fay.”

“I don’t understand.”

“What’s not to understand?”