Shore to Please Read online

  “Relax. I don’t plan to propose anytime soon.”

  “What? I wasn’t…I didn’t…” She stopped talking when he grinned. “You’re really enjoying my discomfort, aren’t you?”

  “I cannot tell a lie. Yes, I am.”

  His amusement disappeared when pain flared in his shin.

  “Ow! Damn it, why’d you kick me?”

  “Sorry. My foot slipped.”

  “Yeah, right. You’re dangerous, you know that?”

  “So I’ve been told.” Her mischievous smile faded when he continued to rub his leg under the table. “Are you okay? I wasn’t trying to hurt you.”

  “Story of my life,” he groused. He winced, hoping to play on her sympathies. “I think you owe me a kiss to make it better.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Yep. It’s the least you can do.”

  “I’m not kissing your leg, so you can just forget it.”

  “Who said anything about my leg?” He waggled his eyebrows.

  “Or that either.”

  “Aw, c’mon. Just a little one.” He pointed to his face.

  To Flipper’s great surprise, she crooked her finger at him and, when he leaned toward her, met him halfway. He didn’t get much—just a quick peck on the cheek—but he supposed it was better than nothing. Still… His heavy exhale didn’t escape her attention.

  “What’s the matter now?” she asked.

  “Oh, nothing.”

  “It’s something or you wouldn’t have sighed. So tell me.”

  “You won’t like it.”

  “Probably not, but try me anyway.”

  “I’m just wishing you’d kiss me like you did before.”

  “Are you purposely playing with my head, or does it just come naturally to you?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Never mind. Forget I said anything.”

  Before Flipper could respond, the server appeared with their food, set it on the table, and left after promising to check back later.

  “If this tastes as good as it looks, it’s going to be wonderful.” Tara sampled her salmon, eliciting a groan of appreciation that had Flipper fixated on her mouth.

  “Is everything okay with your meal?” she asked.

  “Hmm?”

  “You’re not eating.”

  “I was just, uh, making sure you were happy with yours.” He picked up his knife and fork and cut into his tuna.

  A strained silence descended, and Flipper mulled whether to ask her what she’d meant by that comment about playing with her head. Instead, he returned to a safer topic.

  “So you never did tell me where you’re from.”

  “You never took a guess.”

  “Hmm. I’ll say somewhere in the Northeast.”

  “That covers a lot of territory. Care to narrow it down?”

  “You’re not from New England, New York, or New Jersey. Maryland?”

  “No.”

  “Pennsylvania?”

  “Wow. Very good. I grew up just outside Pittsburgh. Now, how about you? California?” she asked.

  “Not even close.”

  “Florida?”

  “From one extreme to the other. Try again.”

  “You do say ya’ll, but you don’t have a Southern accent. Somewhere out West maybe?”

  “Uh-uh. Believe it or not, I’m from Alabama.”

  “Really? You don’t sound like it.”

  “My family moved to St. Augustine when I was twelve, and some of the kids in school made fun of the way I talked. So I forced myself to speak without an accent until it was second nature.”

  “Children can be so cruel.”

  “Kids aren’t accepting of anyone who’s different. Believe me, I found that out the hard way. But I learned to fit in. My parents were hurt at first because they assumed I was ashamed of my roots. I think they finally understood after my sister stopped using certain expressions she thought made her sound too redneck.”

  “I’ve always thought being a redneck was more behavioral than geographic.”

  “As in, you don’t have to be from the South to be a redneck?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Good point.”

  *

  As Tara and Flipper enjoyed their meals and chatted about favorite movies, TV shows, music, and books, Tara found herself impressed by his eclectic tastes. The man might look like he’d be fixated on catching the next big wave, but he was nobody’s beach bum. He seemed to know at least a little about a lot of topics, kept up with current events, minded his manners, and related to all kinds of people. The fact that he actually listened, rather than waiting for her to finish talking so he could direct the conversation back to himself, particularly impressed her.

  She couldn’t help but compare him to Steven, whose self-involvement had grated on her nerves. Oh, he could charm the wings off a butterfly when he wanted to, and she’d been stupid enough to fall for it too many times to count. For a while he’d played the part of supportive partner well, but he’d been carrying on an affair almost right under her nose and had gotten away with it for a while. She shuddered to think what else he’d done behind her back.

  Tara declined dessert when the server returned to take away their dinner plates, but Flipper ordered a brownie with vanilla ice cream and two spoons.

  “At least try a bite,” he said enticingly. “Don’t make me eat this all by myself.”

  “Why not? You can handle the calories. I can’t.”

  “What are you talking about? You look great. I don’t see an extra pound anywhere on you.”

  “Clothes hide a multitude of flaws.”

  “I’d be happy to be the judge of that.”

  “You’re doing it again,” Tara accused.

  “What?”

  “Flirting with me.”

  “Apparently I can’t help myself.”

  “Try harder.” She smiled to soften her words.

  “Maybe I don’t want to.”

  Damned exasperating man! Resisting him is challenge enough without him deliberately tempting me.

  “And maybe you don’t really want me to,” he added.

  “Flipper.”

  “Tara.”

  “I don’t want to have this discussion again.”

  “Neither do I.”

  “Good. Then you finally get it.”

  He grinned like some sort of angelic rogue, if there was such a thing, and she shuddered deep within her core. Why does he have to be so blasted sexy?

  Flipper paid and tipped the server, and then they walked outside to their cars. Tara reveled in the gentle breeze that teased her hair. She always looked forward to fall, and the lower humidity this time of year offered a refreshing relief from the mugginess and oppressive heat of the Sunshine State’s seemingly endless summer.

  “I love this weather,” Flipper observed as if reading her mind. “This is my favorite time of year.”

  “It is? Mine, too. And here I thought we had nothing in common.”

  “We have a lot more in common than you think.”

  Tara chose to ignore that comment. “Well, I’d better not dawdle. I have work to finish when I get home.”

  “You’re a graphic designer, right?”

  “Yes. I freelance, so if I don’t do it, it doesn’t get done. There’s no delegating.”

  “I guess being your own boss isn’t as ideal as everyone thinks.”

  “As with everything else, you take the good with the not so pleasing. Overall, I can’t complain. On nights like tonight, though, it would be nice to have help.”

  “If I could, I would.”

  “I know. Thanks for that. And thank you so much for dinner. I imagine I’ll be seeing you again, but I don’t know when.”

  “Is there something happening that I need to know about?” he asked.

  “No. I just like to visit your aquarium every so often to—”

  “Check up on us?”

  “Keep current on what’s going on.
”

  He smirked. “I guess that’s a nicer way to say it.”

  “You know, you could help your own cause by giving me a behind-the-scenes tour of your dolphin and manatee habitats.”

  “What is it you’re hoping to see that you haven’t already?”

  “Well, for one thing, I’d like to spend time watching your baby dolphin, see how he’s acclimating to his new environment.”

  “Trident hasn’t been out of rehab very long and isn’t on public view yet.”

  “Yes, I know. That’s one of the reasons I want to see him.”

  Flipper narrowed his eyes, and Tara expected him to turn her down flat. To her surprise, he promised to at least consider it.

  “I’ll give you a call when I decide,” he added. “That’s really the best I can do right now.”

  “Fair enough.”

  They stared at each other while she pondered whether he’d kiss her again. I wish he would, but I hope he doesn’t. How asinine is that? Tara took all the mystery out of their farewell by getting into her car and turning the key. When she lowered the driver’s side window, Flipper reached in and squeezed her shoulder, and she placed her hand atop his for a second.

  “Have a safe trip back to Gulf Shore,” she told him.

  “I will. Talk to you later.”

  As she headed toward the exit, she glanced in her rearview mirror and saw him standing there, watching her drive away.

  Chapter 8

  Early the next morning, Flipper dragged himself into a meeting with his assistant trainers; their boss, Kenshin; and Jarvis, the zoological care manager. Kelsey, some of her veterinary staff, and Sitara, the rehab supervisor, attended via conference call. Flipper gave a quick rundown on the seminar in Orlando without mentioning his dinner with Tara. Then Kelsey told the group about her latest examination of the rescued pilot whales.

  “I’ve already gone over this in-depth with Sitara, so I’ll just hit the highlights now. Or the lowlights, as it turns out. Test results show the older female has an upper respiratory ailment. Her symptoms presented as lethargy and decreased appetite, and I’ve prescribed a course of treatment with antibiotics.”

  “How’s her parasitic problem?” Kenshin asked.

  “Nearly cleared up. The same goes for the younger female and her calf, too. In fact, I planned to wait a couple weeks and then evaluate all three pilots for release. But with this latest setback, I’m not sure when we might be able to revisit that.”

  “The other two are at risk for respiratory illnesses, too, correct?” Flipper inquired.

  “Yes, so we’ll continue to monitor them very closely,” Kelsey replied. “And we’ve moved mama and baby to the adjoining pool for now. But they can still see each other through the Plexiglas and hear each other, too. That’s really important for their emotional wellbeing. The three of them have a very tight bond, as you might expect.”

  “What’s Grandma’s prognosis?” assistant dolphin trainer Trisha Day asked.

  “I’m very hopeful. I think we caught it early, but she’s still weak from the stress of the stranding and the previous infestation. We’ll just have to see how things go. In the meantime, the strict quarantine of all three whales will continue. We made allowances and bent some rules to the point of breaking when we brought the pilots here, but we absolutely can’t afford to do that again.

  “It’s imperative we don’t contaminate our resident animals, so anyone who enters rehab is prohibited from stepping foot in any other part of the aquarium for seventy-two hours. And they can’t socialize out in the parking lot or off the property with any staff, volunteers, interns, or guests who’ll be coming into the aquarium. Which means, for example, that if Evan shoots video inside rehab and stops by Barb’s that night, any coworkers with him are barred from the main facility for three days. And when he goes home to Dani, she can’t return to work until after the same period of time, either. Unless they totally avoid each other while under the same roof, which isn’t practical.”

  “Obviously we can’t afford to have a bunch of people absent,” Sitara pointed out. “So let’s make a standing rule that anyone not directly involved in the whales’ care should stay out of the rehab unit. Any exceptions will be considered on a case-by-case basis.”

  Flipper frowned. “I guess we won’t be having lunch today after all, Kelsey.”

  “Afraid not. Another time?”

  “Of course.”

  “If you two are finished discussing your social life, does anybody have any other questions?” Jarvis asked. “No? Okay then, meeting adjourned. Flipper, Kenshin, hang loose for a few minutes. I need to show you something. The last person out, please shut the door behind you.”

  When it clicked closed a moment later, Jarvis tossed a letter onto the conference room table and directed the other two to read it. Kenshin picked it up first and his eyes narrowed as he scanned the paper. He slammed it on the table and let loose a string of expletives.

  Flipper’s stomach took a tumble when he noticed the Orlando postmark on the envelope. Although he didn’t touch it or the sheet of computer paper, he still felt a strong urge to wash his hands after reading the message and to purge the disturbing images now seared into his brain.

  The note described in vulgar and expansive detail what the writer planned to do to aquarium personnel, their families, and even their pets if Gulf Shore failed to move its marine mammals to “a more natural environment.”

  As if that wasn’t bad enough, whoever was responsible for this latest threat had signed Tara’s name to it.

  “There’s no way Tara Langley wrote this revolting piece of trash,” Flipper declared with utter certainty. “Somebody’s stepping up their campaign to smear her and scare us in the process.”

  Jarvis looked on the verge of splintering into tiny shards. “Is that all you took away from that? Didn’t you notice it mentions me by name?”

  Flipper shrugged. “Join the club. They nailed a threat to my front door, remember? Where was this letter sent?” He glanced at the envelope and saw it was addressed to Jarvis at the aquarium. “Maybe you lucked out and they’ve yet to track down where you live.”

  “First of all, Jarvis, why are you showing this note to us and not to the police?” Kenshin ground out. “We’ve put our fingerprints all over the damned thing. You need to make sure Jo Tompkins sees this.” He turned to Flipper. “And how can you be so adamant that SWADS, and especially Langley, aren’t involved?”

  Because I know her, Flipper nearly blurted. “It’s just a feeling I get from talking to her.”

  Even that remark earned him a reproachful glare.

  “Is there something you want to tell me, O’Riley?” Kenshin pressed.

  “Like what?”

  “Like why you keep defending that woman whenever this subject comes up?”

  “I’m not defending her. I’m just making an informed observation. Why do you keep convicting her without evidence?”

  “Her frigging name is right there in black ink!” Kenshin stabbed his finger at the tabletop for emphasis.

  “So what? Anyone could’ve written that. I’ll bet she’d gladly submit to a handwriting analysis to clear her name once and for all. In fact, I’ll call her right now, ask her to sign something, and fax it to us.”

  Flipper pulled out his cell phone, but before he could tap his finger on her name in his contacts list, his boss continued his interrogation.

  “You’ve got that woman’s number programmed into your phone? What the hell, O’Riley?”

  “Stop calling her ‘that woman.’ And I’ve got her contact information in case we ever need to get a hold of her.”

  “For what possible reason would we ever do that?”

  Flipper looked up at the ceiling, seeking divine intervention, locked gazes with his boss, and opted for discretion over confrontation. He and Kenshin were good friends, but it wouldn’t be wise to challenge him in front of another higher-level manager.

  “Don’t we have a
reason right now?” Flipper asked. After initiating the call, he heard several rings before she answered.

  “I wasn’t expecting to hear from you so soon,” she said.

  “We’ve got a problem here that we need your help with. We received another nasty letter—repulsive is a better word for it—and this one identifies you as the sender. It came in the mail yesterday.”

  “What are you talking about? Someone signed my name to it?”

  “Yes. You sound surprised.”

  “Outraged is more like it. Wait, you’re not insinuating I’m responsible, are you? Because let me tell you something, mister, I—”

  “I’m not accusing you of anything. But my boss isn’t convinced you’re being set up.” He narrowed his eyes at Kenshin.

  “Well, you can just tell him to—”

  “I’d love to. Listen, do you have a fax machine?”

  “Yes, why?”

  “How about writing your name on a piece of paper and faxing it over here so we can compare it to the signature on the latest letter?”

  “This is absurd. Why should I have to prove my innocence to that man when he can’t be bothered to answer an e-mail or return a phone message? And isn’t it obvious that if I’d sent it, I wouldn’t have signed my name? I’d have to be a complete imbecile.”

  “I hear what you’re saying, but I told him you have nothing to hide and would cooperate.”

  She made a noise just short of a snarl. “Fine. I’ll do it if it’ll end this nonsense once and for all. Tell me something, have you shown that letter to Detective Tompkins?”

  “Not yet, but we will.”

  “Good. What’s your fax number?”

  A few minutes later, one of Jarvis’ underlings delivered a sheet of paper to the conference room. Jarvis placed it on the table next to the noxious note so they could compare the handwriting.

  “See? They’re not even close,” Flipper crowed.

  “This doesn’t prove anything,” Kenshin countered.

  The head trainer threw his hands in the air. “I give up.” With that, he started for the conference room door.

  “Hey, where are you going?” Jarvis shouted.

  “Back to Dolphin Inlet to supervise Trident’s training session. I suggest you run those papers over to the police station and wear earplugs, because Jo’s going to lose her mind when she finds out you didn’t bring them to her immediately.”