Actually, I’m going to put this chapter at the end of Chapter 1, but I’m still posting it as Chapter 2.
Tori. She contemplated the name as she rode the elevator to the eighth floor and repeated the name in a whisper. “Tori. Tori Young.” Maybe she could finally use the nickname Maury Young had given her twenty-eight years ago.
In her room, she stripped off her wet clothes and hung them on hangers before padding into the bathroom. When she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, she stopped short and leaned over on the counter. A slow smile came to her lips as she addressed her reflection.
“Tori Young,” she said firmly, “that’s what you’ll be called now. I know Mom and Dad would approve, too, because it means that I’ve finally come to terms with his death.”
Her decision made, Tori stepped into the. She had to hurry if she was going to be on time to meet Coleman R. Marshall.
As she turned the blow-dryer on her hair, uneasiness swept through her. She didn’t know what, but something felt odd about this job. Or did Cole cause the feeling of unease in her. Probably not, since she’d been nervous about working for him long before she’d met him.
Then again, maybe Cole had ulterior motives for contracting her. Maybe he was up to no good. Or maybe all he wanted was a few good times at her expense—before he left her just like Paul had. And maybe he expected to drag a man named V. J. Young he could drag into some scheme of his.
“Why am I letting my imagination run rampant?” she asked aloud as she slid into a pair of white slacks. “I don’t even know if the guy I met outside and Coleman R. Marshall are related—let alone the same person!”
Disgusted with herself for not controlling her fantasies, she slipped into a pale blue Oxford shirt and buttoned it. She needed to still her unsubstantiated queasiness; she needed to be rational. Unfortunately, rationality had never been one of her strong suits. She often let her imagination, or even a fixation about a particular matter, get the best of her. Thank goodness, she usually got it under control in a relatively short time.
Cole wasn’t a sinister man, just slightly arrogant. If he was her client, his attitude would keep her sane, even if his rugged good looks could possibly drive her mad.
Yet the nagging sense that something was awry persisted. Why couldn’t she convince herself that everything would go smoothly? Why did she have the urge to high-tail it out of Charleston and stay out for the rest of her life?
Tori finished straightening her hair and combed it into a slight page-boy that came just below her shoulders. Picking up her watch, she glanced at it before sliding it over her hand—ten minutes to seven. Just enough time to put on a little makeup. If she wanted to make a good impression on her client, she couldn’t be late for their first meeting. Or was it their second meeting?
***
Cole sighed and set down the empty glass that had once contained Tori’s margarita, then he glanced at his watch. Ten minutes before seven. Time to go into the dining room and see if V. J. Young was there yet.
Pushing himself up, he wandered toward the restaurant. Would Tori eat there that evening? He hoped so, because then he could see her companion. For some reason, he was much more than casually curious as to whom she was going to meet.
He tried to convince himself that he was being ridiculous, but he couldn’t dismiss the feeling that his and Tori’s lives were destined to be tangled together. Maybe he should find out what room she was staying in and confront her.
Confront? he thought, stunned. Why would he use that word? Surely, she hadn’t set him up for their meeting at the ocean’s edge. She hadn’t even acted like she wanted him around, let alone like she’d set anything up. Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he hadn’t seen the last of Tori.
A woman in a waitress’s uniform greeted Cole as he approached her. “Hi, Cole. How are you tonight?”
“Fine,” he replied, his mind centered on Tori.
“You alone?”
“Not tonight, Linda. At least, I won’t be.” Following the hostess to a table by the window, he dropped down onto the chair and accepted a menu the waitress extended toward him. “I have a meeting with a V. J. Young. He hasn’t arrived yet, has he?”
“Nobody’s mentioned meeting you,” Linda replied, “but I’ll bring him over when he gets here.”
“Thanks.” Although he would normally have teased her about any number of things, Cole turned his attention to the menu as he leaned against the back of the chair. For some reason, he wasn’t in the mood for levity that night. All he seemed interested in was getting this meeting over so he could find out more about Tori.
Extending his long legs so they were under the opposite chair, he pondered their meeting. Running into Tori had disturbed him. If he wanted to concentrate on his conversation with V. J. Young, he needed to calm down. But no matter how hard he tried to keep his mind on selecting dinner, it jumped back to the young woman.
She was no raving beauty, but she was pretty. Pretty wet! he remembered with a chuckle. Her T-shirt had clung seductively to her curves; her long legs had sparkled with drops of sea water. Her medium brown hair, had been only partially wet. And her eyes were so intriguing!
When the hostess returned from seating a family, Tori spoke to her pleasantly. “I’m supposed to meet Mr. Coleman Marshall here. Do you know if he’s arrived yet?”
The waitress chuckled, and a mischievous gleam came to her eyes as she stared up at Tori. “I don’t believe it. You’re V. J. Young? I’ve known Cole for years, and I guarantee he’ll go into shock over this. He thinks you’re a man. I’ve got to be there when he sees you.”
Tori offered the hostess a quick smile. She’d been right all along. Cole was Coleman Marshall.
As they made their way toward the booth, Tori saw that Cole wore his boyish expression, and she smiled. He was formulating a scheme; she just knew it.
When he glanced over toward them and noticed they were coming in his direction, he scrambled to his feet. Two sideway strides put him in their path, forcing them to stop.
“Tori!” he exclaimed enthusiastically. “I’m glad to see you again. I’d offer to let you join me for a while, but I really don’t have time to talk. I have a business associate coming any minute now.”
His excitement prompted Tori to take a light attitude that she normally wouldn’t in a professional setting. After all, he thought she was just a woman he’d been trying to pick up; he had no idea that he was actually her client.
“Monkey business?” she retorted with a grin. “Or restoration business?”
His crooked smile disappeared in an instant. “Restoration business. How did you know?”
“Maybe I should introduce myself,” she taunted as she extended her right hand toward him. “If you’ll let me finish this time. My name is Tori Young, otherwise known as Victoria Jean Young.” She put special emphasis on her first and middle initials as she pronounced her name.
Cole’s mouth dropped open, and his eyes widened in astonishment. “You’re V. J. Young?” Then, with a grin indicating he’d recovered his composure, he grasped her hand and pumped it twice.
Tori stared at their hands. She loved a firm handshake from a man. To her it demonstrated masculinity. Instead of letting go, however, he held her hand between both of his as though she would disappear if he didn’t. His grasp set off a spark in her, but she couldn’t fan it into a flame because she was working for him.
Gently grasping her elbow, he stretched out his long arm toward the chair opposite his. “Let’s sit down and order. Then we can get down to business.”
Tori sank onto the seat as the waitress chuckled. Then the waitress laid a menu on table before Tori’s and hurried toward the cashier’s desk.
Opening the menu, Tori said, “Since I’m only staying here two nights, I’ll splurge and try the swordfish. I’ve never had it before.” She laid down her menu and gazed over at him. “Now about the correspondence you sent me with information on the mansion.”
He raised his hand in a halting gesture. “Not a word about that until after we’ve ordered.”
“That sounds reasonable.” When the waitress finished what she was doing then came to their booth, Tori spoke before Cole could say anything. “Make these separate checks please. I’ll have the swordfish, a baked potato, and tossed salad with bleu cheese dressing. I’d like skimmed milk to drink.”
“I’ll have the same, Linda,” Cole told her, “except make my drink a Coke.”
As soon as the waitress was far enough away not to hear them, Tori spoke curiously. “You must eat here a lot if the waitresses know you by name.”
“I don’t live very far away, and I’m a thirty-one-year-old bachelor who can’t cook.” He grinned impishly. “Yeah, I come here a lot.”
Tori sat back in her chair and folded her hands on the table in front of her. “Now on to business. As I wrote you, I have a master’s degree in architecture and a bachelor’s in interior design. I earned my college tuition by working part-time at my uncle’s construction business learning the ropes of construction. That means I’m capable of working on any angle of renovation you prefer.”
Across from her, Cole’s face took on the same expression of interest he’d had when they were sitting outside. Somehow she needed to show him that she was there on a strictly professional level without risking the loss of this job.
“Now,” she asked formally, “which angle would you prefer that I consider more seriously? Turning it into a showplace, another tourist trap so to speak?” She grimaced in distaste. “Or converting it into a hotel that reflects the history of the mansion? Although, I think you’d probably be happier with a bed-and-breakfast. They’re growing in popularity all over the country.”
“Frankly, I don’t particularly like any of them,” he said. “What I’d really like to do is restore it to its original state so I can live there and run the plantation. Well, almost its original state, anyway. I’d like to keep the amenities of running water and electricity, and the addition of updated air conditioning and some solar panels. My grandfather left it to me, along with more than sufficient funds to fix it up and turn it into an historical monument that he would be proud of.” Linda arrived with their salads and drinks, so he paused until she left. “Grandpa actually gave me three choices in his will—the two you already mentioned or getting the plantation running again. Grandpa didn’t think I’d want the last thing, but I do. Until twenty-one years ago, it was making a profit, and I’m sure I can make it prosperous again.”
“What happened twenty-one years ago to make it stop making a profit?” she asked curiously. “That’s really something you should take into consideration before you make a final decision.”
“My folks had marital problems.” He hesitated a moment, as though he was trying to decide if he should say more. “One year they sent my sisters to Grandpa Coleman’s place in Arizona and packed me off to camp. When Dad picked me up, he showed me a letter from Mom saying that she’d run off—with my uncle. Her own sister’s husband. Can you believe it? Dad told me that he and Aunt Claire had a huge fight, and she took off, too. Coleman Estates belonged to Mom’s father, so Dad took everybody to Idaho where his parents lived. He had all our clothes packed when he picked me up, and we went for my sisters from camp. The house has been empty ever since.”
Tori offered him a quick smile of apology. “I’m sorry I pried. I know how deeply a broken home can hurt a child. I’m a product of one myself.”
“No kidding,” Cole said with a grin. “That gives us something in common.”
Again she shot him an irate glare. She hated it when men didn’t take a professional relationship with her seriously, and she had no intention of letting Cole think they needed something in common. To demonstrate it, she replied coolly. “Business associates don’t need anything other than the job in common.”
“And I suppose you’re going to keep reminding me of that if I try to say something even slightly personal. Come on, Tori. All coworkers do it once in a while. It’s natural.”
“I don’t,” she replied. “In fact, if you’d read my resume carefully you would know that I’m extremely professional.”
“Of course, I read it carefully. And it said nothing about you being a woman. If it had,” he insisted, “I never would have agreed to let you live at the mansion during its reconstruction. It’s way out in the middle of nowhere. Anything could happen to you out there. Now let’s eat. I’ll call Dad later and ask him if he knows where we can get the blueprints you wrote me about. I couldn’t find any, but he might know where they are.”
“I would appreciate that. If you don’t have any objections, maybe tomorrow we could take the measurements together to make sure everything adds up. I always double-check a client’s measurements, and I like to do it with the client so we’re in agreement on everything.”
“That sounds like a good idea.”
Throughout the remainder of the meal, Cole recounted several anecdotes about his radio talk show. In turn, Tori told him a few amusing stories about previous restoration projects. Tori enjoyed their conversation so much that she almost forgot they were having a business dinner. It felt more like old friends eating together and chatting about days gone by.
Immediately after dessert, Cole excused himself to visit the men’s room. While he was gone, Tori tried several times to get their waitress’s attention for their checks, but Linda was too busy to notice.
“All right,” Cole announced as he stood by the table with his hand extended in her direction. “Let’s head out.”
Despite her memory of the first time they’d held hands, Tori let him help her up. This time the spark came so close to catching fire, but she stifled it with a stern warning from her inner voice. Don’t you dare get involved with this man. He could hurt you as badly Paul did. Aloud, she said, “What about the checks? I haven’t been able to get our waitress’s attention.”
“I already took care of them,” he replied, grinning. “I’ll see you to your room.”
Together they went to the elevator to the eighth floor. As Cole chatted nonstop, Tori’s mind wandered. How tall was Cole, anyway? Probably about six-two? She hadn’t paid much attention earlier, but now she was keenly aware of the fact that he was taller than she, not just a little bit, either. He was a man she could actually wear high heels with if she wanted to get dressy.
At her door, she dug into her purse for her key card. Cole grabbed it from her and quickly slid it into and out of the lock. Pushing the door open slightly, he handed the card back to her while she blocked the door open with her foot.
“Thank you for dinner,” she said as she gazed up at him, “but you …”
“Shouldn’t have? Nonsense. You wouldn’t even be living in the Tides if I hadn’t made the arrangements. In fact, you’d probably be living in Charleston at much more reasonably priced motel.”
“That’s true. Well, good night.”
When she started in the door, he grabbed her shoulder. But when she heard his urgent tone, she spun to face him, unable to believe what she was hearing.
“Tori, wait! I can’t let you go in there yet.”
Shocked by his words, she stared up at him. Cole’s expression had taken on a frantic quality that she couldn’t understand and didn’t particularly want to question. But her curiosity was too strong to deny. “What’s wrong with you?”
“I don’t know,” he admitted, laying his free hand on her other shoulder. “This feeling I have is crazy. I know it is. And you’re going to think I’m an absolute nut-case, and you’re probably going to pack up and go home. But I have to say it, Tori. I have a gut feeling that I can’t shake. I can only tell you that I feel like our lives are entangled now, like there’s no turning back.”
Unexpected fear gripped her, and Tori jerked from his grasp, stepping backward two paces. Her chest tightened with anxiety, and she stared up at him in shock. “What are you talking about?”
“I don’t know that. All I know is that I hate this feeling. It makes me uneasy, and I don’t like feeling uneasy.” He gazed down at her with a look in his eyes that Tori couldn’t mistake for something else. He was concerned about something. Then his deep voice brought her back to the surreal scene unfolding before her eyes. “Please, Tori. Be careful.”
Cole turned and strode toward the elevators. As she stood in the doorway, a cold wave of fear coursed through her. With a violent shudder, she closed the door and engaged the bolt lock.