Hello,  everybody. I’m trying this, but I’m not sure how it will turn out okay. Feel free to read my chapters. I welcome all comments, even if you have criticisms. I’m trying to update this book and would love your help.

Thanks to all who want to participate.

 Chapter 1

A storm was coming; dark clouds loomed in the distance; sultry air hung around her. The scene fit Victoria Young’s sense of impending doom perfectly. When the waves crashed onto the shore, the Atlantic Ocean splashed its refreshingly cool shower over her, and she pushed a damp, windblown lock of hair off her forehead. The weather, unlike her sense of foreboding, was probably nothing more than a typical, South Carolina heat-of-the day storm.

With a heavy sigh, she sipped her margarita then stared at it blankly. Why was she drinking, anyway? That wouldn’t take away that ominous feeling in the pit of her stomach.

Coleman R. Marshall had contacted her about a month earlier to restore his family mansion near Charleston after seeing some of her work in a magazine. Almost immediately, an eerie sense about the job had come over her. Now she wasn’t sure she should have accepted the reconstruction project. But she could never resist a new venture in a part of the country she’s never visited.

Despite her excitement at having won this challenging contract, she was worried. Mr. Marshall had explained that the plantation house had been closed up for twenty-one years. He knew that was a long time, he’d written in his letter, and he hoped she could handle such a big job. Obviously, he didn’t know that plantation houses were often left empty for a hundred years or more.

Why had this mansion been uninhabited for such a relatively short time? She could understand the reason before plumbing and electricity. Installing both was a very expensive undertaking in buildings as large as the one he had described. But a house left vacant for twenty-one years should have modern conveniences, possibly even a dishwasher and garbage disposal. Yes, she mused, this should be a very easy undertaking considering her usual reconstruction projects.

Another cooling wave splashed onto her, and she sipped her salty drink. The water had awakened her to two realizations: There was no turning back on this project, and this margarita was much too salty with the ocean water that had splashed into it.

 ***

        Sitting on a stool at BLU’s Beach Bar of the Tides Folly Beach hotel, Coleman Marshall watched the lone woman with interest. Her standing on the beach wasn’t exactly the best idea with that storm approaching. It could come up much quicker than anticipated. When she spat her drink out, he chuckled aloud.

“What’s so funny, Cole?” the female bartender asked.

“See the woman in the white shorts?” he returned, not taking his gaze from her. “She’s been standing like that since I got here a half an hour ago, and she just took a drink. I suspect it’s a tad bit too salty for her.” Cole turned on his stool and faced the bartender. “Do you know what she’s drinking?”

“A frozen margarita.”

“Fix another one, would you? I have a dinner meeting at seven, but it’s only six. I’ve got plenty of time to make a new friend.”

“You’re never going to change, are you, Cole,” she observed as she started mixing the drink.”

“Maybe someday—when I find the right woman.”

 ***

        “Morocco,” a deep, masculine voice said.

Although lost in thought, Victoria didn’t even startle when he spoke. After years of working, sometimes even sleeping, in old houses while she renovated them, she’d become accustomed to sudden, unexpected noises. But she wasn’t interested in conversation, so she barely glanced at the stranger out of the corner of her eye to convey her displeasure at his interruption. “Pardon me?”

“That’s the next body of land you’ll come to if you sail straight from here.” In the brief moment she looked at him again, she saw his gaze wander up her long, slender legs from her trim ankles to the hem of her short shorts. “Unless, perhaps, you hit Madeira first—or some uncharted island.”

She shook her head in dismay. As original a pick-up line as that was, she didn’t want to talk to him. Apparently, her disinterested actions didn’t convey her desire that he leave her alone, because she’d given such a pleasant response, so this time she replied blandly. “I see.” Without thinking, she brought her glass toward her lips then, remembering that it was too salty to drink, stopped short.

“Here.” Another margarita suddenly appeared in front of her face. “I thought you could use a fresh one.”

“Thank you, but I don’t accept drinks from strangers.”

“I’ll admit that there probably aren’t too many men stranger than I, but I’m not a bad sort.”

Obviously she had to tell him point-blank to leave her alone. “Look, mister, …”

“Coleman, but all my friends call me Cole.”

“Fine. Look, Mr. Coleman, …”

Again he interrupted her. “That’s my first name, not my last.”

Stunned, Victoria straightened her shoulders, which forced her to rise to her full five-foot-eleven-inch height. This always put another couple of inches on her because she slumped to avoid appearing as tall as she was. The act usually caused men to leave her alone, but this man didn’t seem a bit phased by it.

Forcing the thought from her mind, she wondered if she had heard him correctly. Had he really said that his first name was Coleman? That couldn’t be possible. But how many Colemans could there be in the Savannah area? Not likely many. Curious, she turned her head toward him saw that he openly assessed her body. Normally, she would be embarrassed by such blatant appraisal, but she was so shocked she couldn’t even think straight.

The first thing she saw after that transient glance to his eyes was his small Adam’s apple, which bobbed as he swallowed. Her eyes followed the collar of his green knit shirt to the tantalizing suggestion of hair that peeked over the two open buttons. His shoulders were broad and well-muscled, his biceps prominent. More like Richard Gere than Sylvester Stallone, she thought absently. She forced her gaze to his face, where his sensuously full lips and strong, square chin caught her attention. Then she moved on to his sandy blond hair. Finally, she brought her gaze to rest on his eyes. They were the brightest green she’d ever seen, and in them she saw his approval of what he was viewing.

Only seconds after she looked up at him, Cole spoke again. “I don’t suppose you have a name.” Another wave crashed on the shoreline and splashed the pair. “Damn! Now I’m wet, too.” He grasped her elbow firmly yet tenderly and directed her off the beach and up to an empty table nearby in the outdoor bar as they continued their conversation. “And I won’t have time to dry out before my meeting.”

“Meeting?” she questioned. Maybe this was the man she was supposed to have dinner with.

He grinned impishly, a crooked smile that Victoria took an immediate fancy to. It transformed his masculine features into those of a mischievous boy.

“Not to worry,” he said. “I have plenty of time for a chat with you. What’s your name?”

“Victoria …” she replied before he interrupted again.

“No last names,” he insisted. “We’re just two people talking on the beach. That way there’s no involvement.”

Okay, buster, she thought with a scowl, if you want to play that way, I won’t tell you who I am.

They reached the table, and he set the margarita on it before pulling out the chair for her. They both sat before he pushed her drink across the white, metal table and said, “Now that you know my name—at least, part of it—you can accept this.”

“Thank you.” She took a sip of the margarita and moaned contentedly as she tapped her other glass. “This is a lot better than what I had.”

Chuckling, he leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his wide chest to examine her. Her face heated in embarrassment, and she desperately hoped she could calm down before his gaze returned to her face.

“So you say your name’s Victoria,” he said. “You don’t look like a Vicky to me.”

The heat left her face when she heard the sensual tone of his voice. She didn’t like men looking at or talking to her that way, and she had no intention of letting this annoying man get away with it. To block part of his view, she set her elbows on the table and leaned forward a little, icily insisting, “I’m not a Vicky. I’m Victoria, just like I said.”

Cole’s bright eyes widened in amazement. “You mean you actually go by Victoria? How can you stand it? By the time you’ve finished telling people your name, half the day is gone. Nobody should have a name more than two syllables long—and even that’s pushing it.” He examined her again while she took another sip of her margarita. “Well, I’m not going to call you Vicky. That’s a frumpy name.”

Infuriated by his attitude, she glared at him. Why were attractive men so often arrogant, too? He obviously thought by using his charm he could convince her that they would see each other again. She hadn’t given him any indication that would be the case. Letting her voice reinforce her irritation, she questioned him flatly. “What makes you think you’re going to be calling me anything?”

He examined at her for a moment, causing her to wonder what he was thinking. Although his unfaltering gaze made her a bit uncomfortable, it didn’t carry that expression of lust she’d seen earlier. She didn’t know what it was about long legs that attracted men, but she had often wished hers were short and stubby so she didn’t have to see those expressions.

Then his eyes grew even brighter in excitement, and he exclaimed, “I’ve got it! I’ll call you Tori.”

This time her own eyes widened in shock. As badly as she wanted to object, she couldn’t. There had been another man—one from far in her past—who had called her Tori. He’d left her when she was just six years old, vowing to love and visit her as often as he could. But he had died three years later, leaving behind a devastated daughter who swore nobody would ever call her Tori again.

Now the name sounded heavenly. Unexpected tears sprang to her eyes, and although she fought to keep them at bay, one slid slowly down her cheek.

As she sat there, unable to protest, Cole shot her a startled look. “Uh-oh. Looks like I chose the wrong name. Maybe I should stick to Victoria.”

“No.” With a shaky hand, she brushed away the annoying tear that had betrayed her aloofness. “I always liked Tori, but nobody’s called me that in years.”

“Then you don’t mind?” he asked hopefully.

“I guess not.” She glanced at her watch and saw that it was already six-fifteen. “Oh, no!”

“What’s wrong?” he asked, watching in amazement as she scrambled from her chair.

“Nothing.” She paused a moment to decide if she should admit the truth—that she believed he was the man she was supposed to meet for a business dinner soon. No, because she would feel foolish if he wasn’t Coleman R. Marshall. “I just have to meet somebody later. Thanks for the drink, but I can’t finish it.”

“Wait a minute, Tori!” he called as she hurried away.

Despite having heard him, she raced into the Tides hotel without even glancing over her shoulder. Something about that man made her nervous, and his attitude had nothing to do with it. Even the prospect of him being her new client didn’t seem to cause her anxiety.

She needed a shower to clear her mind so she could concentrate on her meeting with Coleman Marshall.

 ***

        Cole absently sank back into the chair and sipped the margarita. He had a feeling that they would see each other again, but he couldn’t understand why. She hadn’t given him any indication that she liked him, even though he had tried to charm her. Despite her distance, he liked Tori. She was a very pretty lady and very tall, which was one of his favorite qualities.

Actually, she was a lot taller than almost every woman or girl he’d ever dated. And she had such unusual gray-blue eyes, separated perfectly by her small nose. Beneath it was a pair of lush lips, full and only slightly wide for her face. She wasn’t the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on, but there was something about the character of her face that attracted him.

Unfortunately, he couldn’t ease the unexpected wrenching in his gut. It seemed to come from nowhere. In fact, he’d never experienced such a feeling before, and he had no idea how to classify it. All he could say for certain was that he sensed something horrible was going to happen. No, he was sure of it.