Memory stood beside her partner, Romeo, with her laptop remote in her hand. Both of them were focused on the images that flashed on the big LED screen on the wall of Memory’s office. The photos were from a shoot they’d completed in the studio earlier in the day.

Her office door opened, and Romeo nudged her with his elbow. She looked in the direction of the door. One of the models she’d shot earlier headed her way with his hair artfully mussed, and his shirt unbuttoned, displaying a lot of chest and abdomen. His pants were unbuttoned and slinking low. Looking like something out of a magazine, Memory thought, Every woman’s fantasy.

Hormones flared, making her pulse kick up a notch and she mentally cursed. She’d sworn off models but damn if she could get her hormones to agree. The one walking in her direction had her imagining sweat-tangled sheets and quick but satisfying sexual release.

“Just wanted to say thanks,” the model said as he stopped in front of the table. “I know you’ll make me look fabulous.”

“Do my best,” she replied, trying to squelch the rush of hormones. “Thanks for being so easy to work with.”

“I was thinking maybe we could have dinner. If you don’t have plans, that is. I know this great B&B not too far that has the best crab cakes you’ve ever tasted in your life.”

Memory smiled at the idea. She knew as well as he that if she accepted, they’d get to the crab cakes after he’d given his best shot at giving her the most mind-blowing sex she’d ever experienced and hopefully securing her backing in propelling him from mid-list model to one of the hottest talents in the industry. It was no secret that it had happened before. Not something she was extraordinarily proud of, but a fact, nonetheless.

That thought was enough to quiet her raging hormones and reaffirm her resolve to stay away from sexual liaisons with models.

“Thanks, but no,” she said. “Gotta go through all these shots and get them sent to the client.”

“Do it later,” he suggested with a sexy smile that threatened her resolve.

She reconsidered it for a moment. It had been quite a while since she’d felt that wonderful release that comes with an orgasm that was not self-induced. It would be nice to indulge just once and release all the pent-up tension and frustration.

And start another round of empty encounters that will only end up having you nicknamed a model whore, her conscience reminded her.

“No can do.”

“I promise to show you a real good time.” Memory cut her eyes up at him and was struck by how he suddenly seemed far less attractive. His hair didn’t look near as shiny and luxurious as it had a few minutes ago, and there was an almost bruised appearance on the skin around his eyes that the make-up had not quite hidden. She wondered why she hadn’t noticed it earlier. Or had she? Now that she thought about it, didn’t she have that thought at the onset of the shoot?

Shit! Had she done a mind paste? Her eyes cut to the image displayed on the big screen. Was it the result of a legitimate shot or had she projected what she wanted to see?

“Come on, baby.” The sexy croon pulled her attention back to his real intention. It earned him a sharp look from Mem and an even sharper retort.

“I said no. Now if you’ll excuse me?” With that she turned her back on him.

“Fuck you!” he snapped. “I was trying to do you a favor, bitch.”

“Hey!” Romeo barked as the model stalked away.

“Let it go.” Memory put her hand on Romeo’s arm. “Really. It’s not important. He just needed to have the last word.”

“Fuck having the last word! Just who the hell does he think he is talking to you like that?”

“Rom, let it go,” she said with a sigh. “It’s my own fault. I should’ve never slept with one model, let alone a string of them. Now the ambitious pretty boys think if they grant me a night with them, I’ll turn them into stars.”

“We all make mistakes,” Rom said.

Memory snorted. “Yeah, well I’ve made one too many in that department.”

“You’re just sexually frustrated is all,” he said and followed it with a sigh. “Honey, sometimes I really wish I was straight because you seriously need to have your world rocked.”

Memory snorted. “That’s the last thing I need, thank you.”

“Scoff if you want, but you and I both know that it’s been…good god, since Randy and that was—”

“Let’s not go there, okay?” she asked.

Randy George was the final mistake in her life she’d like to forget. When she’d met him, he was a mid-list model approaching forty and looking at the end of his career. She was one of the top photographers in the world, enjoying remarkable success in her professional life.

Her personal life was the polar opposite. In the early years of her career, she’d been mesmerized by the gorgeous men she shot, and found herself having a string of short-lived affairs. When she finally realized that the men she ended up with were far more interested in what she could do for their careers than in her, she swore off men entirely. Until Randy.

She was certain Randy was different. He was funny and sweet and didn’t seem to have much of an ego. Two shoots with Memory and Randy’s flagging career took off like a rocket. He became the poster boy for the gorgeous man approaching middle age and was in demand internationally. For six months they were inseparable. The drop-dead-beautiful male model and the much-sought-after photographer. She thought it was love. Then things started to change. Randy became increasingly self-absorbed, reminding her daily how lucky she was to be with one of the sexiest men in the world.

She put up with his burgeoning ego until she returned home early from an out-of-town shoot and found him in bed with a beautiful female model. That’s when reality sank in. He was no different than any of the others. He’d just played her. Memory booted him out of her house that very night and swore off men altogether.

Romeo came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her in a hug. “I’m sorry, honey. I didn’t mean to make you sad. I just don’t like seeing you alone, Mem.”

“It’s okay,” she said and leaned back against him. “And if you were straight, I’d tie you up and hide you away all for myself. There aren’t men out there like you, Rom—smart, funny…honest. No offense but in general men are a bunch of narcissistic pricks with the emotional depth of turnips. They’re interested in two things—a hot fuck or someone who can pave their way to the top. I’m not hot and I’m tired of paving.”

Romeo turned her around and reached up to loosen the plastic clip she always used to pin her hair up, letting her long dark hair spill free, tumbling in a cascade of shining waves to the middle of her back.

“You listen to me, girl,” he spoke in a scolding tone. “You are hot. You just hide it. Like this granny clip, and those glasses. If you’re not hiding your face behind a camera, you’ve got it so covered with accessories that no one can even see what you look like. And your clothes—”

Memory couldn’t help but laugh. She and Romeo had played this scene before. He detested the way she dressed, and she refused to update her wardrobe just to try and attract a man. Nothing she owned was form fitting, from her baggy jeans to her habit of wearing men’s dress shirts over her t-shirts.

“Tell you what,” she said. “If I meet a man who’s genuine, I’ll buy a bikini and parade down main street USA while you take pictures.”

“From your mouth to God’s ears.”

“Let’s get out of here,” she suggested. “How about I buy you a drink?

“Sounds like a plan to—”

They both looked around as the door to her office banged open. Randy George walked in, followed closely by Memory’s secretary, Janet.

“I’m sorry,” Janet blurted. “I told him you were busy but he—”

“It’s okay,” Memory interrupted. She waited until Janet left before she addressed Randy.

“What do you want?”

“Buzz me when you’re done here,” Romeo said and made a swift exit.

Randy waited until the door was closed. “Look at this shit!” He tossed a stack of glossy 8 x 10 color photos down on her desk.

Memory leafed through the stack. “Not bad. Could have used more fill here but still not too bad. Not crazy about the Dutch angle in this —”

“I’m not talking about technical mumbo jumbo! Look what that fuck did to me! I look like I’m…forty!”

She cut her eyes up at him with a smile. “Well, technically you’re over forty.”

“Fuck you!” he shouted and threw himself into one of the chairs in front of her desk. “I’m ruined!”

Memory took a seat behind the desk, giving the photos another look. “It’s not that bad, Randy. A little airbrushing around the eyes and maybe on the neck—”

“I don’t want goddamn airbrushing! Mem, you know as well as I that once you have to start getting touchups, you’re done.”

She sat back and regarded him with knitted brows. “And so, you’re here to—what? I’m not a cosmetic surgeon, Randy. And I’m not God. We all age. No way to stop that except the alternative.”

A grin of mischief appeared on her face. “Of course, if you’re here to ask me to shoot you and put you out of your misery we might be able to work something out.”

“Yes!” he blurted while she was still talking.

“What?”

“I want you to shoot me. Mem, you know you have the ‘magic eye.’ Everyone knows it. You see what no one else does. You shoot someone and they look like a million bucks. I need you to do this shoot again.”

“It’s not my job,” she pointed out. “Not my client.”

“I don’t care! Those photos can’t see daylight, or I’m finished. You have to do it, Mem. For us.”

“Us? There is no us. Hasn’t been since the moment I found you and that…that poster child for breast implants in my bed.”

Randy bounded to his feet and circled the desk to throw himself down on one knee beside her chair. “I was wrong, Mem. I admit it. I was a fool. Nothing’s been right since you kicked me out. I want you back. I want us back.”

She rolled her chair back away from him. “Get up,” she said as she stood. “And get out.”

Randy climbed to his feet and reached out to take her arm and pull her to him. “Come on, baby. It’ll be like old times. Me and you, conquering the world. Remember how great we were together? It can be that way again. Only better.”

Memory twisted out of his grasp. “Get out, Randy. Now.”

“Come on, babe. Where else are you gonna get this kind of offer? I’m still the hottest thing going, and you know it. Millions of women would kill to be in your shoes right now. And let’s face it, you don’t exactly have them lined up to get a piece of you.”

“Get out!” She shouted and pointed toward the door.

“Memory—”

“Out!” She screamed, picked up a crystal paperweight on the desk and threw it at him.

The crash of the glass as the paperweight broke the window brought a stampede of people to her office.

“Mem?” Romeo fought his way to the forefront of people rushing in. He hurried over to stand protectively in front of Memory.

“Leave,” he ordered Randy.

“Fuck you!” Randy yelled. A split second later he lurched to one side as the cordless phone connected with the side of his head.

Memory had already hurled another object, this time a coffee mug and was about to hurl a small metal-framed photo when Romeo grabbed her. “Mem, no!”

By then her office was in complete chaos. Randy was screaming and going on about how all he’d done was try to make up with her and she’d attacked him. People were shouting for someone to call the police while several of the women were trying to convince Randy to let them check his head to make sure he wasn’t bleeding.

Amid all that, Memory pulled away from Romeo, snatched up her shoulder bag and ran, forcing her way through the crowd. He caught up with her at the front door.

“I’m done,” she announced. “It’s yours, Rom.”

“Hey, hold on!” He grabbed her arm and was pulled along behind her as she headed out the door. “Mem, stop!”

She stopped abruptly and he turned her to face him. “Honey, I know you’re mad, but you can’t run. You can’t give him the power to make you do that. Please, let’s just go into my office and talk. Please.”

She shook her head. “It isn’t just him, Rom. It’s everything. I’m not happy and unless I do something to change it, this is all life’s ever going to be.”

“Memory! You’re one of the most successful photographers in the world. That isn’t something that’s just handed out arbitrarily. You have something no one else does, and—”

“And what’s it gotten me?” she interrupted. “Look at me, Rom. I’m pushing forty and I’m alone. I go back in there and the next thing I know I’m fifty and still in the same place. “

“Running away won’t change who you are, Mem.”

“Maybe not. But I can’t stay here, Rom. I have to go.” Not until she’d said the words did she realize how true they were. She wasn’t happy and hadn’t been for a long

time. And unless she did something to change her life, she was going to waste what time she had left being miserable.

“Where will you go?” Rom asked.

“I don’t know. I just have to go.”

“And what are we supposed to do here without you? You’re the Magic Eye, Mem. Without you we’re just—”

“The Studio,” she interjected. “The finest group of photographers in the country with more commercial accounts than anyone in the business. You’ll be fine, Rom. You already run the place anyway.”

“Memory, please.” His voice broke. “Don’t go.”

“I have to, Rom.” She fought back tears.

“For how long?”

“I don’t know.”

He hugged her tight for a long time. “I’ll let you go if you promise to call me every single day and always answer your phone when I call.”

“I promise,” she murmured against his shoulder, holding on to him tightly.

After a minute, he released her. “Just remember, I have your phone and computer lo-jacked.”

She smiled and brushed away the tears on her face, then reached up to cup the side of his face. “I know. I love you, Rom.”

“I love you too, honey.”

“I’ll talk to you soon,” she said and turned away.

“Tonight!”

“Tonight,” she agreed with a wave over her shoulder and kept walking. If she didn’t keep going, she might chicken out, and now that she’d made the decision, she knew it was right. The only question was, where was she headed?

Colton tossed his cards down on the table.

“Fold.”

The man across the table from him, his oldest friend, Anthony Tosta, snickered around the stub of cigar in his mouth. “Who’s ya daddy?” He racked in the loose dollar bills and quarters from the center of the table.

All of the men laughed. Normally the cards favored Colton and turned a cold shoulder on Anthony. Tonight, the roles were reversed. Colton wasn’t upset that he’d lost a few bucks. He was just in a foul mood.

“Think I’ll call it a night,” he announced and pushed back from the table.

“Me too,” Anthony said and stood. “Gretchen gets testy when I stay out too late.”

The other two men at the table mumbled something in agreement and within minutes the weekly poker game was concluded. Colton and Anthony walked outside together.

“Something gnawing at you?” Anthony asked.

“Nope.”

“Yeah, now I know something’s eating at you. What’s up?”

Colton stopped at the curb and leaned up against the 1966 Ford pickup he’d worked so hard to restore. “Just a shitty mood.”

“Any particular reason?”

Colton blew out his breath and shook his head. “Nothing I can really put my finger on. Just general…dissatisfaction.”

Anthony’s dark features arranged into a thoughtful frown. He leaned up against the truck beside Colton. “Everything okay at the ranch? I know things are tough with you being short-handed. If you need some help, I might be able to—”

“It’s okay,” Colton cut him off. “I’m making out okay.”

“If it’s not business then…you got woman problems brother?”

“Nope. No woman to have problems with. Maybe that’s the problem. Damn, Anthony, I’m running out of time if I ever want to have a family.”

“Hey, now. We’re not that old!”

“Easy for you to say. You and Gretchen have had five good years so far, and a baby on the way. The way my life is going, all I’m ever gonna be is old Uncle Colton, the bachelor.”

Anthony chuckled. “Not like you haven’t had your share of chances, my man. Like that hottie last month. Gretchen and I were both a little blown away by the way she was all over you at the softball cookout.”

“Yeah, well she changed her tune real fast when she found out what I did for a living.” It still stung a little. The woman had treated him like sub-human when she found out his business was running a ranch and restoring classic cars, or as she called it ‘junk cars.’

“Look man, we all know there’s a lot of women out there who are more interested in money than anything else, but there’s still good women out there too. Your problem is your looks.”

“Well thanks, Anthony.”

“Man, you know what I mean. You’re one of those guys who have it going on in the looks department. You got what it takes to attract the ladies and maybe you just choose to act on the wrong attractions and end up with the Barbie dolls instead of the gals that might have something real to offer.”

“Bullshit. When have I ever judged a person on their looks?”

Anthony pushed away from the car. “Colton we’ve been best friends since we were five and you stopped those rednecks from beating up on the new black kid. I know your heart’s in the right place, but women are a whole other breed than us. Maybe you’re just using the wrong criteria for selecting women.”

“So what? I should start asking out every ugly woman I meet?”

“Uh, no. Just don’t look past someone who might be worth taking another look at as you make your way to another Barbie.”

Colton regarded his friend for a few moments. He knew Anthony meant well, and he’d be the first to admit that anyone who took a look at his life would assume that he was only interested in what Anthony called Barbie dolls. He’d dated more than his fair share of them. But Anthony knew that what Colton wanted was someone to love and build a life with.

“Sometimes I think maybe it’s just not in the cards for me.”

“Not according to Mama,” Anthony argued.

Colton cut him a hard look. “Just because she believes it doesn’t mean it’s true.”

“But you wear the crystal,” Anthony pointed out. “And who knows, maybe it will end up leading you to the woman meant for you. Stranger shit’s happened, bro. Remember when Mama told me to pack a picnic and take Congo out to Reedy Creek Park on a cold February day? I thought she was nuts. But if I hadn’t been out there tossing that disc to Congo, I’d never have met Gretchen.”

Colton shrugged. No point in arguing that point. It was a fact. “You better hit it,” he said instead. “Or Gretchen’ll have your skinny ass.”

Anthony chuckled. “I wish. Right now, she’s swearing she’s carrying around a baby Beluga and in no mood at all to have anything to do with my skinny ass.”

Colton laughed. “See you later, man. Hey to Gretchen for me.”

“Later,” Anthony replied and headed to his car, a nice sensible Subaru parked in front of Colton’s truck.

Colton walked around the truck and got in behind the wheel. Maybe Anthony was right. Maybe he just wasn’t looking in the right direction when it came to love. He just wished he knew which direction was the right one.

*****

Memory had been on the road for two weeks. She’d left San Francisco, found I-40, and hit the road, driving until she was tired or saw something of interest. Then she’d stop, check into a hotel, and wander around with her camera, keeping no timetable or schedule. It’d been relaxing and she loved some of the shots she’d taken. Ordinary people in ordinary situations—an old couple sitting on a bench outside of an ice cream shop sharing a cone, children playing in the water of an oscillating sprinkler in their yard—simple life that somehow seemed far more beautiful to her than any of the photography she’d done the last few years.

But now she was getting tired of the road and wanted to find a place she could stay while she decided what she wanted to do with her life. She followed the signs to the city of Charlotte, North Carolina.

The first thing she noticed about the city was how green it was. There were so many trees. It wasn’t a large city, but it was an interesting blend of old and new. With no idea where she was headed, Memory just drove around.

Spotting a bookstore, she stopped and went inside. An hour later, armed with a bag of books ranging from city guides to the history of the area, along with a couple of maps and an oversized container of coffee, she wandered outside and made herself comfortable on a bench outside the bookstore.

She put the bag on the sidewalk between her feet and dug out one of the maps and a city guide. According to the information she read, there was a historic home in an old section of the city that had been converted into a Bed and Breakfast. The Duke Mansion. The photos she saw of the place had her itching to take some of her own. On an impulse she hurried to her car and drove over to see if there was room at the inn.

Her first glance at the place had her falling in love. Located in an old but upscale area just outside the city, the house spoke of times gone-by, of warm southern nights and nightingales singing at dusk.

It was enormous. Built in the architectural style of the Colonial Revival, the mansion was surrounded by lush grounds. Towering oaks, magnificent magnolia and dogwood trees provided ample shade, while flowers and shrubbery tastefully landscaped a sweeping lawn that housed several impressive fountains.

Memory was enchanted. And lucky. There was one room available. The Nesbit Room. She eagerly followed the bellman to her room. And fell in love. A huge room furnished tastefully and expensively, with a large porch, or what the people at the Mansion called a sleeping porch, furnished in white wicker furniture with deep cushions. It overlooked a wide sweep of lawn, and a beautiful fountain and gazing pool.

It took Memory all of five minutes to shove her luggage into the closet, grab her favorite Nikon and head out to explore the Mansion and its grounds. She was as excited as a child who’s found a new playground.

Nightfall came entirely too soon, but satisfied and a little tired, she showered and leafed through the available delivery menus from nearby restaurants. After calling in a delivery order, she went to the sleeping porch, sat down in one of the deeply padded wicker chairs and called Romeo.

“Mem!” he answered excitedly. “Where are you now?”

“Charlotte, North Carolina. Romeo, you should see this place!”

“The city?”

“Oh, well yeah, it’s great but I mean this place where I’m staying. It’s an old mansion that’s been restored and turned into a bed and breakfast. It’s fantastic. I’m sitting on what they call a sleeping porch just off my room, looking out over the greenest lawn I’ve ever seen, and I swear I expect to see Rhett and Scarlet stroll across the grass at any moment.”

Romeo laughed. “Honey, it’s so good to hear you sounding so excited.”

“I am, Rom, I really am. The past couple of weeks have been good. It’s like with every mile I dumped a little more of what had been weighing me down, and when I got here, I felt…clean again. Does that make sense?”

“Perfect,” he replied. “So how long are you going to stay?”

“I don’t know,” she said and voiced something that had been niggling at her all afternoon. “Rom, I know this sounds crazy, but I think I’m supposed to be here. It’s like there’s something calling to me. Something I can’t quite hear but I know it’s there.” She laughed. “Listen to me. Half a day in the South and already I’m waxing romantic.”

Romeo chuckled. “I love it. I haven’t heard you sound like this in ages, sweetie. So, go find whatever it is that’s calling you. Just don’t forget about us guys back home who love you.”

“Oh, Rom.” She felt a stab of guilt. “I’m sorry. I just dumped it all on you. Are things okay?”

“Fine,” he assured her. “Don’t worry. I’ve told everyone you’re off on a photographic walk-about.”

She laughed. “I love you, Rom. You’re always there to save my butt and pick up my slack. I owe you big.”

“Honey, you don’t owe me anything. Well, except for that fabulous raise I gave myself the morning after you left.”

She howled with delighted laughter. “Well, however much it was it isn’t enough. Oh, there’s my dinner. Gotta scoot. Talk to you tomorrow.”

“Okay, have fun. I love you.”

“I love you. Hugs to Jay for me.”

“Will do. Smooches!”

She severed the connection and opened the door to pay for her food. Taking it to the porch, she set it up on a table along with her laptop. While she ate, she downloaded the memory cards from her camera and viewed the photos she’d taken.

*****

Colton was in the middle of changing gears when an electric shock ripped through his body. His hand slipped on the gear shift and a horrible grinding protest came from the gears at the same moment he swore out loud.

Hurrying to shift into third gear, he then reached up to grab the small crystal that was suspended around his neck with his dog-tags.

“Shit!” He cursed at the rippling shock that raced from his hand all the way up to his shoulder and quickly released the crystal.

Another charge of energy came from the crystal as it touched his chest. It was like a miniature explosion, originating directly beneath the crystal then radiating out, working its way throughout his body.

Colton wasn’t a man who was frightened easily, but this had him a little unnerved. Maybe he was having a stroke. That thought shook him enough that he pulled over and parked at the curb of the road leading to the Duke Mansion, put the car in neutral and set the brake.

His hand was still tingling. Was that the sign of a stroke? He didn’t feel disoriented or short of breath or mentally impaired. So, what the hell had happened?

The crystal seemed to vibrate against his skin. He tensed at first and then realized the sensation was not painful, just very intense. The sensation spread out from its point of origin and swam through his veins until his entire body hummed. With the hum came sensuous warmth that had him becoming erect.

That was another surprise. Colton was astonished. He’d had erections since he was a boy, but never one that came on spontaneously and without provocation. A split second before the thought entered his mind that perhaps something was physically wrong with him, it was over.

Tentatively, he touched the crystal with the tip of his index finger. Nothing. He waited a minute and tried again. No reaction at all.

There was only one thing to do. As much as he disliked the idea, he was going to have to ask Anthony’s mother about the crystal.