CHAPTER ONE

      JORDON KING COULDN’T decide if he was repulsed or fascinated by the tall, blonde woman with the spiked hair flitting from one table to the next.

      She greeted, smiled at and hugged each man as she worked her way around the tables surrounding the dance floor of the Beach Hut Bar and Grill in Golden Shores, Mississippi. Maybe his issue was that she hadn’t given any attention to him. No, that wouldn’t be the reason. Women just weren’t on his agenda right now. Getting his professional life back in order was.

      Taking another draw on his drink, he placed the bottle on the bar. What had it been? Fifteen years since he’d been in the Beach Hut? Then he’d been underage and sneaking in with a fake ID. He surveyed the rustic room with high wooden beams darkened from cigarette smoke before the no-smoking ban had been instituted. Very little had changed, bringing back both good and bad memories of the place.

      Mark, one of his new colleagues at Golden Shores Regional Hospital, remarked as he looked toward the woman, “Well, it looks like she’s having a good time tonight.”

      “Yeah, it looks that way,” Jordon said on a droll note.

      “So, how do you like working and living in Golden Shores?” Mark asked.

      Jordon chuckled. “Well, I’ve not been here but two days, but so far so good. Thanks for the invite out tonight.”

      “No problem. I thought it might be a good way for you to meet a few people from the hospital.”

      That was the only reason Jordon had agreed to attend. Even in a small hospital there were people in departments he would never meet if it wasn’t for some event like this. He watched as the blonde made a graceful movement, shifting one hip this way and then another as she made her way through the tight spaces between chairs toward the bar. There was something about her …

      “Okay, everyone,” the man on the stage said into the microphone. “It’s time to get this party really started.”

      “For this next song I want you to find someone you either don’t know well or don’t know at all and bring them to the dance floor. Let’s mix things up.”

      The blonde had been coming toward the bar and made a detour around a group, talking. It brought her out of the last set of chairs directly in front of him as the last of the instructions was given. Her gaze met his.

      Never breaking their connection, she stepped up to him and said, “I don’t know you. Want to dance?”

      Even in the din her voice sounded low and raspy, like that of one of those old-time movie stars. Her eyes, which were almost too large for her face, watched him with an intensity that made him feel uncomfortable, as if daring him to turn her down.

      Jordon shook his head.

      She gave him a come-hither smile, crooked her index finger and beckoned him on. Had he met her before?

      “No, thank you.”