Unbelievable: The Port Fare Series, #2

By Sherry Gammon

Unbelievable is the second novel in Best Selling author Sherry Gammon's hit series The Port Fare Series.

Deliah Lopez Dreser's in town to take care of family business. They say the apple doesn't fall far from the tree, but there's more to Lilah than meets the eye. Cole's in danger of losing his heart when this firestorm throws sparks his way. However, is she simply playing him for the fool in order to exact revenge for her brother's murders?
Maggie and Seth's reaction when the truth is revealed pushes friendship to the limit. And this time around it won't be a Dreser causing an uproar in Port Fare. It will be Cole's good friend Booker. But does Booker have it all wrong? Usually not!
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• Language: English
• Publisher: Sherry Gammon
• Release date: Dec 17, 2012
• ISBN: 9781502283801

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Unbelievable

Book Two of The Port Fare Series

Sherry Gammon

Copyright 2013 Sherry Gammon

Copyright 2013 Wordpaintings Unlimited

DEDICATION:

This book is dedicated to:

My faithful readers who were beyond patient while I rewrote Cole’s story

NOTE TO THE READERS OF UNLOVABLE

As many of you know, Unlovable is being made into a movie. A few changes to the original book were made to facilitate this. Most were small, insignificant changes, with one exception: Maggie’s age. Now Maggie turns 18 at the very beginning of the book. Oh, and don’t worry, Booker still refers to Magpie as Jailbait in book one because, well, he’s Booker!

~The Preface~

An Old Cherokee Tale of Two Wolves

One evening an old Cherokee Indian spoke to his grandson. ‘My son,’ he said, ‘there is a great battle that goes on inside us all between two ‘wolves.’ One is Evil. It is anger, envy, jealousy, greed, arrogance, self-pity, resentment, lies, pride, superiority, and ego.

‘The other is Good,’ he continued. ‘It is joy, peace, love, hope, humility, kindness, benevolence, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion and faith.’

The grandson thought for a moment then asked, ‘Which wolf wins?’

The old Cherokee simply replied, ‘The one you feed.’

C:\Users\sherry\Desktop\paints_n_brush_T.png Chapter 1

Lilah

Breathe.

I filled my lungs, slowly releasing the air with a whoosh. The sound carried a chill of memories: horrible, heartbreaking memories. I shook my frizzy brown hair against the ache in my heart.

No trips down memory lane right now, I lectured myself softly. Daddy wants this done. And frankly, so did I. Once the revenge was complete, I could move on . . . and away, from Daddy and his influence.

I stepped out of my car, a vintage VW bug—orange, my favorite color—and shut the door behind me. Nervous tension nipped at me as my hand trailed over my long, wild mane again. Thank heavens I can go back to my hair products when this is done. I checked my reflection in the window of my car door, mostly out of habit. With only mascara to frame my soft brown eyes, there was no need to worry really. I admit, that part of my ruse worked for me. The unruly hair I hated, but the simple, easy make-up I currently wore? A definite plus.

Daddy said it best: No one will guess you to be Harry Dreser’s high-maintenance daughter looking like this. Daddy’d brain stormed the entire idea. If the police were looking for Harry’s daughter, they’d be looking for a well groomed, sophisticated woman in her mid-twenties. The simplicity of this getup was genius. Daddy did know best. Most times, anyway.

I wedged the leather portfolio of my work under my arm and pushed my bright pink purse up on the opposite shoulder. The purse was my latest thrift store find—a designer bag discarded amongst the pile of cheap replicas. I knew it the moment my eyes landed on the huge black rose on the side. What people gave away as junk still amazed me.

With Daddy’s medical expenses burning through the last of our money, I needed to be wise with my purchases for the first time ever in my life.

I straightened my bold yellow shirt and tugged my orange capris up just a bit. I’d lost a few pounds worrying about my assignment from Daddy, not that it was a bad thing. I loved my curves, but I enjoyed being able to button up my shirt and not have it snug across my bust line more.

I approached the small brick building, noting the wooden sign hanging from two black metal hooks hanging over the door.

Design-Aholics: Corporate Interiors is our passion

I took another cleansing breath and opened the glass door as a tinkling bell announced my arrival. I brushed my nose at the musty smell, which greeted me. To the right, two women entered through an adorable archway, one a tall brunette, the other a short blonde. Both smiled brightly.

Hello, said the blonde in an unmistakable British accent. Her purple shirt intensified her green eyes, which dropped to the portfolio I held. My name is Haley, and this is my sister Donna, well, stepsister really. My mum married her dad. You’re Delilah Hudson, correct?

I nodded, tugging my portfolio a little closer. Yes. But it’s Lilah, just Lilah.

Donna stepped forward. Yeah, our parents married about two years ago. We set them up while we attended design school. Love at first sight, she swooned. Unlike Haley, Donna’s accent was clearly American, the Bronx, if I were to guess. Her dark brown hair and soft brown skin testified of her Latino heritage, like mine. My mother hailed from Mexico. She’d met and fallen in love with my dad as a young woman barely twenty years old. They also had a love-at-first-sight romance, only theirs didn’t turn out so great. Oh, how I miss her.

Donna gestured me to follow her. The reception area was unimpressive, to say the least. The space was not only small, but also drab. Not a single piece of artwork hung on the wall. And the rusty pipes hanging from the ceiling screamed unprofessional.

We haven’t put our stamp on this place yet, Donna said, glancing back at me. It doesn’t look like much now, but we just got a big contract so we have high hopes. I nodded politely.

Which brings us to you, Delilah, Haley said as we passed through the arched doorway.

Lilah, just Lilah. I smiled politely. I hated my full name.

Before we begin, I do have one concern, Donna said, her brow pinched. My stomach flopped over nervously. Are you really twenty-four? Because, seriously, you look about sixteen.

I relaxed somewhat. Yes, I really am. Do you want to see my license? Donna shook her head. It’s the hair, I added. Every time I let it have its way, people say I look younger than I am. I ran my hand self-consciously over the frizz again.

Daddy hated my wavy hair and had gotten me my first blow dryer at the tender age of eleven. Personally, I liked the curls—well, with a little mousse added so they hung in soft ringlets not wild frizz. But for the purpose of disguise, frizz was the order of the day. Also, glasses. Black antique frames. By antique I don’t mean quaint, I mean ugly.

Lilah, we’ll conduct the interview in my office, Haley said as we entered a small lounge with two offices, each just as small and sparsely decorated as the first space.

I know what you’re thinking, Donna insisted. Why would anyone hire us to decorate when our office looks like a barren wasteland? she asked, mirroring my thoughts. She laughed and set a large portfolio down on her desk. We’re good, despite how it looks. We’re less than three months in this building. When we started we decided to reinvest all our profits into the company for the first year. She sighed heavily. Nine more months. She crossed her fingers and smiled at Haley.

I stepped up to the small wooden desk and paged through their photos. Their portfolio was indeed impressive. I’d misjudged them. Like me, they embraced color. These are fabulous. I closed the book and set my portfolio down on the desk for them to review, along with my résumé and a letter of reference Daddy emailed me last night. I needed this job.

I’d been in town for three weeks now, searching desperately for employment that would put me in the vicinity of Booker Gatto or Seth Prescott. I tried the burger stand Gatto frequented, but they weren’t hiring. I’d applied at the police station as a receptionist. They never called me back. I went to the Lunch Swap, a charity Prescott ran, only to be told by some cantankerous old lady named Miss Ethel that the positions were all filled by volunteers. I even applied to be an aide at the hospital because, according to Daddy, Prescott’s girlfriend had an internship there. When I learned I’d have to go through six weeks of unpaid training, and that there was a nine month waiting list, I left, discouraged. Getting close to the two MET agents, a couple of dishonest DEA hybrids who’d embezzled our family fortune from my brothers, turned out to be harder than I’d thought. It was as if karma had no intention of allowing payback to the crooked cops. Dad’s constant pressure to make a connection didn’t help either. But one day last week, there it was. Pure dumb luck staring up at me in black print from the newspaper. A temporary help wanted ad for Design-Aholics.

As the advertisement in the paper said, we’ve been hired to decorate the common areas in the new office complex on Main Street, Haley said as she continued to peruse my portfolio. A man named Booker Gatto owns the building and he’s hoping to have the place ready to rent out by September. She nudged her sister, showing her one of my photos of Daddy’s office. Donna looked up from my résumé and glanced at the page, grinning at Haley. They were impressed.

Haley turned to me. Your paintings are amazing. You could sell these. She pointed to a photo of an oil canvas I’d done a few years ago. Your mother, I’m assuming. You look just like her. Latina, correct?

Yes, from Mexico City. She was a dancer at her family’s restaurant when she met my father.

She’s lovely, Donna said. My grandmother is from Chihuahua. She came here as a young woman and worked her way up from waitress to owner of an Italian restaurant, of all things, she laughed. I’ll bet your mom is very proud of you and your work. You have a lot of talent.

She died when I was ten, but she was always supportive of me and my dreams. I stopped my hand from rubbing at my heart. It still hurt even after all these years.

I see you studied design in France? I nodded at the lie Haley asked about. I’d been to France, and as a tourist studied the art and architecture, but I’d never taken any classes while there. Hopefully a small-time business like this would do very little fact checking.

Aside from your eye for design, because clearly you have a gift for it, Donna said, nodding at my portfolio, what two things would you say are your strong suits?

Painting, I said instantaneously. I love to paint. Everything from portraits to walls. I mean, seriously, a blank wall is just a huge canvas begging to be made into something beautiful.

They laughed at my exuberance. I never quite thought of it that way, but I do love your fervor. Donna sat dawn behind the desk. And what is your second strong suit?

Organization, I guess. I love to take chaos and tame it into a fresh, uncluttered space, I said confidently. It’s liberating.

Before either could respond, the bell on the front door tinkled again. Police! Freeze! boomed a deep male voice from the outer room. My knees gave out. Thankfully I stood next to a chair and sank into it.

How did they know I was here, and what could they possible arrest me for?

Daddy had run a drug ring in Port Fare three years ago with the help of my two brothers. I’d escaped from the nightmare that’d become my life at the time, hiding mostly from Daddy, and knew little to nothing of what went on here. I knew that it ended badly. If I believed my dad’s telling, the crooked cops executed my brothers, and he desperately wanted my help with his revenge.

My gaze jumped to the arched doorway. In strutted Booker Gatto. My stomach heaved at the site.

Don’t panic. Stay calm. My poor heart, now racing like a deer caught in a trap, actually hurt as if I’d run a marathon. My breath bounded in short pants as I forced myself to calm down. I’d tried to prepare myself for this moment, but the reality was—I could hardly function.

The pictures Daddy had of him didn’t do him justice. Tall, dark and sexy. Dimples on each side graced his mischievous grin, and his eyes were a deep brown, like mine. He wore blue pants and a dark blue t-shirt with the letters M-E-T in white stretched tight across his muscular chest. On his left shoulder hung a walkie-talkie, and a leather holster with an intimidating Glock pistol hung low on his hips. His hand rested comfortably on the holster, as if second nature for him to wear a gun. Inwardly, I cringed. I hated guns.

Booker! Haley snapped. You scared Lilah. She’s the only designer with talent to apply for the job we posted. So help me, you better not have scared her off. Despite her stern chastisement, Haley stepped over to Booker and stretched up to kiss him. He turned his head at the last second and it landed on his cheek.

I’m sorry. Booker stepped toward me. I quickly looked down at my hands. If he were half as good a cop as Daddy claimed, I’d have to be extra careful around him. I coyly wiped the sweat off my palms onto my capris and inhaled deeply. Steady, Lilah.

Are you okay? Donna asked, squatting down next to me. You look as if you’re going to faint. Your hands are shaking.

Think fast. You’re a Dreser. Deception is second nature to you.

Sorry. Low blood sugar. I get this way when I don’t eat sometimes. I chuckled. It sounded forced. My bad, I added, smiling weakly, tapping the black-rimmed glasses back up my nose. Please don’t let this affect my chances of getting this job. I’ve been searching three weeks for work.

You do know the job is per diem since we’re not in a position to hire anyone permanently. At least not yet. Haley closed my portfolio and passed it back to me. "It’s about a month worth of work, spread out over the summer. But since it is per diem, you can take other jobs outside of Design-Aholics. You’re amazingly talented, Lilah. Once people see your work, you’ll have more jobs than you can handle."

Thank you. So does that mean I have the job? Please. I really needed this. It was the light at the end of a very long tunnel. No more controlled life. No more deception. No more Daddy.

Donna looked at her business partner, who smiled back. Looks like we have an assistant, Haley, she said with a nod.

I’m a good worker. You won’t be sorry, I promise. A deep breath settled my stomach somewhat.

If you’re serious about needing work, I just may have a side job for you, if you two don’t mind, Booker said, stepping forward.

Not at all, Donna assured him.

Booker leaned against the desk. His features softened as he scanned my face. If I guessed, I’d say he was concerned. Not going to lie, it seemed strange to see compassion on the face of a supposed killer.

I’ve a friend named Dr. Cole Colter who needs an office redo. It shouldn’t take you too long. It’s a small space. What he really needs is some organization. Maybe some cabinets, a more functional desk. Is that something you can do?

Is it something she can do? It’s one of her strong suits. Here. Donna handed him my portfolio before I could stop her. If Booker saw the pictures of Daddy’s office, I was dead. Daddy said that Gatto and his men raided the place three years ago. I stood up and took the photos from him and opened it to the pictures of our home in the Caribbean. It was the only home not seized by the government after my brothers died, although Daddy had since sold it, desperate for cash. I showed him the den and living room I’d decorated.

You have a gift, Booker said as he examined the page. When he reached to turn the page, I held my breath.

Captain Gatto. Ten-two please, demanded a scratchy voice on the shoulder walkie-talkie Booker wore.

He frowned as he pushed the button. And why would I return to the station? I’ve been on for twenty-seven hours straight. I’m going home and going to bed. He handed me back my portfolio as he stood.

Negative. You forgot to sign your reports. I could’ve been wrong, but I thought the dispatcher was laughing.

Booker groaned. Just forge my name, he grumbled, shaking his head. I’ll be in in an hour. I’ve an errand to run, he said into the talkie.

Ten-four.

He scrubbed his face with his hand before pulling out a set of keys from his pocket. Here. These should get you into every room in the building. He slipped the keys into Donna’s hand. You still plan on starting tomorrow?

Yes, especially now that we have Lilah. Donna walked over to the desk and put them in the top drawer. We won’t need you until Monday, Lilah. I nodded.

If you’re interested in the job I was telling you about, it’s over at the hospital, Booker said to me.

You’re going to hire me without looking over more of my work? I asked, somewhat surprised

If Donna and Haley believe in you, then I do, he smiled. I’m warning you, the place is a real disaster. Sure you’re up for it? With all my heart I wanted to say no. But I couldn’t. First of all, I needed the money, and second, if this Dr. Cole was a friend of Booker’s, my plan to get close to the cops and earn their trust was about to get a little easier.

Now, Booker, she needs to be available for this job first, Haley said sternly.

Not a problem. Booker nodded. We can head over there now and if you decide to take the job, we’ll work around your schedule here. Deal?

Yes. Thank you. I smiled widely.

Booker’s eyes narrowed. Have we met before? You look kind of familiar.

No, I shook my head. I have one of those faces. I get that all the time. I stood, tucking my portfolio securely under my arm.

I guess so. He turned to Haley. Thanks again. I’ll see you on Monday. He strode through the arch, looking back over his shoulder. You coming, Lilah?

I turned to Donna and Haley. Go ahead, Haley insisted. We can fill out the forms and orient you with the project on Monday. Be here at noon. Sound good?

Yes, and thank you again. You have no idea how important this is to me. I grabbed my purse and jogged after Booker to keep up. He’d parked his patrol car directly behind my orange bug.

I’ll follow you over, I said, putting my portfolio in the car as Booker went over to his patrol car. He returned before I got in, carrying a small lunch bag.

You like pastrami on rye? He held the sandwich out to me. I don’t want you to faint. I looked up at him, unsure of what he meant. You know, low blood sugar. He gestured to the office we’d just left.

Oh, yeah, right. Thanks. I took the sandwich, baffled by the gesture. Booker Gatto was proving to be a bit more complicated than I anticipated.

The sandwich was amazing, and I hated that I liked it. If I weren’t starving, I wouldn’t have eaten it in the first place.

I followed Booker across town to Port Fare General Hospital, concentrating on remaining calm. You need to stay in control, girl.

The hospital stood six floors high and had two impressive sized wings on either side. Booker and I entered through the main entrance after parking in the visitor’s lot. I kept my portfolio tucked tight under my arm. I didn’t want to bring it in, but Booker insisted. The front doors slid open as we approached.

I stepped back. I’d forgotten about the antiseptic smell that haunted hospitals. The scent pulled memories, some old and some not so old, I’d buried deep down in my soul. A reminder of all I’d lost. This is going to be harder than I thought.

You okay? Booker took my elbow.

I nodded. So, this friend of yours, does he have a specific style in mind? I asked, hoping to stay the memories as we approached the elevators.

Booker pressed the up button on the wall, and the steel doors creaked opened. Cole’s style. Hmm. Booker seemed to be fighting a grin as we stepped inside. He pressed the third floor button. Tell me, is utter bedlam a style, really? He laughed. In truth, Cole is one of the most generous and unassuming men that I’ve had the luck of knowing. His organizational skills, or lack thereof, are pretty much his only fault. He shook his head and continued, speaking with just a hint of envy now. "There’s not a bit of guile in the man. He gives everyone the benefit of the doubt, and he never, ever crosses the line. Booker looked at my quizzical expressions and laughed again. I’m not kidding. Cole’s never even had a ticket, ever. Not for speeding, not for parking on the wrong side of the road, nothing. The guy’s a saint."

I see. I’m not too fond of perfect people. They tend to make you feel inferior. I ran a hand nervously over my hair again, smoothing the fly-aways down.

I may have painted him a little too perfectly, Booker admitted as we stopped and the doors opened. He put his hand on the small of my back, guiding me out. It took every ounce of self-control I had not to rip it off. A shiver tore down my spine.

It’s a little chilly in here, isn’t it? I said, trying to cover my reaction to him.

Maybe a little, he said, looking at me strangely.

Time to redirect. What were you saying about Cole?

Oh, yeah. The guy has zero organizational skills. He’s a brilliant doctor, mind you, but he’s not organized. He was promoted last month and his office is still a shambles. Booker pointed to the second hall on the right and we headed for the second door. He’s also a klutz. A serious klutz.

Unorganized and a klutz aren’t such bad traits, I pointed out as he reached for the door.

"You’re right, they’re not. All kidding aside, Cole’s the most pure hearted person I’ve ever met. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear Mother Theresa had given birth to him herself. He makes me want to be a better man, know what I mean?"

I think he’s lucky to have a devoted friend like you, I said honestly. The sincere expression in his eyes left no doubt he cared deeply about the klutz doctor.

Nope. I’m the lucky one, Booker insisted as he shoved hard on the door. It gets stuck. Think you can fix that while you’re decorating? He rammed the door with his shoulder. It flew open and Booker stumbled inside, catching the door before it hit the wall.

A tall man dressed in blue scrubs spun around to face us, hands wrapped tight behind his back, reminding me of a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. I opened my mouth to introduce myself when I looked up into the most amazing deep blue eyes I’d ever seen. The words caught in my throat. Booker forgot to mention that Cole was breathtakingly gorgeous.

C:\Users\sherry\Desktop\dr.png Chapter 2

Cole

Perfect timing. Of course Booker would show up just now. Maybe he won’t notice. I sighed aloud. Who was I kidding? He’d noticed. I pressed the gauze pad tight against the scrape on my elbow behind my back.

Hey, Doc. Booker strutted in, his Cheshire grin solidly in place. Yup, he noticed. What’s behind your back? Did you get me a gift? he teased. If it’s flowers, I hope they’re lilacs. You know I’m allergic to roses. The petite girl with the chestnut brown hair standing by his side cocked an eyebrow up at him. Despite her black-rimmed glasses, I couldn’t help but notice her soft brown eyes. A pretty little thing, but young. I’d guess her to be sixteen, maybe seventeen.

What are you doing here, Book? Shoot yourself again? I grinned as Booker laughed.

No, not today. I finally decided what to get you as a ‘Congratulations on your promotion’ gift. He held his hand out to the girl as she stepped into the room.

Umm, you got me a girl? I don’t think that’s legal. Besides, she’s a little young, don’t you think? The girl giggled. I liked her laugh.

Good one, Doc. I do believe my sense of humor is finally rubbing off onto you. He stepped closer. I moved a half-step back.

I’d like to hire her to organize this chaos. He motioned to the stacks of papers and notebooks that were, well, in all the corners, really. Her name is Lilah, and she is a per diem designer for Design-Aholics. I looked at him blankly. That’s the team I hired to decorate my new office complex. You never listen to me when we talk. I’m starting to think you don’t really care about me. He sighed dramatically.

That’s right. He did mention he hired Haley. Booker dated her a couple times, and when he realized she felt more for him than he did for her, he broke it off. Then, feeling guilty, he hired her to decorate his office.

I don’t need someone to organize my chaos. I’ve been busy, that’s all. This new assignment’s been one headache after another, literally. I’ve purchased so much aspirin lately, I’m thinking about acquiring stock in Excedrin to help recoup the money I’ve spent. I rubbed the ache I felt building in my forehead already today. Besides, this is a lot of work for one person. I wouldn’t want her to get behind in her schoolwork. No offense, I added to Lilah.

That’s exactly what I’m talking about, Doc. You work twenty-four/seven. Look around. You need help. Booker parked himself on the corner of my desk.

I shook my head in defeat. Yeah, okay. I need help. But in my defense, I do plan on cutting back on my schedule soon.

It’s in your blood, Doc. You’ll cut back when I cut back, he pointed out accurately. Come on. Let me stimulate the economy a little. Give this poor kid a job.

Do you think you can finish it before school starts back up? How old are you anyway? I asked.

I’m no longer in school. I’m— she started.

Okay, Cole. Natalie, a perky blonde nurse with small Korean flags embroidered on her scrubs entered the room carrying a roll of medical tape and a small pair of scissors. I have the tape. Do you—oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.

Hi, Natalie. Cole have another accident? Booker pointed to the supplies.

Yes, but it wasn’t his fault, she insisted, stepping over next to me and tugging my arm around. Heat flooded my ears. He was trying to help a senior citizen. She smiled up at me proudly before reposition the gauze I’d been holding on the scrape.

Ouch. How did our little hero get such a nasty boo-boo? Booker grimaced.

I’m not a hero. It was no big deal. I slid my chair out from under my desk and sat, wishing this would all just go away.

No big deal? Let me tell you what happened. She rubbed on antibiotic cream as she spoke. We were in the cafeteria getting some lunch and a little gray-haired senior in line lost her balance. Cole didn’t think twice. He raced over to try and catch her. She beamed at me.

I desperately wanted to change the subject. How’s the new baby, Natalie? He has to be walking by now.

Yes, Natalie, as soon as you’re done telling us about Cole, I’d love to hear about little Gabe, Booker said. Should have known he wouldn’t let me redirect.

As I was saying, he raced over to catch her when his lunch slid off his tray and splattered across the floor. Cole stepped in the mess and slid a good ten feet before falling. She wrapped the tape around my elbow a few times. Overkill, really.

So are you telling me our not-so-graceful ballerina here slid into the little old lady? Booker looked hopefully at her.

No, but he did slosh some red Jell-O on her pants. She was none too happy about it, either. Natalie tossed the leftover gauze into the garbage can.

Mad? He was trying to save her life. Booker, being Booker, exaggerated now. The ingrate!

Well, turns out she wasn’t really falling. She was telling a story to her friend and Cole misinterpreted her actions, Natalie said defensively.

She spoke very animatedly, I added. The girl next to Booker dipped her head in laughter. Embarrassed, I still grinned. Hearing it retold did sound rather humorous.

That should do. She patted the oversized bandage. Got to get back to the desk. Natalie left with a wave.

So, my klutzy friend, what do you say? Are you going to take my gift of Lilah, or are you going to send her on her way, penniless? I mean, seriously, look at this sweet, innocent face. Book held his hand out to Lilah’s face. Look sad, kid. You have to know how to work it.

Lilah pouted. I am rather hungry. And a job like this would put a lot of food on my table, not to mention a roof over my head. She added a sniffle to her words.

Oh, you’re good. You don’t need me. Booker’s lips turned upward.

Gatto, his talkie squawked.

He pressed the black button on the side. Sorry, Booker Gatto, Agent Extraordinaire, is off duty. Please check back tomorrow.

Booker, you’re so adorable. This is Sandy at the switch desk. Your electrician’s on the line. He said he’s been trying to catch you all morning but you’ve not returned his calls. He claims it’s an emergency. Should I patch him through?

Booker dropped his head back and groaned. Last summer he purchased an old office building downtown, and he’d spent the year restoring it in preparation for renters. Everything had been running smoothly until the two months ago. Since then it had been one problem after another.

Thanks, Sandy. Patch him through.

Hello, Booker. Sorry to bug you at work, apologized a man’s voice over the talkie.

Not a big deal, Billy. I was on a stakeout last night and had to mute my phone. Book shoved his hand through his hair. He looked tired. His emotions had taken a real beating over the past couple years. I felt for him. Booker pulled out his phone, rolling his eyes at the display. Twenty-seven missed calls, he mouthed to me.

The electrical system failed final inspection. We are going to have to tear half of it out and redo it. We’ll need to postpone the design team you hired for at least three weeks.

Booker stormed out into the hallway to talk, leaving me and Lilah alone. I leaned back nervously in my dilapidated chair, almost tipping it over. Quickly righting myself, I decided standing might be a safer option. Standing in one spot. Not moving. Because if I moved, I’d probably trip over something.

So, Lilah, is there hope for my office? I stuffed my hands into the pockets of my scrub pants. I tried looking casual standing next to my desk. I probably just looked stupid.

Nothing is hopeless if you have an open mind, Cole. She smiled. Wow. Great smile. Is it all right if I call you Cole?

Y-yes, of course. I straightened as she stepped over next to me.

I take it you and Booker are good friends? She smiled again. Why would God give someone so young such a knockout smile? I decided it’d be best if I looked into her eyes instead. Too young.

Booker and I’ve been friends for a number of years. He’s probably my best friend. He and Seth Prescott, actually. I tugged on my scrub top nervously. I moved to Port Fare to attend the U of R, and met Seth in a chemistry class. He introduced me to Booker, and we’ve been friends ever since. The Three Musketeers.

I can’t believe I just said that. Shut up, Cole! The young girl had me babbling like a nervous high school boy on his first date. Her eyes narrowed slightly at my lame musketeer comment. Humiliating.

I’d like to meet this Seth Prescott. If he’s half as good looking as you and Booker, ‘The Three Musketeers’ must have every single woman in town after you. Probably some married ones, too.

Her bluntness took me by surprise. Well, ah, Seth is engaged actually. He and his fiancée are getting married in a couple weeks. Needing to put some space between me and the flirtatious child, I risked moving across the room. Not that the room was big, but some space was better than no space.

I guess I’ll have to focus on you and Booker then. And with that declaration, another killer smile. I tried not to look, really I did, but being a mere mortal, I failed.

So what are your thoughts on this room? I learned against the filing cabinet, forgetting it was empty. It wobbled back and forth, but thankfully didn’t tip over. Lilah giggled into her hand.

I’m hoping you like color, because this drab little space could sure use it, she said, glancing around.

Color? What kind of color?

She turned to the wall and waved her hand over the space. I’d like to paint the far wall a dark burgundy, then use some black paint for a faux leather finish. It will give it a rich, sophisticated feel, she explained.

Black and burgundy? Oh. I was thinking more along the lines of beige. Now worried about the girl’s taste, I wondered what Booker had gotten me into.

You don’t trust me? Here, look over my portfolio. She handed me a leather album.

I avoided her smile this time and busied myself with the photos. The girl had talent, no doubt about it. Each photo was more impressive than the last. She’d worked on both offices and homes. How long have you been designing?

I started in high school. That one right there, she pointed to a photo of a warm, inviting family room, was my first project. And this, she flipped over a couple pages, was my senior project. I studied the bright, colorful room filled with books. In the corner stood an impressive pink Cinderella castle surrounded with blue and pink beanbag chairs.

Senior project?

My high school required all seniors to do twenty hours of community service. I worked with the local library, designing an enchanted reading land. It was a blast. She beamed proudly, as she should.

Impressive work, Lilah.

Booker strolled back in, his face tight. I’m beginning to think that building is cursed.

That bad? I asked, as Lilah took the portfolio from me.

I’m sick of all the ridiculous regulations in this state. I’m ready to move. He rubbed his hand over his jaw. It was a vain threat. Booker would never leave Port Fare. Seth, Maggie and I were all the family he had. If Booker valued anything, it was family. No, he’d never leave.

I don’t want to deal with this now. I’m tired, he said to me. Lilah, I let Donna and Haley know that the project’s been pushed back at least three weeks. Donna said to apologize and she hopes you won’t abandon ship. She’ll call you on Monday. Lilah nodded. So now the pressure is on you, my clothing impaired friend.

There is nothing wrong with the way . . . Never mind. I sat carefully in my wreck-of-a-chair and signaled for Booker to continue with a wave of my

Reviews for Unbelievable

[mybookaddiction_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

UNBELIEVABLE by Sherry Gammon is an exciting contemporary romance set in Port Fare. #2 in "The Port Fare" series,but can be read as a stand alone. See, "Unlovable". The characters in "Unbelievable" are well developed and will steal your heart. Follow, Deliah Lopez Dreser on an adventure of love,revenge,danger,family royalty,and friendship. And Cole, an ER doctor who may just steal her heart and some friends from the previous book,"Unlovable". Each chapter is written either from Deliah or Cole's point of view which gives you a clearer image of their feelings for each other as they envolve. "Unbelievable" is a tale of revenge,secrets,mystery,and love,with witty banter between the characters,and a few twists and turns you won't see coming. If you enjoy contemporary romance with a few twists and turns with a kick butt heroine than "Unbelievable" is the book for you to grab. An enjoyable read! Received for an honest review from the author.RATING: 4HEAT RATING: SWEETREVIEWED BY: AprilR, My Book Addiction Reviews