Читать книгу Passionate Magic - Dawn Addonizio - Страница 7

Violet decided that there wasn’t anything much better than enjoying the evening breeze, and sipping a mojito, while you gazed out over the ocean at a spectacular sunset.

She inhaled deeply, thinking that her parents had probably spent many evenings in this very spot doing precisely the same thing. The idea filled her with a strange serenity, as if they were with her now, lending her their strength despite their physical absence.

“How you doin’ honey? You need a refill?”

Violet transferred her tranquil smile to the amiable waitress and glanced down at a glass that was mostly ice and mint leaves. She was on vacation. And she was walking home. She ordered mojito number two and a blackened grouper sandwich with fries and extra tartar sauce.

The waitress clomped away across the rustic wooden deck planks, hips swaying beneath her cutoff t-shirt. She was waylaid by a pair of cute guys who appeared to be more interested in flirting than ordering. Violet grinned and swiveled in her plastic seat to take in the rest of the scene.

The place was lively, without being too loud and crowded. Jimmy Buffet was singing about a cheeseburger in paradise over the speakers. And as the sun sank below the horizon, hundreds of tiny multicolored lights sprang to life, like a miniature fireworks display. They were everywhere, wrapped across the wooden railings and woven around the poles and spokes of the table umbrellas, casting the restaurant in an enchanted glow.

To top it all off, the bartender made a damn good mojito. Violet didn’t usually venture beyond beer and wine, but she was glad she had tried something new. She was thinking that things were definitely looking brighter, when her eyes rose to find Captain Doyle standing beside her chair.

Violet nearly groaned at the appetizing package he presented: more than six feet of gorgeous, muscled man, freshly showered and shaven, and wearing just a hint of crisp, clean cologne. She couldn’t deny the jolt of attraction, but the last thing she needed was to get involved with some local skirt chaser.

“Miss Hendrickson,” he greeted affably. “Nice to see you again. I hope you’re not feeling any ill effects from your earlier mishap?”

His rich brogue teased her ears and his warm demeanor relaxed her defenses, but she hadn’t forgotten about his hot and cold treatment of her on the boat. “I’m fine, thank you,” she answered warily.

“I’m glad I ran into you,” he said, softening his tone. “I’ve been wanting to apologize to you for the way I acted earlier. I believe we got off on the wrong foot, so to speak. If I seemed a bit gruff, it was just that I was truly concerned for you—not only because you were my responsibility as a passenger, but because you seem like a genuinely nice person.”

He gave her a wry smile. “I’m afraid I was also a bit preoccupied with a couple of the other passengers. I don’t know if you noticed, but there were two in particular who were making a nuisance of themselves the entire trip. Though I would have liked to tell them to clear off, I was obliged to humor them somewhat. I’ve built my business from scratch, and I’ve learned it doesn’t pay to be rude to the customers.”

Violet blinked up at him, touching her tongue to lips that had suddenly gone dry. Though dressed casually in canvas shorts and a plain red t-shirt, he radiated a quiet confidence and sexuality that quickened her heartbeat and stole her breath. Maybe she had misread him before. He sounded so sincere. His eyes shone that mesmerizing sea-green in the glint of the colored lights, seeming to convey a heartfelt appeal.

Doyle stuck his hands into his pockets and cleared his throat. “Miss Hendrickson?”

“Please call me Violet,” she exhaled on a quick breath.

He smiled uncertainly. “Violet. I was wondering if you’d allow me to buy you a drink.”

Her pulse skipped at the way he said her name, the syllables lingering on his tongue as if he was savoring them. Should she? It was only a drink, but the force of her response to him made her skittish. She’d had a couple of serious boyfriends, but none of them had made her entire body hum with sensual current the way this man did. If she wasn’t careful, the handsome Captain Doyle might end up breaking her heart.

But if her parents’ deaths had taught her anything, it was that life was short. She made her decision and spoke before she could change her mind. “I’d like that. Please, have a seat.” She pointed to the vacant chair across from her.

Doyle hid his sigh of relief as he joined Violet at the table. For a moment he’d been sure she was going to refuse him. She seemed nervous, and he decided he needed to make more of an effort to put her at ease.

“Thank heaven you’re kind enough to give me the chance to redeem myself,” he said with mock solemnity, purposely thickening his accent. “I promise to be on my best behavior from now on. Doyle Thresher, at your service.” He held his hand out in a formal gesture.

He ruined it by winking at her and Violet laughed. She took his proffered hand, the brief contact sending a tingle of electricity zinging across her skin.

“Well, you already know I make my living giving tours on the Ocean Magic,” he continued in a light tone. “So what do you do, Miss Violet Hendrickson? It is Miss, isn’t it?” he added with a cheeky grin.

Her lips twitched with humor. “I teach fourth grade at an elementary school in Boynton Beach, a couple of hours north of here. And yes, my students call me Miss Hendrickson.”

“A prim and proper school teacher,” Doyle teased, “now I’ll really have to watch my P’s and Q’s. Ah, here comes your drink.”

The smiling waitress carefully placed a fresh mojito in front of Violet and whisked away her empty glass. “The food’s coming right up,” she promised before turning to Doyle. “Can I get you anything?”

Doyle eyed Violet’s strange concoction. There seemed to be a bunch of leaves mixed in with the ice and someone had stuck a twig in it. “Just your special on draft tonight, please. And a large order of hot wings with fries.”

“They have the best wings here,” he confided to Violet. “So what exactly is that you’re drinking? It appears to be sprouting some manner of foliage.”

Violet chuckled. “It’s a mojito—rum, sugar syrup, lime, mint leaves and club soda.”

“And why is there a twig in it?” he asked dubiously.

She snorted in mirth. “It’s sugar cane, but it doubles nicely as a garnish and a stir. Here, try it. It’s actually quite refreshing.” She pushed the glass across the table.

He wrinkled his nose in a charmingly boyish gesture. “I suppose you’re one of those people who insists you have to try something before you can say you don’t like it.”

“I am,” Violet agreed with a grin. Then she added, “Unless it’s made from the internal organs of animals. I draw the line there.”

He considered her with silent amusement. “What about liver and onions? Now there’s a tasty dish. It was one of my mum’s specialties when I was growing up. Have you ever tried it?”

“No.” Her face scrunched up in disgust and she shook her head.

“Haggis?” he inquired innocently. “Ever tried that?”

“Blech.” Violet made an involuntary sound of revulsion.

“Then how do you know you don’t like it? You realize you’re breaking your own rules, here, Violet.” He feigned a disappointed sigh. “That’s not very prim and proper of you. Doesn’t set a good example for the impressionable youth with which you’ve been entrusted.”

Violet smirked. “You’re stalling, Doyle.” She picked up the glass and held it out to him. “And there’s nothing disgusting in a mojito. Try it. You’ll like it.”

“What about the sticks and leaves!” he exclaimed. “I prefer my beverages a little less…nature-y.”

She tilted her head at him, an irresistible challenge in her gaze. He met her eyes and held them as he reached for the icy glass. His warm fingers brushed her cool ones. She made to pull away, but he slid his forefinger over hers, gently imprisoning it, as he leaned forward to take the straw between his lips. His teasing look melted into something deeper, and far more enticing.

He pulled a slow draw of the liquid, brushing his finger over hers in an unhurried caress that hinted at a heady world of possibilities and sent molten desire cascading through her belly. He released the straw, his finger continuing to draw lazy circles over hers, his eyes smoldering with heat and promise.

“You’re right.” The husky timbre of his voice was languid with seduction. “That was nice. Sweet. I wouldn’t mind a bit more.”

Violet could scarcely breathe as they stared at each other, the air between them crackling with intensity. She jerked back to reality as the waitress brought Doyle’s beer, forcing herself to pull away as another server stepped up with their food. By the time they were alone again, she was flushed with embarrassed uncertainty. Had she made more out of his attentions than was really there?

∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

Doyle had only intended a bit of light teasing to make Violet feel more comfortable, but as soon as he looked into her eyes and his hand brushed against hers, he was ensnared. It was as if her touch held the power to bewitch him, stripping away all else and reducing him into a torrent of need.

Her skin had taken on a sun-kissed glow from her afternoon on the water, and he could just see a tantalizing edge of delicate lace peeking out from beneath the strap of her top. His fingers itched for the excuse to smooth across her shoulder and tuck it back into place. The thought of touching her bare, satiny flesh drove him wild.

But the bedeviled waitress had come back at the worst possible moment, and Violet had pulled away again. He could have shouted with the frustration of it. He took a bracing breath and reminded himself that he needed to go slow with her. She was still grieving for her parents. And he was supposed to be protecting her, not seducing her. She was an innocent young woman, a schoolteacher, for heaven’s sake!

She looked uncomfortable, and it was his fault. He racked his brain for a way to put her back at ease. He couldn’t pretend there hadn’t been a moment between them. That would only make things worse. He decided it would be best to try to pick up where they had left off in conversation, neither drawing attention to, nor denying, the episode.

He caught her eyes as she took a nervous sip from her straw, and he gave her a somewhat sheepish smile. “I’ll know better than to question your taste in beverages next time,” he told her softly.

He was rewarded with a shy grin.

“Now you have to try my wings, unless you don’t think you can handle the heat,” he goaded.

“Bring it on,” she taunted, dipping a french-fry in ketchup and popping it into her mouth.

Doyle studied her surreptitiously as he chose a drumette and rolled it in hot sauce before placing it on the edge of her plate. She was smiling again, and the tense set of her shoulders had relaxed. She was an intriguing blend of contrasts, seeming reserved one moment and turning playful the next. He found himself wanting to know more about her.

“So, do you like teaching? How long have you been at it?” he asked, just as she was taking a bite of her sandwich.

She gave him a derisive look as she chewed and he chuckled. “Sorry. Take your time.” He started on a wing so she wouldn’t feel like he was watching her eat.

She swallowed and sipped at the last of her mojito. “Three years. And I love it. I love working with the kids. My administration and my co-workers are great too…for the most part,” she added, shaking her head in amused acceptance. “There’re always a few aggravations to contend with. But overall I get along with everyone. And my school’s only about five minutes from my apartment.”

“How did you know that was what you wanted to do?” he prodded, enjoying the way her eyes sparkled when she talked about her job.

“I grew up around it,” she answered with a wistful smile, “both my parents were teachers.”

Doyle froze, and then covered the reaction by downing the rest of his beer. He wasn’t supposed to know about her parents’ deaths, and he didn’t want to influence her decision to talk about it.

“So it was in your blood from the start,” he commented.

“I suppose so,” she agreed, her expression turning remote. “I always admired the way they were able to inspire their students to learn. They had this knack for making knowledge seem exciting, and the most amazing way of turning the process of figuring things out into a game.

“When I was younger and I was stuck on a subject, usually math,” she said with a self-deprecating smirk, “they were always able to explain it in a way that made the light-bulb click on in my head. I wanted to be able to do that for kids.”

“They sound like really great people,” Doyle said gently.

Violet hesitated. She didn’t want to bring down the evening, but it seemed strange not to tell him about her parents’ deaths now that she’d gushed on about them.

“They were great people. They retired down here and bought a sweet little villa just up the street. But they were killed in a boating accident a couple of months ago. That’s why I’m here. I’m packing up their house.” She gave him a reassuring smile, hoping she hadn’t made him uncomfortable.

“I’m so sorry, Violet.” Relieved not to have to pretend he didn’t know, he reached out and briefly squeezed her hand where it rested on the table. His warm palm engulfed her fingers in a gesture of strength and comfort. He was reluctant to stop touching her, but quashed the unseemly urge.

“I’m around the docks most days, and I only live a couple of blocks from here. I’d be happy to help with anything you need.”

To his surprise, she reached for his hand as he started to pull away, clasping it tightly in her own. “Thanks, Doyle. That means a lot to me.”

She smiled into his eyes for a moment before releasing him, sparking a curiously warm sensation deep within his chest.

“So what about your family?” she asked, nibbling on the chicken wing he’d given her and nodding her acceptance to the waitress for another drink.

“Well, originally I hail from Ireland.”

“I guessed,” Violet admitted with a grin.

“From a small town in County Kerry, to be precise,” Doyle continued. “My family still lives there—my mum and pop, and my sister.”

He bit into a sauce-drenched wing and nodded gratefully when the waitress dropped off his beer.

“Why did you leave?” Violet studied his handsome face with curiosity as she sampled her new mojito. She was beginning to feel pleasantly giddy.

Doyle shrugged as he chewed. “Ever since I was a lad, I’ve felt the call to explore. I was always getting into trouble, wandering off across the countryside, trespassing where I shouldn’t, or getting myself lost. I think it was my small way of getting my parents used to the idea of me leaving.

“They were quite distressed when I told them I was going to university in Dublin.” He grinned and took another swig of cold beer. “You can imagine their reaction when I decided to leave the country. I had to move out in steps across Europe—England, then France, then Spain—before I dared drop the bomb that I was going across the ocean to America.”

Violet laughed. “It sounds like a well-thought-out escape plan. Do you go back to visit them often?”

“Honestly?” Doyle made a guilty face. “As little as I can. They’re always coming up with a new scheme to get me to move back home, usually involving some single village girl in whom I inevitably have no interest.”

“Ah, the age-old parental interference tactic: trying to tell you whom you should date.” Violet chuckled. Her cheeks felt flushed and she gulped down more of the icy mojito.

“More like trying to set up an arranged marriage,” Doyle grumbled. “Which is why having an ocean between us suits me just fine. Scarlett, my sister, comes to visit now and then. I love her, but she’s not much fun to take out. She doesn’t like hum… uh, people very much.”

Doyle stuffed a couple of fries in his mouth, appalled that he’d almost slipped up in front of Violet like that. He’d been about to say that his sister didn’t like humans, which was entirely true, but sounded rather odd considering he was supposed to be human. He’d never had a problem keeping his secret before. Apparently he needed to watch himself more carefully around Violet.

He glanced at her to see if she caught his stumble, but she didn’t appear to notice. Her eyes were bright and happy, and she was wearing a rather large smile. Relieved, he decided to change the subject.

“Well, enough about me. Tell me something about yourself.”

“Like what?” she demanded with a giggle.

“I don’t know,” his grin broadened at her playful mood. “Do you have any pets?”

“Yes,” she answered with an emphatic nod. “Lots of fish. They’re on a holiday feeder right now, and some of them are probably starving to death as we speak. They’re not very bright, you see,” she said with a rueful expression. “They’re used to eating the flakes from the top. But the feeder sinks to the bottom.”

Her eyes drifted away from his and she pointed across the deck. “Hey, isn’t that your friend from the boat? And I think he’s with my neighbor, Melody.”

He followed her gaze to find Manny waiting for a table with a slim, attractive red-head. Doyle waved them over.

Manny clasped Doyle’s hand and cast an interested look toward Violet. “Lindita, nice to see you feeling better. You too, hermano. Doyle was very cranky after you left today,” he added in a confidential tone to Violet, ignoring Doyle’s warning look. He put his arm around his female companion. “This is my lady friend, Melody. She is a beauty, no?”

Manny’s eyes glowed with adoration as he introduced the red-head, who was indeed beautiful. She was tall and slender, with clouds of curly red hair and blue-green eyes that appeared huge above her high cheekbones. The hem of her filmy blouse floated over the low waistband of her jeans, and a matching blue beret was perched at a slant atop her curls.

She wore the hat with aplomb, and Violet grinned, thinking her mom would have approved.

“Nice to finally meet you,” Doyle greeted. “Manny speaks of you highly. And often.”

Manny narrowed his eyes and shook his finger at Doyle, who smirked back at him.

“Nice to see you, Melody,” Violet added cheerfully. “And thanks again for offering to help me pack the other day. Why don’t you guys sit with us?”

They pulled up two more chairs, and the waitress came by for their drink orders.

“It is nice that you two ladies know each other already,” Manny commented with a pleased nod at Melody and Violet.

“Yes, Violet is staying in one of the villas up the street from mine,” Melody explained, looking sympathetic.

Violet smiled. All traces of sadness seemed to have fled from her blissfully fuzzy head. “Melody was nice enough to offer to help me pack up my parents’ house.”

“And the offer still stands,” Melody insisted. “I’m not working at the moment, and would be more than happy to come by and help. Maybe you’ll take me up on it now that I’m not such a stranger.” Her expression turned melancholy as she added, “Violet’s parents were very nice people.”

“Oh, lindita,” Manny tutted in sudden understanding, “I am very sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you, Manny. And I appreciate the offer, Melody. But let’s talk about something else,” Violet suggested brightly.

She was more than content to sit back and drink her fresh mojito as Doyle and Manny launched into an amusing story involving a woman who had paid extra to bring her cat snorkeling with her. She insisted that the unimaginatively named ‘Kitty’ would love snorkeling because he spent hours on top of the aquarium at home, dipping his face and paws into the water as he watched the fish.

The tale, not surprisingly, ended with a wet, terrified cat and its severely scratched owner demanding her money back.

Laughing, Violet finished her drink and excused herself to the ladies room, only to discover that her ability to walk in a straight line had been somewhat compromised. Fortunately, Melody went with her and prevented her from taking a rather nasty spill on a warped deck-board.

“Hermano,” Manny whispered, his eyes trailing worriedly after the girls, “how many of those has she had?”

Doyle followed his friend’s gaze to Violet’s empty mojito glass and he frowned. “I don’t know. A few. But I tasted one and they’re mostly mint soda.”

Manny chortled. “No, hermano, there’s a good shot of rum in there. That’s what happens with those fancy drinks—you don’t feel the liquor ‘til it bites you in the culo.”

Violet stumbled back to the table, Melody’s hand steady at her elbow, and dropped heavily into her chair. “I’m sorry you guys. I think I drank too much,” she announced.

“No need to apologize,” Melody assured her in a kindly tone.

Manny chuckled. “Not at all, lindita.”

“I didn’t realize how potent twigs and leaves could be,” Doyle joked.

Violet blinked at him, bemused. “Me either.”

Doyle gave her a guilty smile, hoping she didn’t think he was trying to get her drunk. And heaven help him if her faerie guardian thought so. “I think I should walk you home, though. When you’re ready,” he suggested, hesitantly.

“I think you’re right.” Violet realized she was having trouble focusing. “And I’m ready if you are.”

Doyle flagged the waitress and handed her some bills, keeping one eye on Violet as he did so. “Please allow me to buy you dinner,” he offered.

Violet nodded her thanks. She would normally have protested, but at the moment she couldn’t find it within herself to care.

They said goodbye to Melody and Manny, and Doyle helped Violet down the wooden ramp leading to the dusty parking lot. The sky had clouded over to obscure the moon and stars, leaving the night humid and dark. Doyle steered her toward a level stretch of sidewalk, bright with pooling light from the streetlamps. He draped his arm over her shoulders to help steady her, and sucked in a sharp breath when she snuggled into his side.

Her nearness drove him to distraction. She smelled so lovely, like an orchard in the sunlight. And her skin felt like satin where his hand rested on her arm. He longed to run his fingers over its softness. He told himself to think virtuous thoughts, but the friction of her body rubbing against his as they walked was a delicate torture.

“Have I thanked you properly for saving my life today?” she asked, her voice a melodic sigh.

He stiffened at the question. He could think of several ways he’d like to be properly thanked by the angelic temptress beside him.

“Well, in case I haven’t,” she said sweetly, “thank you, Doyle.” She hugged him tighter to her side for a moment.

He clenched his jaw, disgusted with his train of thought. He was obviously not fit to be walking her home. He should have asked Manny to do it.

He leaned down to place a chaste kiss on the top of her head. “Any time, Violet.”

She let out a contented murmur, and an unexpected tenderness moved through him. It didn’t quench the fire he felt for her, but it helped it to burn a little slower. They continued walking in silence and Doyle smiled to himself as he thought about the intriguing young woman at his side. He’d only known her for a few hours, but he already feared that he was becoming addicted to her company.

They were turning onto her street when a clap of thunder rumbled through the night, rattling the windowpanes of a garage door as they passed. Jagged bolts of lighting followed it across the sky, casting the neat row of villas in eerie brightness, just as the clouds burst open in a flash downpour. Doyle cursed, trying to shield Violet, but to his surprise she erupted in delighted laughter.

“I love storms!” She broke away from him and did a twirling spin with her face held up in supplication to the deluge.

Doyle snorted and shook his head. “You’re going to fall right on your can, Violet.”

She giggled. “Dance with me.” She took Doyle’s hands in hers, pulling him along with her contagious joy.

“You’re mad, you realize that,” Doyle laughed as he whirled her around.

She merely smiled up at him, her damp hair spilling down her back in a silken waterfall. Her eyes shone like jewels in the darkness, reminding him of nothing so much as a beautiful nymph that had stepped from the faerie realm to take on human form.

Doyle grinned down at her and decided that, if she was indeed mad, sanity was highly overrated.