Passionate Magic. Dawn Addonizio
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parked in the midst of several stacks of boxes. Doyle slipped into the red vinyl driver’s seat, encouraged when the interior light flicked on, and he found the keys tucked above the visor.
He grinned at the pewter depiction of a sprite hanging from the rearview mirror as he turned the key in the ignition. The motor rumbled to life on the first try. He clicked the remote for the garage door, counting a silent two for two when it worked as well, and carefully backed the car out into the street. He should be back before Violet even noticed he was gone…
Violet finished brushing the tangles from her hair and stood over her suitcases, debating what to wear. She was feeling ridiculously nervous at the prospect of opening the door and facing Doyle again. She chose a snug black t-shirt, with a feminine ruffle at the sleeves, which molded nicely to her breasts and flattered her waist. Then she pulled on a pair of soft khaki lounging shorts and added some dangly earrings to liven up the outfit.
Her stomach fluttering, she opened the door. Her senses were immediately assailed by an amazing smell, and she quizzically made her way to the kitchen. There stood Doyle, in a fresh t-shirt and shorts, flipping what appeared to be a giant omelet in one pan, while bacon sizzled enthusiastically in another. As if that wasn’t wonderful enough, he was making coffee. And he’d brought sugar and cream.
She jumped as the toast popped up, and Doyle saw her as he turned to check it. He gave her a hangdog grin, and her face slowly stretched into an incredulous smile.
“I’m sorry,” they both said at the same time, and then laughed.
“No, listen, Doyle,” Violet said anxiously. “I really appreciate you getting me home safe and taking care of me last night. I shouldn’t have snapped at you. I was just a little unnerved,” she felt her face grow warm and finished in a determined rush, “to find you in my bed and not remember how you got there.”
She looked so pretty standing there, a blush staining her freshly scrubbed cheeks, her raven hair gleaming beneath the soft kitchen lights. “It was my fault,” Doyle said automatically. “I should have slept on the couch.”
“No,” Violet denied, shaking her head. “You were fine. That bed is huge. I was just being priggish.”
Doyle grinned at her pronouncing herself a prude. “You are a prim and proper school teacher,” he joked. Her face started to fall into a scowl and he backtracked quickly, “I’m kidding. Your reaction was perfectly understandable. I shouldn’t have assumed it was okay to share the bed. And I promise you, I would never have taken advantage of you in such a state.”
The lines that had begun to form in her forehead smoothed away and he smiled in relief. But he couldn’t help teasing her just a bit more. “Other than that, though, was it really so terrible to wake up beside me,” he asked in a husky brogue.
Violet’s blush deepened and she didn’t answer. “Do you need any help with breakfast?” she asked, looking flustered.
Doyle jerked in surprise and hurried back to what was now sure to be extra crispy bacon and a browned omelet. That would teach him to discomfit his shy school teacher. “No, I’ve got it under control,” he replied with a grimace. “But I hope you like your breakfast well done.”
“It’s got to be better than the yogurt cups I’ve been eating for the past two days,” she said, grinning. “What’s in the omelet?”
“Tomato, mushroom, onion, and lots of cheddar,” he answered, taking it off the burner and splitting it in half with the spatula. He scooped one of the pieces onto a waiting plate, melted cheese bubbling and stretching out in long strings before separating.
“A man after my own heart,” Violet sighed. “I’ll set the table.”
Violet pulled out a couple of silky, tasseled placemats and matching cloth napkins, and lit the taper candle sitting at the center of the table’s mosaic swirl. In moments they were tucking into coffee and large plates of food.
“Mmf is really good!” she exclaimed around a mouthful of omelet.
Doyle smirked at her over his bacon. “You sound surprised.”
Her eyes crinkled with humor as she swallowed and took a scalding sip of coffee. “Not at all,” she denied. “I’m just not used to having guys cook for me.”
“No?” he teased. “Well, you’ve been hanging around the wrong sort, then. I always cook a woman breakfast after spending the night in bed with her.”
Violet snorted, refusing to touch that one. She did wonder, though, just how many other women had been treated to Doyle’s culinary talents. They ate in silence for a while, accompanied only by the clink of forks on ceramic plates and the faint twitter of birds from the garden.
Violet took a final bite and sat back with a sigh. “That was delicious. Thank you, Doyle. I must have been in the shower longer than I thought, for you to be able to go shopping and cook all that.”
“Actually, I borrowed your car,” Doyle admitted with a guilty twist of his lips. “I had to run home to walk my dog and get some dry clothes, so I just grabbed some stuff from my pantry while I was there. I only live a few blocks away. And I put the car right back where I found it. I hope that was okay.”
Violet looked surprised. “It’s fine. It was my parents’ car. But I love driving around in that old thing. I had a friend drop me off here because I’m planning on bringing it home with me.”
“I can see why.” Doyle grinned. “It’s a bit like riding in a time capsule. Not to mention that it’s probably built like a tank compared to most of the newer models.”
“Yeah.” Violet sighed. “My parents were old hippies at heart. It’ll be kind of like taking a piece of them with me. I’m getting rid of most everything else. Which reminds me, I should probably get back to packing,” she said regretfully.
“I’d like to help you, if you’ll let me,” Doyle offered. “I can clean, pack boxes, move stuff, whatever you need me to do.”
“Oh, Doyle. That’s very sweet of you, but you don’t have to do that. I’ve already kidnapped you for a night and finagled breakfast out of you. I’m sure you have other things to do today.”
“Nope,” Doyle disagreed bluntly. “It’s my day off, and I’d like nothing better than to spend it with you, whatever you’re doing.”
Violet’s heart fluttered at the statement. How could she say no to that? “Okay,” she conceded softly.
“Good.”
The air between them practically vibrated with electricity. With a word and a smile, he quickened her pulse and made her ache for his touch. Did he feel it too? Violet took a shuddering breath and attempted to keep her expression casual.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He leaned forward to brush a kiss across her forehead, and then briskly began clearing away their plates.
Violet’s heart skipped a beat, maybe two, and it was a moment before she remembered to inhale again. She had almost believed he would kiss her. Not that chaste peck he’d given her, but a real kiss, full on the lips, preferably with the use of his clever tongue.
She really needed to get a handle on herself. She debated the wisdom of taking another, much colder, shower before they spent the day cooped up in the villa together.
She sighed and rose to take over the cleanup. She felt bad leaving it to Doyle after he had cooked and then kindly offered to help her pack.
∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞
Doyle scrubbed furiously at a plate, silently applauding his self control. He ought to win a medal for restraining himself from tasting Violet’s delectable lips just now. He subjected a coffee mug to equally rough treatment, as he tortured himself with thoughts of where that kiss might have led, with that lovely king-sized bed beckoning from the other room.
No,