Storms of Passion (6 page)

“No, none.”

“Divorced, then?”

“No, never married.” Vivian glanced at the blue-haired woman with a tight bun held severely on the top of her head.

“Um hum.” Ethel stood to stow the register in the drawer. “I’ll show you up to your room then, will I?” She walked around the heavily polished desk, the high gloss repelling any thought that dust would dare settle.

“Yes, please.”

Despite her frank questioning, Vivian liked Ethel instantly, seeing her as a friendly sort who was one of those people who needed to
fit
everyone she met.

“If you could hold my dinner until I return from a quick run, I would appreciate it.” Vivian smiled.

Ethel frowned. “What are you running from?”

“I’m not running from anything.” Vivian laughed. “I’m simply cramped from the long travel. I think a good stretch would be best to help me relax.”

Ethel’s face seemed to lack any form of expression, as if she couldn’t understand someone’s need to exercise.

Ethel guided Vivian to her room, unlocked the door, and shuffled back down the corridor. Vivian closed the door and glanced around the room. More spacious than it appeared from the outside, a dormer window with a cushioned seat graced one wall, while the bed, piled high with a fluffy duvet, filled the one opposite, leaving room for a bathroom and a small chest of drawers to complete the space.

Pulling out her sneakers, shorts, and T-shirt from her luggage, she quickly changed. She checked the charge on her iPhone, laced up her runners, and was stretching her legs when Ethel knocked on the door.

She handed Vivian a map. “Don’t get lost, dear. My number is on the back and I’ve circled where you are now.”

Vivian smiled. There was the use of
dear
again that warmed Vivian’s heart. It made her feel special. Maybe the older woman had emotion after all and was simply incapable of showing it on her face.

Taking the map from Ethel, Vivian scanned it quickly, noting both the circle indication for the house and the number before folding it neatly in her pocket. She secured her iPhone in her arm-band. “Okay, thanks. I’ll be about an hour.” She knew she’d be a while because her run always turned into a walk near the end, especially when nature captured her attention.

“You have a lovely, figure, dear. You’ve no need to worry about losing weight, pretty thing like you. Even as tall as you are, some man will find you attractive,” Ethel said, walking with Vivian down the tall staircase and onto the veranda where she settled in her rocker on the front porch of the aged Victorian house overlooking the water.

Vivian thanked Ethel again for the map and jogged down the steps to begin her run. She ran along the narrow road, cranking the music
while admiring the view. Feeling the breath of a breeze on her face and the taste of salt in the air, she lengthened her stride.
The smell is amazing. Fresh, clean and ageless
.
God, this is just what I needed
.

She passed a small marina and with sailing boats in the water. Vivian didn’t know a schooner from a yacht, but she enjoyed watching them skim over the mirror-like surface.

Beads of sweat trickled down her cheeks. The runner’s high of endorphins raced through her veins, waylaying any jet leg crash. Exhilaration spurred her on, feeling excited and free.
Free to just be myself.
There was freedom in the anonymity of travelling alone.

Reaching into her arm-band holder, she cranked the music louder.
Mother would certainly frown if she heard me listening to racy dance music. That would never do. She would only think, yet again, that I am a child who is unwilling to grow up and act my age. I tried to be conservative like her and tried to be what her society expected of me. But I’m not that person and never will be. I want to be wild and run free, barefoot even, and be who I am on the inside. Time for an identity readjustment—a phrase for the thirty-something, unmarried women who weren’t quite sure of their path.

Winded, Vivian slowed her pace to a walk, changing course from the track she had been following to a trail leading to the rocky beach. Music still played strong in her ears as she walked along the uneven ground. She admired the lapping water and the houses in the distance that looked like a painted picture on a Monet across the harbour. The wharf was up ahead and small cottages that reflected their own private get away.

Finding a large, flat rock to sit on, she tilted her face toward the last rays of the evening sun. Enjoying the sun’s warmth on her skin, she bopped her head, singing along with the music as sweat poured down her face and neck.

On her stride back to the lodging, she would switch to an audio book. Listening to a good book on tape was part of her cool down method, but for just a few minutes more she would continue to enjoy the heavy base rock and pop tunes—body moving music she wanted to lose herself into.

****

Tuck stepped on the back porch of his parent’s home, fitting his sun glasses over his eyes when he heard something. He paused to listen closer. Someone was singing down on the beach. He followed the sound of the female voice.

The identity of the singer couldn’t be anyone he knew. Surly no one from town would perch below his parent’s house to sing pop music off key. Curious, he strode to the end of the lawn and glanced over the edge, where grass turned to a rocky ledge leading to the beach. He did a double-take at the vision of the woman from the airport. That was her, no doubt about it.

There was no mistaking that long neck and the inky-black hair even more spiky than earlier today. Lowering his glasses down his nose, Tuck watched as she stretched her legs in front of her, crossing her feet at the ankles. What lovely long legs she had. She leaned back as the sun kissed her smooth skin. His fingers ached, watching her weave her fingers through her cropped hair and rubbing the sweat soaked layers from her skin. Supporting her position with one hand behind her back, she continued to lounge on the rock, as if the beach was her living room. Her head bobbed as she sang. Her feet swayed across the sand.

Tuck looked right and left. She’s tonight’s main attraction and she doesn’t even know it. She obviously didn’t realize how close the houses were to the beach, and that there was no such thing as privacy in a small town.

He recognized the song as she continued to sing, slightly off key, and he wondered if she’d give voice to the explicit parts of the song as well.

He smiled, nodding his head, completely amused. There was no doubt in his mind now, this had to be the elusive Vivian. Vivacious Vivian. The name absolutely suited her.

Her sudden move to sit up straight and view her iPod caused him to jump. The song she was listening to, along with the spell he had been under, were both over. Confident he couldn’t be seen standing on the higher embankment, and shrouded by trees, Tuck returned to spying on the beautiful lady at the water’s edge.

Vivian fiddled with her iPod and stretched her legs—those long legs extending and reaching in such flexible ways to set a man’s imagination running wild. She saw the wooden stairs leading to the path back to the roadway. She then walked with purpose across the rocky beach toward the stairs, completely oblivious to anyone watching her. The residents along the beach knew how to be invisible to strangers during tourist season.

Tuck was amused by the minor transgression of trespassing across the lawn as Vivian scrambled up the neighbour’s bank and started toward the road, ignoring the stairs down the beach for such a purpose. A bit of a wild child she was.

Young Marston walked around the edge of his house bordering Tuck’s parent’s property, as though he happened to be going that way. Tuck knew better. The young hound dog. The randy twenty-something kid, who considered himself a man, had probably been watching Vivian the whole time.

Tuck continued to watch from behind a large oak, shielded by the foliage of the trees. He saw Marston wind himself to approach the lovely tourist. “Hey ya,” Marston said as she made to walk past.

Vivian stopped—eyes wide, as if slightly startled at being caught. Marston’s eyes were fixated on her breasts. She kept her composure, popping one ear bud from her ear in a fluid, graceful motion. Vivian turned to say a polite hello to Marston. Though Tuck couldn’t tell for sure, but he was almost certain the boy’s eyes were exploding from their sockets, seeing Vivian’s nipples pushing through the thin fabric of her damp tank top.

She had a nice body Tuck would love to see right next to his. Her breasts were ripe and full, screaming to be touched. And those nipples, Tuck wanted to run his thumb over them and watch them bud, then suckle them...

What am I thinking!
Tuck shook his head. His mother would smack the side of his head if she caught him peeking at a woman from behind a tree as though he were a school boy. His mother would admonish him that Vivian was a guest in their house, a client, and by all accounts under their protection while in MacIntosh. A woman not to be ogled by sex-craved males.

“Whatcha listening to?” The younger boy’s eyes were roaming uncontrollably. “Something good, I’d imagine.”

“No, nothing special.” Vivian appeared completely unaware of the audience she had drawn. “I like audio books. You know the books on tape where the narrator reads the story to you. I find them relaxing.”

“You don’t say.” Marston grinned like an innocent child caught doing something wrong. “I’ll have to download one of those and see if it works on me.”

“Yeah, okay.” Vivian started to walk away.

“You’re not from around here.” Marston attempted to halt her escape. “I can tell.”

“No, I’m just visiting for a couple of weeks.” Vivian glanced over her shoulder, still moving along, albeit slowly.

Good going girl
. Tuck peered between the branches.
Don’t give that boy any more attention then he deserves
.

“I’m going to learn to sail, as weird as that may sound. Well, probably not weird to you, because you live here. But, I’m going to try anyway.”

“Oh, ya.” Marston followed Vivian down the path. “With the MacLean’s? Daniel, Nate, or Randy?”

She paused, her teeth showing briefly as she bit her bottom lip. Tuck liked those lips. Pink, not too full, but wide and full of promise. Lips that Tuck would welcome a kiss from.

“I don’t know. I have only been talking with Mrs. MacLean so far.”

“Oh, ya.” Marston continued to follow her toward the road.

Tuck could sense Vivian’s nervousness as she glanced around her surroundings and her fingers curled to fists. She was looking for an escape.

Time to save her from the village idiot. Tuck strode, with what he hoped was a casual gait, toward her.

She raised her clear green eyes to his. “Hello.” Her voice whispered relief.

“Ms. Mitchell?” Tuck extended his hand. He nodded at Marston, receiving a dirty look in return. “I’m Tuck MacLean. I missed you at the airport.” He strived to appear smooth, tucking his thumbs loosely in the front pockets of his pants. “Dad got mixed up on the plaque card and I thought I was looking for a Margaret, not a Vivian.”

“Oh.” She shook his outstretched hand.

For as much as Vivian’s pointed buds deserved attention, unlike Marston—junior leach that he was, Tuck kept his eyes levelled on hers. Holding her hand, he studied her face to see if she recognized him from the airport. His heart sank unexpectedly as he registered her frown in confirmation of his identity.
Shit, she probably remembered my lame-ass remark
about her height
.

She released his hand to twine hers together in front of her. Her lovely eyes went cool and her face scrunched. “Yes, I recall bumping into you.”

Though Tuck’s father made a mistake on the plaque card, Tuck’s mother insisted they make up for the error by ensuring Vivian was treated extra special when she arrived for her first lesson. Tuck had been on his way to the flower shop and then the Mariner’s Roost, prior to being side-tracked by her singing on the beach. The general plan was to ply her with flowers and uncompromising maritime hospitality. His ma thought the flowers would be a nice touch.

Unperturbed by her cold gaze, Tuck forced his best smile. “My mother has no patience for blunders. Our clients are top priority. Ma likes everything perfectly arranged and the organization to run smoothly. Unfortunately, we live by the sea with a business dependent on the whims of Mother Nature, so business for us seldom runs without a setback. We apologize for the mistake at the airport and hope to make it up to you.”

****

Vivian forced a smile. “Your mother sounds lovely. I am looking forward to meeting her tomorrow.”

Tuck glanced over his shoulder. “She’s already anticipating meeting you.”

Vivian followed his stare to a blue wood-sided house with three gables. “Is this your house?”

“Oh, no.” He shook his head. “This is home base. Ma runs the business outta here. My father operates the actual tours on the family dock.” Tuck laughed. “I keep expecting her to come marching around the corner at any moment.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I guess I shouldn’t be walking across the lawn.” Feeling out of her comfort zone, Vivian squeezed her hands tight.
Damn, this was not the first impression I had hoped to portray
.

“Hey, we’re a small town.” He waved his hand to dismiss her concern. “The ground is for walking, and the sea is for sailing. That’s why you’re here, right?”

“Yes.” She kicked a rock back into the landscaping before lifting her gaze to Tuck, liking that she had to look up to meet his eyes. “To be honest though, I don’t remember seeing you at the airport…outside of bumping into you at the phone booth.” She didn’t voice that if she had she seen his face in a crowd, she would have remembered it. That square jaw, slightly ruddy cheeks, with just a mist of five o’clock shadow, and those eyes—wow. Even wearing glasses, as he was now, she could still make out their stormy depths that sent a shiver straight down her backbone.
Yes, I would definitely notice him in a crowd
.

So much for the eighteen-year old she imagined getting reprimanded by Lynette. This was no kid standing in front of her. This solid mass of rugged hardness was all man. She could barely maintain a conversation when her breath seemed lost just by making contact with those stormy eyes.