LITMIR.BIZ

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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

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