Free Storms of Passion by Lori Power Page A

radio talk show than a morning greeting. “Is your mother at home? I want to thank her for the flowers. They were lovely.”
    “Ah, what? No. I’m glad you liked them.” Tuck gripped the screwdriver tightly in his left hand, completely baffled as to why he seemed a loss for appropriate conversation every time he encountered this woman. He took a deep breath. “Ma went to run some errands. She told me to tell you she’ll be back in just a bit, if you want to come in and wait.”
    “Oh, no, I don’t want to be any trouble.” Vivian turned to walk away.
    He didn’t want her to leave. Acting before thinking, Tuck quickly rubbed his free palm along his trousers before placing it to rest on her arm, just as she was about to leave. He had seen beautiful women before. Hell, he married the original trophy wife. But with Vivian, he seemed to be tongue-tied and at a loss for sensibility, which wasn’t like him. He hadn’t been at a loss for words since a girl in eighth grade let him see her boobs.
    “You’re no trouble. My mother wanted to meet you in person and show you around.” Tuck dropped his tools back in the box, hoping to cover his discomposure. “Come inside and I’ll put the kettle on for some tea.”
    “Tea would be nice. Thank you.” Vivian stepped over his tools as he held the door wide for her to enter the kitchen. “Your house is beautiful. It’s just what I would expect in a fishing community. I love the red door, by the way. I did notice yesterday that many of the homes paint their doors rather vividly. I saw purple and yellow. I will have to think about something like that for my place.”
    With her back to him, Tuck breathed deeply, trying to identify the flavor of her scent. “I don’t know how it started. The door painting, I mean, but it is different.” He closed the door, and then opened it again, testing the new hinges. “This isn’t my house, though. Well, not any more. I grew up here.” Tuck coughed to cover his babbling. “My mother doesn’t want the original nature of the house ruined with anything too modern looking, which is why I was cursing those hinges on the screen door.”
    “Oh, she’s right.” Her hands linked together as she glanced around the kitchen. “I live in an aged cottage myself, which was an original 1929 farmstead. Nowhere near as old as this home and about a fifth of the size. But I love it just the same. It’s not just the character, it’s the feel and the spirit of the house. My cottage is homey and this house has the same atmosphere. A family home.”
    “Would you like a tour?” What? Did I really just offer to show her around? His tongue spoke before his brain had a chance to catch up.
    “I would love a tour. But are you sure? You seem busy.” She pointed to the tools and hardware scattered on the floor.
    “Ma would love for me to show the place off.” Forgetting about the tea, he led the way out of the kitchen to the rest of the house. “My mother is very proud of the house.”
    “She should be.”
    After Vivian ohhed and ahhed over every detail, noticing the smallest of things like the knobs on the counters. Tuck guided her to the basement. He wanted to show her there was more to the MacLean’s than being ancient mariners.
    “How did you manage to create this space?” Vivian waved her hand around the developed office space.
    He was unaccountably pleased with her reaction as though it were a direct reflection on him. Tuck noticed how genuinely wide-eyed she appeared to be over the room, which resembled a modern day office you would see in a high rise professional building. It was hard to believe with all of the natural light from the large windows that they were in a basement.
    “It took some doing.” Tuck smiled with pride. The transformation had been his idea. He had a client in the city that renovated his Victorian home to add a dental office. “We had to lift the house, which was quite a process, and pour a deeper basement as these