A Touch of Fae
By
J.M. Madden
Copyright © 2014 by J.M. Madden
All Romance Ebooks Edition
Cover Art by Tugboat Designs
Editing by Mary Yakovets
This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Do not take part in piracy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Any logistical, technical, procedural or medical mistake in this book is truly my own.
Donna and Robyn, as always, you are the best cheerleaders!
I have to thank my street team and all of the ladies that volunteered to beta-read for me – Mayas, Anima, Karen, Mistie, Sandie, Becky, Andrea and Teresa. I appreciate all of the input!
This book would not have been created if I hadn’t had the unending support of my husband and family. You encourage me in all things, even when you don’t know what exactly I’m doing… Thank you! I love you guys!
And to the readers – no, this isn’t my normal military romance but I’ve had enough of you tell me that you would read anything of mine that I thought I would put this out. It’s been on my computer for a good while waiting for some attention, so I hope you love it as much as I do.
Happy reading!
‡
A
s soon as
the sleek black Ferrari pulled into the parking lot, Violet knew she was going to have issues that day. Not with the car, certainly. It was a high-end model, but nothing she couldn’t work on. What gave her pause were the two men climbing out of the vehicle.
They had been here before and it had been everything she could do not to stare. Her senses had hummed with awareness that day, just like they were beginning to now. Grandad had been alive then and had taken their attention, leaving her to watch them avidly from the shadows of the garage.
Violet remembered seeing them meet Grandad in the lot, shaking his hand like they were old friends. They talked for a good while, motioning with their hands, laughing. Then the two men shook her grandfather’s hand again, climbed into their car and left. She remembered the incident clearly because later that night she had one of the most vibrant dreams she’d ever had before. Grandad’s eyes had shone with an ethereal light as he leaned over her bed and whispered a story of lost love to her. Violet had heard the stories before, but this time…this time she could envision the characters dancing through the air. Ephemeral animals pranced across her carpet, never quite solid enough to identify. But this time when he told her she was meant for a great love, she could almost envision the man standing across the room.
Was it her own mind that made her see the auburn-haired visitor in the apparition? Or her Grandad’s suggestion?
Those fantasies haunted her.
Hell, last night she’d had the same dream again.
It was surreal to see the same man standing in the parking lot now. Huge did not even begin to describe him. He was massive. As in, she was amazed the tiny speedster had been able to contain him, massive. At least six and a half feet tall with glorious dark auburn hair curling over his collar. Wrap-around shades protected his eyes from the late afternoon sun and he raised a hand to shield them even more to look around. Not that there was much to see in Pickerington, Kentucky. A small town square, a few stores, several beer joints. Certainly nothing that would require the presence of such an incredibly eye-catching man.
And that suit.
Not a buy off the rack kind of suit. But a ‘paid four thousand dollars for’ custom, handmade black suit that fit his massive body to perfection, along with a plain white shirt. Even from across the parking lot she could tell it was handmade. Certainly nothing off the rack would fit him. A little man in a Manhattan basement stitched his fingers to the bone working on this suit.
Dragging her eyes away from the first man, she looked at the second and found herself just as fascinated. No, he wasn’t as eye-catching as the giant, but he definitely had his own masculine appeal. His suit was just as well made, though a bit flashier. A bright blue shirt shimmered beneath the pale charcoal wool and the colors seemed chosen to fit him. Dark, mahogany colored hair was shaved close to his neck, but left long enough in front to take advantage of a natural cowlick curling Superman-style over his broad forehead. Healthy, olive-hued skin stretched over a classically symmetrical bone structure with pouty, almost effeminate lips. Even from here she could see flashing hazel eyes crinkle with incredulous laughter as they looked around the shabby town center.
Violet knew they had to have made a wrong turn or something. There was no possible reason for two men that good-looking to be here, other than by accident.
For the third time. They looked different now. More mature. They’d been striking years ago but now they were downright devastating, sensual appeal rolling off them.
Too bad they hadn’t been around last night.
She jerked back from the dirty window, almost knocking over a display of windshield wipers. Last night, as she wrapped up her little vibrator and shoved it in the drawer, she had griped that there were no decent men in this stinking town.
“Why can’t I find one—no, two actually—decent men for a good screw? Who don’t smell like beer or cigarette smoke? Or do grotesque things with their bodies?”
Her voice echoed through the apartment. There was no response, of course. Not that she expected one. But she’d sent her wishes into the ether, hoping.
Was this the universe’s response?
It was eerie that the warm-up to her play had been envisioning these two walking into the shop all those years ago. Was it ten now? Similarly dressed, walking side by side just as they were now.
What a freaking, mind-blowing coincidence.
The two men met at the front of the car and were now heading toward the office door.
With a groan, Violet pulled away from the window and began smoothing her hair. Had she even remembered to brush it this morning? Oh yeah, it was mostly in a ponytail. Quickly she removed the elastic, scraped the thick stuff back from her face and twisted the elastic back in. Looking down, she pursed her lips in annoyance. There wasn’t much that could be done about the grease-covered overalls that protected her clothes. Or the ten pounds of leather and rubber bound boots on her feet.
She had no more time to worry. Looking up, she watched as the tired office door stuck for a moment then opened wide with a screech of hinges. And in they stepped. Two of the most glorious…beings she had ever seen, or would ever want to see. Her tongue cleaved to the roof of her mouth as they approached and Violet thought she was going to fall over in shame. Why was she standing here like she was stupid?
Straighten up, Violet! Even though they look good they’re probably as disgusting as every other man you’ve ever met
. The stale air freshened with the introduction of a popular men’s cologne, giving lie to her private thought.
Clearing her throat, she turned away for a moment to position herself behind the counter.
They’re in the shop so they must have business
. That finally sharpened her attention. Grandad would be ashamed if he could see her panting this way.
The smaller of the two, smaller being the six-footer, smiled at her with careless charm.
“Good afternoon,” he drawled, flashing his pearly-white smile. He then proceeded to give her a scorching survey from the top of her head to her belly, lingering a little too long on her overall covered breasts. The rest of her body was hidden from view by the counter and Violet was so extremely thankful. If he had surveyed her clear down to her toes, she would be a molten puddle of goo spreading across the floor. Just the two-second glance had a slow wash of heat creeping up her neck and throughout her body. Surely he couldn’t see her breasts through the thick blue cotton?
Flicking a glance to the door, she noticed that the giant had slipped into the only shadow in the office, leaning heavily against the ancient Pepsi machine. How on earth had he managed that? He still had his shades on as well. A frown pulled at her eyebrows before she forced it away. What concern was it of hers that he was still wearing his sunglasses? None whatsoever.
It just made him damn sexy.
Mr. Charm was now leaning forward on the counter, resting his elbow on the dirty plastic placemat advertising sparkplugs. The grease and dust did not seem to bother him. It was bothering Violet though. She wanted to clean the counter before she allowed him to ruin his beautiful suit. Forcefully she shoved her grimy hands with their chipped and cracked nails into her pockets. These men had come to her for some service. Why should she be ashamed of what she did for a living?
Straightening her back, she took a small step back from the counter and Mr. Charm’s blindingly white smile.
“Can I help you gentlemen?” she asked finally.
Mr. Charm suddenly clutched his chest, turning to his companion and spewing out a bunch of words that sounded like Italian. A slight smile tipped up the corners of the giant’s lips and he gave a single nod of his head, but he didn’t say anything. Turning back to her, the Italian motioned with his hands in apology.
“Sorry,
bella
. Sorry. You surprised us, is all.”
Looking at him oddly, she tried to decide what he was talking about.
“Your voice is like a mellow Irish whiskey. A little rocky at first but oh so smooth once you get going. He was right.”
Violet felt her fair skin wash with color. Was this guy actually hitting on her? People had commented on her raspy, sex-kitten voice before, but never with the intensity he just had. She shifted uncomfortably and found she was reluctant to say anything else. Clearing her throat and trying to lighten her voice, she straightened behind the counter.
“He who?” she asked.
The Italian smiled and glanced back at the auburn-haired giant before facing her again. “A … friend of ours. He said the first time he heard your voice he almost embarrassed himself in his pants.”
Violet gasped, stunned at how bold he was. The color that had been receding from her cheeks seconds ago flooded back.
“Who was this man?” she demanded. “Somebody whose car I worked on?”
Not that knowing who he was would clue her in. She had a terrible head for names and faces. Remembering a face was not the problem. Matching the name to the face was. She could not remember anybody commenting on her raspy voice recently, though.
The Italian straightened from his slouch, making soothing motions with his hands. “It was nobody who came in here. He heard your voice by chance at a little restaurant several years ago. He struck up a conversation, asked you to dinner, and the rest of the night is, ahh, history. Yes? You parted company in the morning light, never to speak again. My friend, though,” the Italian shook his head ruefully, “he say you were the best …encounter he’s ever had with a woman.”
