Passion

Chapter 9

Brian drove behind Amanda, noting the slow, careful way she maneuvered her car. He was on the verge of laughing out loud. He shook his head, bemused. He couldn't recall ever having such verbal skirmishes with a woman. Women didn't react to him that way. But damned if he didn't like it. It was fun.

For that matter Amanda was fun.

And he'd never thought of a woman that way before. She appeared totally immune to his flirting, but it wasn't because she was shy or withdrawn.

On the contrary. She was one of the most outspoken women he'd ever met. And intelligent. He enjoyed her company.

It was like having a pal, someone he could exchange mild insults with and still smile. But it was so utterly different with her being a female. It was as if a whole new faucet has been added to their relationship. It went a long way toward relieving his distraction over the mysterious and missing masked woman. And that in itself was a major feat.

Amanda pulled into her driveway and parked beneath a carport. Brian pulled up on the curb up front, then he stared. He wasn't sure what he'd expected, probably a mud-colored house with barren expanse of lawn and not a speck of color. She took him by surprise. Again.

Her house was a small cape cod cottage nestled at the end of a narrow side street. A farmers fields were on the right side of the house, a heavily wooded area to the left. Behind and in front of the white and yellow wooden structure was a well tended lawn. Daises were blooming everywhere, and her mailbox was designed to look like a small colorful barn.

Brian looked around captivated. There was a tire swing hanging from the gnarled branch of an ancient oak off the back corner of the house. A curving porch circling to the right of the front door had a rattan porch swing attached to the overhang.

"A real swinger, aren't you?"

Amanda shrugged as she dug her key from her purse. "I'm not and idle person. I don't like to sit sill, even when I am relaxing."

Brian tried to imagine that classic picture of a woman superimposed with Amanda  in a flowery dress,her hair let loose, swaying in the breeze and humming softly while her bare feet maintained a gentle motion of the swing.

He wasn't quite imaginative.

The inside of her house was also a contrast, so different from the woman he was getting to know. There was little furniture, only the basic necessities. It was an electric mix of modern and antique, light oak and glass, chintz material and delicate dollies. There was no photographs , but there was framed prints of the most outrages things. Each room appeared to have a theme.

The living room was spring, with a large, brass framed picture of a bee, busily collecting pollen from a daisy. Porcelain flowers decorated each table top and filled one curio cabinet.

The dining room, which was minuscule, was decorated with birds. A border of them circled the room, a dainty delicate figure sat looking over every corner, and in each plant on peeked from between the leaves.

The kitchen was whales.

He raised his eyebrows at her in question. "How did you choose whales, may I ask?"

Amanda had been busily putting their jackets on the coat tree and checking the stew. She looked at him-over her shoulder as she lifted the crock-pot lid. "One of the children at the school gave me one once. I said I liked it..." She smiled.

"They all decided to give you one?"

"Each class seems to take into their head that I need a new collection of something. But I don't mind. It makes for consistent Christmas presents. There are bunnies in the bathroom and cats in my bedroom."