Believe It or Not

by Tawna Fenske

“I hear you. He sure seems to love doing this.”

  Drew nodded and began restocking Sam’s tray with fresh cocktails for the bachelorette party at the corner table. “Jerry and Jamie were practicing all afternoon.”

  “Jamie’s a great teacher, isn’t he?”

  Teacher, Drew thought, dropping olives into martini glasses. Why had Violet been so hung up on that song? Maybe it wasn’t the song at all. Maybe she was just nuts. It would make sense. That sort of thing ran in families, didn’t it?

  “Hello there, earth to Drew…”

  He snapped back to attention at Sam’s chiding. She was smiling at him, but there was a hint of concern in her expression, too.

  “You okay, buddy? You seem sort of out of it tonight.”

  Drew sighed. “Look, Sam… it’s kind of slow tonight. Maybe I’ll just—”

  “I knew you had a date. Blonde or brunette?”

  “Sam—”

  “No wait, let me guess. That little redhead who tried to slip you her number the other night but couldn’t figure out how to spell phone.”

  Drew sighed. “Marcie. Or Macy. Or something like that. I went out with her last night.”

  He didn’t bother adding that it had been one of the most boring dates of his life. Since when had a buxom redhead failed to hold his interest?

  Okay, fine. He could pinpoint the exact date. It was the day Violet McGinn marched in with her tall boots and those crazy eyes and started sassing him about psychics and spouting random data and putting his hand in her shirt and—

  “Go home, Drew,” Sam said. “I’ve got things handled here. You’ve obviously got something going on.”

  Drew thought about arguing, but he just nodded. “Thanks, Sam. You’re the best.”

  She grinned. “Does that mean you’ll cover for me next weekend so I can take the kids to the beach?”

  “Anything you want.”

  “You’re a good man, Drew Watson.”

  “Don’t tell anyone.”

  By the time he’d grabbed his jacket and rattled off a few last-minute instructions to some of the entertainers, it was just after ten p.m. Early for a bar, but pretty damn late for Violet to be hanging out in a park with clients who could be crazy or…

  Okay, the crazy part was a given. They were seeing a psychic, after all. Still, there was bad crazy and there was good crazy. Good crazy could be sexy. Bad crazy could be dangerous.

  He really should check on her. That would be the gentlemanly thing to do.

  Then he thought about how soft and touchable she’d looked in that purple sweater, and suddenly his thoughts weren’t so gentlemanly.

  Before he’d even made up his mind where he was driving, he was following the road up to Council Crest Park. The gates closed at midnight, so in all likelihood, Violet would still be up there. He’d just drive past, make sure she looked safe and unharmed. Then he’d drive away. She’d never even know he was there.

  He reached over to turn down his stereo, but decided against it. Axl Rose was just starting to wail on the chorus of “Sweet Child o’ Mine.” No reason to miss that.

  As Drew cruised slowly through the parking lot, he caught site of her rental car. Just a few feet away stood Violet, her feet planted shoulder width apart as she stood there in the grass, looking up at the sky.

  She was still wearing the purple sweater, but she’d changed into a slim black skirt and tall, pointy boots. Her hair was loose and wild, floating over her shoulders in the light breeze. The night was almost cloudless for a change, and the moonlight pooled around her, illuminating her like a spotlight. She had a disheveled, untamed look that made Drew’s gut clench.

  God, she’s beautiful.

  Beside her was a thin woman in a tight top and a billowy skirt, wearing Birkenstocks and a dreamy expression. Drew hardly noticed her at all. He didn’t even blink. He was barely aware that his car was still moving, inching forward through the dark, mostly empty parking lot. All he could see was Violet.

  Suddenly, both women turned to look at him. He saw the recognition register on Violet’s face. Was she angry?

  Just surprised, he decided. He stepped on the brake and gave her a small wave. Violet nodded and turned back to the woman in the skirt. The two of them spoke for a minute, laughing and relaxed in the moonlight. The chirp of crickets nearly drowned out the sound of Portland traffic in the distance. He cracked his window just a tiny bit and inhaled the scent of damp moss in the trees.

  Violet glanced at him again, talking quickly now, gesturing at the woman. Drew could hear her voice, barely a murmur over the sound of the crickets and the stereo—

  Whoops. The stereo.

  He reached over and turned off Axl. The song was almost over anyway.

  He looked back at Violet, who was watching him oddly. She turned back to the woman and talked some more, stopping to point up at the moon. She was so lovely, silhouetted against a backdrop of dark trees, the city lights fanned out behind her like glitter.

  Drew winced. He sounded like a stalker. He was sure as hell acting like one, just sitting there in his car, staring at her in the darkness.

  He was just about to lift his foot off the brake and keep moving when Violet leaned forward and gave the woman a hug. Then the two of them headed off in opposite directions—the woman toward a tan Audi, Violet striding purposefully toward Drew.

  Even though he saw her coming, he still jumped when she tapped on the window. She didn’t wait for a response, just opened the passenger door and got in.

  “I thought that was you,” she said, smiling at him. “Showing up for your full-moon reading?”

  “Thanks, I already consulted my Magic 8 Ball about my impending lottery win. Apparently, ‘all signs point to yes.’”

  Violet laughed. “Better buy a ticket.”

  Drew smiled back at her, feeling warm in spite of the cool night air trickling through the open window. “I see you’re in better spirits than you were earlier.”

  “Sorry about the crying jag. I’m not sure what came over me. Hormones or something.” She gave a stiff little laugh. “That would explain a lot, actually. Why I was practically crawling in your lap last night, and five minutes later, yelling at you about Frank.”

  Drew studied her for a moment, a little surprised she’d broached the subject at all. “Hormones, huh? What’s my excuse?”

  “You’re a guy. You don’t need an excuse. You’re naturally more driven by lust.”

  “You think so?”

  She bit her lip and looked away. “Generally speaking.”

  “Want to know what I think?” Drew didn’t wait for an answer. He leaned closer and stroked her cheek with one finger. “I think you have untapped reserves of lust,” he whispered. “Barrels of lust. Lust you don’t even know exists, but it’s always right there under the surface, just waiting to boil over.”

  Violet met his eyes, looking startled. Shaken.

  And maybe, just maybe, a little lust-driven.

  She licked her lips. “I don’t—”

  “Yes you do.”

  “I’m not—”

  “Yes you are.”

  She laughed. “How do you know what I’m going to say?”

  “The psychic thing is rubbing off.”

  She was quiet for a moment, studying the stars through his sunroof. When she turned back to him, her eyes were glittery in the moonlight.

  “Was that Guns N’ Roses you were listening to as you pulled up?”

  Whatever he’d been expecting her to say next, it wasn’t that. “Good ear.”

  She nodded, and Drew watched her hair, dark and silvery, moving against the leather seat. He wanted to reach out and slide his fingers through it…

  “I just told that woman she was pregnant.”

  Drew stared at her. “What?”

  “My client. My mother’s client, whatever. I told her she’s pregnant.”

  Drew frowned, not sure if he was more confused by the turn in conversation or by what she was actua
lly saying. “I thought the object with this psychic crap was to be deliberately vague—not to tell the clients something that can be easily disproven.”

  She shrugged and looked out the window. “Why are you so sure I’m wrong?”

  “Statistically speaking—”

  “I wasn’t wrong. At least I don’t think so. She looked really surprised at first, but then said she’d been feeling a little funny and her breasts were tender and her period is five weeks late and—”

  “You can stop there.”

  Violet smiled. “Anyway, I think I’m right.”

  “You think?”

  “I know.”

  “Well in that case, let’s call the paper with the birth announcement. Or maybe we can still catch up to her and we can all go shopping for onesies and those things to mop up baby puke and—”

  He stopped when he realized Violet was scowling at him. “What?”

  “Why are you such a skeptic?”

  “Aren’t you the same woman who sat in that very seat less than a week ago and said, and I quote, ‘Psychics don’t exist’?”

  Violet looked out the window again. “I was drunk. You were taking advantage of my inebriated state.”

  Drew laughed. “Honey, I still have claw marks on my wrist from where you held on so I couldn’t pry my hand off your breast. Not that I’m complaining, but you really want to play the victim here?”

  Violet bit her lip and looked at the trees outside. She said nothing for a minute. Then she looked back at him, eyes flashing. “How did you know I’d be here tonight?”

  “Because you told me.”

  She frowned. “I did?”

  “When you were sobbing over the Van Halen song. What was that about, anyway?”

  She ignored the question. “So you came up here to make fun of psychics?”

  “Since when are you the great defender of psychics?”

  “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

  “I can only imagine.”

  He saw Violet’s cheeks pinken, but she didn’t take the bait. She did hold his gaze, those violet eyes unblinking, which was enough to make Drew forget his train of thought.

  “You didn’t answer me,” she said slowly. “Why did you come up here?”

  “I came up here to make sure you didn’t get dragged into the woods by some depraved lunatic.”

  “Oh.”

  “I’m thinking I should have let the lunatic have you. Maybe he’d know why you’re acting like such a nut job all of a sudden.”

  Violet’s expression softened and she reached out and touched his hand. Drew tried not to notice the way his skin hummed under the warmth of her fingertips.

  “Thank you, Drew,” she said quietly. “Not for the nut-job comment. I mean, it was nice of you to check on me. Really, I’m sorry I’m being such a bitch. It’s been a long day.”

  “For both of us.”

  “Why was it long for you?”

  Drew sighed. “I had a surprise OSHA inspection this morning. That wasn’t so weird, but the guy was asking a lot of questions about my square footage and which walls were weight bearing and which fixtures belonged to me and which ones came with the building.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I’m not sure he was really an OSHA inspector.”

  “Who else would he be?”

  “Someone scoping out the property. I heard through the grapevine that Frank put out some feelers about selling the building. Nothing too serious yet, but—”

  “Oh, no.”

  Drew shrugged. “It’s probably nothing, but Frank probably could make a good profit off the property. It’s in a good location.”

  Violet grimaced. “It’s probably my fault.”

  Drew said nothing. He hated to admit it, but the thought had occurred to him. Ten years he’d been in the building and the owner had never once hinted at selling. Now, just a few days after Violet had completely pissed him off, he was suddenly sniffing around the real-estate market?

  Drew shook his head.

  “What?” Violet asked.

  “Nothing. So are you done for the night?”

  “Yes. Celia was my last reading.”

  “You really told her she was pregnant?”

  Violet sighed. “It wasn’t a complete shot in the dark. Moonbeam had it in her notes that Celia and her husband have been trying to conceive for at least six months, and she did have a certain glow about her, and I noticed some dark pigmentation on her face, and—”

  “What?”

  “Melasma—also known as the mask of pregnancy. It’s pretty common.”

  “Your wealth of bizarre trivia astounds me.”

  She smiled. “I should get home. Thanks for coming by. It really helped me out.”

  “Helped you out?”

  “Made my night. Whatever.”

  Drew laughed. “If seeing me made your night, you need to get out more.”

  “I probably do.” She was quiet for a moment. “Let’s go somewhere.”

  “Now?”

  “Sure. Maybe Bannings for chocolate cake or back to the Portland City Grill for a drink. Unless you have a date or something?”

  Drew looked at his watch. “It’s eleven p.m. on Wednesday night. Any woman I’d pick up for a date at this hour would charge by the minute.”

  “Ah, that’s right,” she said, grinning at him. “You’re normally much more selective in your dating habits. Sam stopped by to thank me for filling in for her yesterday. We talked about you. She said you have a habit of dating bimbos.”

  “Is this conversation almost over?”

  Violet grinned. “She said that ever since you and your wife divorced, you’ve made it your mission to only date women who are the precise opposite of your ex.”

  “You can get out of the car anytime.”

  “She also told me you have commitment issues.”

  “The door handle is right there,” he said without venom. “Unlocked and everything.”

  She laughed. Apparently, she wasn’t buying his mock indignation.

  “Well anyway,” she said, “it explains a lot about you.”

  Drew frowned. “How much is this psychoanalysis going to cost me? Because if I’m paying for a full hour, I’ve got some dreams I’d like you to interpret.”

  “Oh, tell me about them,” she said, leaning closer and smiling up at him.

  “Well, there’s one where you’re naked and…”

  He stopped, a little startled at his own words. He hadn’t meant to say that out loud. He braced himself, waiting for the slap he probably deserved.

  But instead, Violet grinned at him.

  “Funny. I think I had that same dream.”

  And then she kissed him.

  Chapter 9

  Violet hadn’t meant to kiss Drew.

  Hell, she was annoyed with him for being a skeptic about psychics.

  Then she was annoyed with herself for forgetting she was a skeptic.

  Somehow her confusion got mixed up with the moonlight and the heady smell of damp earth and the buzz of pleasure that had been humming through her veins from the moment she’d spotted Drew in the parking lot, looking dark and smug and so damn hot.

  Before she had a chance to stop herself, she was grabbing the front of his shirt and yanking him hard against her. She lost all conscious thought, except the one that was screaming at her to find a way to kiss him right fucking now.

  It was more graceful when it happened in the movies. She yanked, he came flying forward, and their lips met with a lot more force than Violet intended. There was an audible click as their teeth collided.

  Violet started to pull away, embarrassed, but Drew grabbed the back of her head and held her there. His mouth was soft and hot, and she suddenly forgot the awkwardness and just lost herself in the sensation.

  He felt so damn good.

  They were both breathing hard now, Drew’s fingers sliding into her hair as he pulled her tighter against him. He was
n’t gentle about it, which only made Violet dizzier as she lost herself in the crush of his lips against hers, the firm planes of his chest pushed against her breasts.

  His mouth left hers, and Violet started to whimper in protest. She stopped when he began to nibble his way down her throat, alternating the softness of his lips with the roughness of his teeth against her pulse.

  “Oh,” Violet said, closing her eyes and tipping her head back. Her mind swirled with color and sensation and so damn much pleasure that she opened her eyes again to keep from passing out.

  Drew’s mouth was on her throat and his hand was inching its way up her rib cage as Violet opened her eyes and peered up through the sunroof at the stars. Pinpricks of light flickered against the darkness while the moon shimmered at the edge of the sky like a giant amber disk. She sucked in a breath as he caught her earlobe with his teeth and nibbled softly.

  “More,” she gasped, and pulled him closer.

  Drew didn’t argue. Instead, he moved his hand up under her sweater, his large palm cupping her breast and making her whimper. His thumb stroked her nipple through the thin satin, and Violet felt her whole world tilt.

  She grabbed at the hem of his shirt and yanked before remembering it wasn’t tucked in to start with. She slid her palms beneath it, gasping as the heels of her hands connected with solid muscle and skin and so much heat. She stroked his chest like that, delighting in the noise he made deep in his throat as her fingernails grazed his nipples. He responded by sliding his hand up her thigh, under her skirt, his huge palm cupping her ass.

  Violet moaned and slid one hand down his chest and over his button fly, her fingers stroking his erection through the soft denim of his jeans. She fumbled for his belt buckle, wanting to feel him everywhere—under her, on top of her, inside her. She gripped him again through the denim.

  “How does this move?” she gasped.

  Drew looked down at her hand on his crotch.

  “Not that,” she said. “The seat. I want it back farther.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said, and flipped a switch with his left hand. The seat began a slow crawl backward and Violet began a hasty crawl onto his lap. Her back scraped the steering wheel and her knee bumped something in the console, but she barely noticed. All she could think of was her desperate, urgent hunger to feel him moving inside her. She kissed him hard, pushing him back against the seat as she ground herself on him.