by Tawna Fenske
“Should we?” Drew looked at her a moment, then shook his head. “Never mind. None of my business, right?”
He glanced away, then frowned at the television. “What the hell are you watching?”
She followed his gaze to the TV screen, where two porcupines were engaged in an enthusiastic act of copulation.
“It’s a special on unusual mating rituals in the animal kingdom.”
“Is that your idea of porn?”
She smiled in spite of herself. “It’s fascinating.”
“I’m certain it is. Is this how you acquire so much random trivia?”
“I’ve been learning a lot. Did you know that female hyenas have a pseudopenis?”
“A what?”
“A fake penis. It’s basically an enlarged clitoris the hyena can erect at will. In order to mate, the smaller, meeker male has to insert his real penis into it and—”
“This may be the hottest thing a woman has ever said to me.”
She laughed. “If you came here to seduce me, you’re not off to a very good start.”
“That’s actually not why I came here,” he said, sounding surprisingly sober as he sat up straighter. “I came to apologize. For yelling at you earlier today. And for grabbing you. Well, I’m actually not that sorry about grabbing you, but the yelling… that was bad.”
Violet swallowed and resisted the urge to reach out and touch his arm. “It’s okay.”
“No it’s not. I can be kind of a hothead sometimes, but I shouldn’t have gotten so angry. I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry, too,” Violet said slowly. “My mom told me about your ex-wife, so I understand now why you reacted the way you did about Jamie.”
Drew frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“I just thought… well, I thought maybe that’s part of the reason you’re so upset about Jamie. About any psychic conferring with someone close to you. Telling them something you don’t want them to hear.”
Drew closed his eyes and leaned back against the sofa. Violet watched warily, wondering if she’d said the wrong thing. Wondering if he was going to fall asleep or pass out. Maybe she should just cover him with a blanket. Maybe she should call him a cab. Or maybe she should give him a quick kiss on the forehead and—
“My wife didn’t leave me because of a psychic reading,” Drew said, opening his eyes. “My wife left me because it was a lousy marriage and we were lousy for each other. She just happened to beat me to the door.”
“Oh,” Violet said.
“I knew when I caught myself thinking Jamie was the best part of the whole union that the marriage was probably doomed. Catherine just figured it out faster than I did.”
Drew held her eyes for a moment and Violet felt her breath catch in her throat. From the corner of her eye, she saw him start to lift his hand. Then he stopped, dropping it back in his lap, and Violet couldn’t help but wonder if he’d intended to touch her. His eyes still held hers, the electric blue of them reminding her of the sapphire ring Moonbeam used to wear.
She broke the gaze first. “You need more water.”
She grabbed his glass and stood shakily, feeling his eyes on her as she stumbled toward the kitchen again. In the background, the television droned on.
“The bonobo is a species of great ape, also known as Pan paniscus. Sexual relations play a significant role in bonobo society, with sexual acts used as a form of greeting, a means of conflict resolution, and in exchange for food.”
Violet glanced at the refrigerator. “Can I get you anything to eat?”
“Will I have to exchange sex for it?”
“What?”
“Like a bonobo. Not that I’m protesting. It actually seems like a pretty good arrangement.”
“I didn’t mean—”
“I know, Violet. I was kidding. I’m fine. Come back and sit down.”
Violet glanced at the bottle of Pinot Noir on the counter and thought about grabbing a glass for herself.
“Bonobos have been observed tongue kissing, engaging in face-to-face copulation, participating in mutual masturbation, and performing oral sex on members of…”
“You can change the channel if you want,” Violet called.
“Why would I want to change the channel? This is the best thing I’ve seen all month.”
Definitely no wine, Violet thought. She flushed and gripped Drew’s water glass in one hand before trudging slowly to the living room and handing it to him.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
He took a small sip and set the glass aside. Then he looked at her again. “Violet, we should talk.”
She looked down at her hands and swallowed. “If it’s something serious, do you think it should wait until you’re sober?”
“I’m not drunk. I am very lightly buzzed, and that’s only because you’re everywhere—at the bar, on my dates, on my stereo. I can’t get you out of my head.”
Violet started to bite her lip again, then stopped. She flicked her eyes to the TV, where a pair of snails were circling each other in a flirtatious fashion.
“Though snails have both male and female sexual organs, they do not self-fertilize. Snails’ genitalia are located on their necks, behind their eye stalks.”
She glanced back at Drew, who was grinning broadly.
He reached up and skimmed a finger behind her ear. “Does that mean we’ve had sex?”
“What?”
“I was kissing your neck the other night,” he said. “In a snail’s world—”
“We should stop.”
“We aren’t doing anything.”
Violet closed her eyes and concentrated very hard on her breathing. Slow and steady, not wild and lust fueled or frantic and passionate. Nice and easy.
“You’re not my type,” she said. “And I’m not your type. This is a bad idea.”
She opened her eyes to see Drew still grinning at her.
“Is that why you’re touching me?” he asked.
She looked down to see that she was, in fact, gripping his thigh through his jeans. She wasn’t sure how it had happened, but seeing her fingers fixed around that denim-clad muscle didn’t do much to make her want to draw her hand away.
“The argonaut, or paper nautilus, is a species of octopus with a highly divergent sexual dimorphism. While females can reach four inches, with shells spanning eighteen inches, the male of the species is only three-quarters of an inch long.”
“Poor guy,” Drew murmured, not looking at the TV. “Size matters. Or so I’m told.”
Violet felt her stomach clench, remembering the feel of his erection pressed into her palm through his jeans when she’d touched him in his car the other night.
Based on her cursory examination, Drew Watson had nothing to worry about in that department. It also said something about the old wives’ tale about the correlation between the size of a man’s hands and the size of—
“The male argonaut has a special tentacle known as a hectocotylus. He uses his hectocotylus to produce a ball of spermatozoa, and when he encounters a female of the species, he detaches the hectocotylus to swim toward the female and…”
“So he removes his dick and sends it to her,” Drew mused, sliding his hand over Violet’s and holding it in place on his thigh. “Convenient.”
Violet licked her lips. “Seems like that would defeat the purpose.”
“Depends on the purpose you have in mind.”
“Did you know that most snakes have two penises, also known as hemipenes?”
“Is this supposed to be turning me on? Because it kind of is.”
“You’d be turned on by an armchair.”
“If you were sitting in it, yes.”
Violet flushed. “Drew, I don’t think we should—”
Her protest was silenced by Drew’s mouth moving over hers. She kissed him back, not remembering anymore why she wanted to protest in the first place.
Somehow, she found herself crawl
ing on top of him, straddling him the way she had the other night in his car. She was wearing thin cotton shorts this time and panties under that, but she could still feel every inch of him straining against the fly of his jeans.
His hands slid around her back and he pulled her hard against him. Violet whimpered at the feel of her breasts pressed into his chest. She moved her hips, grinding against him, reveling in the feel of all that hardness between her legs.
“The Lake Duck can be found in Argentina and has the longest penis of any bird species. When a female attempts to escape from a drake’s amorous efforts, the drake can use his corkcrew-shaped penis to lasso the female…”
“Oh, God,” Violet murmured as she ground harder against Drew. He laughed and began to kiss his way down her throat.
“It’s only fair to warn you that I’m pretty sure the lasso thing is outside the realm of my capability—”
“Shut up, Drew.”
“Right.”
He kissed her again and slid his hands under her shirt. She wasn’t wearing a bra—just the ridiculously useless shelf bra in the cami top—and his hands found their way under the elastic in no time at all. Violet gasped as the tips of his fingers grazed her nipples. She kissed him harder, tasting bourbon and cherry Coke and something she thought was desire.
She twisted her fingers in his hair, loving the soft disarray of it, the idea of rumpling him more than he already was. She slid her palms around to savor the roughness of stubble on his cheeks. Her neck already felt raw from beard burn, but the rawness of it just excited her more.
So did Drew’s tongue, making a slow descent down her throat, her collarbones, the tops of her breasts. He used his chin to nudge one strap down on her top, freeing her left breast.
“Oh, God,” she cried as his mouth found her nipple. She ground herself harder against him and felt Drew lift his hips in response, pressing against her.
He drew back slightly. “Isn’t this where we were the other night? You on my lap, grinding against me? I believe your exact words were—”
“Fuck me.”
“Yes.”
“Now.”
Drew looked in her eyes and smiled. He opened his mouth to say something.
“Screeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeech!”
Violet blinked and sat back.
Drew winced. “Is that some sort of animal mating call?”
They both craned their necks to see the television.
“Screeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeech!”
“What the—?”
“This is a test of the Emergency Broadcast System. This is only a test. If this had been an actual emergency…”
Violet fumbled for the remote control and flipped the mute button. Then she looked at Drew. He was wild-eyed and disheveled and so damn hot, her body ached.
He was also the last thing in the world she needed right now. What the hell was she thinking?
She sat back a little farther and swallowed. “We should stop.”
He blinked at her. “Are you crazy?”
“No, but you’re drunk.”
“I’m definitely not—”
“And I’m seeing someone.”
“I don’t—”
“So are you, right? You said it yourself, you were just on a date.”
“I hardly think… Where are you going?”
“To bed,” she said as she slid off his lap and stood up. “Alone. You’re welcome to sleep on the sofa so you don’t have to drive. There are blankets in that chest over there, and you can use the bathroom around the corner to wash up.”
She was talking too fast, like a crazy person, and that’s certainly how he was looking at her. But she had to get out. She needed to escape, to get herself back on solid ground. Normal ground.
He stared at her with an incredulous expression. “You’re not really going to—”
“Good night, Drew.”
She took two steps back, every inch of her body aching with the need to touch him again.
But this was for the best. She knew it was. She turned away.
“Violet, wait.”
But she was already up the stairs, closing her bedroom door behind her, twisting the lock into place. She stared at the knob a moment, struck by the irony.
She wasn’t worried about locking Drew out.
She needed to lock herself in.
***
Drew sat in stunned silence for at least three minutes.
Then he waited another ten to see if Violet would come skipping back down the stairs with her clothes off and her head back in the game.
No sign of Violet. He’d heard the sound of running water for a few minutes, and wondered if she might have taken a cold shower.
He could damn sure use one.
Drew rubbed his hands over his face and tried to regain his balance. What the hell had happened?
You drank too much at the bar and showed up on the doorstep of a woman who doesn’t want to date you. Way to go, Einstein.
Drew shook his head, noticing the dizziness had almost completely worn off. He’d only had two drinks at the bar, really not that much. True, it probably hit him a bit harder than most guys, since he didn’t drink a lot, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t fully in control of his words and actions.
He glanced at the television, where one giraffe was gallantly bumping the other’s backside with its head. Then the pair began a mating ritual that couldn’t possibly be romantic, even in the giraffe world. He stared, fascinated, until the amorous twosome finished.
Then he looked down at the coffee table. It was covered with neatly aligned printouts of spreadsheets and three pencils in a tidy row. A glass of water sat perfectly centered on a coaster. A leather briefcase was propped on a nearby shelf, shiny and polished and exactly like the one Catherine used to carry.
Get out! screamed a voice in his head.
Dammit. Violet was right.
He stood up, aware of the blood making the slow return trip to his brain after spending some time in more pleasant places. He wasn’t the least bit drunk now, not anymore. He was sober and clearheaded and perfectly aware of his need to get the hell out of this house before there was no turning back.
For either of them.
Chapter 13
The next day at three o’clock, Violet was ready to jump out of her skin. She had been pacing the same spot in the psychic studio so fiercely that she had to check to see if she’d worn a groove in the carpet.
When the door opened, Violet wasn’t sure whether to scream or cry at the sight of Drew.
“You’re not Frank,” she said.
Drew looked down at himself, considering. “Nope,” he said, looking back up at her. “’Fraid not.”
“Frank’s coming in to talk to me, and he’s already five minutes late and I’m completely freaking out because—”
“Frank’s always late, unless he’s coming to pick up the rent check. Then he’s early. Sit down a minute. I want to talk to you.”
Violet folded her arms over her chest and tried not to notice her hands were shaking. “If this is about last night, I don’t want to argue.”
“I don’t want to argue, either. You were right. We shouldn’t be sleeping together. It’s a bad idea.”
“Oh,” Violet said, annoyed to feel the sting of disappointment. “Of course I’m right.”
“I mean, hell, we’ve known each other a week?”
“Right.”
“And we’ve been at each other’s throats for most of that time.”
“True,” she said, hating how much she wanted to disagree, despite the fact that he was making the exact point she’d tried to make the night before.
“I’m the opposite of what you want, you’re the opposite of what I want, and the whole thing is a really bad idea.”
“Is this supposed to be making me feel better?”
Drew grinned. “Hey, if you want to feel better—”
“Stop,” she said, not really wanting him to. “By the way, I’
m sorry about Jamie quitting. That really wasn’t my intent.”
Drew nodded once and cleared his throat. “Jamie needs to do what makes Jamie happy.”
“So you’re okay with him leaving?”
“Of course not. Hey, I’m still pissed that what you told Jamie might potentially put him in danger. And I’m also pissed that I’m losing my top entertainer, plus he’s sort of family—”
“But if this is what he wants to do with his life—”
Drew held up his hand. “I know. Look, I don’t agree with the whole fake psychic hocus-pocus, but Jamie is a grown-up who can make his own decisions. And this seems like something he wants to do.”
Violet nodded. “Thank you. I’m glad you see it that way.”
“Oh, don’t get me wrong. I still think you’re full of crap and I don’t like you messing with people’s lives. That’s a lousy way to make a buck, if you want my honest opinion. But I do think that in this particular situation, Jamie probably needed a nudge to do something new.”
Violet sighed “You couldn’t have just stopped with the apology?”
“Nope. Sorry. We can agree to disagree on this.” He grinned at her, giving Violet the urge to agree to just about anything he might suggest. Bending her over the desk, for instance, or sliding his hands up her torso to unhook her bra and—
“Fine. Fine, whatever.” Violet glanced at her watch, distracted again. “Where is Frank? Why is he late? Do you think he’s bringing a lawyer?”
“Driving. Because he’s an inconsiderate prick. No.”
“What?”
“Just answering your questions. In the order you asked them.”
Violet frowned, trying to remember what she’d asked. “So no lawyer?”
“I doubt it. But just in case, I’m retreating back to my cave now.”
“Afraid of lawyers?”
“Hell, yes. Terrified. I was married to one, remember?”
“Right. Good to see you’re moving past that.”
“Maybe with some quality counseling from a fake psychic healer—”
“Go!” Violet ordered without venom as she pointed at the door. “I don’t mock you in your place of business.”
“No, but your mother does. And then she sends her crazy friends in to hit on me.”
