Sexcapades

by Christine d'Abo

  “Shit. Give me a second and I’ll call you back.”

  Petra couldn’t sit still. Rather than pace aimlessly, she proceeded to tidy up her living room, going so far as to pick up all her abandoned coffee mugs and stray socks. She jumped when her phone rang again, but when Alice’s name came up, relief washed through her.

  “Hey. Now, start from the beginning.”

  There wasn’t much to tell, but Alice vocalized the one thing Petra was trying hard not to.

  “Do you think it was Darcy from last night?”

  Collapsing onto the couch, Petra closed her eyes and let the voice she’d heard come back to her.

  Hello, PC.

  Christ, you’re perfect.

  “No, it wasn’t him. Not unless he really changed his voice or used a modulator or something. Besides, he didn’t even know which category I was nominated in. We left before the announcements.”

  “That’s good at least. I mean, he knows you live somewhere around the coffee shop, so it wouldn’t be too hard for him to find your phone number. But your cell phone?”

  “I know. Is it wrong that I’m freaking out a bit?”

  “Hell no. But chances are it’s probably someone related to the awards program. Did you give your cell or your home phone to them?”

  “Both actually. I hadn’t even thought about that.” It made sense in a way. The only people who had her cell were her family, good friends and the nomination committee. “Maybe it was someone who thought they’d get a rise out of me. I’ll mention it when I go to the Q and A event tonight.”

  “Are you going to be okay? Did you want me to come over? Meet for lunch?”

  She was being an idiot. Rarely did bad things actually happen to people. Just because stalkers almost always escalated into bat-shit crazy, and on occasion people actually died, that was no reason to worry.

  Nope, not at all.

  “I’ll be fine.” Alice would be over here in a heartbeat if she didn’t think Petra could keep it together. “I have to finish up my post and make a few calls. Plus, I need to figure out what I’m going to wear tonight.”

  “Oh yes, we can’t have you looking anything short of stunning in case you see Darcy again. Shit, I can’t believe you hooked up with him. I’m still jealous.”

  They chatted about her night with Darcy for a few more minutes before Alice had to go. Petra didn’t know what she’d do without her best friend to talk her off the proverbial ledge.

  Still, when she hung up with Alice, Petra’s next move was to turn off her cell. Friends, family and the committee could leave a damned voice mail message.

  * * *

  The rest of the day was blessedly silent. Even the yahoos who normally posted flame comments on her blog seemed well behaved. D. Williams didn’t make an appearance either, which was only a little disappointing. If it hadn’t been for her night with Darcy and her constant replay of what had happened between them, her obsessive nature would have been fixated on finding some reason why he wasn’t poking at her.

  It was weird. He was always razzing her.

  Before she knew it, the clock was telling her it was five o’clock and she had to get ready for the evening’s event. Unlike last night’s fancy ball, tonight she could get away with something a bit more manageable for her. She’d promised Alice she wouldn’t wear jeans, and instead slipped into the fitted black skirt and sequined top she’d bought a year ago.

  Tonight’s intimate gathering was at the Iron Grill, an upscale steakhouse she’d never been to. A smaller crowd meant she’d be able to handle herself better, maybe even manage to work her way into a conversation or two.

  Damn, she really wished she’d found out what category Darcy’s blog was nominated in. She didn’t even know the name of it...

  There had to be a way to find out. The nominees had been announced last night, after all. There had to be some sort of post online about it.

  Quickly finishing up her makeup, and God she hoped she didn’t look like a clown, Petra carefully slipped into her computer chair and went in search of the Toronto Web Awards site. Ah there it was, Nominee Lists.

  Petra’s frustration grew as she scanned the pages of names and couldn’t find Darcy’s name anywhere. Not that she knew his last name, but she didn’t think there’d be too many Darcys nominated. Could there?

  Apparently not.

  Not even one.

  Which meant Darcy was nominated under a different name. So, she wasn’t the only one with a secret identity. Smiling, Petra twirled a lock of her hair around her finger. He didn’t want people to know who he was, eh? Well that wouldn’t do.

  “Challenge accepted.”

  Petra tried to discount websites based on what little she knew about him. He didn’t seem the type to be involved in child care, home improvements or internet memes. Entertainment industry? He was handsome enough, but the idea of him being an actor or director didn’t feel right. An author perhaps.

  Petra was about to give up when she finally got to her category—best online advice column. Oh yeah, baby. There she was. Reaching out, she ran her fingertip over her name—PC—and smiled. God, she still couldn’t believe that she’d been picked. That they’d chosen her over...

  What the hell?

  No. Petra sat up, her stomach souring. “No, no, no, that’s not fair.”

  But no matter how many times she blinked, the reality didn’t change. There on the screen, two lines below her name was the one she would never have wanted to see.

  D. Williams—Mantastic.

  “That bastard!”

  Petra was on her feet, growling as she stomped away from the computer. She couldn’t get away from that bastard and now she was going to be forced to have supper with him!

  She wouldn’t go. It was as simple as that. Screw the perfectly cooked steak and opportunity to use her limited social skills. If she came face to face with that jackass there’d be no telling what would come out of her mouth. Or his for that matter.

  D. Williams was a pompous jerk who would take the opportunity to make fun of her.

  D. Williams, a constant pain in her ass.

  D. Williams...

  Petra stopped short of her bedroom and tried to get her breathing under control. There’d been twenty-five names on that list in five categories. There hadn’t been a single Darcy. David, Derek and a Diego, but not him. Not the man who’d given her four orgasms during a one-night stand. Not the man who seemed to have a full understanding of how to make a woman’s body sing.

  Closing her eyes, Petra took a deep breath. Then another as the realization hit her hard.

  Darcy, the man she’d had amazing sex with, was D. Williams.

  “I’m going to kill him.”

  * * *

  Darcy hated events like this. The group around him was laughing as they all tried to one-up each other, discussing their sponsors, web traffic and a world of other technical shit that flew over his head. The fact that he had a website at all was the result of his brother’s computer skills. If it had been left up to Darcy, he would have settled for making teasing comments on Sexcapades for the rest of his life.

  He tried to figure out which one of the women could possibly be PC. He was fairly certain she hadn’t arrived yet. A woman like that, with balls enough to conduct research on sex so she could give women advice, would certainly have an air of confidence about her.

  Loathe as he was to admit it, his online sparring with PC was generally the highlight of his day. His practice had been doing well, but the stress of helping abused women and children took a toll on him after a while. Posting on Mantastic gave him a break from reality, even if it was only for a little while.

  “And the best part of the whole thing is the number of impressions I’ve been able to get with the ads. I’ll be bringing in thousands a month before I know it.”

  Darcy turned to the reedy man standing beside him and grinned. It seemed like the appropriate response. “I’ll drink to that.”

  They c
linked their glasses, giving him permission to drain the rest of the contents. “Anyone want another?”

  But the man, Evan something-or-other, wasn’t paying Darcy any attention. The near silent whoa was directed at a person coming through the door. Turning to see who’d caught the young man’s attention, Darcy nearly dropped his glass when he realized it was Petra.

  And she was pissed off.

  God, she was even more beautiful angry than when she was turned-on. His cock stiffened as memories from last night flooded his mind. Something had clearly happened between then and now that had riled her up.

  “Time for that refill.” He tried to get away unseen, but he’d clearly been spotted already.

  In a flash, Petra was by his side, her nails digging into his arm as she dragged him to a quiet corner of the room. He let her manhandle him, conscious of every curious glance sent their way. Great, the last thing he wanted was to be the topic of gossip. No way to avoid that now with Petra looking so furious. Best to play things smooth until he could figure out what had happened.

  Grinning in the face of her displeasure was probably not the smartest thing to do, but it was the only thing he could think of. “Hey there. You left without saying goodbye.”

  “You jerk!” She hissed as she slapped his arm. “When did you know? When I first entered the ballroom? When you approached me? While we were fucking?”

  It felt wrong to hear her use that term to describe what they’d done. “I thought you’d enjoyed yourself.”

  “I did! And that’s what makes this whole thing a thousand times worse.” She pulled back from him and didn’t quite manage to hide the unshed tears gathering in her eyes.

  “Pet, what’s wrong? Did I hurt you somehow?” God, he couldn’t imagine what he’d done, but he’d be sure to apologize and make it up to her if he could. Because last night with Petra had been the most fulfilling night he’d had with a woman in years. It was the first chance he’d had to really let go.

  “You’re D. Williams.”

  The way she said his pseudonym, the extra little bite she threw onto the end of Williams, like it was a curse, turned his stomach. He set his glass down and he reached out for her, but Petra avoided his touch.

  Shit.

  “Yes, I’m D. Williams. I don’t remember me telling you anything about me or my blog. Neither one of us seemed very interested in the awards last night. If I’ve gotten something wrong—”

  “I’m PC.”

  Whatever remaining thoughts he’d had, vaporized.

  Chapter Six

  Ladies, I know a lot of you come to my site for sex advice. I’ve always said the one thing you always need to be is true to yourself. And if some asshole thinks he can pull one over on you, slap his ass into next week.

  —PC, Sexcapades — sex advice for women

  I said I was sorry!

  —D. Williams, Mantastic — advice for REAL men

  Darcy’s world tilted on its side as Petra’s words started to sink in. “What?”

  Petra snorted. “Oh please, like you didn’t know already.”

  “Honest to God, I didn’t.”

  It all made sense. Petra and her friend weren’t simply discussing the various blog posts made on Sexcapades, they were bloody well writing them. The barista and her comments about the dirty talk...the banter...that instant connection he’d felt when he’d finally given in to temptation and leaned into her at the coffee shop.

  Petra was PC.

  Which meant that he’d inadvertently seduced his rival.

  “Petra, I didn’t know it was you.”

  He hated to see that look of betrayal on her face. Whether intentional or not, he’d hurt her in a way he didn’t quite understand yet. This time when he reached for her hand, she didn’t pull away. It was tentative, but he still took it as permission.

  “Can we go somewhere to talk? Somewhere public if you want so you don’t have to worry about me doing anything.”

  “I don’t have anything left to say to you.” Deflection, a self-defense mechanism.

  He would have to be careful. “I can appreciate why you don’t want to talk to me. But I feel like I owe you an explanation. An apology. Will you let me do that?”

  As the seconds ticked by and Petra mulled over her answer, Darcy could think of a dozen reasons why continuing on with her like this was a bad idea for both of them. While Mantastic wasn’t his lifeblood, it did provide him with a safety zone where he could stop being Dr. Darcy Williams and blow off some steam. He couldn’t give that up.

  Petra was one of the others, the people who did this for a living. Her site was an extension of herself and he didn’t have to know her well to realize she’d do anything to protect it. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, their sparring online was one of the reasons they’d both done well and drawn the attention of readers. The anonymity gave them freedom to say what they wanted.

  But now that he knew her...

  Petra turned her face away from him, looking over at the small group behind them. “Fine. But not here.”

  “I think I remember seeing a diner a block from here. I’m sure the coffee will suck, but we can have some privacy.”

  Taking her by the hand, Darcy started to lead her toward the door when Malcolm Robins, the MC, stepped in front of them.

  “Now where do the two of you think you’re running off to?” The admonishment wasn’t for show. Robins’s clenched jaw and narrowed gaze practically shouted how annoyed he was at them. “It was embarrassing enough that you both skipped out on us last night. When you agreed to attend, you also agreed to talk to the press.”

  This was as bad as being caught by the principal for making out behind the school. “Sorry about that Robins. Petra and I just realized who each other were and wanted to have a private chat.”

  “And deny the public a chance to see the two of you go at each other? I don’t think so.”

  Petra blushed and looked away. “No chance of that.”

  Neither of them had an opportunity to protest further. Robins clapped his hands together to draw the attention of everyone in the private room.

  “Hello, everyone. We’re about to get this evening’s events underway. For those of you who might not remember, I’m Malcolm Robins. Tonight, along with some great food, drink and company, we will be giving each of the nominees an opportunity to discuss their website, what it means to them and their direction for the future. I need to remind you all that there are media present and that you have all signed release forms.”

  Robins continued to outline the rest of the evening, but Darcy couldn’t make himself focus on the words. Every chance he had to sneak a look at Petra he took it. Her earlier rage had dissipated and was morphing into something else.

  There were only five nominees present for this hour, all of whom were featured in the best advice category. Robins directed the first, a woman in her late forties, to talk about her site.

  “Flower Pots is my attempt to give city dwellers a chance to bring life to their homes.”

  Petra’s gaze slipped to the floor as the woman spoke. He doubted she had any great aversion to flower pot gardens, which meant she was starting to freak out about something.

  “Thank you, Samantha. Your site has brought a lot of life to Toronto and around the world.” Robins initiated a round of applause. “Jeremy Legere is the owner-operator of Kids First, the first stop for parenting questions, advice and strategies.”

  For a moment Darcy thought she was going to bolt, regardless of what Robins said. The psychologist in him stepped up, pushing the flippant D. Williams to the background. Petra clearly had some sort of fear of public speaking. Shit, and there wasn’t any way they could get her out of this now.

  Another round of applause. “I know there are a lot of thankful parents out there, Jeremy. Well done.” Robins pointed to Evan, the man Darcy had been speaking to earlier. “Next up is Evan Reid, owner-operator of Massive Gamer, gaming advice, information and interviews for the gaming
geek in all of us.”

  Evan stepped into the center of the room like he owned the restaurant. “Thanks so much, Malcolm. Gaming has been my life since I was a little kid. But it’s not just about the playing that’s so important. There’s an entire culture surrounding MMORPGs. I like to think I’m there to guide people through the fray.”

  Petra finally looked up, scowling at Evan. He could almost hear her voice—not Petra, but PC—making some snide comment about the arrogance of the guy. Seeing this as an opportunity to get her through what must be an unpleasant situation and possibly getting back into her good books, ignoring the others around them, Darcy leaned in so only Petra would be able to hear.

  “How much do you want to bet he follows my website?”

  “Arrogant ass,” was her whispered response. He didn’t fail to miss the slight quirk of her lips.

  Shifting closer, he made sure to brush his nose along the shell of her ear. “Him or me?”

  Her snort was not the least bit ladylike or quiet. Robins turned around, cocking an eyebrow at them. Darcy merely smirked in response. The moment Robins turned back around, Darcy licked the shell of Petra’s ear.

  “I bet you’re itching to tell him to get out of his mother’s basement and learn a few things about real women. I bet he’d say something smartass while staring at your boobs the whole time.”

  Petra turned around, glaring at him. “How old are you? No one says boobs anymore.”

  Darcy met her gaze and upped the confrontation by crossing his arms. “There’s nothing wrong with boobs. It’s better than tits. I thought you’d prefer it.”

  “I prefer breasts.” Petra shoved a stray lock of her hair from her face before jutting out said body part. “That’s what they are and that’s what they should be called.”

  “Breasts isn’t exactly a sexy word. You make one of the most aesthetically pleasing parts of the female anatomy sound boring. Like elbow.”

  “Well, it’s a hell of a lot better than boobs.” Petra crossed her arms, matching his stance. “The next thing you know you’ll want me to say cock instead of penis.”