Believe It or Not (14 page)

When Chris broke the kiss, he smiled down at her. He caressed her arm softly before drawing his hand back. “Good night, Violet.”

“Thank you,” she said. “I mean… for dinner. Well, for the kiss, too, of course.”

Chris laughed. “I had a great time.”

“Me too.”

“Okay, then. Good night.”

Violet stepped out of the car and gave him a little wave before fumbling for her keys. She unlocked the front door to Moonbeam’s shop and stepped inside, inhaling the familiar scent of patchouli and candle wax. She turned back to Chris and waved again, letting him know she was safely inside. Then she closed the door behind her.

She didn’t turn the lights on right away. She stood there in the entryway for a moment, absorbing the glow from the lava lamp, listening to the muted throb of music next door. She wondered if Drew was over there. She hadn’t been able to figure out his schedule yet, and there were some nights he left Sam in charge and went out on dates.

Was this one of those nights? If it was, who was he with?

“Why should you care?” Violet asked herself aloud, and then felt dumb for talking to herself. It was getting to be a habit. Blame it on Moonbeam.

Against her better judgment, Violet felt herself drifting toward the shared hallway, toward Drew’s bar.
Jamie
invited
me
, she told herself.
He
asked
me
to
come
tonight. I’m just being friendly with a client.

But she knew it wasn’t Jamie drawing her next door. And the way her pulse was pounding in time to the music didn’t feel quite friendly.

She moved quietly through the side door, ready to retreat if one of the bouncers caught her. After all, she hadn’t paid the cover charge.

But no one seemed to notice her as she slipped through the hall door and into the noisy bar. She stood there for a moment getting her bearings, absorbing the pulse of loud conversation and louder music. Just a few feet away, a group of women clinked glasses and laughed.

She surveyed the room, noticing the number of women heavily outweighed the men. Even on the evenings there were no performances, it was obvious the place still attracted the female demographic.

No
wonder
Drew
loves
it
here.

“Hey, Violet!” boomed a voice behind her. Violet turned to see Jamie striding toward her with a broad smile on his face. “Can I get you a drink?”

“Maybe in a minute or so. The place is packed.”

“Yeah, it’s been busy a lot lately. Even on nights no one’s taking their clothes off.”

“That’s good.”

“I’ll go get Mr. Watson for you, okay?”

“You don’t need to…”

But Jamie was already gone, disappearing into the sea of bodies and clinking glasses. Violet’s hands were sweating a little at the thought of seeing Drew, which was silly. She’d already seen him today. He was the owner of the neighboring business, a friend, an occasional sparring partner, that was all.

A friend who could kiss like a god and had hands like a—

“Violet.”

She turned around at the sound of Drew’s voice, trying hard to radiate friendliness instead of lust.

But Drew’s face wasn’t radiating any of those things. In fact, he was practically vibrating with fury. Violet took a step back, her intrigue turning to confusion.

Drew folded his arms over his chest and stared at her coldly. “We need to talk.”

“Oh, well I was just going to go home and—”

“Now,”
he barked, and grabbed her arm.

Drew marched Violet into Moonbeam’s shop and shut the door, making a conscious effort not to slam it behind him. Truth be told, he was angry enough to put his fist through it, but that wasn’t going to do him any good.

Because mad as he was, he wanted to kiss Violet a whole lot more than he wanted to hit something. He wanted to tangle his fingers in her hair and feel her moan in his arms as she pressed her body against his. He wanted to bury his face against her neck and inhale the lavender-vanilla scent of her.

He also wanted to scream.

Maybe
that’s why you’re so pissed off. You don’t know what the hell you want.

“What is your problem, Drew?” Violet demanded, shaking her arm out of his grip and turning to face him.

He stared at her, wanting to hate her but just… well, wanting her.

That was enough to piss him off.

“Did you have a nice date?” He tried to sound cool and aloof, but just sounded like a jealous jerk.

God, you’re bad at this.

Violet folded her arms over her chest and stared at him. “Is that what this is about?”

“No.”

Yes
, muttered a voice in the back of his head.

Great, now he was hearing voices. He was as bad as Moonbeam and Violet.

Okay, fine, he’d come a little unglued when he glanced outside to check the line at the front door and spotted Violet sucking face with the damn doctor in his damn Mercedes. Sure, it had irked him a little more than it should have. Was there something about her and the front seat of a sedan?

Why
do
you
care?

He didn’t. He
didn’t
care.

And besides, that wasn’t why he was angry.

“Jamie quit,” Drew said.

Violet’s eyes flew wide. “He what?”

“He quit. Just waltzed into my office after your little psychic reading and gave his notice. Said he needed to chase his dreams, to take risks.”

Violet stared at him, unblinking. “I thought his dream was to be a better stripper.”

“His dream is to build schools in Afghanistan. Or at least it is now, thanks to you.”

“
What?
I never told him to go to a dangerous war zone and—” Violet stopped, struck midsentence by some thought she wasn’t about to give voice to.

“Thought of something, did you?” Drew asked.

Violet narrowed her eyes. “I told him to take risks and follow his dreams. There’s nothing wrong with that. It’s nothing you wouldn’t hear in any motivational speech or inspirational eighties glam-rock tune or in a goddamn fortune cookie.”

“Well at least we agree on how to rank the validity of your psychic readings.”

“What do you want from me, Drew?” she demanded, eyes flashing.

Drew lost his train of thought for a second. Damn Violet and her ridiculous eye color.

Actually, it wasn’t so much the color as the—

Focus, man, focus.

Drew cleared his throat, wishing like hell he could snap his fingers to clear the anger before backing her up against her desk and…

“Jamie is a kind, compassionate, fragile guy,” he said, fighting to keep his voice steady. “He’s afraid of violence. The last place in the world he belongs is a fucking war zone.”

“Maybe that’s exactly where a kind, compassionate guy belongs, did you think of that?”

Drew gritted his teeth. Yes, he had thought of that. He’d been thinking of that nonstop in between imagining Jamie getting his sappy, happy smile blown off his face by a wayward grenade.

“You can’t mess with people’s lives like this, Violet.”

“Whose life are we talking about now, Drew?”

Drew glared at her. He hadn’t told her about Catherine. About what prompted his ex-wife to leave him. Had Moonbeam said something to Violet?

This
has
nothing
to
do
with
that
, he told himself.

Drew folded his arms over his chest. “Jamie could be killed. He could get hurt or contract malaria or—”

“Are you this concerned about all your employees? Or just the ones on billboards, the ones who make you the most money?”

Drew felt his temper flare again.
This
was why he was mad, dammit.

“Oh, that’s rich,” he snapped. “A fake psychic talking to me about the ethics of running a business.”

“I’m not—”

“Spare me, Violet.”

She shut her mouth, and Drew instantly regretted his tone. Maybe he was being too harsh. Maybe he was just pissed that another fake psychic was screwing with his life.

Or maybe he really
was
pissed about the fact that less than twenty-four hours after locking lips with him in the front seat of the car, she’d been out there sucking face with that damn surgeon.

You’re an idiot
, Drew’s inner voice told him.

He had to agree.

“Look, Violet… I don’t want to see Jamie get hurt.”

“You think I do?”

“I think you don’t have the same compassion—”

“Fuck you, buddy. I have plenty of compassion.”

He stared at her. “Let me know when the irony of that statement sinks in.”

Violet scowled at him. “What I tell a client in a private reading is none of your business. And what Jamie decides to do in his personal life is also none of your business.”

Drew took a deep breath, forcing himself not to yell. “You can sit here playing psychic all you want. You can make up your fake fortunes and pretend we don’t both know what you’re up to over here. But when you cross the line and start doing harm to my work or to people I care about, then it damn well
is
my business.”

Violet opened her mouth to retort, but then shut it again. She seemed to be considering her words carefully. When she finally spoke, her voice was icy.

“I will tell my clients what they need to hear. And I will do what I need to do to keep my mother’s stupid business afloat.”

Drew stared at her, his blood pressure rising. “I know you will. And that terrifies the hell out of me.”

***

Violet was still steaming when she returned to her mother’s house that night. She spent an hour tidying, preparing for Moonbeam’s return home from the hospital. She made sure the sheets were clean and the hallways clutter free so Moonbeam could maneuver in her wheelchair. She poured all her furious energy into mopping floors and washing windows.

She decided it was time to stop when she scrubbed the toilet seat hard enough to leave scratches.

Damn
Drew.

“Who the hell does he think he is?” Violet said out loud as she glared at the toilet. She stood up and grabbed a sponge and went to work on the sink with equal vigor.

What had gone wrong? She had been enjoying a perfectly pleasant, warm glow after her date with Chris.

Then Drew had shown up, and suddenly “pleasant” and “warm” just seemed dull. Even in his anger, even when he was being a complete butthead, Drew Watson was the most infuriatingly sexy man she’d ever met.

And even when Violet wanted to pick him up by the ears and shake him, she also wanted to tear his clothes off with her teeth and pin him up against the wall and—

Violet shook off the thought and stood up to rinse her sponge out in the sink. It wasn’t quite as easy to shake the tingly, irritatingly captivating lust buzz that had seized hold of her.

How the hell had he gotten under her skin like that?

Violet set the sponge on the edge of the sink and looked at herself in the mirror. She was wild-eyed and flushed and looked a little crazed. She had to get a grip.

This was dangerous terrain, she knew. Why the hell had she confessed to being a fake psychic that night? And why the hell had Drew remembered? Couldn’t he have just written it off as drunken rambling?

Drew had the power to single-handedly dismantle the quiet, normal life she’d built for herself. To ruin Moonbeam’s business by shouting from the rooftops about this damn fake psychic ploy.

She had to stay away from him. It was that simple.

Violet was still muttering to herself when the phone rang. She thought of Chris as she ran for the phone, and she told herself to make her voice pleasant, happy.

Then she thought of Drew and just felt like snarling.

But then she remembered the feel of his hand on her thigh, his tongue on her throat, and she wanted to whimper.

By the time she answered on the third ring, Violet was feeling vocally bipolar.

“Hello?” she said in a tone she hoped was neutral but probably just sounded deranged.

“Honey, is that you? You sound like your extrasensory energy is all out of whack.”

“Hi, Mom. My extrasensory energy is just fine. Why are you still awake?”

“Oh, I just finished up with my past-life-regression class and I realized that I forgot to tell you that the occupational therapist stopped by earlier today. She wanted me to tell you she’s going to be about an hour late for your appointment with her tomorrow.”

Violet frowned as she peeled off her cleaning gloves and flopped onto the sofa. “Why didn’t she just call and tell me herself?”

“She offered to, but I told her I was going to talk to you anyway and she didn’t want to interrupt you in the middle of a reading or your date with Dr. Abbott or—”

“How did you know I had a date with Dr. Abbott?”

“Violet, honey, I’m clairvoyant.”

Violet rolled her eyes. “He must have stopped by the hospital to do rounds after we ate.”

Moonbeam made a little snort of annoyance, but didn’t argue. “Did your date go well, dear?”

“Very well, thank you.”

“Did you sleep with him?”

“Mom!”

“Well, honey, sexual energy is a very beautiful and natural thing, so—”

“I’m going to hang up if you start in on your tantric sex lecture again.”

Moonbeam gave an impatient sigh. “I just think the sexual act is a sacred ritual, don’t you?”

Violet gritted her teeth. “Whatever, Mom. I haven’t been engaging in any sacred rituals lately, not that it’s any of your business.”

“Really? Are the physical alpha body and the spiritual energies not achieving harmonic convergence in this union?”

“I don’t even know what that means.”

“Just that when you allow a man to enter your sacred circle, then your inner radiance should—”

“Mom,
please
.”

They were both quiet for a moment. Violet was the first to speak. “Why are you so hung up on my sex life, anyway?”

“Just a feeling I have, dear.”

“Did Chris say something?”

“Violet, honey, your aura just seems a little—”

“Does he think I’m not physically attracted to him?”

“Well I was reading your energy, and I have the distinct sense that—”

“Is this because the kissing wasn’t crazy passionate? I mean, it’s often awkward the first time or two, that’s not a big deal. Nothing to be worried about. Is he worried? Did he say he was worried?”

“Darling—”

“Because I don’t want him to think I’m not hot for him. I’m totally hot for him. I
am
.”

“Violet—”

“Just because I’m not panting with lust every time I see him doesn’t mean anything at all. I think he’s very attractive. He’s a doctor, for chrissakes, and he’s nice and smart and I’d jump him right now, as a matter of fact.”

“Of course you would, honey.”

Violet fell silent, suddenly aware of the trap she’d walked into. “That’s how you do it, isn’t it?”

“What’s that, dear?”

“How you get people to volunteer too much information so they think you’re being psychic, but really it’s just them doing the work for you.”

Moonbeam was quiet for a moment. “Are you feeling all right? You sound a little strange.”

Violet closed her eyes and sighed. “There’s no such thing as a psychic. I thought there was something going on with the music, but that’s stupid. There’s no way. It’s a ridiculous idea, isn’t it?”

“You know there’s no such thing as a ridiculous idea. If you sense there’s some sort of cosmic connection between you and Drew and these musical selections, then I think you should—”

“Forget it, Mom. Really, I’m sure it’s nothing.”

Moonbeam was quiet for a moment. “Are you sure you’re okay, Violet?”

“Fine. I’m fine, Mom. Just tired.”
And
really, really confused.

“How is Drew, anyway?” Moonbeam asked. “Has he gotten smarter about the women he’s dating and realized he needs someone who stimulates him intellectually as well as physically?”

The thought of stimulating Drew sent Violet’s brain reeling in a dangerous direction, but she cleared her throat and ignored the throb of hormones in her veins. “I have no idea. I’m really not interested in who Drew dates.”

“Of course you’re not, dear. That’s probably for the best. He still hasn’t forgiven me for that thing with his ex-wife. I hope he’s not taking that out on you.”

Violet frowned. “What thing with Drew’s ex-wife?”

There was a long pause on the other end of the line. “He hasn’t mentioned it?”

“Mentioned what?”

“Nothing, dear. It doesn’t matter.”

“Mom!”

Moonbeam sighed. “It was just a silly little situation a few years ago. Drew’s wife was a lawyer. Very career driven. Of course I had never met her, since she never came around his bar… not that I blame her, such an atrocious exploitation of—”

“Mom.”

“Right. Well, anyway, Catherine came to see me for a reading on the future of her marriage. I could tell she was unhappy and really questioning, so I suggested that—”

“Oh, shit,” Violet said, realization dawning. “You told Drew’s wife to leave him?”

“Violet, you know a psychic never tells a client what actions to take, and anyway, I didn’t
know
she was his wife at the time.”

Violet shook her head and clenched the phone tighter. “No wonder he’s so upset about the thing with Jamie. It’s not about Jamie at all.”

“What’s that, honey?”

“Nothing.” Violet picked up a couch cushion and hugged it to her chest, trying to stop her head from swimming. She looked down at the pillow and remembered throwing it at his head the other night.