Believe It or Not (12 page)

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 actually 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.

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 wasn’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.

Drew laughed and broke the kiss. “Men are more driven by lust, huh?”

“Smugness is not becoming on you.”

“This is where I make the joke about how if I were on you, I’d be coming.”

“Pervert.”

“Absolutely.”

Any retort she might have made was cut off by her own gasp of pleasure as he moved his hand under her skirt and one finger traced the dampness between her legs.

“No panties?” he murmured against her throat.

“I couldn’t find the ones that matched the bra.”

“So you went without. Very sensible. Practical.”

“Fuck me.”

He laughed and began to kiss her throat. “I was getting to that.”

She tilted her head back to give him better access, moaning as his tongue grazed the sensitive spot right above her collarbone. She stared up through the sunroof, amazed at how many stars were out. She’d never seen the moon so big, so round, so glowing, so—

“Moonbeam,” Violet said suddenly, sitting up straight.

Drew froze with his mouth against her throat. He stopped kissing, but didn’t pull back.

“Fond as I am of your mother, it’s not a big turn-on to hear you say her name when I’m two minutes from sliding inside you,” he murmured.

“Two minutes?” Violet said wistfully, sitting back farther. “No. Dammit,
no
. I’m so sorry, Drew, but I promised Moonbeam I’d meet her at the hospital. I totally forgot.”

Drew gave her an incredulous look. His eyes were wild and unfocused, and his hand was still beneath her skirt. “Visiting hours ended ages ago,” he said slowly. “Moonbeam is almost certainly asleep, hanging upside down from the ceiling in a cocoon of her own wings.”

Violet shook her head and wriggled away, trying to pry herself off his lap. “No, really… it’s a long story, but I have to meet her before midnight. I promised.”

“Are you nuts?” Drew asked as Violet sat back in the passenger seat and tried to straighten her skirt. “Never mind, don’t answer that. The hospital staff will never let you in at his hour.”

“Moonbeam requested a special exemption on religious grounds. I’m sorry, Drew, I have to go.”

Drew continued to stare at her with a dumbstruck expression. “In the last twenty minutes you’ve accused me of stalking you, invited me out for chocolate cake, bitched at me for mocking psychics, and then begged me to fuck you in my front seat.”

Violet felt her cheeks heat up. “You didn’t seem to mind.”

“God, no. Believe me, I’m grateful. I’m just feeling a little dizzy from the roller coaster. Do you have a fetish for Toyotas?”

“What?”

“Not that there’s anything wrong with that. It’s just that you forced me to grope you here in the front seat the day after we met, and now here we are again—”

“Never mind,” Violet said, reaching for the door handle. “You’re right, this is a dumb idea. I have to go.”

“I didn’t say it was a dumb idea—”

“No, it is. You’re the total opposite of what I’m looking for, and God knows I’m not a bimbo, and I know that’s the sort of woman you’re looking for.”

“Are you always such a romantic, or is it just the full moon?”

“Good night, Drew. Thanks again for coming up here and checking on me.”

“Sure,” he said, looking at her like he expected her to leap onto the hood of the car and start baying at the sky.

Violet opened the door and got out, pushing it shut with more force than it required. She was determined not to look back as she ran across the grass toward her car. This was crazy, totally stupid, and she had to get out of here fast.

Lust
makes
you
stupid, Violet.

Drew was not what she was looking for. And he was the last thing she needed. Jesus, a bar owner who employed strippers and knew she was a fake psychic. Pretty much the opposite of
normal
.

Not only that, he’d been feuding with her mother for the better part of a decade. Moonbeam had said Drew wanted her space to expand his bar. How far would he go to get it?

Violet shook her head as she fumbled for her car keys. What the hell had she been thinking?

When she got the car door open, she lost her resolve and finally stole a quick glance over her shoulder at Drew.

He was sitting in the driver’s seat, lightly smacking his forehead against the steering wheel.

***

By the time Violet reached the hospital, it was ten minutes before midnight.

She had to check in at the nursing station where Moonbeam had already secured permission for their scheduled evening visit. After getting the go-ahead from the nurse, Violet made her way down the hall as silently as possible in stiletto boots.

She reached the threshold of Moonbeam’s room and noticed the door was ajar. Should she knock or just walk in? Maybe Moonbeam was sleeping.

“Violet?” her mother called from inside the room. “I know it’s you, I sense your presence, dear. Come in.”

Violet rolled her eyes and stepped through the door, biting back the urge to ask her mother who else would be dropping by for a visit at midnight on a Wednesday.

She looked at Moonbeam, taking in the paleness of her face and the thin bones in her cheeks. Had her mother lost weight, or was it just the dim light?

“Hello, Mom,” she murmured, trying to keep her voice low. “How are you feeling?”

“Very well, honey. I love the full moon, don’t you?”

“You look tired. We could do this another time if you want.”

“Don’t be silly, dear. It’s the full moon. We have to do it tonight.”

“But—”

Moonbeam waved her hand, signaling the end of that conversation. “It’s just this lousy hospital light.”

“How soon until they transfer you to the rehab place?”

“Maybe as early as tomorrow. Let’s get on with this now. Did you bring everything?”

Violet sighed and reached over to move the tambourine off the guest chair. She sat down beside her mother’s bed and patted her purse. “I have it all right here.”

“Even the snails?”

“They’ve been sitting in my car in a cooler since lunchtime.”

Moonbeam smiled with obvious delight. “You think of everything, dear.”

“That’s me. A model of efficiency with mollusks and gastropods.”

“You brought the string, too?”

“Red, just like you asked for. Are you sure this is really—”

“Violet, honey, as a skilled clairvoyant, you should know the importance of timing when it comes to placing curses. The full moon only happens once a month.”

“But Mom—”

“No buts, dear. I need you on this.”

Violet shut her mouth and ignored the pang of guilt radiating up from her gut. Her mother was counting on her. Not just for this, but to protect her business. Violet had already put things at risk when she’d drunkenly told Drew she didn’t believe in psychics, and clearly he didn’t intend to let her forget it.

She at least owed Moonbeam this much. She sighed. “Before we start, can I ask you something?”

“Anything, dear.”

“It’s about the music next door. From Drew’s place?”

“Music?”

“There’s this thing I’ve noticed,” Violet began, feeling a little silly just saying it out loud. “The songs he plays sometimes correspond to what’s going to happen, or to the client I’m meeting with, or…”

She stopped, noticing the look of genuine bewilderment on Moonbeam’s face. “That’s not ringing any bells?” she asked her mother faintly.

Moonbeam shook her head. “I really don’t notice the music from next door. Of course, things are different for every psychic, and it could be that something in your aura is causing him to select music that corresponds to—”

“Never mind. Forget I said anything. Dumb idea.”

She patted Violet’s hand. “No ideas are dumb, Violet.”

“Right.” She glanced out the window at the full moon. “Shall we get started with this curse? I’m supposed to meet with Frank when he gets back from Chicago the day after tomorrow.”

Moonbeam smiled and leaned back against her pillows. “Okay, take the photo of Frank that you downloaded off the Professional Squash Association website.”

“Got it,” Violet said, and pulled the printout from her bag.

“Move into the center of the room.”

Violet stood up and trudged to a spot near the foot of the bed. “Fine. Now what?”

“Sit down cross-legged on the floor, facing the window. Isn’t it wonderful they gave me a room with a window?”

“I’m sure this is exactly what they had in mind when they did it.”

Moonbeam ignored her and reached over to the bedside drawer. “Now before we start, you’ll need to get out the snails and this vial of urine I got from my catheter bag…”

Violet stared at her mother. Moonbeam smiled and held out the vial.

Violet closed her eyes and slowly shook her head.

“No dumb ideas, Mom. Right.”

***

The next day, Drew was working on the weekly liquor order while Jamie coached Jerry on his dance routine.

Drew was trying very hard not to look.

“Like this, Jerry,” Jamie said with obvious patience. “You have to really thrust your pelvis during the chorus.”

“But it’s a long chorus.”

“Do you want to make lots of tips?”

“Well, sure.”

“Then trust me on this. And don’t forget to smile.”

Drew shook his head and hit a few buttons on his calculator. He may not have had any interest in watching, but he was pleased to hear Jerry doing well, and even more pleased Jamie was part of it.

Earlier that morning, the three of them had driven out to I-5 to check out the new billboard for the bar. They’d parked on the shoulder with the hazard lights on, staring up at the full-color wonder that Drew had paid a hefty sum for.

It was worth it.

The billboard featured an enormous photo of Jamie in a cowboy costume with his shirt unbuttoned. He was smiling for the camera, and for every Portland commuter traveling this stretch of freeway. The bar’s logo was prominently displayed over Jamie’s crotch.

“Wow, that’s really me,” Jamie had said, staring up with awe.

“It’s really you,” Drew said. “Well, you with some Photoshop touch-ups.”

“It’s amazing,” Jerry whispered, his tone reverent. “Someday, maybe I’ll get to be on a billboard.”

“It’s good to have goals,” Drew agreed.

“Fuckin’ A,” Jerry said.

“I still can’t believe it,” Jamie murmured, shaking his head. “I’m famous.”