Blushing Violet (8 page)

“Oh,” she said in a soft sigh as the carnal image seared itself into her brain. She stumbled out of the car and the driver went back inside after a nod from Morgan.

They stood facing each other and she sighed in despair. He looked just as good in florescent lighting as he did anywhere else.

He lifted her chin with his finger and examined her face. “Are you okay?”

She nodded. “Yeah. I was just thinking how unfair it was that you look like some Greek sex god come to Earth to give women multiple orgasms while I look like sick cheese in this lighting.”

He blinked at her. “Greek sex god?”

She covered her face with her hands in embarrassment. He was so easy to be around that she had talked to him like she would talk to her friends, not like the amazingly handsome date that he was.

As she berated herself for being the antithesis of smooth, he pulled her hands away from her face and kissed her palms. “I would love to role-play a virgin sacrifice with you sometime. I would get to be the god that needs to be pleased and you would be my delicious plaything.”

She swallowed and stared up at him. “Okay.”

Soft and firm, his lips brushed across hers in a kiss that sent a quick bolt of heat through her body. “Good night, my Violet. I look forward to hearing from you soon.”

“Good night.”

He waited until she was in her car and turned it on before getting back into the limo. As they pulled away she looked at herself in the rearview mirror and wondered how she had gotten so lucky as to have two of the most amazing dates of her life in less than forty-eight hours. The little voice of her mother told her not to get too attached, that Carlos’ and Morgan’s temporary insanity would lift and they would soon realize how beneath them she was.

For the first time in a long time, she squashed that voice and relished the blessed silence in her own head.

Chapter Seven

Violet hummed along with the gentle music coming from the speakers overhead. Mrs. Delfin liked to listen to classical while she was getting her massage and Violet enjoyed moving with the music. The scent of eucalyptus and lemongrass gave the air a clean and herbal smell as she worked the massage oil into Mrs. Delfin’s arthritic hands.

At eighty-three, Mrs. Delfin felt as delicate as tissue paper beneath her hands. She marveled at how soft her skin was and how it felt like a baby’s, despite the wrinkles. Joints swollen and tender relaxed beneath her gentle touch as she worked one finger and then the next. Mrs. Delfin had been coming to her for four years and they knew each other well.

Mrs. Delfin’s husband had passed away two years ago and she had begun coming in once a week instead of once a month since then. While Mrs. Delfin told her friends that it was for her arthritis, she confided in Violet that she missed being touched. Not in a sexual way, but human beings are social creatures and crave the touch and comfort of another person. She got plenty of hugs and kisses from her grandchildren, but those were different. A massage was just about her feeling good. Violet couldn’t imagine what it would be like to have the loving arms of your husband around you for forty-eight years and suddenly have them gone.

The elegant melody of a piano blended into the harmony of the clarinet as she moved on to the long muscles of Mrs. Delfin’s arms. Her thoughts drifted over the past three weeks and her heart soared along with the music. She had spent almost every night with either Morgan or Carlos and had the blissed-out mind and aching body to prove it.

The morning after her first date with Morgan, she found a lovely message from Carlos asking her out to dinner. Morgan had called her later that day and asked to take her to dinner that night. She’d considered lying to him about the reason why they couldn’t go out, but in the end she simply told him she had another date that night. He acted as if it was no big deal and they made plans for later that week.

That scene repeated itself a few days later when she’d already made plans with Morgan and Carlos wanted to spend time with her. With her heart in her throat she’d told him she had a date with another man that night, but instead of calling her a whore or a bunch of other bad things, he’d simply asked her if the night after that was free.

Never, in all of her years on Earth, could she imagine that she would be dating two utterly charming, handsome, and amazing men at once without having to hide it or lie.

Morgan had spent the night last night at her house and the memory of him making breakfast in the nude was one she would never forget. Especially since she had been tied to her kitchen chair at the time with a vibrator humming inside her. For a man that was such a demanding Dom in the bedroom, he had a nurturing streak a mile wide. It shouldn’t surprise her. After all, he had basically been the father figure to his sisters while growing up. He enjoyed giving her pleasure in every way possible and Adam, bless his furry heart, adored him.

Tonight she was going over to Carlos’ apartment. He was going to meet her in the South American section of Eastern Market and together they were going to buy the ingredients to make
Tampiquena
, a delicious Mexican steak recipe. She had always loved Eastern Market with its collection of fresh produce stands and butcher shops. It held a little bit of all the nationalities that made up Detroit and she had been delighted as a little girl to go from a Polish bakery, to a Middle Eastern spice shop, and end up at a traditional French cheese store.

She couldn’t wait to share the experience of visiting the Market with Carlos. That was one thing she had been missing in her life, sharing things with someone she lo—

Her hands went still as she chased that thought away. No, she couldn’t love him, or Morgan. Not yet. People don’t fall in love right away, it was something that happened slowly, over time. Especially not two men at once. She had only known them for less than a month for pity’s sake.

It wasn’t proper.

Her mother’s voice spoke up in her mind, scolding her for leading two men on and making a fool of herself. That hard voice berated her for letting them do all those things to her, things that good girls would never ever do. Even worse, she had loved those things and that just proved how much of a bad girl she was. Her father would be so disappointed in her. Being a good girl, a meek and quiet girl who did what she was told when she was told was the only thing she did better than Penny.

Mrs. Delfin’s soft voice interrupted her dark thoughts. “Is something wrong, dear?”

Realizing that her hands were barely moving, Violet felt a blush burn her cheeks. “No. I’m so sorry. I was woolgathering about—some guy I’m dating.” The last thing she wanted to do was tell Mrs. Delfin that she was in a relationship with two men who were both getting serious. All she needed to do was give the old woman a heart attack because of her hedonistic ways.

Mrs. Delfin also deserved better than the half-assed massage she was giving her. Determined to focus on the present, she pushed her mother’s voice away and locked it out of her head. It was one thing to let that voice tear her to shreds when she was alone, but she wouldn’t let it hurt other people. It sounded slightly psychotic when she thought about it like that, but it was true.

She worked her way up to Mrs. Delfin’s shoulder, soothing away a knot that had formed there. Mrs. Delfin had six grandchildren and two great-grandchildren and she refused to let her arthritis keep her from holding a baby. Violet could only wish that she would be surrounded by so much love someday, to have a family of her own.

“You know,” Mrs. Delfin said with her eyes still closed, “it may surprise you, but I’ve learned a thing or two about men during my time on Earth. Where do you think all of my children came from?”

Violet cleared her throat. “It’s kinda complicated.” She moved around to Mrs. Delfin’s other side.

“When are affairs of the heart not?” She kept her eyes closed and sighed as Violet worked on a muscle. “I noticed you’re not as slouched as you used to be.”

“What?”

“Slouched, slumped, curled in on yourself.” The delicate muscles of Mrs. Delfin’s neck flexed and stretched beneath her fingertips. “You used to walk like you were trying to hide from someone, begging the world not to notice you. I knew your ex-fiancé wasn’t the right man for you when you continued to walk like that while you were with him.”

Violet’s hands moved on autopilot, following the familiar path of muscle beginnings and nerve endings. Mrs. Delfin’s words struck her to the core. When she picked out clothes to wear it was always muted tones that covered her and assured that she would blend into the crowd. Certainly never clothes that would display her curves or call attention to her.

In her teens she had bought one form-fitting shirt in a daring hot-pink color and endured her sister Penny’s hissing remarks about being a slut. She might have found the strength to continue to wear the shirt except her father had been very disappointed when he saw her and asked her to change into something that didn’t make her look so cheap. It didn’t matter that skinny and svelte Penny had a closet full of tight clothes, she never wanted to see her father’s disappointment directed at her again.

She didn’t wear that much makeup because she didn’t want to draw what her mother termed as “the wrong kind of attention”. Instead the attention she did attract were men like her ex, men who tried to control every aspect of her life.
Why
she had dated such men in the first place was a whole ’nother can of psychological worms that she didn’t want to open up right now.

The music switched over to a sweet and light strings piece as Mrs. Delfin said, “Your beloved should be someone who builds you up, makes you a stronger person. Together, you should feel like you can go anywhere and do anything. Most of all they should make you feel cherished and safe.”

Clearing her throat, Violet moved down the bed to work on Mrs. Delfin’s feet. “How do I walk now?”

Mrs. Delfin smiled. “You walk with your shoulders back and your head held high. Whoever this gentleman is, he’s managed to convince you that you are worth loving.”

Guilt pierced Violet’s chest. Carlos and Morgan did make her feel cherished. It was in their eyes, in the way they touched her and always made sure she was comfortable and happy. With Carlos she had not only amazing sex, but an extremely smart man who could debate with her for hours over differing viewpoints and never have to resort to cutting her down or making her feel stupid to prove his point. He told her all the time that he loved her mind, loved that she was so intelligent and yet compassionate. Come to think of it, he was always telling her the different things that he loved about her.

When she was with Morgan the world seemed to go from being a scary place to a playground. He took her to art museums and answered all of her questions with endless patience and she always found herself laughing while she was with him. He radiated joy and brought much needed warmth to her life. In the bedroom he was a force of nature, as irresistible as the tide. Dominant and demanding, he pushed her boundaries and left her an exhausted, utterly happy mess.

She knew she should choose between them, pick one amazing man over the other and not string them both along. After all, they wouldn’t accept her dating both of them forever. Even though they claimed to be cool with it, she had noticed their unhappiness when she told one she couldn’t make plans with him because she had a date with the other. They never pressed her or pressured her, and that made her feel all the worse.

Never in a million years would she have been able to do what they were doing, so selflessly giving her the room and time to decide. Just the thought of either of them being with another woman made rage boil in her veins. To make matters worse, she honestly didn’t know which man she liked better. If it wasn’t impossible, she’d say she was falling in love with both of them. The thought of never seeing Carlos or Morgan again made her heart ache and her mouth dry. Even worse was the thought of how badly she would hurt them if she didn’t make a decision soon.

“What…” Violet swallowed the shame that threatened to choke her and continued. “What if there are two men that make me feel that way?”

Mrs. Delfin’s laugh was that of a much younger woman, still filled with light and life. “Do they know about each other?”

“Yes.” She sighed and ran her thumb up the arch of Mrs. Delfin’s foot. “They are both so nice about it. Neither one pressures me to choose, but I can feel their unhappiness about the situation.”

“Clever men,” Mrs. Delfin said in a murmur. “I’m willing to bet that neither is thrilled about you seeing the other, men are such competitive creatures, but they don’t want to be the first one to raise a stink about it and take the chance of losing you.”

Violet considered that thought. Could that really be why Carlos and Morgan hadn’t said anything? Were they afraid she would use it as an excuse to leave them? “But I have to choose one over the other. It isn’t fair to string them both along.”

“My advice.” Mrs. Delfin smiled. “Mind you, this is the advice of a woman who was married to the love of her life for forty-eight years but did her fair share of courting, is to take your time. You’re still in the first blush of a relationship, where everything is new and fascinating.” Her tone turned mischievous. “If you decide that you love both of them, buy a house big enough for all of you and consider yourself blessed.”

“Mrs. Delfin!” Violet said with a shocked giggle.

“Dear, I’ve lived through war, the sexual revolution, and watched the world change around me into both a better and a worse place. In that time I’ve seen just about every kind of relationship you could imagine. Did you know that one of my sons is married to another man in Hawaii? That they have adopted two beautiful children together and are raising them in a home filled with love?”

Mrs. Delfin struggled to turn over on her stomach and Violet helped her with a gentle touch. “You amaze me.”

“Love is God’s most precious gift and I would never insult him by thinking that I know better than he does. When you reach my age, you realize how very short life is and how easily it can be wasted. Don’t waste this chance, Violet. Grab after it with both hands and hold on.”

The bones of Mrs. Delfin’s back protruded through her thin skin and Violet warmed the oil in her hands before spreading it over her back. “I’ll try.”

Mrs. Delfin sighed in pleasure as Violet found a knot and began to work on it. “Don’t try, do.”

* * * * *

Carlos struggled to swallow the rage that threatened to choke him as he glared across his heavy oak dining room table at Morgan. “Fuck you.”

Morgan sneered at him. “No, fuck you!”

The smooth and cultured female voice of their agent, Ms. Hanley, cut through the air from the speaker phone. “No, gentlemen, fuck both of you.”

Both men gritted their teeth and turned their glare on the phone. Carlos wisely kept his mouth shut, but Morgan was never one for tact. “Listen, Ms. Hanley, this is a—”

“This,” the smooth voice interrupted him with enough chill to frost a beer mug, “is a clusterfuck. You two are supposed to have an entire exhibit at the fundraiser that I begged, borrowed and stole to get you ready in three months. Yet I have not one new piece from you. Not one!”

The shriek in her last word had both men wincing and Carlos tried a more tactful approach. “I told you we’d be ready.”