“So that’s what all this is about,” he said wryly.
Drina nodded. “Ever since she read my mind and saw how my life has been all work and no play, she’s been determined I should ‘have fun.’ ”
“She’s frighteningly good at reading minds,” Harper said solemnly.
“Uncommonly good at it,” Drina agreed, her expression troubled. “New turns can’t usually read anyone yet, but she not only seems to be able to read new life mates, but non–life mates too and even those of us centuries or millennia older than her.” She bit her lip, and admitted, “Actually, she says she’s not reading minds at all, but that we’re all talking into her head.”
“Hmm.” Harper frowned at the words.
“Oh, Drina! These are pretty, and they’re so soft!” Stephanie cried, drawing their attention as she rubbed a pair of red gloves against her cheek. They had reached the outerwear section.
Forcing away the concern on her face, Drina moved to join the girl, leaving Harper to follow. He did so more slowly, his mind consumed with Drina’s words as he watched the two females consider the options in gloves, hats, and scarves.
He now understood Stephanie’s apparent determination to dress Drina up in the hottest gear she could find. The kid probably felt guilty for the woman being roped into helping look out for her and wanted to repay her in some way. Or perhaps in reading Drina’s mind she’d picked up on the soul-deep loneliness that most immortals suffered. Either way, it seemed her response was a desire to find Drina a boyfriend while she was here. The girl still thought like a mortal and didn’t realize that such relationships weren’t really very satisfying to their kind. To her, a female probably wasn’t complete without a boyfriend on her arm. And apparently Drina was humoring the girl.
But the bit about Stephanie claiming not to read minds, but that everyone else was talking into her head was troubling. The truth was that unless an immortal had just found their life mate, their thoughts were usually more private, and they had to be read. While it was rude to do so, immortals did it all the time, which meant they all had to guard their thoughts when around others. But he’d never heard of someone experiencing what Stephanie claimed. Harper pondered what it might mean as the girls picked out hats, scarves, and gloves, and moved on to coats. It wasn’t until Stephanie led them toward the boot section that Harper recalled her words while Drina had been in the changing room.
Moving the cart up beside Drina, he asked, “What are FM shoes?”
“What?” She glanced around with a start.
“FM shoes,” he repeated. “Stephanie says that’s what her sister calls high heels, but she didn’t know why and suggested I should ask you. What does the FM stand for?”
“Ah.” For some reason the question caused a struggle on Drina’s face. It looked as if she was trying not to smile or laugh. Managing to fight off the urge, she turned and picked up a pair of impossibly high-heeled shoes from the row they were walking down and held them up. “These are FM shoes.”
Harper peered at the shoes, black, strappy, and with heels that had to be six inches high. They were sexy as hell and would probably go well with the black dress she’d picked up earlier. “And the FM stands for?”
Drina cleared her throat and tossed the shoe, along with its partner in the cart, then announced, “Fuck Me,” and turned to walk over to Stephanie.
Harper stared after her, stunned. For one moment he thought she’d actually been making a request of him, and he found he wasn’t averse to the idea. But then his reason kicked in. Pushing the cart quickly forward, he gasped, “Are you serious?”
Drina nodded.
“Why?” he asked with amazement.
Her eyebrows rose, and then she leaned in and picked up one shoe. “Well, look at it. It’s sexy as hell, could turn a guy on at twenty paces.” She shrugged.
“But women actually call them that?” he asked with disbelief.
“It’s what they are,” she said with amusement. Seeing his lack of comprehension, her expression turned pitying, and she said, “You don’t think we wear them because they’re comfortable, do you? Because I can guarantee you they aren’t. We pick them purely to attract the male of the species. The same reason we pick bustiers and anything else terribly uncomfortable but appealing to the male eye.”
“Huh.” Harper gave himself a shake. It had been centuries since he’d bothered reading a mortal woman’s mind. Well, really, it had been centuries since he’d bothered with mortal women at all. He simply hadn’t been interested until Jenny, and he hadn’t been able to read her mind. Still, he supposed he shouldn’t be surprised at these revelations. Even back then, women had done all sorts of things to attract mates: lead makeup, corsets, etc. They hadn’t openly admitted that was what it was about, though. It seemed women nowadays were much more frank on the subject if they actually called high heels Fuck Me shoes. It occurred to him that the world might be a much more interesting place now than it had been.