Author's Note: After watching the season 2 deleted scenes between Pete and Violet, Scarlett, the Muse was compelled to write. This starts off with the scene of Pete and Violet at the coffee shop, that never aired in episode 10, "Worlds Apart," and then blends in with the rest of the episode.

Once again their snappy dialogue doesn't belong to me...sigh. Neither does Tim Daly...Bigger sigh.

About Last Night

Walking through the door of the coffee shop, Pete knows there a million things he could say. Words are something that have never failed him. All the women that have come in and out of his bed before and after his wife are a testament to that.

But as he makes his way toward the booth Violet's sitting at, all of his charm, the clever turns of phrase he's used too many times to count and in this very situation no less, fail him.

Taking off his shoulder bag, he slides into the vacant side across from hers, his sunglasses still covering his eyes and he stares at her, wondering how in her unassuming, analytical way she's been able to throw him off his game so easily.

And with no other option, he chooses the old standby. "So..." He pauses briefly. "About last night..."

As he expected her to, she calls him on his lack of originality. "Opening with a cliché, very brave."

Taking off his sunglasses, he lays them on the table and shrugs. "I was hoping to come up with something more original but...."

She nods and picks up the conversation. "It was fantastic." She tells him, small smile playing at her soft mauve lips. "Last night. The sex. You. It was exactly what I needed."

He takes in a deep breath, overwhelmed not by her words or unusual bluntness but by the images those words conjure up. He lets out the breath, letting his lungs decrease as he agrees, "Yeah...It was pretty...Unbelievable."

He watches her, his chocolate eyes roving over her lovely features and feels his own lips turning upwards as he watches hers. She laughs slightly and he finds himself laughing until she stops.

When she's finished, he leans over the table and tells her, "Meg's back from San Francisco today and I'm trying to decide whether I should tell her about us."

Her uniquely colored eyes, that have haunted him since the previous night's activities, grow wide and she doesn't even blink when she asks plainly, "Are you insane?"

He balks at her question, straightening up and looking at her curiously.

Sensing that he isn't going to say anything, she goes on one of her mini rants that he's become accustom to over the years they've known each other. "Because clinically speaking, if you tell her, you're insane."

His response is simple. "I don't like lying."

Just like the night before she disputes his point saying, "It was just one time."

There's a faint sting that comes with the finality in her voice, but he brushes it off. "So that's it?" He asks. "We just act like it never happened?"

"I'm a therapist, Pete." She reminds him, as if he needed a reminder. "I talk to women all day long about the pitfalls of becoming the other woman in a relationship."

Settling against the wooden back of the booth, he fiddles with his sunglasses for a moment as he shoots back with, "Well, to tell you the truth, I'm not all that comfortable playing the part of the cheating boyfriend so...."

She nods, understanding where he's coming from and says, "So we're agreed? It can't happen again."

Seemingly satisfied with their apparent agreement, she settles back against the booth as well, warm smile gracing her plump lips.

Her air of comfortability slowly starts to dissipate into one of curiosity as she begins to pick up on the way he's intensely staring at her from across the booth. "Why are you looking at me that way?"

He tilts his head slightly and asks, "What way?"

Her words are spoken slowly like she's treading the same dangerous ground they treaded the night before. "Like you want to dive across the table and rip my clothes off?"

His voice is low and desire is coating every throaty syllable, making him sound like he did when he whispered her name. "Because that's exactly what I want to do."

Somehow she finds a way to let air into her lungs and seemingly finds a way to let out also. Her resolve seems somewhat shaky, but she makes sure her voice is firm. "We need to avoid each other."

He seems like he's going to dispute her point, so she quickly cuts him off and elaborates on her previous stance of avoidance. "Avoid temptation."

He's unsure and with a shrug of his shoulders says, "I can do that."

She's not looking at him now, but staring into the pale blue cup that holds her coffee and says, "Me too."

Both of them settle into the booth, deep breaths leaving their lips and neither says anything. All they do is stare, until he makes the first move to leave and when she doesn't make a move to stop him, he does just that and makes his way to the door.

Feeling her eyes following him all the way.

After leaving the coffee shop and her unfinished drink behind, Violet has found herself in the break room at the practice, making herself tea.

Cooper being his nosy self can't help but comment on her apparently out of character choice of beverage. Picking up the box of tea bags, he asks, "Passion-fruit papaya black tea?"

Letting his usual curiosity roll of her back, she answers simply with a smile, "I'm thirsty."

Unable to leave anything alone, he also points out, "You're also relaxed and smiling. And you're shoulders..."

He reaches to grab them and put them in a hunched position to demonstrate his point. "Usually they're like this, but today..."

And to demonstrate his point once again, he loosens her shoulders. "Now they're like that."

Laughing at his child like enthusiasm, she brushes off his comments and continues preparing her tea. "You're being ridiculous."

Just when she thinks their conversation is over, he looks up at her like he's solved the mystery of her relaxed state and with a snap of his fingers concludes, "You had sex."

When she doesn't say anything, he repeats himself, sounding more confident. "You had sex."

Sighing, she looks up from the carafe of tea and says, "I don't really want to talk about it. I just...want to savor it."

He backs off slightly, but his stupid triumphant grin is still plastered to his face. "Okay, but who's the lucky guy?"

Just as she's about to answer, "the lucky guy," walks by the break room with his face in the morning paper and looks up briefly saying, "Hey," before continuing on his way to his office.

Much like he repeated himself earlier, she does the same thing, reiterating her previous point about savoring the sex she had. "I just want to savor it."

Letting her walk out of the room, Cooper stops watching her walk away and turns around, finding Pete at the refrigerator and tells him, "Violet had sex last night."

That announcement pulls the other man's head out of the fridge as he turns to look at his colleague. Waiting for him to elaborate he doesn't say anything until he makes a paying money motion with his hand and responds with the proper surprise in his voice, "Oh."

Later on that morning, Violet finds herself back in the break room, this time with Sam and Addison who are discussing the latter's patient who turns out to be getting herself into med school by being a high end call girl at night.

As the conversation goes on, Cooper wanders into the break room and starts espousing about his various in counters with call girls and as usual, she has to set him straight. Looking at him warily she tells him, "Because they don't want you to believe it...But the fact is it's true, they're selling themselves because they were touched inappropriately as young girls. If they admit it, it kills the fantasy."

At the sight of him rolling his eyes, she drives her point home. "Don't kid yourself. These girls are victims."

Addison's dryness is in full effect when she chimes in about her patient. "Try telling that to Carly."

At that moment, Pete walks into the break room, and inserts himself in between her and Cooper as he moves to reach for the bowl of sugar in the middle of the table. "Hey, Pete," Cooper asks. "You ever paid for sex?"

Shooting her a look, he says in a cool tone, "Don't have to," and then disappears.

The stylish red head picks up on the coolness and asks the other three people in the room rhetorically, "What's up with him?"

Scrambling and suddenly harried just by his brief presence, she answers Addison's rhetorical question while picking up her bowl of oatmeal, "I don't know. I um...I have patients. I have to get back to work."

Late in the day, she's riding the elevator and going over patient files, when suddenly she hears, "Hold the door," while a hand shoots out to stop the doors from closing.

To absorbed in her files, she doesn't look up to see who her apparent riding partner is until the person moves to squeeze in and they bump bodies. Looking up, she's staring into the very chocolate eyes she swore earlier in the morning, she'd avoid...Along with avoiding the temptation they bring.

He's immediately apologetic. "Oh. Sorry – I...."

Cutting him off, she decides to shoulder the blame for their run-in. "No, I...."

But her words die in her throat just from looking at him. Or maybe it's the way he's looking at her. Chocolate eyes a blaze with the same unabashed desire from the previous evening and then again this morning at the coffee shop while he was admitting he wanted to rip her clothes off.

Her breathing is getting heavy and it's hard to think with the way he's looking at her.

She thinks about leaning in, of having his lips on hers once more and he's apparently thinking the same thing, but as he moves to lean in, she backs away remembering her stance on avoidance.

He takes the hint but doesn't back away like she did. A smile comes to his handsome face as he nods. "Right." He says. "Good idea."

She agrees and mumbles, "Yeah, I should...."

But once again, her words simply trail off. Her brain is apparently unable to form a finished thought around him now, something that is more than ironic considering the many witty sparring matches they engaged in about patients and just life in general over the years.

Her eyes drift away from his briefly, but seeing as she can feel him staring at her, they wander back and become locked with his, much like they did the previous night.

Her heart flutters – something that never happens – and her breathing is erratic – something that isn't unusual, but she knows this is different.

They're moving closer, even though they know they shouldn't, they're still moving closer. Close enough that she can feel the warmth of his breath on her face and he can count the different shades of blue and grey that make up her eyes.

And just as they get close enough for their lips to pucker, the elevator dings and they break apart, scattering to different sides much like a pile of leaves would scatter in a large sweep of wind.

And as they turn to see who is waiting for the elevator, both are reminded of why they should be avoiding each other and why there should be no further discussions about last night.

Meg is back from San Francisco.