Zoe leaned close to him, but Jack still had to strain to hear what she was saying above the cacophony. “That can’t be Helga Moore.”

Jack grinned. “Not unless we’re about to get a play-by-play on the intimate habits of the Alaskan Malamute, it isn’t.”

“In case you haven’t guessed, I’m Phoebe Lovejoy,” the woman continued in the same chipper voice. She held up a book with a cover as pink as her suit. “And I’m here to talk about my fantastic new book: Spice Up Your Sex Life.”

Zoe grabbed her head, which had begun to pound. This couldn’t be happening. Beside her, Jack chuckled softly. All around them, people hooted and applauded. She yanked on the sleeve of a woman two seats away to get her attention.

“What happened to Helga Moore and her book about the Iditarod?” she asked, hearing the desperation in her voice.

“That was last week,” the woman said quickly, then turned away and gave a great whoop. “Let’s get it on,” she yelled.

Mortified, Zoe sat back in her seat. She felt Jack’s eyes on her and wondered what he must be thinking.

“I didn’t plan this,” she said. “I must have mixed up the dates.”

“Don’t apologize,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows. “I think I’m gonna enjoy every minute of this.”

“We could leave,” she said hopefully.

“Not when we’re sitting in the first row, we can’t. That’d be rude, don’t you think?”

Zoe slumped back against her seat, knowing he was right. Some members of the audience were still murmuring excitedly, but the noise had died down enough for Phoebe to continue.

“I’m not only an author, I’m a sex therapist who specializes in working with couples.” Phoebe surveyed the room and gave a thumbs-up. “I see you’ve all brought your partners. Now let’s get to work heating this place up!”

Zoe tilted back her head and gazed at the ceiling. Only a higher power could rescue her from the coming hell.

“I bet you’re all thinking I’m going to start off by talking about intercourse and orgasm and arousal.” Thinking about who was sitting next to her, Zoe felt heat flood her body. Nope, arousal wasn’t going to be a problem for her. “But I’m not. Because before you can view your partner as a sexual animal, you have to feel like a sexual animal yourself.”

Zoe kept her eyes carefully averted from Jack as Phoebe bounded around the stage like somebody who’d been sitting in front of a computer for too long.

“Do you know that during mating season a lion can have sex up to sixty times a day?” Phoebe asked.

“We knew that,” Jack whispered, making Zoe picture the amorous big cats at the zoo.

“Now there’s a sexual animal! Let’s get in the mood by imitating them.” Phoebe laughed. “No. You there in the back, let go of your woman. I meant we should purr, not plunder. Okay, everybody, at the count of three I want you to purr. Or roar if you’d rather. One, two, three…”

The Pomeranian-owning woman behind them sounded like she was barking, but the rest of the audience let out such a collection of roars and purrs that Zoe longed to cover her ears. Or disappear. Disappearance would be better, especially when Phoebe skipped across the stage to stand directly in front of her.

“Purr,” the author extolled. “Come on. You can do it. That good-looking man of yours is counting on you to become a sexual animal.”

Phoebe pumped her fist and leaned forward, making it clear she wouldn’t go away until Zoe purred.

“Purr,” Zoe said feebly.

“Louder!” Phoebe shouted.

“Purrrrrrrr,” Zoe shouted back just as the room quieted.

“Allll right,” Phoebe said. “That’s getting in touch with your inner sexual animal. Some of you may require more work on this.” She indicated Zoe with a toss of her head. “But not our lioness over there.”