Jinxed!

2

EVAN SAWYER STARED across the bright courtyard at Lacey Perkins and felt every muscle in his body tense. Something about the woman unsettled him in a way he neither understood nor liked. Surely the tension that gripped him whenever he saw her-hell, whenever he so much as thought of her-was nothing more than severe irritation. It definitely rankled that she pushed the envelope with her coffee shop’s window displays and sensuously named products. Who the hell sold baked goods named Chocolate Orgasm and coffee drinks called Hot, Wet & Wild?

The woman and her eclectic shop were a major headache and had been since Constant Cravings first opened. He’d stopped in early on the shop’s opening day, looking forward to bringing a cappuccino to his office. Before he could place his order, however, a smiling Lacey had asked him if he’d like to try the opening day special-A Slow Glide into Pleasure. That had been eight months ago, yet he recalled the moment and the fire that had raced through him so vividly it might as well have happened eight seconds ago. Even now, all these months later, the memory of her asking him that question, in her smoky, husky voice, her eyes twinkling with mischief, had him clenching his hands to keep from yanking at his suddenly too tight tie. He couldn’t recall ever being so flustered by a woman.

And no wonder. His and Lacey’s personalities were like oil and water, leaving them constantly at odds. If Constant Cravings wasn’t one of the most income-producing stores in the Fairfax complex, Evan would have terminated her lease months ago. She continually tested him, seeing how much she could get away with, how far she could push the boundaries, a trait that totally rubbed him the wrong way. Why couldn’t she simply follow the rules like all the other tenants?

No doubt because she was one of those artsy-fartsy, free-spirit types who believed rules were made to be bent, twisted or downright broken to accommodate her “creativity.” She simply didn’t grasp the fact that Fairfax projected a certain upscale image, and that her suggestive window displays and product names did not fit that image. No, she scoffed whenever he reminded her of that. She insisted that her displays were tongue-in-cheek, and that since sales were on the increase, obviously sex did sell.

While Evan couldn’t argue with her financial success, damn it there were rules to be followed. Unfortunately the wording in her tenant agreement regarding the appropriateness of her store’s decorations gave her enough wiggle room to make his job of enforcing the dictates difficult. So far no one had complained, but he suspected it was just a matter of time, especially since she kept pushing the sensuality factor with every new display.

Just then she turned and their gazes met. He stilled, feeling the impact like a sucker punch. Although he couldn’t see the color of her eyes from this distance, they reminded him of caramel, the irises dotted with lighter flecks of gold and surrounded by a dark ring that resembled melted chocolate. Every time he looked into them he felt an inexplicable craving to indulge in something sweet.

The breeze teased her wildly curly hair, which she’d clearly tried to tame into a ponytail, with limited success. He tried to look away, but as always seemed to be the case when he saw her, his eyeballs failed to cooperate with his brain. Instead of looking away, his gaze flicked down her form. There was nothing overtly provocative about her white short-sleeved shirt and plain black pants. Certainly nothing that should have tightened his jaw further.

But there was just something about the way her clothes hugged her figure that rendered it…spectacular. And rendered him speechless. Damn it, every time he looked at her, in his mind’s eye he saw her lips-her full, glistening lips-forming the words, Would you like A Slow Glide into Pleasure? He found himself shifting to relieve the sudden discomfort in his pants, and irritation yanked down his eyebrows. How damn annoying was it that his body reacted so strongly to a woman he didn’t even like?

Pretty damn annoying.

She inclined her head and offered him a tight-looking half smile, a greeting of sorts he supposed, but before he could respond, she lifted her chin in that aggravating, stubborn way she had, then turned away and approached the fortune-teller’s table. He tried his damnedest to pull his gaze from her, but again failed, his attention riveted on her walk. She might be an artsy-fartsy, rule-breaking pest but there was no denying that she walked like sin in motion, with a slow, sensual, hip-rolling stride that made it seem as if the small patch of grass he stood on had suddenly moved closer to the sun.

Clearing his throat, he finally managed to force his gaze away from her, only to have it fall on her shop’s window. His teeth clenched at the provocative display. A mannequin couple stood in what was supposed to be a cozy kitchen. The oven door was open, and the female mannequin, dressed in a short, slinky, fire-engine-red dress, held a cookie sheet in one oven-mitted hand. In the other hand she held an oversized heart-shaped, pink-frosted cookie. With her glossy scarlet lips parted and her eyes half-closed, she was lifting the cookie toward the male mannequin that stood behind her.

Dressed in a black satin robe and matching boxers decorated with small pink hearts, the male mannequin’s hands rested on the female’s hips, his head bent toward the curve of her neck. Across the top of the window, painted in bold crimson script were the challenging words, Taste Me…Then Just Try To Walk Away.

An image of Lacey, her curves encased in that sexy red dress, offering him that cookie, flashed through his mind, leaving a trail of heat in its wake that had nothing to do with the bright sunshine.

“You planning to visit the fortune-teller, Evan?”

Evan blinked away the distracting, disturbing image and turned to look at Paul West, an attorney who’d been his best friend since college and who’d moved his office into the Fairfax building only last week. With his brain still not fully recovered, he managed only to grunt, “Huh?”

“The fortune-teller. By the number of people I’ve seen stop by her table, I’d say she’s the hit of the party. You going to get your cards read?”

“Me?” Evan asked, raising his eyebrows. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am, the operative word being serious. Which is what you’ve been too much lately. Loosen up a little. Relax. This is a party, remember?”

“Of course I remember.” How could he forget? The party had been his idea, and the hefty price tag for it was being picked up by the company he worked for, GreenSpace Property Management-money well spent as the party was clearly a success, drawing a large, diverse group of visitors to Fairfax’s mix of retail stores. From the array of mid to high end boutiques to the cafés, there was something here for everyone, and pride filled Evan at the fact that the retail spaces were currently one hundred percent leased. Now that the renovations were completed, his goal was to see that the office spaces, currently leased at eighty percent, were also at one hundred percent by year’s end.

Paul nudged him in the ribs, then nodded across the courtyard. “Looks like Lacey Perkins is having her fortune told.”

Evan’s gaze snapped around and zeroed in on Lacey, who sat with her back to them at the fortune-teller’s table. “You know her?” he asked, a note of surprise creeping into his voice.

“Hell, yeah. You think I wouldn’t know the owner of the coffee shop nearest my office? I met her last week on my first day here, when she made me the best double shot no-foam latte I’ve ever had. She’s really nice.”

“Nice?” Evan shook his head. “That’s not the word I’d use to describe her.” No, annoying, irritating, aggravating…those words were much more accurate.

“Hmm. Maybe you’re right. Something like sizzling hot is probably better.”

Evan whipped his head around and found himself staring at Paul’s profile. His friend’s attention was riveted across the courtyard on Lacey. A fissure of something that felt exactly like jealousy but couldn’t possibly be snaked through Evan. “Hot? You think?”

“Are you kidding me?” Paul turned and shot him an incredulous look. “You manage this place. Have you never seen her?”

Oh, he’d seen her all right. More times than he cared to remember. “Of course.”

“And you don’t think the woman could set the Pacific Ocean on fire?”

The question caught Evan off guard in a way he neither understood nor liked. “Any attractiveness she might possess is completely cancelled out by the fact that she and her innuendo-laced displays and products are a major pain in my ass.”

“Yeah, well those ‘innuendo-laced products’ are absolutely delicious. I tasted her Sugar Lips crumb cake yesterday and…wow. The things that woman can whip up in the kitchen could make a grown man weep.” Paul grinned. “I’m hoping next week’s cookie is named something like Wild Sweaty Sex in the Backseat. Would love to get me some of that-with her.”

Something cramped Evan’s insides-and apparently his facial muscles as well-because Paul blinked, held up his hands and said, “Whoa, sorry. Didn’t realize I was stepping on your toes.”

“What are you talking about?”

“That laser-beam death stare you just sizzled at me. You never mentioned having a thing for her.”

Evan wiped his face clean of expression, irked to realize he’d been scowling. “No doubt because I don’t.” Really. He didn’t. That steaming heat she inspired? Nothing more than severe annoyance.

“Uh-huh. Then why haven’t you been able to stop staring at her? Not that I blame you-Lacey is certainly something to look at.”

“If I was staring, it’s only because I was trying to figure out what she’s going to do next. She’s always bending the rules.”

“Ah. So she challenges you.”

“No, she annoys me.”

“She’s not the sort of woman you usually go for.”

Evan shook his head and looked skyward. “I’m not ‘going for’ her. In fact, I’d like her to move out of Fairfax when her lease is up. But instead, she’s talking about expanding. Wants me to let her know if the storefront on either side of her comes up for lease.”

Paul studied him for several long seconds, the scrutiny making Evan feel as if he were a germ under a microscope. Then Paul grinned. “Oh, you’ve got it bad, man. And what’s so funny, is that you-Mr. 4.0, MBA, top-of-his-class smart guy-don’t realize it. Gotta say, I’m torn-half of me is glad that you’re finally showing an interest in a woman who’s not the uptight, high-maintenance, boring type you’ve been wasting your time on, but damn, I wish I’d seen Lacey first. She is fine.” His grin flashed wider. “Maybe she has a sister.”

“You’re welcome to her,” Evan said, pissed-and alarmed-that he actually had to force out the words.

“If I thought for even a nanosecond that you meant that, believe me, I’d go for it.”

“And I don’t usually go for uptight, high-maintenance, boring types.” A frown pulled down his eyebrows. Did he?

“Maybe not recently, but only because you’ve been living like a freakin’ monk. Before that? Nearly every woman I’ve seen you with for the past two years has been a carbon copy of the other-and they’ve all been uptight, high-maintenance and boring.”

Was Paul right? Surely not. He’d have to think on that. But later. “Lacey Perkins is certainly a high-maintenance tenant.”

“That doesn’t mean she’s a high-maintenance woman. And she sure as hell doesn’t strike me as uptight or boring. But just a warning-I think you have your work cut out for you. Since I didn’t know you’d already staked a claim, I flirted with her every morning this past week. And while she’s been friendly, that’s all she’s been. She definitely throws out a strong ‘hands off’ vibe. Probably has a boyfriend.”

The profound sense of relief Evan experienced that Lacey hadn’t caught any of the flirtatious balls Paul had tossed her way utterly confused him, as did the cramping at the thought of her having a serious boyfriend. What the hell did he care if she flirted with Paul or anyone else? Who gave a rat’s ass if she had a boyfriend or even a husband? Not him. In fact, he hoped she did have a boyfriend-one on the verge of being transferred to another state, who’d take her with him when he moved.

“C’mon, let’s go get your fortune read,” Paul said. “See if it’s in the cards for you and Lacey to-”

“I assure you it’s not.”

“Okay, then maybe the fortune-teller can tell you if you’re gonna get lucky with anyone anytime soon.”

“Why don’t you have your fortune read and she can tell you if you’re going to get lucky anytime soon?”

“I already know.” Paul gave a wolfish grin. “I have a date tonight with this babe named Melinda, who I met yesterday at the supermarket. We bonded over broccoli.”

“You don’t like broccoli.”

“True. But I really liked the steaming-hot woman who was picking some out, so it was well worth the three bucks I spent on the gross stuff.”

“Seems like you’re with a different woman every week.”

“I am. And you know why? Because I actually go out. To places where women are. Women who want to meet men. It’s called dating. You should try it sometime.”

“I date.” Although admittedly not very much lately. And the last series of dates he’d gone on? All empty evenings spent with women he’d found physically attractive, but who had proven ultimately uninteresting-usually after less than two hours in their company.

“Don’t you ever get…” Evan hesitated, not sure how to express the perplexing discontent he’d been feeling the past few months “…tired? Of going to clubs? Of awkward first dates? Of trying to find a woman you can actually talk to?”

“Talk to?” Paul shook his head. “You sound more like ninety-two than thirty-two. I knew you’d buried yourself in your work lately, but I hadn’t realized the situation was this dire. When’s the last time you got laid?”

Too long ago. Yet even the last two times, which had satisfied him physically, had still felt somehow…empty. In a way he didn’t understand himself, and definitely had no intention of trying to explain to Paul. “I’m not having this conversation.”

A flicker of concern flashed in Paul’s eyes. “Ever since you and Heather split up you’ve turned into a work-obsessed maniac. It’s been six months-time for you to come out of mourning over a relationship with a woman who was all wrong for you.”

“I’m not in mourning. I’m just busy. Overseeing the Fairfax renovations has taken an enormous amount of time.”

“No guy is too busy to get laid.”

“Who says I haven’t gotten laid?”

“Have you?”

“Of course.”

Paul’s eyes narrowed. “Since you and Heather broke up?”

“Yes.”

“Well, that’s a relief. How many times?”

Evan blew out an impatient sigh. He considered lying, just to end this conversation, but he was a lousy liar, and Paul knew it. “Twice.”

“Twice? In the past six months? Holy crap, your dick is gonna fall off.” Paul shot him a look Evan was sure had swayed more than one opposing counsel to agree to his terms. “The renovations are finished and it’s time you started living again.”

“I never stopped.”

“You certainly stopped having fun.” He hesitated, then added quietly, “Heather’s moved on, Evan. You need to as well.”

Evan dragged his hands down his face then drew a deep breath. “Look, I appreciate the concern, but this isn’t a case of me not moving on. Believe me, my heart’s not broken.”

“She cheated on you.”

“Which pissed me off. But it didn’t break my heart. The job’s just kept me crazy busy and, frankly, I haven’t met a woman recently who’s interested me enough to make more than a token effort. But as soon as I meet one-and now that I finally have more time I’m sure I will-believe me, I’ll go for it.”

And he meant every word. He supposed that his ego should have been bruised by Heather’s betrayal, but in truth, after the initial shock of anger, he’d been more relieved than anything else. Heather had been one of those women who in theory should have been perfect for him. She came from a good family, had attended all the right schools, was successful in her management position with Neiman Marcus, and very attractive. They hailed from similar backgrounds, had a lot in common, and the sex had been good. In reality, however, they’d crashed and burned. All Heather’s outward perfection and fabulous credentials had just cleverly hidden an inner character lacking in honesty and integrity.

“Well, glad to hear you’re ready to jump back into the dating waters,” Paul said. “And the timing’s perfect. Since today is Valentine’s Day-aka the biggest get-lucky occasion of the year-we’re going to make certain you don’t spend the night alone. C’mon. We’re heading across the courtyard. If the sexy Lacey isn’t the woman to jump-start things and end your dry spell-”

“She’s not-”

“Then maybe the fortune-teller will clue us in to who is. There’re hundreds of women roaming around here.”

“Are you nuts? I don’t believe in that fortune-teller nonsense.”

“Fine. I’ll ask her for you.” He grinned. “Right after I tell Lacey you’re insanely hot for her.”

Evan rubbed his temple in a vain attempt to stem the throbbing there. “Cripes, you’re like the pesky little brother I’ve never had. Or wanted. Have you always been such a pain in the ass?”

Paul’s grin merely widened. “You won’t think I’m a pain in the ass after you get laid. And I’m willing to bet you’ll be in a much better mood afterward, too.”

He could have protested but what was the point? Paul could argue the paint off walls-it’s what made him such a good lawyer. And besides, much as it galled Evan to admit it, Paul was right. A good sweaty romp between the sheets would surely cure him of this discontent and the tension plaguing him. But enlisting the help of a fortune-teller? Ridiculous. He’d just head out to one of the dozens of L.A. clubs tonight and see what was out there.

You know what’s out there, his inner voice whispered wearily. You’ve seen it and dated it, dozens of times.

Right. And the thought of doing so again didn’t fill him with any anticipation. But unless he wanted Paul to carry out his threat-and he knew from experience his friend wouldn’t hesitate to do so, and he saw Paul was already striding across the courtyard-he needed to get his ass in gear.

Against his better judgment and feeling uncharacteristically out of sorts, Evan jogged to catch up. As they approached the fortune-teller, who went by the totally absurd name of Madame Karma, Lacey rose from the chair, then turned. Her gaze collided with Evan’s and his brisk footsteps nearly faltered at the impact. Her eyes narrowed on him with clear annoyance, and he bit back a grim smile. Good. Why should he be the only one out of sorts?

She then switched her attention to Paul, and her chilly expression instantly melted to a warm smile. “Paul, how nice to see you,” she said, lifting one hand to shade her eyes. “Are you craving your usual double-shot, no-foam latte?”

“That, and one of your delicious cookies.” He rubbed his hand over his stomach. “Best I’ve ever tasted.”

Her smile outshone the bright golden sun, drawing Evan’s gaze to her full lips and the pair of shallow dimples flanking them. Damn, he’d always had a thing for women with dimples. How unfair that such a sexy pair was wasted on this particular woman. Her smile faded, and feeling the weight of a stare, he raised his gaze to find her glaring at him. “Evan.”

As far as enthusiastic greetings went, it wasn’t much, but that was fine by him. His every muscle tensed and his suit suddenly felt as if it had shrunk. “Lacey.”

Her gaze bounced between him and Paul. “You two know each other?”

“Best friends since college,” Evan said.

Her eyebrows shot upward. “You two?” Her gaze remained steady on his, but her fingers waved back and forth between him and Paul.

He wasn’t sure if he was more irked or amused at her obvious disbelief. “You seem shocked that I’d have a friend.”

“I suppose I am, at least a friend who’s so personable.”

“I’m extremely personable-toward people who don’t constantly wear on my patience.”

“Perhaps you’re just an impatient person. Maybe you should switch to decaf. It might help you relax.”

“Actually, I consider myself a very patient man, considering all that I’ve had to put up with lately,” he replied, his gaze resting significantly on her.

“Patient? Now that’s not a word I would associate with a man so opposed to the tongue-in-cheek playful tone of my window displays.”

“Obviously our definitions of playful aren’t the same. Pushing the envelope toward nudity goes beyond what is appropriate for Fairfax.”

Color rose in her cheeks. “My mannequins are fully clothed.”

“Right-in a way that’s as obvious as a slap in the face.”

“Slap in the face…” She smiled sweetly. “Is that an invitation?”

He made a tsking noise. “I didn’t know you harbored violent tendencies.”

“Only toward people who constantly wear on my nerves.”

“Speaking of wearing on my nerves…” He jerked his thumb toward her shop. “That window display is, um…”

“Provocative? Interesting?”

“I was thinking more along the lines of ‘over the top.’”

“Thank you. I accept your compliment.”

“I didn’t pay you one.”

“The fact that you noticed the display is a compliment in itself.”

“Obviously our last conversation regarding toning down the displays fell on deaf ears.”

“No, I heard you.”

“Ah. Then this is a problem of you not knowing the difference between hearing and listening.”

“I know the difference. But I also know the meaning of ignoring.”

“Obviously.”

“And this is a problem of you not knowing the meaning of the word playful. I suspect you wouldn’t know playful if it jumped up and bit your butt.”

“Undoubtedly because you don’t know me.”

“I don’t? That’s odd. I feel as if I know you very well.”

She didn’t add the word unfortunately, but it was clearly implied. “As I feel I know you,” he murmured. “How…lucky for both of us.”

“Hmm. Not certain lucky is the word I’d choose, but then, we don’t agree on much, do we?”

“I think the next time we agree will be the first time.”

“At least we can agree on that. And in that spirit of peacemaking…” She nodded her chin toward the crowds of people. “The party is a huge success. Whoever planned it did a great job.”

“Thank you.”

Her eyebrows rose. “You planned all this?”

“You sound surprised.”

“I am. You don’t strike me as the party-planning type.”

He was tempted to ask what type he did strike her as, but decided he didn’t really want to know, especially as he doubted it would be complimentary. Instead he smiled, a gesture he knew didn’t reach his eyes. “Managing property isn’t the only thing I do well.”

“I know. You’re also adept at aggravating the tenants. And apparently you also know the name of a good party planner.”

“Part of being a good manager is the ability to delegate.”

“Uh-huh. So, will you be stopping in for a coffee? We have a special Valentine’s sugar cookie you might enjoy. It’s in the shape of lips.” She shot him another sweet smile. “I call it Bite Me.”

Paul made a choking sound, indicating a smothered laugh, and Evan turned toward his friend. Damn, he’d completely forgotten Paul’s presence, and Madame Karma’s as well, an oversight he blamed on the thoroughly irritating Lacey.

“Thanks, but I’ll delegate coffee duty to Paul.” Evan then turned toward the fortune-teller, who he noticed was studying him with undisguised interest. Holding out his hand, he smiled. “Madame Karma, I’m-”

“Evan Sawyer,” the gypsy-garbed woman said in a low, compelling voice. Before he could recover from his surprise that she knew his name, she clasped his hand firmly between both of hers while her eyes, so dark he couldn’t discern the pupil from the iris, seemed to bore into him. “Your aura…” she murmured, sandwiching his hand tightly between hers “…it is exceptionally bright. And strong. You will allow me to read your fortune?”

“That’s why I’m here,” Evan said politely, ignoring the smirk on Paul’s face he saw from the corner of his eye.

Madame’s gaze bounced between him and Lacey several times, then she nodded solemnly. “Excellent. Let us begin.” She released his hand then made a shooing motion toward Lacey. “Off with you, my dear. Mr. Sawyer and I have much to discuss.”

Evan couldn’t think of a single thing that he and Madame Karma would have to discuss, but since it seemed there was no avoiding it, he might as well get this fortune-telling hooey over with. He’d listen and nod, then thank her and escape.

How bad could it be?