Jinxed!

3

IT WAS NEARLY MIDNIGHT WHEN Lacey locked the door to Constant Cravings and headed across the courtyard toward the multilevel parking garage. The damp scent of rain still lingered in the air from the sudden bursts of storms that had blown through earlier, complete with thunder and lightning. Luckily the party had been winding down by then. In fact, the storm had helped her sales, as many party goers had sought refuge from the weather in Constant Cravings.

In spite of her aching feet and back after the long, hectic day, she couldn’t help but feel exhilarated. Today’s Valentine’s Day party had resulted in record sales as well as three orders for party-themed cookie platters, with potentially more to come.

At 9:00 p.m., after setting the Closed sign in the window, she’d spent the rest of the evening baking crumb cake and cookies for tomorrow and doing paperwork-maybe not the most romantic way to spend Valentine’s Day night, but in her experience a lot less trouble than men.

If only crumb cake, cookies and paperwork kept a girl warm at night, it would be a perfect world.

And speaking of warm…It could stand to be a little warmer outside. An unseasonably chilly breeze brushed across her bare arms and she quickened her pace, wishing she’d brought a sweatshirt from home.

After entering the ground floor of the parking deck, she headed for the elevator and pushed the up button, then leaned wearily against the wall. She heard an engine rev to life and seconds later saw a cream-colored SUV heading toward the exit. As the car drove past her, she realized the driver was none other than Evan Sawyer.

“Good riddance,” she murmured to the fading glow of his taillights as he disappeared around the corner. It figured a workaholic like him had been slaving till midnight on a Saturday, and Valentine’s Day no less. Certainly no surprise that a pest like him didn’t have a date on the most romantic night of the year. You didn’t have a date on the most romantic night of the year, either, her pesky inner voice reminded her.

Okay, fine. But she could have had a date if she’d wanted. Barbara had wanted to fix her up with a marketing executive at her office, but she’d turned down her best friend’s offer. She just hadn’t been in the mood to suffer through what would likely turn into yet another awkward first date, especially with an executive type whose first priority was undoubtedly his career, as was the case with nearly all the executive types she’d ever met. Which made him, sight unseen, not her type. While her state of date-lessness was dragging on far longer than she’d anticipated, she simply hadn’t met a man recently who interested her enough to break the cycle. And speaking of far longer than she’d anticipated, what was with this elevator?

She pushed the button again, but after waiting another two minutes decided it must be out of order. “Great,” she muttered. Hiking her purse’s shoulder strap higher, she pushed open the door leading to the stairwell and proceeded to climb six flights of concrete steps to the rooftop level, then continued across the freakishly cold, windy lot to her parking spot at the far corner.

By the time she sank behind the wheel of her car, she was cold, exhausted and impatient to be home. She slid the key into the ignition and turned her wrist.

And heard nothing.

She tried again, and only silence greeted her. Not even a tiny growl of life emitted from the engine.

Damn. She’d had a similar problem last summer and the culprit had been a dead battery. Suspecting that was the case, she flipped the switch for the interior light. Nothing.

“Ugh,” she moaned, flopping her head back against the leather headrest. First the elevator, now the car. And talk about lousy timing. Not that there was ever a good time for a dead car, but c’mon! Midnight, after an exhausting day, when your teeth were chattering from the cold, was a particularly sucky time.

Drawing a deep, weary breath, she dug through her purse for her cell phone and wondered how long it would take her roadside service company to arrive. No point in calling one of her friends instead-unlike her, they all had dates for Valentine’s Day. And while she didn’t doubt one of them would come to her rescue, she didn’t want to disrupt anyone’s romantic evening.

But when she found her cell, she discovered, much to her aggravation, that her phone was suffering from the same fate as her car-a dead battery. How was that possible? It had been fully charged just this afternoon.

Well, how both batteries had gone kaput at the same time didn’t really matter. What mattered was now she was going to have to hoist her tired ass out of the car and trek all the way back to Constant Cravings to use the phone there. Muttering hostile and uncomplimentary words under her breath toward all things mechanical, she trudged back toward the elevator, only to recall that it wasn’t working.

“Perfect. Just perfect. Could this night get any worse?” She stomped down the six flights of stairs, and the instant she exited the stairwell and stepped onto the sidewalk she was hit by a blast of chilly air and the undeniable realization that, yes, this night could indeed get worse. Because the first thing she saw was Evan Sawyer, standing next to his car, which was stopped in the fire lane. He’d removed his suit jacket, loosened his uptight tie, unfastened the top button of his dress shirt and rolled back the sleeves. She’d never seen him so casually undone. By damn, he looked almost…human.

He was frowning at his cell phone with a ferocity surely meant to set the instrument on fire. The stairwell door slammed shut behind her and his head snapped up. His eyebrows rose at the sight of her, and then he once again frowned.

“What are you doing here?” they asked in unison.

Lacey wrapped her arms around herself to ward off the chill and continued toward him. “My car battery’s dead. You?”

“Based on the reading on my gas gauge, it appears I’m out of gas. Which is odd since I just filled the tank yesterday.”

“Probably the work of gas thieves.”

“Gas thieves?”

Lacey nodded. “There was a news story about it just last week on TV. They hit crowded parking lots and siphon gasoline out of tanks. With prices at the pump rising so high, it’s becoming a widespread problem.”

He raked a hand through his hair. “Great. Just great.”

“I have gas in my car.”

“Do you have a siphon?”

“Of course not. Do I look like a gas thief?”

“I don’t know. To the best of my knowledge I’ve never met one. And since you don’t have a siphon, the gas in your car isn’t going to do me much good. That’s like me saying I have a perfectly good battery in my car, but unless you have 900-yard-long jumper cables, that’s not much help to you.”

“Jeez, you are such a grouch.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose and blew out a long breath. “Sorry. I’m just tired. It’s been a long day, one that unfortunately is getting longer.”

A humorless sound escaped her. “I hear ya. Weird that we both had car trouble.”

He lifted his hand and waggled his cell phone. “You can add phone trouble to my list of woes. My cell’s battery is dead.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “Really? Mine, too.”

“Even weirder.”

“Yeah. It’s like we’re cursed or something…”

Her words trailed off, and she suddenly recalled Madame Karma’s words during this afternoon’s card reading. You cannot fight karma. Cannot deny your fate. To do so will bring the wrath of both upon your head, the equivalent of being cursed…your luck will change from good to bad…

Ridiculous, she scolded herself. Just as ridiculous as Madame’s prediction that Evan was Mr. Right. She looked at him and noticed his odd expression. He was looking at her as if antennae had sprouted from her head.

“Something wrong?” she asked.

“No. I was just thinking…something that crazy fortune-teller said…” He shook his head. “Never mind.”

Something Madame had said? Oh. Dear. God. Had Madame told Evan the same absurd things about her as she’d told Lacey about him? That she was The One for him? A heartfelt nooooo rose in her throat. That would just be too humiliating. Even though she was pretty sure she didn’t want to know the answer, she couldn’t stop herself from asking, “Evan, did Madame Karma mention me when she read your cards?”

His gaze immediately turned wary, confirming her worst fears. “Why do you ask?”

Might as well get this over with. She drew a deep breath, then said in a rush, “Because she mentioned you during my reading. Talked about our auras matching and…stuff.”

His eyes narrowed. “Stuff? What kind of stuff?”

She raised her chin. “Ridiculous stuff. Like that we were compatible.”

“And perfect for each other? Meant for each other?”

“Exactly.”

“What a bunch of crap.”

“Well, yeah.” That was obvious. But sheesh, he didn’t need to be so insulting about it. Not to be outdone, she added, “Biggest bunch of crap I’ve ever heard in my life.”

“Exactly. She tell you that if you fight karma and fate you’ll be cursed?”

“Yes.” She tried for a smile, but her face felt tight. “Do you suppose broken cars and dead cell phones fall under the heading of ‘cursed’?”

“Absolutely not. I don’t believe in that nonsense. Nor do I believe anything that crazy woman said. She’s nothing but a fraud.”

“Actually, I recently read an article about her in The Times, describing how she successfully assisted the police on several cases. She apparently has a sterling reputation. But based on her telling me that you’re Mr. Right, I’d have to say she’s lost her touch.”

“Since she told me the same off-the-wall thing about you, I’d say she’s really lost it-assuming she ever had it in the first place.” He dragged a hand through his hair. “Listen, I’m going to head back to my office to use the phone.”

“I was about to do the same.”

He hesitated, then cleared his throat. “Pretty silly for us to go to separate places. Why don’t you come with me to my office to use the phone?”

“What’s the matter, afraid of the dark?”

“Nooo. Actually, I was thinking of your safety. It’s late for you to be walking around alone. Especially if there’re gas thieves running around.”

“That’s unexpectedly chivalrous of you.”

“I’m not the big bad wolf you seem to think I am.”

Right. And she was Little Red Riding Hood. Still, she had to admit she wasn’t keen on wandering about by herself. “Thanks for the offer, but how about we use the phone at Constant Cravings instead? I’ll make some coffee and break out the cookies while we wait for the automotive cavalry to arrive.”

“That sounds…nice. Thanks.”

“You don’t need to sound so shocked that I’d do something nice.”

“Oh? You mean the way you didn’t sound shocked that I’d do something chivalrous?”

To her surprise, a laugh tickled the back of her throat. “Exactly.”

“Well, in that case…sorry.”

She studied him for several seconds then a grin tugged at her lips. “No you’re not. Jeez. You’re a terrible liar.”

“So I’ve been told.”

“You must stink at poker.”

“That’s why I prefer blackjack.”

They started across the courtyard, cutting across the wide expanse of lawn as a shortcut. Lacey kept her arms wrapped around herself and walked as fast as she could, hoping the exertion would warm her. They were less than halfway across the grass when a series of clicking sounds broke the silence.

“What’s that?” Evan asked, pausing.

“I’m not sure,” Lacey replied, stopping as well. Suddenly dozens of slim metal pipes popped up from the ground. Realization hit her at the exact instant her midsection was blasted with a spray of icy cold water.

Frozen in place by shock, she sucked in a breath, then gasped. “It’s the-”

“Sprinklers. Got it. Got it right in the ass, actually. Cripes. Could this night get any worse?”

“Please, do not ask that question. I did earlier and found out that, yeah, it could.” She hissed in another sharp breath as a barrage of frigid water slashed across her midsection like a wet machine-gun blast.

“Well, let’s not stand here and get even wetter.” He grabbed her hand and started across the lawn at a brisk jog.

Lacey did her best to keep pace with him as they ducked and dodged in vain, trying to avoid the sweeping arcs of water, but given that he was a good six inches taller than her and she felt like a human Popsicle, it wasn’t easy. In fact the only part of her that didn’t feel like an icicle was her hand, which was wrapped in the warmth of his-a surprisingly tingly warmth that felt suspiciously like a…sizzle? Nah. Couldn’t be.

They were nearing the end of the lawn, the door to Constant Cravings a mere ten yards away, when she lost her footing on the wet grass. She cried out, involuntarily tightening her grip on Evan’s hand in an attempt to stay upright. But her feet flew out from under her and she went down with a bone-jarring thud, landing flat on her back on the soggy lawn. Before she could catch her breath, a heavy weight landed on top of her and what little air remained in her lungs whooshed out.

She looked up and found herself staring into Evan’s wet face and startled eyes, which hovered only inches above her own. For several stunned seconds it felt as if her heart had halted along with her breath as she became aware of his body pressing down on hers. It had been a long time since she’d felt a man’s weight on top of her. And…Oh, my. It was…nice.

“Jesus, Lacey…” He pushed himself up on his arms, but his lower body remained plastered against hers. His gaze scanned her face. “Are you all right?”

No, I don’t think I am. And I think it’s all your fault. She shifted beneath him, then froze at the slide of her drenched body against the hard form above her, the drag of her pelvis across his. His eyes widened slightly at the movement and then he went perfectly still. Well, not quite perfectly still. No, there seemed to be one part of him that was, um, rising to the occasion. In the most fascinating way.

Holy cow. Wasn’t ice-cold water supposed to have a shriveling effect on men? Well, either Evan was carrying around a zucchini in his pants or that shriveling theory had just been shot all to hell.

A muscle ticked in his jaw and he shifted off her, leaving her pressing her lips together to contain the protest that rose in her throat.

“Are you okay?” he asked again.

She managed to nod, then struggled to sit up. Evan lightly clasped her shoulders and the warmth of his palms heated her skin even through her wet shirt. Staring into his eyes, she had to swallow twice to locate her voice. “I’m-”

Splat. A blast of cold sprinkler water hit her squarely on the cheek. The sprinkler continued its arc and swished water across Evan’s forehead. A ferocious frown bunched his face while droplets dripped off his nose and chin, and in spite of her discomfort, Lacey coughed to disguise the giggle that bubbled into her throat.

“I’m fine,” she managed to say. “Cold and wet, but fine.”

“Good.” He stood, then held out his hands to help her. “Let’s get out of here before we need to build a raft and paddle out.” Even as he said the words, arc after relentless arc of water pelted them.

Lacey gripped his hands, but when she stood, a sharp pain in her ankle made her cry out. “Yee-ouch,” she said with a gasp, hopping on her other foot. “Damn. I think I twisted my ankle.”

“It hurts?”

Relieved that the odd sexual current she’d felt was now gone, she shot him a glare, one that most likely lost some of its potency due to the sopping wet hair sticking to her face as if glued to her skin. “Yes, it hurts. That would be why I yelled ‘ouch.’”

She’d expected him to offer her a hand, perhaps wrap an arm around her to help her walk, but instead he dipped his knees and before she knew what was happening, he’d swung her up into his arms and was striding toward Constant Cravings.

“Wh…what are you doing?”

“I would think that’s obvious,” he said, his tone the only dry thing about him. “I’m carrying you the rest of the way.”

“I can walk,” she felt compelled to say, even as her hand curved around his wet neck. “Or at least hobble.”

“Uh-huh. At a rate that will get us away from these sprinklers sometime next week.” He stepped onto the sidewalk, out of the sprinklers’ range, then headed toward the green-and-white striped awning over Constant Cravings’ door.

“Pretty impressive for a guy who sits behind a desk all day,” she said.

“I don’t sit behind a desk all the time.”

“Still, I’m not exactly a flyweight.”

“You’re…” His voice trailed off and his gaze skimmed down her form. A muscle ticked in his jaw, then his eyes raised back to hers. “Fine. Not heavy.” Water from his hair and face dripped onto her chest as he stopped in front of the shop’s glass door. “Where’s the key?”

“In my purse.” She bit her lower lip. “Which I dropped when I fell.”

“I don’t suppose you picked it up again?”

“Well, I would have if someone hadn’t turned all he-man and scooped me up like a sack of potatoes and stomped off with me.”

“Well, excu-u-u-use me for trying to help. Next time I’ll leave you flat on your back on the cold, wet grass.”

A fissure of shame shivered through her. “Point taken. You’re right, and I’m sorry. I appreciate the help.”

His eyebrows raised, then narrowed with suspicion. “Did you hit your head when you fell?”

“Ha-ha. No. But I’m woman enough to admit when I’m wrong and apologize.”

“Apology accepted. And I didn’t stomp.”

“If you say so.”

“Now about your purse…” He turned and she followed his gaze. Her purse sat like an oversized lump on the soaking-wet no-man’s land where they’d fallen.

A moan escaped her. “I think I’m in mourning. That bag was brand new. And suede.”

“Mourn later. Right now I need to get the bag, which means I need to put you down.” He gently lowered her legs, sliding her thighs down his torso. He felt hard and strong and muscular and a sensation akin to standing too close to a brush fire whipped through her. When she sucked in a hard breath, he paused in the act of slipping his arm from around her legs and looked at her.

“Did I hurt you?”

His compelling gaze seemed to pin her in place. And his voice…it sounded deep and slightly husky. As if he’d just awakened-after a night spent indulging in no-holds-barred sex. His warm breath brushed over her cold lips and she realized with a jolt how close his mouth was to hers. A mouth that somehow managed to look both soft and firm at the same time.

At that instant she underwent some sort of surreal out of body experience where, as if from a distance, she saw herself lean forward and kiss him. She blinked and the image-or mirage or whatever it was-disappeared like a puff of smoke blown away by the wind, leaving a trail of heated awareness in its wake.

“Lacey, did I hurt you?”

The unmistakable note of concern in his voice yanked her back. Not trusting her own voice she simply shook her head.

“Brace your hand against the wall and keep your weight off your injured ankle.” After she’d done so and gained her balance, he gently released her.

“You okay to stand like that for a minute while I get your purse, or do you need to sit down?”

“I’m fine,” she said, not at all sure she was, in a way that had nothing to do with her throbbing ankle and everything to do with the way he’d felt pressed against her. And the way his wet dress shirt clung to his body-his obviously very nice body-as if it were painted on. “Go.” Now. Quick. Before I reach out and grab you. And run my hands over your chest and abs to see if they’re really as incredible as they look. Then peek down your pants to see if what I felt on the lawn lives up to its promise-

“Ack!” When the horrified sound escaped her, he hesitated. She waved her hand at him, hoping the motion didn’t look as frantic as it felt. “I’m fine. Really. Go.”

He gave a nod, then headed briskly back into the water-spewing arena. Her gaze zeroed in on his wide back, then cruised down to his butt-all perfectly outlined in his sopping clothes.

Whew. No doubt about it, Evan Sawyer had hit some sort of genetic lottery. Still, Madame Karma had been certifiable to suggest he was Mr. Right.

But, wow.

Unfortunately, “wow” was the exact opposite of how she should be reacting to him.

So…what the heck was she going to do about it?