Jinxed!

by Jacquie D’Alessandro

  “I can think of someone who I’d describe as a thorn in my side,” Lacey said slowly. “He’s the man who manages this building complex.”

  Madame Karma nodded solemnly. “Yes, that fits perfectly, as your cards indicate he is a man of power.”

  “Right. A powerful pain in the butt.”

  “What is this man’s name?”

  “Evan Sawyer.” She nodded toward the cards. “So, is Thorn-in-My-Side Sawyer about to leave Fairfax?” Lacey asked in a hopeful voice. “Get transferred to Siberia?”

  “No. Indeed, just the opposite. The manner of his proximity to you is about to change. From nonsexual to…can’t get enough of him.”

  Lacey actually felt her jaw drop open. A strange tingle, sort of like a slow-motion pulse of static electricity, eased through her. Then a short huff of laughter escaped her. “There must be some other thorn in my side because I can assure you, that is not going to happen.”

  “My dear, I assure you that it is. The cards plainly say so and 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. Trust me, that is something you do not want. Your luck will change from good to bad like that.” Madame snapped her fingers and her multitude of metal bracelets jangled with an ominous clang. She then reached out and clasped Lacey’s hands. “This Evan Sawyer…you think he is all wrong for you, but he is, without a doubt, Mr. Right.”

  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 an
d 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-”