Jinxed!

by Jacquie D’Alessandro

  Two seconds ago he’d been cold. Now he felt as if steam could pump from his pores.

  Enough. He was a grown man for cryin’ out loud, not some horny frat boy. He gave himself a sharp mental shake and forced his gaze from her distracting and oh so tempting nipples.

  “How does it feel?” he asked. Hard and aching, his inner voice chimed in, answering his own question. He silently told the pesky voice to shut the hell up.

  “It barely hurts. Look.” She waggled her bare foot. “It’s not even swollen. I think the worst injury was to my pride. At least I can be thankful I wasn’t wearing a skirt when I fell ass over backward.”

  “Right.” Because then he would have seen her ass. Encased in…What sort of panties does she wear? Something lacy and flimsy to match that bra? Or maybe she doesn’t even wear panties-

  “Are you okay, Evan?”

  Hell, no. “Heck, yes.”

  “You sure? You look…flushed.”

  Good God. “It’s the lighting in here. And the exertion of, um, carrying you.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “You insinuating I’m fat?”

  He latched on to the speck of annoyance like a lifeline. Anything to diffuse the lust raging through him. “Why do women always ask questions like that?”

  “Why do men always make statements that can be interpreted as that?”

  “I wasn’t insinuating anything. And you’re not fat. You’re…”

  “I’m what?”

  Gorgeous. Sexy. Making my heart pound so hard it’s going to crack my ribs. “Looking for compliments, Lacey?”

  Her eyebrows rose. “A compliment? From you? Hardly. I’d be stunned into silence if one passed your lips.”

  “Well, if that’s the only way to shut you up, I’ll play. You’re…curvy.”

  A snorting sound escaped her and her lips twitched. “Gee, thanks. You entice many women with smooth lines like that?”

  “I meant it as a compliment,” he said through clenched teeth, not sure if he was more irritated at her for being amused or at himself for sounding like a jackass.

  “Oh. Uh, thanks. I think.” She glanced down at her bare foot. “I probably should put some ice on my ankle.”

  “Ice. Right. Good idea. Something icy cold is just what I, I mean you, need.”

  She wrapped her arms around herself. “Although how I’m going to stand having ice on me I don’t know. I’m already freezing.” As if to prove her words, her teeth chattered.

  When it looked as if she meant to get down from the counter, he said, “Stay put. I’ll get the ice. But first, why don’t you let me have a look?”

  The instant he spoke the words he regretted them. Looking at her ankle would mean moving closer to her. Touching her. And those were the last things he wanted. Really.

  But this time it was his brain and his feet that disagreed because seconds later he stood in front of her. His gaze flicked down to her ankle. “May I?”

  She set her palms on the counter and leaned forward, a position that afforded him a heart-pounding view of her generous cleavage. “I wouldn’t have thought you the sort of guy who’d be polite enough to ask before you touched.”

  “I guess there’s a lot you don’t know about me. Now, are you going to let me take a look, or are we just going to remain here and freeze?” Freeze? Definitely an impossibility as far as he was concerned. The way she was looking at him, with those big caramel-colored eyes, made him feel as if fire were about to spew from his scalp.

  Keeping her gaze steady on his, she raised her foot and rested it against his belly, a move that had him sucking in a quick breath. There was no missing the challenge in her eyes. “By all means. Look all you want.”

  He lightly grasped her ankle and gently prodded her soft, damp skin. And told his raging libido to behave.

  “What does a property manager know about ankles?” she asked.

  “I put in some time as a camp counselor and a few summers as a lifeguard. It’s been a while, but I remember the basics.” He gently rotated her ankle. “Does that hurt?”

  “No.”

  He felt the weight of her stare as he continued to manipulate her ankle. Her very shapely ankle. That he really needed to let go of. Now.

  But instead of doing so, he looked up. And found her staring at him. In a very distracting way. His fingers stilled. Her tongue peeked out, a flick of pink that tensed his every muscle.

  “Well?” she whispered.

  “Well what?”

  “What’s the verdict?”

  I’m guilty of extreme lust by reason of temporary insanity.

  When he remained silent, she prompted, “My ankle?”

  Her words brought him back with a jolt. Good God, maybe he really was insane. “It’s fine,” he said, ignoring his brain’s command to release her. Instead his thumbs lightly massaged her instep. “No need to call in a surgical team.”

  “That’s…um…” Her foot flexed in his hand. “Oooh. Good. Really good.” Her eyes drifted closed and a long sigh escaped her, a sigh that ended on a husky moan that shifted his libido into overdrive. “Soooo good.” After another deep moan, her eyes slid slowly open and his fingers stilled at the unmistakable arousal he saw.

  “Evan…I think we should take off our clothes.”

  5

  LACEY’S BREATH CAUGHT at the fire that flared in Evan’s eyes at her words. There was no mistaking that heated glitter for anything other than what it was.

  Arousal.

  Pure lust swamped her, an unstoppable wave of the very sexual longing she’d been desperately trying to hold back since the moment he’d clasped her hand for their ill-fated dash across the lawn. No doubt about it, Evan Sawyer had everything female in her standing at attention and saluting.

  And she’d been doing a damn good job of controlling her libido, if she said so herself, especially given the incredible way he’d felt lying on top of her. The delicious press of his body against hers when he’d carried her. The warm strength of his hands massaging her ankle and foot. Why, she deserved an Academy Award for managing to retain her air of aloofness.

  But now, now that he was looking at her like this-as if she were a bowl of cream and he was a very large, very hungry cat-her resolve to stay indifferent was dissolving at an alarming rate.

  “Take off our clothes?” he repeated in a husky rasp that instantly brought to mind naked entwined bodies and rumpled sheets. “But Lacey…we haven’t even kissed yet.”

  The sound of her name whispered from those gorgeous lips shot heated tingles straight to her womb. Surely the reason she opened her mouth was to inform him that she’d merely meant they should put on something dry, but any words she might have spoken turned into a shocked gasp of pleasure when he raised her foot and pressed his lips to her inner ankle.

  Fire sizzled through her. Holy cow. His mouth looked positively sinful pressed against her. And felt positively sinful, too. His teeth lightly grazed her skin, and before her mind could process all the jolts of pleasure shooting up her calf, he lowered her ankle and stepped between her legs. Tunneling his hands into her wet hair, he slowly lowered his head. Anticipation pumped through her, and she parted her lips.

  His mouth settled on hers and Lacey felt as if everything inside her melted. Good God, the man knew how to kiss. He tasted warm and delicious and the sensation of his tongue exploring her mouth pulsed heat to her every nerve ending. She ran her hands up his chest, over his broad shoulders, then skimmed her fingers through the thick wet silk of his hair. All thoughts of time and place evaporated in a haze of lust. Her every heartbeat seemed to reverberate with the word more. Taste more. Touch more. Feel more.

  Want more. Need more.

  Too soon, much too soon, he raised his head. A groan of protest rose in her throat and she forced her eyes open. Evan was staring at her as if he’d never seen her before. His hair was rumpled from her impatient fingers and he was breathing hard.

  She had to swallow to find her voice. “Wow.”

&
nbsp; He blinked several times, as if coming out of a trance. She knew exactly how he felt. After clearing his throat, he said, “Yeah. Wow.”

  “What the heck was that?”

  “You mean besides amazing? I’m not sure.” He leaned forward and nuzzled the sensitive skin behind her ear with his warm lips. “I think we should do it again to find out.”

  His tongue lightly flicked her earlobe and she actually felt her eyes glaze over. Okay, this guy’s effect on her just wasn’t right. One kiss and one tiny tongue flick shouldn’t make her feel as if she were a rocket about to explode into orbit. A fissure of common sense worked its way through the fog of desire surrounding her and she clapped her hands against his chest, then gently pushed him back.

  “Not so fast, bucko.” She needed to think for a minute or two. Bracing her hands on the counter, she slid down until her feet touched the floor then eased from his grasp-and immediately missed the warmth of his strong hands on her skin. But because he was so very tempting, it was essential she put some space between them, at least until her head quit spinning. After an experimental shake of her ankle, which didn’t produce any pain, she took several steps away from him.

  “I think we should concentrate on doing what we came here to do.” And she’d make sure they did-as soon as she remembered what the heck it was.

  “You mean calling for roadside assistance?”

  “Exactly.” Hey, she would have remembered. Eventually. As soon as her raging hormones had quit buzzing.

  “I wasn’t the one who suggested we take off our clothes.”

  Annoyance threaded through her at his smug tone, thankfully dissipating a bit more of the sensual fog that had caught her so unawares. “I meant I wanted to get out of these wet clothes,” she informed him, proud of the cool disdain in her voice. “I’m cold and uncomfortable.” Or at least she’d been cold a few minutes ago. Now she was just uncomfortable. “Aren’t you?”

  “Cold? No. Actually, I’m the exact opposite of cold-all your fault, by the way. And do you really think getting naked is going to make us more comfortable?”

  “I didn’t mean for us to be naked.” Liar! her conscience shouted. Especially given the preview his wet clothing provided-muscular chest, toned abs, slim hips, long legs. Her gaze settled on his groin. His clinging pants proved he was as affected by that kiss as she. And he was clearly still affected-as was she. A rumble of admiring approval rose in her throat and she quickly swallowed it.

  “That’s what usually happens when you take off your clothes.”

  His voice jerked her back and she yanked her gaze upward. “Huh?”

  “You get naked when you take off your clothes.”

  “Okay. Sounds good to me.” She mentally thumped herself on the forehead. “I mean we should change into dry clothes.”

  “That would be nice, but I’m afraid I don’t carry around a spare outfit.”

  “Neither do I. But it just so happens that I have a spare set of clothes for each of us at my disposal.” She nodded toward the front window. “Courtesy of my mannequins.”

  He turned his head toward the window, then slowly turned back to her. “You can’t be serious.”

  “Why not? You have another suggestion? Other than staying in these sopping clothes and catching pneumonia?”

  “Personally, I preferred the ‘get naked’ suggestion.”

  “There was no ‘get naked’ suggestion.”

  “No? Well, I’d be happy to make one.” He erased the distance between them in one step. The fire in his eyes made her feel as if someone had poured a vat of warm honey over her body. Her breath caught when he reached out and lightly clasped her hands, entwining their fingers. “Wanna get naked?”

  “I do-” The truth shot from her mouth like a speeding bullet, appalling her. Good grief, she sounded like a desperate, horny, Valentine’s Day-dateless nympho. And hey, maybe she was one, but she needed to recall that this was Mr. Thorn-in-her-side, and that he didn’t need to know. Hadn’t she embarrassed herself enough already?

  “-not,” she added, coughing twice for good measure. “I do not want to get naked. What I do want is to call roadside assistance. Then I want to change into dry clothing. Then I want a cup of coffee. And a cookie. Then I want to drive home. And forget this evening ever happened.” Good luck with that last bit, her inner voice sneered, to which she issued her inner voice a stern mental shut up.

  He studied her for several long seconds, and she found herself holding her breath, a part of her desperately wanting him to just yank her against him and stun her with another hypnotic kiss. Instead, he gave a tight nod, then released her hands and stepped back.

  “Good idea,” he said. “Is your roadside assistance American Car Association?”

  “Yes. Isn’t everyone’s?”

  “Probably. That’s who I use. How about I make the call while you, um, change your clothes.”

  “Deal. Then I’ll put on the coffee.”

  “Deal.”

  After nodding toward the counter where he’d sat her, she said, “The phone’s on the back wall.” She watched him turn and walk toward the counter, then forced herself to head to the front window so as not to stand there and gawk at his very fine butt.

  Now that she wasn’t plastered against Evan, the chill of her wet clothes penetrated through to her skin. With quick efficiency she stripped the female mannequin of her dress, making a mental note to arrive at the store extra early in the morning so she could re-dress her props. If Mr. Thorn-in-her-side freaked over a display featuring fully dressed mannequins, he’d throw an absolute conniption over naked ones.

  Although…for a guy she’d thought to be completely uptight, he’d clearly been more than willing to get naked with her-

  Stop it, Lacey, she commanded herself. Do not think of him naked. In fact, don’t think of him at all. Sadly that proved difficult, especially while she stripped her male mannequin. Holding the two sets of clothes, she stepped from the window. Her gaze instantly found Evan and saw him hanging up the phone.

  “The Car Association said they’d have someone here in about an hour, hour and a half. I told them to come here, to the store, so we don’t have to wait outside.”

  “Great.” She held out the robe and matching boxers. “Here you go. Dry clothes.”

  He crossed his arms over his chest. “I am not putting on that ridiculous robe.”

  She took immediate umbrage. “It’s not ridiculous. It’s romantic-something you obviously know nothing about.”

  “I know plenty about romantic, and let me tell you straight up, that robe ain’t it. No self-respecting guy would wear that. It’s got pink hearts on it, for cryin’ out loud.”

  “Uh-huh. And what do you know about fashion? You who I’ve never seen wear anything other than an uptight suit and tie?”

  “I know enough not to wear that.” He jabbed his index finger toward the bundle she held. “And you had your chance to see me wearing a hell of a lot less than my uptight suit and tie, so don’t blame me.”

  “Has anyone ever told you you’re very arrogant?”

  “Has anyone ever told you you’re extremely annoying?”

  “I’m suddenly remembering all the reasons I don’t like you.” She stomped over to the counter and slapped down the robe and boxers. “If you want to stay in your wet clothes and catch a chill while your skin grows pruney, be my guest. I’m going into the back room to change.”

  With that, she marched toward the rear of the store, head held high. Just before she slammed the door behind her, she heard him call out, “I am not going to wear that goofy robe!”

  6

  EVAN COULDN’T BELIEVE he was wearing the goofy robe.

  He looked down at himself and grimaced at the sight of his bare legs and feet beneath the robe’s hem. Good God. If Paul saw him wearing this getup, his friend would laugh himself into a seizure. Actually, anyone who saw him wearing this would laugh.

  Why the hell couldn’t Lacey have dressed her s
tupid mannequin in something a normal guy would wear? Like maybe shorts and a polo shirt? He had to grudgingly admit that the goofy robe was a huge improvement over his cold, wet, sticky clothes, which had started to chafe, but still. And as long as he already felt like an ass, he figured what the hell and had donned the matching boxers-but only because his own boxer briefs had been so damn wet and uncomfortable.

  Well, he’d just keep the freakin’ robe belted shut and pretend he was wearing his own clothes. Pretend he was home in his own apartment. Pretend he was with anyone other than Lacey.

  Lacey. Whose skin felt like satin and tasted like sugar-sprinkled flowers. Lacey, whose potent kiss had fired through his system like a shot of straight whiskey burning its way down to an empty stomach. Lacey, who was right now walking toward him from the back of the store, her hourglass curves encased in the mannequin’s skimpy red dress in a way that literally knocked the air from his lungs.

  Jesus. The woman not only knew how to kiss, she knew how to move. Her hips undulated with a slow, sexy, mesmerizing roll that made him feel like one of those cartoon characters whose eyeballs boinged out on springs. He’d never seen her wear anything other than her work outfit of black pants and white top. If he had a vote, he’d cast it in favor of her wearing that dress every damn day. It made her look incredible. And downright edible. The bright cherry-red perfectly set off her creamy skin and contrasted with the mass of damp, glossy midnight curls falling just shy of her shoulders. She looked like the perfect embodiment of his every fantasy.

  She headed behind the counter and reached for a coffeepot. Her gaze flicked over him and her lips twitched. “Decided not to grow pruney, I see.”

  “Don’t you dare laugh.”

  “I won’t laugh if you won’t.” She grimaced, then tugged on the short hem of the dress while performing some sort of all-over shimmy that had him stirring against the satin boxers. “This dress doesn’t exactly fit. My mannequin is a few sizes smaller than me. Thank God the material is stretchy.”