Jinxed!

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.