Jinxed!

literally.

In spite of his claim that he hadn’t excelled at team sports as a kid, she discovered during excursions to the beach and a local park that they shared of a love of swimming and jogging and that he built a mean sand castle. She also learned that he couldn’t toss a Frisbee to save his life, although the latter could have been blamed on the Sasha-chewed holes in the plastic disk. Clearly Frisbee translated into “chew toy” in Russian.

He taught her the strategy of playing strip blackjack-better than strip poker, he claimed, because you got naked faster. Lacey had ended up naked first and been declared the loser, but as far as she was concerned, the way he’d run his hands and tongue over her body had made her the winner. In return, she’d taught him the many erotic ways that frosting could be used-none of which appeared in any cookbook.

She also discovered they had a lot in common. A shared love of trying new foods. Action films. Murder mysteries. Crossword puzzles. A dislike of lima beans. They discussed current events, pop culture, religion and politics. They agreed on some issues, disagreed on others, but regardless of whether their views were similar or not, she found their discussions and debates exhilarating. There wasn’t a single subject he shied away from talking about, and unlike previous men she’d dated, Evan really listened.

The biggest surprise of all, however, was the fact that the man she’d thought for so many months to be a soulless clone had proven heart-meltingly romantic. He’d surprised her with a late-night champagne and chocolate picnic in his hot tub. Burnt a CD of her favorite songs. Slipped her sexy, handwritten, one-line notes when he came into Constant Cravings in the morning for his coffee. Called during the day to see how she was doing. Little things that he said were his way to show that he could stop and smell the roses-because, he’d admitted, she was right. He hadn’t been taking time to do that. All his time and attention had been devoted to work and his career. But, as he’d explained last night, that was because he hadn’t met anyone who’d inspired him to make a change. Until now.

Last night…She made her away into the building, pushed the up button on the elevator and her eyes slid closed. Last night had been…perfect. She’d prepared dinner at her place, an Italian feast of antipasto and lasagna, setting the mood with candlelight and Evan’s favorite red wine. He’d arrived with his arms filled with dozens of pale pink peonies. You must have bought every peony in California, she’d said, delighted at the sweet gesture. He’d looked at her through serious blue eyes, then said, You’re worth it. And that was the instant that it clicked into place in her mind.

She was in love with him.

Yes, he was a rule follower, but he was also a man of integrity, something that had been sadly lacking and too easily compromised in many of the other men she’d dated. And, yes, he still thought her window displays were too risque for Fairfax, but, as in other matters where their opinions had differed, they’d agreed to disagree.

“And to think, without Madame Karma, we might have just gone on thinking the worst of each other,” she murmured to herself as the elevator doors slid open. Indeed, during the past month, not only had their streaks of bad luck ended, but some of the previous disasters had corrected themselves. Sasha no longer chewed on shoes- except for flip-flops-and the dry cleaner had recovered Evan’s clothes. The timer on Lacey’s stove had been miraculously “cured,” and she found a pair of the exact sandals that had broken-on sale. As crazy as she’d thought it a month ago, she now believed Madame’s prediction. Evan was Mr. Right.

She stepped inside the elevator and pushed the button for the fifth floor. Yes, Evan was Mr. Right, but did he feel the same way about her? Last night, when she’d realized she loved him, the urge to tell him had nearly overwhelmed her. But she’d held back, afraid that it was too soon. Afraid that the L word would catapult him into masculine panic and cast a pall over what had so far been magical and perfect.

But, after thinking about little else all day today, she’d decided to tell him, and what could be a more perfect time than during their romantic getaway to San Francisco? They’d spent the past month telling each other the unvarnished truth, and she didn’t want to start playing games now. She loved him. She wanted him to know. And hopefully, he would tell her he felt the same way. And if he didn’t, well…she’d cross that bridge if she came to it. He cared, she knew he did. It was obvious in everything he said and did. But did his feelings run as deeply as hers? She didn’t know, but with her heart on the line, she needed to find out.

The elevator door pinged open, and she strode down the corridor to his office, her pulse quickening at the mere thought of seeing him. A happy laugh bubbled in her throat and she gave her arm another quick pinch. Yup-this was real. Real and fabulous.

Evan’s door was open, and she was halfway across the room before she realized he was on the phone. When she noticed, she paused. “Yes, I understand,” he said into the receiver, his eyebrows bunched into a frown. “I’ll take care of it.”

Just then he looked up. His frown disappeared and their gazes locked. Something warm and intimate passed between them, and Lacey’s insides turned to syrup, as they seemed to every time he looked at her. With his gaze steady on hers, he ended his call, then rose and walked toward her. He didn’t stop when he reached her. Instead he just lifted her up, then kept walking, his eyes burning with intensity, not halting until she was pressed against the wall.

His mouth descended on hers in a hot, hungry, demanding kiss that dragged a groan of want from her. She vaguely heard him push the door shut. But then all thought drained from her mind when he pressed his erection against her.

“I missed you,” he whispered against her lips.

“I missed you, too.”

“So that makes two of us.”

“That makes two of us,” she agreed. “Show me.” Her words ending on a groan when his hands plunged beneath her shirt and found her nipples. “Show me how much you missed me.”

And suddenly his hands, his mouth, were everywhere. As if he didn’t just want her, but craved her and couldn’t have her fast enough. Which was fine by her since she felt as if she’d explode if she didn’t feel his skin against hers.

Impatient fingers yanked at buttons while lips nipped and tongues tasted. With clothing hastily removed or simply shoved aside, he rolled on protection, then lifted her, impaling her on his erection. Lacey wrapped her legs tightly around his hips and held on, absorbing every hard, fast thrust. Her orgasm screamed through her, mindless throbs of pleasure that tore a cry from her throat. He thrust a final time, then she felt him shudder against her.

Feeling deliciously limp, Lacey’s legs slid down. Planting her feet and locking her knees, she leaned against the wall. “Wow,” she managed between ragged breaths. “I guess you did miss me.”

He cradled her face between his hands and gazed at her with an expression she couldn’t decipher. “I did.” Something flickered in his eyes. “We need to talk.”

Uh-oh. Her postcoital euphoria evaporated. In her experience, nothing good ever followed “we need to talk.” Especially when those words were said in such a serious voice. And accompanied by such a serious expression.

“Bad day?” she asked, hoping that whatever was wrong was merely business related, but the way he was looking at her gave her the sinking feeling it was more than that.

“Bad day,” he agreed in a tired voice.

She watched him adjust his clothing while she scooped up her pants and underwear from the floor and slipped them on. When they were both put back together, he said, “When you arrived, that call I was on, it was from Greg Mathers, my boss.”

The wave of relief that swamped Lacey loosened her knees and she rested her shoulders against the wall. Clearly whatever was wrong was business related. Nothing to do with them.

“What did he say?”

“There’s something he’s insisted I take care of. Immediately.”

Realization dawned. “I see. So we have to postpone leaving for San Francisco?”

“This has nothing to do with our trip to San Francisco, Lacey. It has to do with you. You and Constant Cravings.” He waved a hand toward his desk. “Would you like to sit down?”

Her instincts immediately went on red alert, at both his words and his suddenly businesslike demeanor and tone. “No, thanks, I prefer to stand.”

He nodded, then drew what appeared to be a bracing breath. “Greg made a visit to Fairfax last week, to evaluate the retail and office spaces. We’ve since had several meetings, and after careful consideration, it’s been