Jinxed!

it was a Saturday and this was a party, he wore one of his uptight business suits complete with a perfectly knotted maroon tie.

Annoyance rippled through her. The man always looked perfect, as if he’d just stepped from some GQ photo shoot-dark suit perfectly fitted, dress shirt without a wrinkle, shoes buffed to a glossy shine. Even though the breeze currently ruffled his dark hair, he somehow managed to look perfectly windblown.

Yes, his was the sort of irritating perfection that always made her feel gauche, messy, wilted and somehow undone-like an unmade bed. Made her want to smooth her hands over her own wrinkled attire, wish she’d taken more time with her out-of-control curly hair and surreptitiously check her teeth to make sure no remnants of her spinach salad remained.

Which was completely ridiculous. What did she care if he found her physical appearance lacking? While she grudgingly admitted that he’d never said such a thing, he did have a way of looking at her that made it clear he didn’t approve of her. Certainly he’d made no secret of the fact that he didn’t approve of the way she ran Constant Cravings.

She’d been a Fairfax tenant for nearly eight months, and her every interaction with Evan Sawyer had proven frustrating. He was more rigid than a concrete pillar, repeatedly complaining about the lingerie-clad mannequins she re-dressed bimonthly for her quirky window displays. Said they were “too suggestive,” as were her best-selling cookies in the shapes of men’s and women’s torsos. Her latest idea she’d run by him-to expand Constant Cravings into one of the storefronts on either side of her should they come up for lease-had been met with all the enthusiasm of having his innards ripped out with a rusty knife.

Sheesh. You’d think the man would be thrilled that she wanted to expand since her store generated such solid sales figures, a percentage of which were paid to Fairfax. But no, all he did was complain. He was an uptight, unbending, workaholic thorn in her side. One of those all-work, no-play types she called Soulless Clones. And given what was clearly his strong aversion to anything the least bit sensual, she suspected he was a dead bore between the sheets.

Which was too bad, because he was very easy on the eyes-if you cared for that buttoned-down corporate type. Which she most emphatically did not. Good thing, too, because she’d be a complete idiot to find attractive a man who was so ridiculously not her type in any way. So what if he filled out those uptight suits very nicely? Who cared if his eyes were the most amazing shade of blue she’d ever seen? Big deal. Lots of men had great bodies and beautiful eyes. Most of those other men probably also knew how to smile. And laugh. And take a few minutes to stop and smell the roses. And didn’t mind cookies that looked like torsos.

Determined not to allow the irritating man to disrupt this fabulous day, Lacey was about to turn away and continue toward the fortune-teller when Evan’s gaze zeroed in on her. Inexplicably feeling as if she’d been caught in a sniper’s crosshairs, she froze, and for several seconds they simply stared at each other. An odd warmth tingled down Lacey’s spine-no doubt aggravation brought on by the fact that the man really was undeservedly handsome. Why the good-looks gods had so abundantly blessed him when he should resemble a troll was a shining example of utter unfairness, one she put right up there with the fact that males didn’t suffer from cellulite. And that crow’s feet made men look distinguished and women look old. And that every bite of chocolate didn’t permanently attach itself to the male ass. It just wasn’t right.

Yanking herself from her frozen state, she inclined her head in greeting and forced a half smile. But did he even attempt to do the same? Noooo. Instead, his gaze flicked over her and then his frown deepened into a downright scowl. She looked down at her white short-sleeved shirt, which bore the Constant Cravings logo, her plain black pants and comfy black ballet flats, mystified as to what he could possibly have seen to inspire such a thunderous expression. Talk about a grouch.

Raising her chin, she deliberately ignored him and approached the table with a huge sign announcing that she was in the presence of the renowned Madame Karma. After introducing herself, Lacey said, “I saw that you had a free moment and thought you might enjoy a snack.” She set her offerings-the cookie and the tea-on the corner of the brocade-covered table.

Madame Karma’s dark eyes sparkled. “Thank you, my dear. That’s very thoughtful.” She picked up the cookie, her expression turning amused at the confection, which looked like a side view of a woman’s curvy leg. The intricate frosting made it appear as if that curvy leg was encased in fishnet stockings and the dainty foot slipped into a sexy, red, high-heeled shoe.

“Wish my legs still looked like this,” Madame said with a sigh. “They used to-when I was your age.”

“I call that cookie For Your Thighs Only. It’s one of my bestsellers.”

Madame bit off the bright red shoe, then slowly chewed. After washing down the morsel with a sip of the tea, she said, “Absolutely delicious. How much do I owe you?”

“It’s on the house. I would have brought it out to you sooner, but it’s been crazy in the shop.”

“Well, if you won’t let me give you any money, you must allow me to read your fortune as payment for what is, without a doubt, the most delicious cookie I’ve ever eaten.” She shot Lacey a wink. “And believe me, I’ve eaten a lot of cookies over the years.”

“That sounds like a fair exchange.”

“Please, sit down,” Madame Karma said, indicating the chair opposite her with a wave of her heavily be-ringed fingers. After Lacey was settled in the chair, Madame leaned forward. Her sharp gaze seemed to penetrate directly into Lacey’s soul.

“Your aura is very bright, my dear,” Madame said in a low, husky whisper. “I’m feeling a very strong psychic connection.” Without breaking eye contact, Madame reached into an ornately carved wooden box and pulled out a deck of cards. “For you, I will use these cards. For a special reading. One that will offer deep insight.”

Lacey pulled her gaze away from Madame’s and looked at the deck. It looked like a regular deck of playing cards to her. She watched Madame fan the cards, facedown, on the table.

“Please choose seven cards, using your left hand, then pass them to me.”

Lacey followed the instructions, then repeated the task twice more at Madame’s bidding. After turning up the cards into three rows, Madame pointed to the first group. “These represent your past.” She studied the cards in silence for nearly a minute, then said, “I see two women with you. Your mother and sister. There was a man, your father, but his presence was dim and then gone.” She looked up and her gaze locked with Lacey’s. “He is dead, yes?”

Lacey blinked in surprise at the accuracy of Madame’s words, then a lump tightened her throat. “Yes,” she whispered.

“He died young,” Madame continued, studying the cards. “From trouble with his heart.”

An eerie chill swept through Lacey. How could Madame Karma have known something so personal? An image of her father, always so serious, always so consumed with his career, flashed through Lacey’s mind. She had to swallow to locate her voice. “A heart attack,” she concurred. “When I was fourteen.”

Madame nodded. “I see the sadness from his death. The hardships it caused your family. But I also see your love of life. Your determination to succeed, yet not at the expense of your health, as was the case with your father. Your resolution not to make the same mistakes you feel your mother and sister made.”

Another odd chill crept down Lacey’s spine, and she had to fight the urge to fidget. It was as if Madame could truly see into her soul.

“These cards represent your present,” Madame Karma continued, indicating the middle row. “Your professional life is going very well, although I do see a…presence. Someone or something that is frustrating you and is, for lack of a better term, a thorn in your side.”

Thorn in her side? An image of Evan Sawyer instantly materialized in Lacey’s mind, and she found herself gritting her teeth and narrowing her eyes. “What about this thorn in my side? Will it-he-go away?”

“Patience, my dear,” Madame said, looking up briefly. “I will know more after I read the last row, which represents your future. Now, back to the present. While your professional life is progressing nicely, your personal life is decidedly lacking. I see…loneliness. No male companionship, although…” She frowned.

“What?” Lacey asked, leaning forward.

“Someone is looming on the horizon.”

A fissure of hope filled Lacey. “A nice someone?” A nice someone would be…nice. A non-whacko, non-self-absorbed, non-jackass someone. She hadn’t had a date in over a month. And the last three dates she’d gone on…A shudder ran through her. Those dates could be summed up in three words: stink, stank,