Jinxed!

complex was large enough to support two coffee places, Greg had flatly refused to listen. He simply didn’t want the competition Lacey’s shop would have offered. So Evan had been given no choice but to tell her.

And that had been that.

And now he felt as if there was a hollow space in his chest where his heart used to beat.

Over the past week he’d picked up the phone dozens of times to call her, but had resisted. He wanted to talk to her, but decided it was best to do so face-to-face. The fact that she hadn’t called him didn’t bode well, but he couldn’t let that stop him. He intended to go to Constant Cravings tomorrow and camp out on the doorstep if necessary until she’d talk to him.

Weary beyond belief, he pulled his car into his dark driveway, then entered his house. Leaving his laptop and briefcase in the foyer, he headed toward the kitchen. After twisting the top off a Heineken, he walked into the den. He’d just plopped into his favorite chair when the phone rang. His heart jumped with hope that it might be Lacey, but a glance at his caller I.D. indicated it was Paul.

He lifted the receiver. “What’s up?”

“So what’s the deal with Constant Cravings?”

His fingers tightened on the receiver. He hadn’t spoken to Paul all week. He hadn’t wanted to talk about Lacey, and he knew his friend would ask about her, as he always did. “What are you talking about?”

“The fact that it is no more, as if you didn’t know. I go out of town for a couple of days and come back to find my favorite coffee place closed down. Damn, I’m totally addicted to those cookies. So where’d Lacey go? And why didn’t you give me a heads-up?”

Evan’s every muscle tensed. “What do you mean ‘closed down’?”

Something in his voice must have clued Paul in because his friend said slowly, “You didn’t know?”

“No. Tell me.”

“I drove by my office on my way home from the airport to pick up some papers. Since Constant Cravings is usually open late on Friday nights, I decided to get a coffee. When I got there, the place was dark. No mannequins in the windows. Nothing. Just a note on the door saying that the store was permanently closed at this location.”

Evan squeezed his eyes shut, then blew out a heavy sigh. “Damn.”

“How come you didn’t know about this? What the hell is going on?”

He rubbed at the throbbing in his temple. “We broke up.” He gave Paul an abbreviated version of the previous Friday night’s events.

“So, she didn’t have to leave for three months, but she packed up and closed shop in less than a week?” Paul whistled through his teeth. “Wow. That is one seriously pissed off woman.”

Right. And clearly not one who would be receptive to seeing him.

“So what do you intend to do about it?” Paul asked.

“Do?” A humorless sound pushed past his lips. “She’s made it pretty clear she’s done with me.”

“Are you done with her?”

No. And the truth, the vehemence behind that single word in his head had him sitting up. No, damn it, he wasn’t done with her. Would never be done with her. “Not by a long shot.”

Paul’s chuckle drifted through the receiver. “Atta’ boy. You were silent for so long I was worried. You know she’s the best thing that ever happened to you, and that’s not a sentence I’d say to you lightly.”

“I know-on both counts.”

“So…what are you going to do about it?”

“I’ll let you know as soon as I figure it out.”

EXACTLY THREE WEEKS TO THE day after she’d last spoken to Evan, Lacey sat in her apartment, listlessly channel surfing. She’d spent the day as she had all the previous days since closing the store-scouting for a new location to lease so Constant Cravings could rise from the ashes like the proverbial phoenix. Unfortunately, she hadn’t liked most of the places she’d seen. And the ones she had liked charged outrageous rent. Damn it, Fairfax had been perfect. If only-

She sliced off the useless thought, as she did dozens of times each day. There was no point dwelling on what- ifs.

Right. Just as there was no point in dwelling on thoughts of Evan. But no matter how many times she told herself that, it didn’t work. He filled every corner of her mind. Even after three weeks, her heart still felt…gone. How the hell long did it take to forget someone? Why couldn’t the brain and the heart come with a reset button? She didn’t know, but had the sinking fear that she’d never forget him. That her heart would never recover.

Well, she’d found a possible place today, and while it wasn’t perfect, it was acceptable. Barely. She couldn’t afford to remain out of business for months-that would eat up all her savings. She’d go out looking again tomorrow and hope something better turned up. Otherwise she’d have to settle for the one she’d seen today.

In the meantime there was reality TV and the extra cookies from the last party platter she’d made for the grand opening of a new hair salon. She looked down at the hair dryer-shaped cookie she’d dubbed Blow Job and, as happened at least one hundred times every day, an image of Evan rose in her mind, an image so vivid it was as if she could feel him. Taste him. And, right on cue, hot tears pooled in her eyes. Damn it, she needed to bake a batch of cookies in the form of a bright red stop sign-and then do it. Stop thinking about him. If only that were possible.

Her doorbell rang, indicating her Chinese food had arrived. She glanced down at herself and sighed. Hopefully she wouldn’t scare off the poor delivery guy. She was wearing the black satin robe with the pink hearts she’d loaned Evan from her mannequin. Probably it would be better if she burned the damn garment. Certainly it would be smarter for her not to wear it, but she couldn’t seem to help herself. Paired with stand-on-end hair and no makeup, she looked like she should have crime-scene tape wrapped around her.

After grabbing some money from her wallet, she schlumped to the door and opened it. And stared. At Evan. At least she thought it was Evan. She blinked twice, and he was still there, so it had to be him and not some mirage born of her lovesick imagination.

He wore one of his perfect suits with a perfect shirt and perfect tie. His hair was perfectly smoothed and he held a perfectly beautiful single pale pink peony. He looked…perfect.

“Hi,” he said.

Her heart seemed to stall in her chest. She opened her mouth, meaning to say hello, but then she noticed the bag he held in his other hand. A bag bearing the name of her takeout place. “You’re not the Chinese food guy.”

“True. He arrived at the same time I did. I offered to deliver your meal.” He held out the bag. “Here you go.”

“Uh, thanks.”

His gaze drifted over her robe and a muscle tensed in his jaw. Damn it, she’d fantasized countless times of this exact scenario-him coming to her door-but in her version she was always wearing a killer dress and sporting glossy curls. And of all the things to have him catch her wearing! Ack! This damn robe made it appear as if she’d been moping around pining for him. Which she had, but he didn’t have to know that.

“Is this a bad time?” he asked.

“A bad time for what?”

“I was hoping we could talk.”

She raised her eyebrows. “I thought we said everything that needed saying.”

“I thought of a couple of more things.” His frowning gaze shifted to look over her shoulder into her apartment and his jaw tightened. “Is someone with you?”

For a split second she was tempted to lie and say yes, but damn it, as much as it galled her to admit it, she wanted to hear what he had to say. “I’m alone.”

His gaze shifted back to hers. “Me, too.” Holding out the flower he said, “I hope they’re still your favorite.”

To her chagrin, her throat slammed shut, so she merely nodded. Reaching out, she took the fragrant bloom. Her fingers brushed his and heat shot up her arm. Just that whisper of a touch had felt so good. She cleared her throat. “C’mon in.”

He followed her into the kitchen and remained silent while she set the food bag on the counter, then put the flower in a bud vase, keeping her back to him while she attempted to regain her composure. When she finished, she turned to face him and leaned her hips against the counter.

He stood about eight feet away, regarding her with a thoughtful expression. “How have you been, Lacey?”