Jinxed!

walkways. The wrought-iron benches were filled with people, some nibbling on food, some going after their valentine.

She stalked directly to the coffee shop. The owner and Chloe were friends, and as soon as she entered, Lacey smiled and greeted her. Knowing she could buy on account if she had to-which she now did have to, thanks to Madame Karma-Chloe ordered several scrumptious-looking cookies.

There. That would help dispel the odd quivering in her belly, which she knew damn well was hunger and not, definitely not, a niggling sense of discomfort.

As soon as she stepped outside with her bag, Chloe dug into the first cookie, moaning out loud when the peanut butter-chocolate treat melted in her mouth. The wind still whipped around, which she had to admit was slightly comforting, because for a few minutes, she’d almost believed Madame Karma had somehow been creating the wind.

The air felt sticky. Close. A storm was definitely brewing. She swiped a hand over her damp forehead and began to work on her second cookie.

There was a good turnout; many of the party goers were from the various businesses in the Fairfield complex. People milled about the flower-lined walkways, checking out the craft stalls or enjoying the art galleries and other novelty shops. Many carried shopping bags bearing the Fairfield logo, evidence that this party wasn’t just for fun, it encouraged business.

Chloe counted many of these businesses as her customers, which pleased her. Life was good, she reminded herself. With or without a valentine-

Her gaze snagged on the entrance.

A man was walking into the open courtyard from the street, his sunglasses dangling in his fingers, his stride easy and loose. A man, just like any of a hundred before him, though none of the other men milling around had stopped her heart. None of them had sent her reeling, the years falling away on the light wind.

It couldn’t be.

But it was. A blast from her past in the form of one tall, dark and way too gorgeous man. He was broader now, but still leanly muscled like the basketball player he’d once been. His hair was longer than she remembered, still dark as sin, curling around his collar.

Ian McCall, her first kiss, her first real boyfriend.

Her first everything…

2

THE CROWD SEEMED TO SWELL and grow, and for a second, Chloe lost sight of him.

No!

Weaving through the crowds, she gripped both her bag of cookies and her sanity in a tight fist.

Where was he? Had the decorative lights played tricks on her? Had she simply dreamed him up?

It was entirely possible, given the hours she’d been keeping, which were pretty much 24/7. Nothing she could do about that. Mid-February was right about the time people tended to begin their pretax panic. She’d been deluged, without much time for sleeping.

That was it, she decided. She was simply sleep-deprived, nothing more. Today especially, as it was nearing seven o’clock and she’d begun work at seven that morning.

Twelve hours. No wonder she was seeing things. Anyone would be.

Suddenly the throng of people parted and she let out a low breath because there he was-in the center of the courtyard now, near the band, beneath the myriad white lights strung around a makeshift dance floor.

He had his back to her, shoulders straight, long legs taking him closer to the people dancing. He wore a simple black polo shirt untucked over faded black jeans that looked like beloved old friends, well worn and fitted to his undeniably hot body.

A body that she could, with some authority, say that, once upon a time at least, had looked just as good without any clothes at all.

True love is going to walk into your life.

It almost weakened her knees, how accurate Madame Karma had been. If she’d used past tense, that is.

Because once upon a time, when Chloe had been young and giddy and very, very naive, Ian McCall, with his dreamy green eyes and naughty smile, had been the love of her life.

Had been.

As in past tense.

As in a very long time ago. Ten years. Now she was no longer young and giddy, and she was certainly no longer very, very naive.

So why did just the sight of him grab her by the throat, by each and every erogenous zone…by the heart?

Stuffing another cookie in her mouth-clearly she needed the sugar fortification even more now-she began to make her way toward him. A group of women, their hands full of bags, all laughing and talking and making as much noise as a gaggle of hens, got in her way.

“Damn it.” She pushed her way through. “Excuse me-Excuse me,” she said with growing impatience as she craned her neck every which way…Unbelievable.

She’d lost him again.

What was he doing here, anyway? They’d gone to high school together in Burbank Hills, and they’d been best friends, which had turned into something more. He’d been an absentminded but sweet and sexy basketball star, and she’d been his English tutor. He’d taught her hoops and she’d taught him Shakespeare. He’d shown her how to loosen up and she’d kept him on task, whether that task had been an English paper or kissing her senseless…

But then he’d gone off to NYU for the art history program, and she’d gone to Cal State Northridge for the accounting program, and they’d lost touch.

Well, except for that next year when he’d come home for the holidays and she’d run into him at her mother’s New Year’s Eve party…

Oh, yeah, that had been a night for the memories. Back then, it’d been six months since they’d been together, and it’d felt like six years. They’d caught their first glimpse of each other-

Ohmigod, she thought, as he reappeared, still near the dance floor. On that New Year’s Eve all those years ago she’d caught her first glimpse of him, after their separation, over her mother’s makeshift dance floor.

Just like now…

Destiny?

Or just crazy coincidence?

A picture of Madame Karma appeared in her head, the older woman waggling an I-told-you-so finger.

No. No, this wasn’t fate, it was just a wild chance meeting-

There. He was still there. She caught a flash of his head, above most of the others, and the sunglasses he now had on top of it. Slowly, as if feeling the pull from her own shocked gaze, he turned to face her.

And from across the twenty-five yards of grass filled with people, with the band playing, and with the laughter and the deepening night sky lit up by the bright, cheerful lights, their eyes met. It seemed like a silly cliche, but Chloe would have bet her last dollar that time actually stopped.

Or maybe that was just her heart-which, in any case, immediately kicked back into gear with a heavy, fast beat that felt as if it came from her throat.

And he was the cause. She knew it.

And then just that fast, the crowd and the night closed in and swallowed him whole.

Gone.

She didn’t know how or why, but Ian was here. She dumped her bag in a trash bin-quite a sacrifice-and cut across the dance floor, the fastest way to get to where she’d last seen him.

She strode across the grass and walkway, plowing into a block wall of dancers playfully executing a half- drunken version of the Macarena. She got caught up in them for a moment, with one particularly eager idiot from