Jacquie ’Alessandro - Jinxed!

“I’m alone,” he agreed. Because in spite of his friends and neighbors and colleagues, he indeed felt very alone. And had for a quite some time.

Until tonight.

He didn’t feel alone here, in this coffee shop, talking to her. In fact, he felt…good. Really good. The evening, which had started out so disastrously with broken cars and cell phones, insane sprinklers and a ridiculous robe, had definitely taken an unexpected and-he had to admit-not unpleasant turn.

“No girlfriend?”

Her voice jerked him back. “No one steady. If there was, that kiss wouldn’t have happened. I know you think I’m a pain in the ass and maybe I am, but I’m not a cheater.”

A hint of rose blossomed on her cheeks. “Believe it or not, I haven’t thought of you being a pain in the ass for at least five minutes.”

“That makes two of us. And sets a new record. Wanna go for ten minutes?”

Her smile flashed. “Think we can make it?”

“I’m game.”

“Okay. So tell me why you don’t have a steady girlfriend. I mean, even though you’re a pest, you should be able to get at least a first date just on the basis of your looks.”

“Uh, thanks. I think. And I date. But lately…” He shrugged. “I’ve grown tired of the games. Which is why Sasha is working out so well. She’s always happy to see me, doesn’t mind me hogging the remote, never complains if I leave my clothes on the floor and she doesn’t speak English.”

Lacey laughed. “If you could just cure her of the flip-flop eating-”

“Gnawing to death,” he corrected with a grin.

“She’d be perfect,” they said in unison.

Their laughter slowly died and Evan became aware-painfully aware-of how close they sat. How romantic and intimate this setting was. How alone they were. How soft and smooth her hand felt beneath his. He brushed the pad of his thumb over the velvety soft skin of her fingers and the desire he’d successfully held in check shot to the surface.

Did she feel it, too? This sexually charged tension that suddenly seemed to crackle in the air between them? Based on her quick intake of breath and the heat kindling in her eyes, he was certain she did. But before he acted on it, there was something he wanted, needed, to know.

“What about you?” he asked. “Boyfriend?”

“No. At the risk of repeating your words verbatim, if there were, that kiss wouldn’t have happened. I know you think I’m a pain in the ass and maybe I am, but I’m not a cheater.”

“At the risk of repeating your words, you should be able to get at least a first date just on the basis of your looks.”

“Actually, it feels as if I’ve had a first date with half the single guys in L.A. I’ve been through my share of bad relationships. But I figure you’ve got to go through the bad ones to get to a good one, and I must be due for a good one if for no other reason than the law of averages. But the men I meet somehow always turn out to be like my dad and brother-in-law-all work, no play, success at any cost. I call them soulless clones. Like you, I’m tired of games. At this point in my life, I’m not looking to impress a whole bunch of different guys. I’d rather impress the same guy over and over again.”

“Shouldn’t be too difficult. You’re pretty impressive. Especially in that dress.”

“Uh-huh. You’re just saying that because you want another cookie.”

“I wouldn’t say no if you offered.”

He knew his tone clearly implied he was talking about more than cookies, and for several seconds they simply stared at each other. Evan could almost hear her internally debating how, or even if, she should respond to his words. Would she play it safe? Or take a risk?

“Another cookie, coming right up,” she murmured, then slowly rose. He watched her walk toward the counter, the rear view of her making him draw in several deep, careful breaths. When she reached the counter, she kept her back to him. Rising on her toes and bending forward-a move that nearly stopped his heart-she reached into the glass display case. Then she turned around and leaned her hips on the counter. The smoky look in her eyes arrowed a jolt of fire straight to his groin.

“Here it is,” she said, waggling the cookie, her voice as smoky as her eyes. “Bite Me.”

With him wearing the robe and her in that dress, offering him a cookie, it was as if the widow display had come to life, just as he’d fantasized earlier today. He didn’t hesitate, but he had to force himself to stand slowly and cross to her with measured steps. He stopped when less than two feet separated them and planted his palms on the counter, caging her in.

“That’s an offer I can’t refuse.” He leaned forward and lightly grazed his teeth down the side of her neck.

She moaned and tilted her head to the side, an invitation he immediately took advantage of, nipping his way up to her earlobe.

“Nice,” he murmured against her fragrant skin. “But I think you should rename your cookie Kiss Me.”

She let out a long, pleasure-filled sigh. “Okeydokey.”

“You’re very agreeable all of a sudden.”

“I get that way when a sexy man is nibbling on my neck. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Noted.” He pressed his lips to the spot where her pulse throbbed. “But surely you don’t think that’s going to scare me off.”

“I sure as hell hope not.”

She turned her face toward him and with a growl he covered her mouth with his. Any thoughts he might have entertained that the sparks flying during their earlier kiss had been a fluke were instantly erased. He felt as if his circuits had been hooked up to a nuclear reactor and someone had flipped the switch.

He leaned into her, pressing his hardness against all that gorgeous, feminine softness and everything faded away except her. The way she felt in his arms-all curves and warmth. The taste of her in his mouth-cookies and frosting. The scent of her filling his head-sugar and peonies. With a deep groan, he ran his hands down her back, pressing her closer, kissing her deeper, his tongue exploring the satin of her mouth while he filled his palms with the round fullness of her bottom.

She squirmed against him, and his erection jerked, vibrating a ragged moan of pure desire in his throat. He couldn’t recall ever wanting a woman this badly. A desperation he didn’t recognize had him firmly in its grip, and apparently whatever insanity had come over him afflicted her as well because her hands were suddenly all over him. Inside his robe, coasting up his back then down to his ass, pulling him tighter against her.

A red, steamy haze of lust engulfed him and he lifted her onto the counter. She gasped an approving sound against his mouth and spread her legs. Evan stepped between her splayed thighs and trailed his lips across her throat while his hands tugged down the stretchy neckline of her dress. Her breasts sprang free, and he filled his hands with their warm fullness, teasing her already hard nipples between his fingers. His mouth cruised lower, circling the aroused peak with his tongue, then drawing the tight bud into his mouth.

“Evan…” She uttered his name in a passion-filled, husky groan and arched her back. She jerked the robe off his shoulders then ran her hands over his chest, down his back, setting bonfires on every inch of skin she touched.

His hands skimmed downward, over her incredible curves, to her silky smooth thighs, then under her dress. Where he encountered nothing but bare skin.

“No underwear,” he growled, the discovery spiking the fever raging through him and he pushed the stretchy material up to her waist. Dipped his hand between her splayed thighs. Found her wet and hot.

She gasped as he slid two fingers into her silky heat. “Didn’t think I’d, ahhhh, need it.”

“You don’t. Believe me, I’m not complaining.”

Panting, she tugged his boxers over his hips, freeing his erection, then stroked her fingers down its length. He sucked in a hissing breath and thrust into her hand.

“Condom,” she said, leaning forward to nip his neck.

“In my wallet. On the other side of the room. Damn it.”

“My purse. It’s closer.”

While he continued to stroke her, she reached behind her and dragged her wet purse forward. Something clattered to the floor. They ignored it. Muttering an impatient sound, she dumped her purse upside down, spilling an assortment of feminine stuff on the counter. He spied the condom and rolled on the protection as quickly as his unsteady fingers allowed. Then she wrapped her legs around his waist and he entered her in a single, deep thrust.

Their mutual groan filled the room. Her wet heat gripped him, and he withdrew nearly all the way, then sank deep again, experiencing the slow glide into pleasure he’d wanted since the moment he’d stepped into her store. Again, and again, the erotic pull of her body rendered him oblivious to everything except the intense pleasure. Her fingers dug into his back, and he gritted his teeth against the overwhelming need to come. When she threw back her head and gasped, he let himself go, thrusting deep, his orgasm rocketing through him.

When the shuddering ended, he tipped back his head and struggled to regain his breath. She dropped her forehead limply against his heaving chest, her ragged breaths pelting his skin.

A beeping sound broke through his postcoital fog, and he raised his head. And frowned. That beep was familiar.

“Is that a beeper?” Lacey asked, lifting her head. She looked as dazed and glazed as he felt.

Beeper. That noise was his business beeper going off. Reality returned with a jarring thump that felt like an anvil falling on his head. Jesus. What the hell was he doing? He’d just had sex with a tenant. He never had sex with tenants-it was one of his hard-and-fast rules. But one look at Lacey in that dress had morphed his hard-and-fast rule into a bout of hard-and-fast sex.

He stepped back and raked his hands through his hair. “My business beeper.”

She stared at him for several seconds. “Business? At this hour? On a weekend?”

“It’s my boss. He’s in London this week. It’s the afternoon there now. Doesn’t matter that it’s a weekend-he works seven days a week.”

She didn’t reply, but based on the chill that filmed over her expression it was clear that she’d just filed him under the category of soulless clone. Without a word she handed him a wad of paper napkins, then slid off the counter.

“Listen,” she said, adjusting her dress while he pulled up the silk boxers, “I’m not sure what came over me, but what just happened between us…that isn’t normal behavior for me.”

“Believe it or not, it’s not for me, either.”

“Things just got…out of hand.” She looked at him and he barely suppressed a groan. With her tumbled hair and moist, parted lips, she looked like living, breathing sin. “I’m pleading temporary insanity.”

“That makes two of us.”

“This isn’t going to happen again.”

He knew he should agree, but the words stuck in his throat, refusing to be uttered.

“In fact,” she continued, “we need to forget it happened this time.”

Before he could reply, a knock sounded and he swiveled his head toward the door. A man wearing a tan jacket proclaiming he was from the American Car Association tapped on the glass.

His interlude with Lacey was officially over.

And it occurred to Evan that maybe he really was cursed.

AT TEN O’CLOCK Tuesday evening, Lacey locked the door to Constant Cravings and headed across the courtyard. Sales had been unusually sluggish Sunday, Monday and today, and she’d spent the bulk of her time baking to fill cookie platter orders. Not good, as that had left her with too much time to think, and her mind had remained firmly focused on the one thing she desperately wanted not to think of.

Evan Sawyer.

Okay, the two things she desperately wanted not to think of-Evan Sawyer, and that bout of mind-blowing sex with Evan Sawyer.

You’d think the fact that she hadn’t seen him since they’d parted company late Saturday night-technically Sunday morning-would have been enough for “out of sight, out of mind” to kick in. But no. Instead, she’d thought of him about every three seconds or so. Sometimes more frequently. The feel of his hands and mouth on her, the sensation of him buried deep inside her, the deliciously potent taste of his kiss, his skin pressed against hers, all seemed to be tattooed onto her senses. They’d all given her libido a jolt equal to a nuclear blast. Three days later and she was still hot and bothered.

Yet more than hot and bothered. He’d not only turned her on, he’d surprised her. And disarmed her. With his revelations about his family and his non-English-speaking dog. He’d been amusing and intelligent and, well, likable. Extremely so. Unsettlingly so.