Jacquie D’Alessandro: Jinxed!

Clearing his throat, he finally managed to force his gaze away from her, only to have it fall on her shop’s window. His teeth clenched at the provocative display. A mannequin couple stood in what was supposed to be a cozy kitchen. The oven door was open, and the female mannequin, dressed in a short, slinky, fire-engine-red dress, held a cookie sheet in one oven-mitted hand. In the other hand she held an oversized heart-shaped, pink-frosted cookie. With her glossy scarlet lips parted and her eyes half-closed, she was lifting the cookie toward the male mannequin that stood behind her.

Dressed in a black satin robe and matching boxers decorated with small pink hearts, the male mannequin’s hands rested on the female’s hips, his head bent toward the curve of her neck. Across the top of the window, painted in bold crimson script were the challenging words, Taste Me…Then Just Try To Walk Away.

An image of Lacey, her curves encased in that sexy red dress, offering him that cookie, flashed through his mind, leaving a trail of heat in its wake that had nothing to do with the bright sunshine.

“You planning to visit the fortune-teller, Evan?”

Evan blinked away the distracting, disturbing image and turned to look at Paul West, an attorney who’d been his best friend since college and who’d moved his office into the Fairfax building only last week. With his brain still not fully recovered, he managed only to grunt, “Huh?”

“The fortune-teller. By the number of people I’ve seen stop by her table, I’d say she’s the hit of the party. You going to get your cards read?”

“Me?” Evan asked, raising his eyebrows. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am, the operative word being serious. Which is what you’ve been too much lately. Loosen up a little. Relax. This is a party, remember?”

“Of course I remember.” How could he forget? The party had been his idea, and the hefty price tag for it was being picked up by the company he worked for, GreenSpace Property Management-money well spent as the party was clearly a success, drawing a large, diverse group of visitors to Fairfax’s mix of retail stores. From the array of mid to high end boutiques to the cafés, there was something here for everyone, and pride filled Evan at the fact that the retail spaces were currently one hundred percent leased. Now that the renovations were completed, his goal was to see that the office spaces, currently leased at eighty percent, were also at one hundred percent by year’s end.

Paul nudged him in the ribs, then nodded across the courtyard. “Looks like Lacey Perkins is having her fortune told.”

Evan’s gaze snapped around and zeroed in on Lacey, who sat with her back to them at the fortune-teller’s table. “You know her?” he asked, a note of surprise creeping into his voice.

“Hell, yeah. You think I wouldn’t know the owner of the coffee shop nearest my office? I met her last week on my first day here, when she made me the best double shot no-foam latte I’ve ever had. She’s really nice.”

“Nice?” Evan shook his head. “That’s not the word I’d use to describe her.” No, annoying, irritating, aggravating… those words were much more accurate.

“Hmm. Maybe you’re right. Something like sizzling hot is probably better.”

Evan whipped his head around and found himself staring at Paul’s profile. His friend’s attention was riveted across the courtyard on Lacey. A fissure of something that felt exactly like jealousy but couldn’t possibly be snaked through Evan. “Hot? You think?”

“Are you kidding me?” Paul turned and shot him an incredulous look. “You manage this place. Have you never seen her?”

Oh, he’d seen her all right. More times than he cared to remember. “Of course.”

“And you don’t think the woman could set the Pacific Ocean on fire?”

The question caught Evan off guard in a way he neither understood nor liked. “Any attractiveness she might possess is completely cancelled out by the fact that she and her innuendo-laced displays and products are a major pain in my ass.”

“Yeah, well those ‘innuendo-laced products’ are absolutely delicious. I tasted her Sugar Lips crumb cake yesterday and…wow. The things that woman can whip up in the kitchen could make a grown man weep.” Paul grinned. “I’m hoping next week’s cookie is named something like Wild Sweaty Sex in the Backseat. Would love to get me some of that- with her.”

Something cramped Evan’s insides-and apparently his facial muscles as well-because Paul blinked, held up his hands and said, “Whoa, sorry. Didn’t realize I was stepping on your toes.”

“What are you talking about?”

“That laser-beam death stare you just sizzled at me. You never mentioned having a thing for her.”

Evan wiped his face clean of expression, irked to realize he’d been scowling. “No doubt because I don’t.” Really. He didn’t. That steaming heat she inspired? Nothing more than severe annoyance.

“Uh-huh. Then why haven’t you been able to stop staring at her? Not that I blame you-Lacey is certainly something to look at.”

“If I was staring, it’s only because I was trying to figure out what she’s going to do next. She’s always bending the rules.”

“Ah. So she challenges you.”

“No, she annoys me.”

“She’s not the sort of woman you usually go for.”

Evan shook his head and looked skyward. “I’m not ‘going for’ her. In fact, I’d like her to move out of Fairfax when her lease is up. But instead, she’s talking about expanding. Wants me to let her know if the storefront on either side of her comes up for lease.”

Paul studied him for several long seconds, the scrutiny making Evan feel as if he were a germ under a microscope. Then Paul grinned. “Oh, you’ve got it bad, man. And what’s so funny, is that you-Mr. 4.0, MBA, top-of-his-class smart guy-don’t realize it. Gotta say, I’m torn-half of me is glad that you’re finally showing an interest in a woman who’s not the uptight, high-maintenance, boring type you’ve been wasting your time on, but damn, I wish I’d seen Lacey first. She is fine. ” His grin flashed wider. “Maybe she has a sister.”

“You’re welcome to her,” Evan said, pissed-and alarmed-that he actually had to force out the words.

“If I thought for even a nanosecond that you meant that, believe me, I’d go for it.”

“And I don’t usually go for uptight, high-maintenance, boring types.” A frown pulled down his eyebrows. Did he?

“Maybe not recently, but only because you’ve been living like a freakin’ monk. Before that? Nearly every woman I’ve seen you with for the past two years has been a carbon copy of the other-and they’ve all been uptight, high-maintenance and boring.”

Was Paul right? Surely not. He’d have to think on that. But later. “Lacey Perkins is certainly a high-maintenance tenant.”

“That doesn’t mean she’s a high-maintenance woman. And she sure as hell doesn’t strike me as uptight or boring. But just a warning-I think you have your work cut out for you. Since I didn’t know you’d already staked a claim, I flirted with her every morning this past week. And while she’s been friendly, that’s all she’s been. She definitely throws out a strong ‘hands off’ vibe. Probably has a boyfriend.”

The profound sense of relief Evan experienced that Lacey hadn’t caught any of the flirtatious balls Paul had tossed her way utterly confused him, as did the cramping at the thought of her having a serious boyfriend. What the hell did he care if she flirted with Paul or anyone else? Who gave a rat’s ass if she had a boyfriend or even a husband? Not him. In fact, he hoped she did have a boyfriend-one on the verge of being transferred to another state, who’d take her with him when he moved.