9
ON A FRIDAY EVENING one month after that first night spent with Evan, Lacey locked the door to Constant Cravings and headed across the Fairfax courtyard. She’d arranged to take the weekend off, and anticipation curled through her at the getaway she and Evan had planned. He needed to be in San Francisco next week for business and had invited her to drive up with him two days early so they could enjoy the weekend there. Lacey planned to fly home Sunday night while Evan remained.
As she made her way across the courtyard, she realized that next week would be the first time in a month that they wouldn’t be together. And she further realized that she was going to miss him-more than she ever thought she could miss a person.
She continuously marveled at how things could change so drastically in a matter of only a few weeks, and pinched herself at least twice a day to make sure this relationship with Evan was real and not some figment of her imagination.
She’d spent the first week of her time with him convinced that their attraction was nothing more than sex, a firecracker of lust that would quickly burn out after a few sparks. Simply a case of wildly aroused libidos colliding.
But the exact opposite had occurred, and as that week rolled into another and another, she realized this was not just sex. Every moment spent with him was a revelation, showing another aspect of his personality, stripping away another layer of the soulless clone she’d mistakenly believed him to be.
Given their explosive first encounter in her shop, she’d fully expected to enjoy spending time with him in bed-where she’d quickly learned that there was nothing prim or proper about him-but this…this was different. She’d enjoyed good sex before. Had even experienced what she’d thought, at the time, to be stupendous sex. But making love with Evan was like the opening of a new dimension. He engaged not only her body, but her mind and spirit as well, touching her on every level in a way no other man ever had.
Every day she realized something new about him, and she’d yet to learn anything she hadn’t liked. What was there not to like about a man who was kind to his neighbors, adopted a zany stray dog and, as she’d discovered, had single-handedly arranged for GreenSpace Property Management to make a sizable contribution to the local children’s hospital? He loved surprises-both giving and receiving them-and had greatly appreciated her efforts when she’d baked him a batch of bed-shaped cookies, which she’d dubbed Take Me to Bed. He’d loved the sweet treats, and she’d loved the way he’d done just that-taken her to bed. Again and again and again. He equally enjoyed the ice-cream-cone cookies she’d baked him last week called Lick Me-as had she when he’d taken the command literally.
In spite of his claim that he hadn’t excelled at team sports as a kid, she discovered during excursions to the beach and a local park that they shared of a love of swimming and jogging and that he built a mean sand castle. She also learned that he couldn’t toss a Frisbee to save his life, although the latter could have been blamed on the Sasha-chewed holes in the plastic disk. Clearly Frisbee translated into “chew toy” in Russian.
He taught her the strategy of playing strip blackjack-better than strip poker, he claimed, because you got naked faster. Lacey had ended up naked first and been declared the loser, but as far as she was concerned, the way he’d run his hands and tongue over her body had made her the winner. In return, she’d taught him the many erotic ways that frosting could be used-none of which appeared in any cookbook.
She also discovered they had a lot in common. A shared love of trying new foods. Action films. Murder mysteries. Crossword puzzles. A dislike of lima beans. They discussed current events, pop culture, religion and politics. They agreed on some issues, disagreed on others, but regardless of whether their views were similar or not, she found their discussions and debates exhilarating. There wasn’t a single subject he shied away from talking about, and unlike previous men she’d dated, Evan really listened.
The biggest surprise of all, however, was the fact that the man she’d thought for so many months to be a soulless clone had proven heart-meltingly romantic. He’d surprised her with a late-night champagne and chocolate picnic in his hot tub. Burnt a CD of her favorite songs. Slipped her sexy, handwritten, one-line notes when he came into Constant Cravings in the morning for his coffee. Called during the day to see how she was doing. Little things that he said were his way to show that he could stop and smell the roses-because, he’d admitted, she was right. He hadn’t been taking time to do that. All his time and attention had been devoted to work and his career. But, as he’d explained last night, that was because he hadn’t met anyone who’d inspired him to make a change. Until now.
Last night…She made her away into the building, pushed the up button on the elevator and her eyes slid closed. Last night had been…perfect. She’d prepared dinner at her place, an Italian feast of antipasto and lasagna, setting the mood with candlelight and Evan’s favorite red wine. He’d arrived with his arms filled with dozens of pale pink peonies. You must have bought every peony in California, she’d said, delighted at the sweet gesture. He’d looked at her through serious blue eyes, then said, You’re worth it. And that was the instant that it clicked into place in her mind.
She was in love with him.
Yes, he was a rule follower, but he was also a man of integrity, something that had been sadly lacking and too easily compromised in many of the other men she’d dated. And, yes, he still thought her window displays were too risqué for Fairfax, but, as in other matters where their opinions had differed, they’d agreed to disagree.
“And to think, without Madame Karma, we might have just gone on thinking the worst of each other,” she murmured to herself as the elevator doors slid open. Indeed, during the past month, not only had their streaks of bad luck ended, but some of the previous disasters had corrected themselves. Sasha no longer chewed on shoes-except for flip-flops-and the dry cleaner had recovered Evan’s clothes. The timer on Lacey’s stove had been miraculously “cured,” and she found a pair of the exact sandals that had broken-on sale. As crazy as she’d thought it a month ago, she now believed Madame’s prediction. Evan was Mr. Right.
She stepped inside the elevator and pushed the button for the fifth floor. Yes, Evan was Mr. Right, but did he feel the same way about her? Last night, when she’d realized she loved him, the urge to tell him had nearly overwhelmed her. But she’d held back, afraid that it was too soon. Afraid that the L word would catapult him into masculine panic and cast a pall over what had so far been magical and perfect.
But, after thinking about little else all day today, she’d decided to tell him, and what could be a more perfect time than during their romantic getaway to San Francisco? They’d spent the past month telling each other the unvarnished truth, and she didn’t want to start playing games now. She loved him. She wanted him to know. And hopefully, he would tell her he felt the same way. And if he didn’t, well…she’d cross that bridge if she came to it. He cared, she knew he did. It was obvious in everything he said and did. But did his feelings run as deeply as hers? She didn’t know, but with her heart on the line, she needed to find out.
The elevator door pinged open, and she strode down the corridor to his office, her pulse quickening at the mere thought of seeing him. A happy laugh bubbled in her throat and she gave her arm another quick pinch. Yup-this was real. Real and fabulous.
Evan’s door was open, and she was halfway across the room before she realized he was on the phone. When she noticed, she paused. “Yes, I understand,” he said into the receiver, his eyebrows bunched into a frown. “I’ll take care of it.”