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?”
Awful. Terrible. Miserable. And it’s all your fault. “Fine. You?”
“Awful. Terrible. Miserable.”
She blinked. Did he read minds? Before she could decide, he continued, “I assume you’re looking for a new location for Constant Cravings.”
She jerked her head in a nod. “Yes.”
“Find anything yet?”
“I have a possibility. Have you rented my space at Fairfax?”
“It’s been leased, yes. To a Java Heaven. Managed by Greg Mathers’s nephew.”
Realization dawned and a spurt of fresh anger rushed through her. “I see. I bet that’s not a coincidence.”
“No, it’s not.”
“In that case, I’m glad I’m not there any longer.”
“That makes two of us.”
“Yes, you made it very plain you were glad I wasn’t there any longer. Is that all you have to say? Because my dinner is getting cold.”
He shook his head. “When I said ‘that makes two of us’ I meant that I’m glad I’m not there any longer.”
She frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I mean I resigned. Gave my two-week notice the Monday after I returned from San Francisco. As of an hour ago, I no longer work for GreenSpace Property Management and I’m no longer the property manager for Fairfax.”
It took her a good ten seconds to find her voice. “I don’t understand. Why would you resign?”
“Because I decided that I didn’t like the way Greg Mathers did business. I didn’t like the way he treated you or the store you worked so hard to build. While he was perfectly within his rights not to renew your lease, I think it sucked that he didn’t. He wanted that space for his nephew and now he has it. I just didn’t want to be a part of it any longer.”
Lacey could scarcely believe her ears. “So you don’t have a job?”
“Oh, no, I have a job. You are looking at the new property manager for Bryant Properties.”
“How did you manage that?”
“I’ve known Bill Bryant for many years and he’s a good man. Has told me a number of times to let him know if I was ever interested in making a change. When I decided to leave GreenSpace, I called him.”
“I…I don’t know what to say.”
“How about congratulations?”
“Congratulations.”
His lips curved upward in a slow smile that stole her breath. “Thanks.” He walked toward her and reached into his suit jacket. He pulled out an envelope and handed it to her. “For you.”
“What is it?”
“There’s one way to find out.”
Lacey slid her finger beneath the flap and withdrew several sheets of folded paper. She read the first few lines, then looked up at him in amazement.
“This is a lease agreement.”
“It is, and my first official deal in my new job. Bryant owns a building complex similar to Fairfax, but I think you’ll find after I show you the place that it’s a much better fit for Constant Cravings. The stores are more eclectic, and it’s located closer to the city.”
She shook her head. “I can’t afford anything closer to the city.”
“Read the terms. I think you can.”
She looked back down at the papers and continued reading. Stunned, she raised her gaze back to his. “There must be some mistake. I’ve checked out lease space in this general area, and the rents were much higher than this figure.”
“It’s no mistake. That’s one of the perks of being the manager-I can offer incentives.”