Jinxed!

by Jacquie D’Alessandro

  “Came for tea and crumpets.” He grabbed her wrist in a tight, unbreakable grip.

  She resisted but he simply tugged her out of the shower. “How did you get in?”

  “Turns out fencing antiques isn’t my only talent. I can pick a mean lock.”

  “W-where are we going?”

  “To talk.” He didn’t let go of her until they were in the living room. There, he shoved her to the couch.

  Standing over her, hands on his hips, scowl on his face, he looked big and tough and mean, and nothing at all like the quiet, hardworking man who’d brought her his books to reconcile once a month.

  “What have you told them?” he demanded.

  The towel he’d given her just barely wrapped around her wet body, and she was holding it tightly, hoping everything was covered. “Told who?”

  Steve pinched the bridge of his nose, sighed, then, looming over her, he held the barrel of the gun so that it was an inch from her temple. “One more time. What have you told them?”

  Oh, God, oh, God. “Um, the police?”

  In answer, he pressed the gun to her head.

  “Nothing!” she cried, trying to sink back against the couch as far as she could go. “I didn’t-”

  “I know you sneaked into our office. I know you found the second set of files.”

  “I wasn’t sneaking, I heard a noise, and I went to investigate-

  “Liar.” He grabbed her by the nape of her neck and hauled her upright. The gun flickered in front of her eyes, then settled against the side of her head.

  “Please,” she whispered. “Please don’t.”

  “Here’s the thing. Al’s going down, okay? They have his prints on the bodies.”

  Oh, God. There were bodies?

  “They can link him to things that they can’t link me to. Only they know he didn’t work alone.” He smiled into her panicked face. “I’m thinking you got greedy, see? You were working the books, both sets of them, and you saw our profits. You decided to come onboard. You demanded it, in fact, or you’d turn us in. The two of you cut me out first, of course, which makes me the victim-”

  “No-”

  “Oh, yes.” At that, he hauled her across the living room, to her desk, which her laptop sat on. He flipped up the top, opened a Word document, and then shoved her into the chair. “Start typing. To Whom It May Concern.”

  She stared up at him in horror.

  He waved his gun. “Hel-lo-o-o-o?”

  She jumped and put her fingers on the keyboard. To Whom It May Concern…

  “The guilt is too much. I’ve betrayed Steve-” He broke off when she didn’t type, and pressed the cold metal of the gun to her temple. “The guilt is too much,” he repeated with a patience that belied the tight grip he had on her.

  Heart in her throat, her vision hampered by her own tears, she began to type, but then Steve went still. “Did you hear that?” he whispered.

  She hadn’t heard a thing over the booming of her heart in her ears, but there…she heard the front door handle rattle.

  Ian.

  Before she could process the thought, Steve yanked her out of the chair and back against him, the gun once again settling against her temple. “Don’t make a sound,” he hissed, and pulled her around the desk and back against the wall, where they’d be hidden from anyone coming in the front door.

  The handle rattled again. She heard a rustling and envisioned him searching his pockets for the key she’d given him. She looked at her desk. Next to the laptop was the key.

  In true Ian fashion, he’d forgotten it.

  “Chloe?” he yelled through the door. “Are you still in there?”

  She opened her mouth but Steve tightened his grip. She felt the gun against her head, bruising her temple.

  “Chloe!” He pounded on the door.

  And then…silence.

  She went still, trying to hear something, anything, but then she knew. He was running around the back, where he’d come in the kitchen door. There’d be a fight, with no guarantee of the outcome.

  She couldn’t let that happen. “I feel funny,” she whispered to Steve.

  “Ah, hell. Don’t you dare puke.” He loosened his grip and she whirled, grabbing the laptop off the desk as she did. Using her momentum as Steve aimed the gun at her, she cracked him right in the face with the hard plastic casing.

  The computer fell to the floor, leaving Steve, who’d lost his hold on her, standing there with a stunned look on his face. The gun lay uselessly on the floor beside him.

  Run, Chloe told herself, but her feet didn’t move.

  Steve, still staring at her, blinked once, then fell backward to the ground, hitting with a sickening thud that didn’t bode well for his head.

  The kitchen door burst open and Ian came running, skidding to a stop at the sight of her standing there in nothing but a towel, over Steve’s prone body.

  “I’m fine,” she told him, then pointed to Steve. “But him, I’m not so sure about.”

  Ian rolled Steve over, secured him with a set of handcuffs, kicked the gun away from him, then surged to his feet and reached for Chloe, who’d never been more happy to be held by someone in her entire life.

  More officers came running in, including Ian’s partner, and for a moment, everything became wild and chaotic all over again. Questions were asked, answers given and then more questions.

  Chloe’s head whirled with all she’d been through since yesterday evening, but Ian hadn’t let go of her except to pull off his shirt and put it on her. He was holding her so close she hadn’t yet managed to get out of the towel and into some clothes.

  “I can’t believe I almost let him get you.” Ian ran his hands up and down her yet again, as if to reassure himself she was really here, alive and whole.

  “It’s over,” she said, now comforting him. “And we’re okay.”

  “Yeah.” Ian stroked her hair and glanced over her shoulder at Steve, who was still looking dazed as the cops pulled him to his feet. Paramedics had arrived but he wasn’t going to the hospital, or if he was, it’d be a short trip on the way to jail, where he’d soon enough be reunited with Al, his brother and partner in crime.

  When everyone eventually piled out of the house, they were finally alone. It wasn’t for long-Ian had to go into work to face the mountain of paperwork-but for now, Chloe just held him, never wanting to let go.

  “I wanted to be the one to save you, you know,” he said.

  “You did.”

  “No. You didn’t need saving.”

  “Of course I did.” Emotion swamped her. “I needed you to save me from certain incorrect notions. Such as the world is black and white. But I now know it’s not. There’s gray, a lot of it, along with…”

  He seemed to hold his breath. “With…”

  “Love.” She smiled tremulously and set her hands on his jaw.

  He wrapped her close. “God, I love you, Chloe. Always have, always will.”

  “Now see, that’s working for me.” Her voice was husky with all the emotion swamping her. “I love you, too, Ian. I always have, always will.” She let out a soggy laugh. “I guess this means my karma couldn’t have really taken a vacation to the Bahamas, right?”

  He still had his arms around her tightly. “I thought you didn’t believe in karma.”

  “Maybe I was just scared of it.” She cupped his face. “I’ve faced scarier things now. And I’ve learned life’s too short not to live it to its fullest.”

  “Well, then-” he smiled and slipped a hand beneath the shirt he’d given her, and then tugged on the towel beneath “-let’s get to that living…”

  TALL, DARK & TEMPORARY by Crystal Green

  To Jill, Jacquie and Brenda.

  Thank you for inviting me to battle

  Madame Karma’s curse!

  1

  “DID YOU KNOW I’m cursed?”

  Seated shotgun in the Jeep Grand Cherokee, Erin Holland capped off the impetuous comment with a laugh a
nd turned away from her date to peer out the window. Outside, the gray Pacific Ocean lengthened against a moody sky. The odd hot spell that’d consumed southern California last week had gone back into hiding, leaving behind the regular February grumble of weather.

  After a beat passed, she glanced at her date again. She wasn’t sure why she’d even been talking to him about her psychic reading from last weekend. “Have you ever been to a fortune-teller?”

  Wes Ryan steered with effortless grace. Heck, that’s how he did everything-effortlessly, but with an edge of deliberation and cockiness.

  He grinned at her, slow, assured. “Nope, never.” Wes turned back to his driving. “How did she curse you?”

  “She didn’t curse me. Not really. She just said I’d need to…” Erin paused, second-guessing the wisdom of telling him everything. Why had she even brought all this up? Instead, she was vague. “I doubted her prediction, and she said that my negativity would curse me unless I decided to go with the flow.” There. “That’s all.”

  As Wes absorbed that, Erin took a second longer than she should’ve to linger over him.

  The first time she’d seen him-Wes Ryan, the notorious player who ate women for breakfast, lunch and dinner-she’d been hooked. He’d been standing a few yards away at a party when she’d glanced over to find him leaning against a wall, beer bottle tilted in his hand as he watched her talking with her friends.

  Maybe it was because he was the perfect man for her current situation: anticommitment, only interested in thrills and feel-good chills. Or maybe Erin had just been a one-man girl for so long that the notion of no-strings-attached sex excited her. Either way, she’d decided then and there to return his forthright interest, locking gazes with him until her skin heated.

  It hadn’t been love at first sight or anything-God, she wouldn’t allow herself to fall for anyone again for at least another couple of years-but it was definitely lust. He had a primal way of holding himself, taut yet easy, his black hair kept long enough to get a little wild. He had olive skin, dark eyes that narrowed in cheetahlike hungriness, a nose that arrowed just above generous lips and a dimple in his chin.

  Exotic. Suave. All male.

  Her blood pounded, thickening until her limbs felt heavy. She started to ache between her thighs, so she turned back to the car’s window, instinctively removing herself from temptation even though she’d knowingly-and very willingly-put herself in its bull’s-eye this weekend.

  A romantic getaway. A three-day cruise down to Ensenada, Mexico.

  She shifted, suddenly nervous.

  “So,” Wes said, “what exactly are you supposed to be flowing with? What’s this prediction you didn’t believe?”

  Erin forced herself to relax. Enjoy. “Well, she said business is going to prosper. That was the first part.”

  “What’s so hard to believe about that? The candy shop’s already doing really well.”

  During their previous, very casual, very lighthearted dates these past couple of weeks, Erin had told him about her and her best friend’s plan to franchise Yes, Sweetie, the candy store they’d conceived long ago, while roommates in college. Their dream. But, now, just thinking about the business risk made her fidget, and that’s not what this weekend was about. She was supposed to be getting away from it all. To have the fun she’d been lacking up until this point.

  “But, then-” Erin added, intending to tell him only this little bit more and that would be it “-there was Madame Karma’s prediction about my having a long, long life.”

  “I’ll have to check out your palm to second that opinion, I suppose.”

  Erin felt him inserting a finger into her hand, which she’d been resting in a loose fist on her lap. His touch tickled, and she laughed, opening for him. The contact was innocent yet sexual enough to heighten the ache between her legs.

  “Shouldn’t you concentrate on driving?” she murmured, her pulse wavering.

  “How can I?” True to his reputation, he moved his finger from her palm to her leg, sliding toward her inner thigh.

  The ache turned sharp, damp. Her heartbeat picked up dangerous speed, warning her to slow down.

  “Hey,” she said, casually directing his hand back to his own side of the car and pointing to a road sign announcing that the Long Beach cruise terminal was ahead. “We don’t want to miss our turnoff because you can’t keep your hands to yourself.”

  She could feel his gaze on her, heavy and enticing. But she knew better than to look at him. He could seduce with just one long, hot stare, and she’d already almost given in so many times, but…

  Well, she guessed she’d be giving in soon enough, right? That’s why she was here-to indulge in good times with a man who had a reputation for guaranteeing that a woman came out of the bedroom happy. Heaven knew she needed some variety after being with the same man for so long.

  “What else about this prediction?” he asked, eyes on the road now, obeying like a good boy. “It doesn’t sound hard to buy into so far, especially for a girl who was open-minded enough to visit this Madame Karma in the first place.”

  “Actually, she came to the Fairfax building complex, where my shop is. She had a table set up at the combination Valentine’s Day party and renovation celebration last weekend. It drew a nice crowd and we did great business.”

  “But you still went to her. Am I right?”

  Erin clasped her fingers into her palm, reliving his touch. “Cheryl, that wench, basically forced me to the Madame’s table. Getting our palms read would be hilarious, she said.” At Wes’s blank look, Erin added, “Cheryl. You met her at the shop last Tuesday when you picked me up for dinner?”

  “Sorry, it took a minute to click. Cheryl. Long blond hair, freckles, big smile. Best friend. Partner in crime and business. Yeah, I remember.”

  Erin paused. Cheryl was such a big part of her life, and Wes’s unfamiliarity with her drove home just how new they really were to each other.

  And I’m taking a weekend trip with him, she thought, heart stuttering.

  Wes was speaking again. “So wasn’t there anything more colorful to this prediction, like a passion-filled adventure on the seas-”

  “You wish she’d predicted that.” Erin managed a laugh, but she really didn’t want to talk about it.

  Because, before the storm had descended on the complex in Baxter Hills that day, Madame Karma had made a prediction about more than just business or a long, long life…

  The older woman had patted Erin’s palm, the lines around her eyes deepening with the “good” news. “Love must be in the air today because I feel like I’ve said this so many times, but you can stop looking for the man of your dreams. You’ve already found ‘the one.’”

  In the next chair, Cheryl had clapped Erin on the shoulder, beaming with her patented big smile. “Congratulations. Hopefully ‘the one’ will actually find his way to the altar before six years go by.” Mischievously, Cheryl had turned to Madame Karma. “The last one took his sweet time.”

  Erin had addressed Madame Karma, too. “William and I never even sent out wedding invitations, and that’s why we broke up. Our engagement was, like, an endless trek across the desert of all relationships.” But why had she even explained? “Listen, I know everyone wants to hear that kind of great news about a love life, so you feel compelled to say it, but…”

  “Oh, no,” the elderly fortune-teller had said. “I’m not wrong.”

  Erin had shaken her head. “You don’t understand. I’m not in the market for ‘the one.’ Not for a couple more years at least.” When she’d gotten over the disappointment of William, her college sweetheart. The man who’d taken her so completely for granted that he’d thought marriage would come when he was ready. Which had turned out to be never.

  But that was okay. Five months ago, she’d realized William wasn’t the guy for her and had called it off, yet that didn’t mean she was looking to settle down with the next candidate. She’d made herself a promise to experience life as
a single woman for the first time since…ever. She’d been shackled to William for so long that she’d missed out on dating and doing all those mysterious things available women did, and now she just wanted to enjoy all the Cosmo girl fun she’d lost out on over the years.

  Yet there was more to it than even that, she knew. She also wanted to avoid the profound emotions that would only lead to getting hurt again, and Wes could give her that. Someone so temporary would allow her breathing room from the anguish she’d just about recovered from with William.

  But there Madame Karma was, telling Erin that Wes was “the one.” God, it was the last thing she wanted to hear.

  Cheryl, who had her own long-term boyfriend, was a big supporter of Erin’s new crusade. “See, Madame Karma,” she’d said, leaning over the fortune-teller’s table, “Erin here is in transition.”

  Erin had smiled and nodded.

  “What can I tell you, then,” the fortune-teller had said. “Your transition man is the one you’re meant to be with.”

  At that, Erin had made a sound that smacked somewhere between disbelief and panic. Didn’t Madame Karma know how much she needed Wes to be insignificant?

  The psychic had sighed and risen from her chair, her gypsy skirt swishing around her legs as she began moving away from the table. “I guess you’re going to give fate a hard time, too.”

  Cheryl and Erin had exchanged puzzled glances.

  Madame Karma had gestured toward the sexy coffee shop, Constant Cravings, where Erin and Cheryl got their daily doses of caffeine. A creamy latte called Goes Down Easy was Erin’s current addiction.

  “That woman in there…” the fortune-teller had begun.

  “Lacey?” Cheryl asked.

  The fortune-teller nodded. “She and her boyfriend were the first to scoff.”

  Erin and Cheryl mouthed, “Boyfriend?” to each other. Lacey Perkins was as single as they came. Sure, Evan Sawyer, the building manager, seemed to enjoy harassing Lacey about her window displays a little too much, but…

  “And,” Madame Karma had added, “then came the next nonbeliever, the accountant.”