“I already know.” Paul gave a wolfish grin. “I have a date tonight with this babe named Melinda, who I met yesterday at the supermarket. We bonded over broccoli.”
“You don’t like broccoli.”
“True. But I really liked the steaming-hot woman who was picking some out, so it was well worth the three bucks I spent on the gross stuff.”
“Seems like you’re with a different woman every week.”
“I am. And you know why? Because I actually go out. To places where women are. Women who want to meet men. It’s called dating. You should try it sometime.”
“I date.” Although admittedly not very much lately. And the last series of dates he’d gone on? All empty evenings spent with women he’d found physically attractive, but who had proven ultimately uninteresting-usually after less than two hours in their company.
“Don’t you ever get…” Evan hesitated, not sure how to express the perplexing discontent he’d been feeling the past few months “…tired? Of going to clubs? Of awkward first dates? Of trying to find a woman you can actually talk to?”
“Talk to?” Paul shook his head. “You sound more like ninety-two than thirty-two. I knew you’d buried yourself in your work lately, but I hadn’t realized the situation was this dire. When’s the last time you got laid?”
Too long ago. Yet even the last two times, which had satisfied him physically, had still felt somehow…empty. In a way he didn’t understand himself, and definitely had no intention of trying to explain to Paul. “I’m not having this conversation.”
A flicker of concern flashed in Paul’s eyes. “Ever since you and Heather split up you’ve turned into a work-obsessed maniac. It’s been six months-time for you to come out of mourning over a relationship with a woman who was all wrong for you.”
“I’m not in mourning. I’m just busy. Overseeing the Fairfax renovations has taken an enormous amount of time.”
“No guy is too busy to get laid.”
“Who says I haven’t gotten laid?”
“Have you?”
“Of course.”
Paul’s eyes narrowed. “Since you and Heather broke up?”
“Yes.”
“Well, that’s a relief. How many times?”
Evan blew out an impatient sigh. He considered lying, just to end this conversation, but he was a lousy liar, and Paul knew it. “Twice.”
“Twice? In the past six months? Holy crap, your dick is gonna fall off.” Paul shot him a look Evan was sure had swayed more than one opposing counsel to agree to his terms. “The renovations are finished and it’s time you started living again.”
“I never stopped.”
“You certainly stopped having fun.” He hesitated, then added quietly, “Heather’s moved on, Evan. You need to as well.”
Evan dragged his hands down his face then drew a deep breath. “Look, I appreciate the concern, but this isn’t a case of me not moving on. Believe me, my heart’s not broken.”
“She cheated on you.”
“Which pissed me off. But it didn’t break my heart. The job’s just kept me crazy busy and, frankly, I haven’t met a woman recently who’s interested me enough to make more than a token effort. But as soon as I meet one-and now that I finally have more time I’m sure I will-believe me, I’ll go for it.”
And he meant every word. He supposed that his ego should have been bruised by Heather’s betrayal, but in truth, after the initial shock of anger, he’d been more relieved than anything else. Heather had been one of those women who in theory should have been perfect for him. She came from a good family, had attended all the right schools, was successful in her management position with Neiman Marcus, and very attractive. They hailed from similar backgrounds, had a lot in common, and the sex had been good. In reality, however, they’d crashed and burned. All Heather’s outward perfection and fabulous credentials had just cleverly hidden an inner character lacking in honesty and integrity.
“Well, glad to hear you’re ready to jump back into the dating waters,” Paul said. “And the timing’s perfect. Since today is Valentine’s Day-aka the biggest get-lucky occasion of the year-we’re going to make certain you don’t spend the night alone. C’mon. We’re heading across the courtyard. If the sexy Lacey isn’t the woman to jump-start things and end your dry spell-”
“She’s not-”
“Then maybe the fortune-teller will clue us in to who is. There’re hundreds of women roaming around here.”
“Are you nuts? I don’t believe in that fortune-teller nonsense.”
“Fine. I’ll ask her for you.” He grinned. “Right after I tell Lacey you’re insanely hot for her.”
Evan rubbed his temple in a vain attempt to stem the throbbing there. “Cripes, you’re like the pesky little brother I’ve never had. Or wanted. Have you always been such a pain in the ass?”
Paul’s grin merely widened. “You won’t think I’m a pain in the ass after you get laid. And I’m willing to bet you’ll be in a much better mood afterward, too.”
He could have protested but what was the point? Paul could argue the paint off walls-it’s what made him such a good lawyer. And besides, much as it galled Evan to admit it, Paul was right. A good sweaty romp between the sheets would surely cure him of this discontent and the tension plaguing him. But enlisting the help of a fortune-teller? Ridiculous. He’d just head out to one of the dozens of L.A. clubs tonight and see what was out there.
You know what’s out there, his inner voice whispered wearily. You’ve seen it and dated it, dozens of times.
Right. And the thought of doing so again didn’t fill him with any anticipation. But unless he wanted Paul to carry out his threat-and he knew from experience his friend wouldn’t hesitate to do so, and he saw Paul was already striding across the courtyard-he needed to get his ass in gear.
Against his better judgment and feeling uncharacteristically out of sorts, Evan jogged to catch up. As they approached the fortune-teller, who went by the totally absurd name of Madame Karma, Lacey rose from the chair, then turned. Her gaze collided with Evan’s and his brisk footsteps nearly faltered at the impact. Her eyes narrowed on him with clear annoyance, and he bit back a grim smile. Good. Why should he be the only one out of sorts?
She then switched her attention to Paul, and her chilly expression instantly melted to a warm smile. “Paul, how nice to see you,” she said, lifting one hand to shade her eyes. “Are you craving your usual double-shot, no-foam latte?”
“That, and one of your delicious cookies.” He rubbed his hand over his stomach. “Best I’ve ever tasted.”
Her smile outshone the bright golden sun, drawing Evan’s gaze to her full lips and the pair of shallow dimples flanking them. Damn, he’d always had a thing for women with dimples. How unfair that such a sexy pair was wasted on this particular woman. Her smile faded, and feeling the weight of a stare, he raised his gaze to find her glaring at him. “Evan.”
As far as enthusiastic greetings went, it wasn’t much, but that was fine by him. His every muscle tensed and his suit suddenly felt as if it had shrunk. “Lacey.”
Her gaze bounced between him and Paul. “You two know each other?”
“Best friends since college,” Evan said.
Her eyebrows shot upward. “You two?” Her gaze remained steady on his, but her fingers waved back and forth between him and Paul.
He wasn’t sure if he was more irked or amused at her obvious disbelief. “You seem shocked that I’d have a friend.”
“I suppose I am, at least a friend who’s so personable.”
“I’m extremely personable-toward people who don’t constantly wear on my patience.”
“Perhaps you’re just an impatient person. Maybe you should switch to decaf. It might help you relax.”