Annoyance rippled through her. The man always looked perfect, as if he’d just stepped from some GQ photo shoot-dark suit perfectly fitted, dress shirt without a wrinkle, shoes buffed to a glossy shine. Even though the breeze currently ruffled his dark hair, he somehow managed to look perfectly windblown.

Yes, his was the sort of irritating perfection that always made her feel gauche, messy, wilted and somehow undone-like an unmade bed. Made her want to smooth her hands over her own wrinkled attire, wish she’d taken more time with her out-of-control curly hair and surreptitiously check her teeth to make sure no remnants of her spinach salad remained.

Which was completely ridiculous. What did she care if he found her physical appearance lacking? While she grudgingly admitted that he’d never said such a thing, he did have a way of looking at her that made it clear he didn’t approve of her. Certainly he’d made no secret of the fact that he didn’t approve of the way she ran Constant Cravings.

She’d been a Fairfax tenant for nearly eight months, and her every interaction with Evan Sawyer had proven frustrating. He was more rigid than a concrete pillar, repeatedly complaining about the lingerie-clad mannequins she re-dressed bimonthly for her quirky window displays. Said they were “too suggestive,” as were her best-selling cookies in the shapes of men’s and women’s torsos. Her latest idea she’d run by him-to expand Constant Cravings into one of the storefronts on either side of her should they come up for lease-had been met with all the enthusiasm of having his innards ripped out with a rusty knife.

Sheesh. You’d think the man would be thrilled that she wanted to expand since her store generated such solid sales figures, a percentage of which were paid to Fairfax. But no, all he did was complain. He was an uptight, unbending, workaholic thorn in her side. One of those all-work, no-play types she called Soulless Clones. And given what was clearly his strong aversion to anything the least bit sensual, she suspected he was a dead bore between the sheets.