Love. Sex. Destiny. And A Six-Foot-Four Psychic In A Bridesmaid's Dress? Honey, You Don't Know Jack. . . Jamie Peters no longer believes in true love. True idiots, true scumbags, true moochers--these she believes in wholeheartedly, and she's got the checkered dating history to prove it. So she's more than a little skeptical when her cross-dressing psychic tells her she's about to meet her soul mate--during an accident. Yeah, sounds about right. And then it happens. A knight in shining armor steps between her and a mugger on a subway platform. Just a regular, honest, upright Jack. The kind they don't make anymore. . . Jonathon Davidson doesn't believe in destiny--or lying to beautiful women as a rule. But now that Jamie thinks he's just an ordinary guy, how can he possibly tell her that he's really, (A) her roommate's brother, (B) a millionaire to boot, and (C) the jerk who's investigating her application to his grandfather's charitable trust because she may be involved in something illegal? Yeah, rhetorical question. He can't. Not until he knows what's going on. Besides, it would require being able to resist Jamie's luscious curves long enough to say, "Hi, my name is Big Liar. Let's get naked." Sometimes, destiny sucks. . .