His Command

by Sophie H. Morgan

  Which was probably why the stunning blonde in the black dress—among other more obvious reasons, namely the shapely legs turned out in those sexy black heels—hadn’t left his mind since he’d deposited her back in the auction room.

  He leaned against the wall in the hotel office Kate had designated his “dressing room.” He’d been allowed to mingle with the crowd before the event started, give everyone a good look at the grand prize that could be theirs. However, now that the charity auction was under way, his entrance had to be held off until the last minute. Plenty of time to go over the blonde’s soft, sad eyes, their vivid shade of green.

  Under other circumstances, he’d be thinking about her legs, or the Cupid’s bow lips, or the long hair the color of crème brûlée, his favorite, twisted up in one of those hairstyles that looked one nod from tumbling down.

  But.

  But she was sad. And not the typical animal-shelter-commercial-comes-on-the-TV-and-I’m-bawling sad. This was the kind of melancholy that affected weeks instead of hours. It even offered a buffer against his not inconsiderable charm.

  What made a woman so sad she didn’t even allow herself to enjoy a little flirtation?

  In a world where answers—along with most things—came easy, it was interesting to ponder the possibilities.

  The door cracked open and Kate’s head popped through. Her eyes were a touch wild, a result he suspected of the auction raising so much money for the kids’ charity she’d organized the whole event for.

  “It’s almost time,” she said. “You ready?”

  “And primed.” Ryder straightened from his slouch as she pushed the door the rest of the way.

  She fidgeted with the door handle, unmoving, eyes flitting to him and away. “Thanks so much for doing this, Ryder. The kids and I appreciate it.”

  He did a little flourish. “I’m at your command.”

  “More like Luka’s.” Pink tinged her cheeks as she slid him a rueful smile. “Sorry if he bullied you into it.”

  “He asked, sure, but I’m happy to do it. I like kids.”

  “Well, thanks anyway.”

  “Kate?”

  “Yes?”

  “You can quit thanking me.” He grinned as the color in her cheeks darkened until it was two slashes of scarlet across her cheekbones. “I told you; I’m happy to do it.”

  “Okay. Sorry.” She checked her watch, an expensive silver model with a face that shimmered with diamonds. He’d heard she came from money, though that was the only example he’d seen of it. That and the tailored blue suit she wore, which was another giveaway. “We’d better go.”

  “How’s it going?” Ryder asked as he exited after gesturing for her to lead the way.

  “Good.” Her low heels tapped a soft rhythm as she led him back. A few hotel employees hovered as he strode past, awe stopping them in their tracks. “It’s a bit early for final figures,” Kate continued, unaware of the attention, “but I think we’ve probably made a hundred thousand so far. That’s without adding on what the guests will pay for you . . . r wish.” Her light brown eyes gleamed.

  Ryder grinned. “You’re cute when you’re mercenary.”

  Even her nose blushed this time. It was sweet, the way she couldn’t quite look him in the eye, but some mortals were like that. They seemed to forget he’d been mortal, too, before he’d applied to be a Genie. All they saw was the magic.

  He followed her down the passageway until they arrived at the second entrance to the event room. Already the excited murmurings of the bidders climbed in volume, the women’s voices rising more than the men’s. He could practically hear the ka-ching of pocketbooks opening with the intent to do battle.

  Kate had chosen well when she’d reached out to Ryder’s Handler at the global Genie organization, Wishes for You, for her auction’s last flourish. Snag a Genie for your event, success was guaranteed along with a pile of money you could swim through. A wish of the winner’s choice for whatever they desired definitely upped the stakes.

  Well, mostly whatever the winner desired. His powers were vast, but not limitless.

  Judging from the crowd he’d seen earlier when he’d played hero, that wish would be bigger boobs, more money, a new car. Something simple. Something that instantly gratified.

  The memory of Hailey’s sad eyes wavered in his mind’s eye. Maybe she’d bid. He’d be intrigued to know what she’d wish for.

  Kate lifted her face to Ryder’s as one hand toyed with the pearl necklace at her throat. The blush was still present, not helped by the fact her nut-brown curls had been pinned away from her face. She cast him a quick smile. “I’ll call for you when we’re ready.”

  It wasn’t long before he heard his cue: several dozen screams.

  Go get ’em, tiger.

  Ryder flashed himself inside the room and onto the erected stage amid front-row gasps. A wave, a lazy smile, a sparkling laugh, he worked the room like a stripper with twenty years’ experience. Those kids would have every cent he could shamelessly charm out of the bidders.

  The auctioneer, a slick brunette in a tight red dress, hushed them all after a few minutes of cheering. She slid a beguiling smile his way. “I know we’re all excited, ladies, but it’s time to put your money where your mouths are.” Her gaze drifted over him, scorching. “Ryder, you want to tell us something about what you’re offering?”

  “Sure.” He hooked his thumbs in his belt loops and rocked back on one foot. “WFY is proud to offer a certain number of wishes every year to a lot of good causes. When we heard about Callie’s Kids and the work the charity does with ill children, it was a no-brainer to offer one wish to the highest bidder.” He added a smoldering look. “I’m looking forward to hearing what you all desire.” One woman’s lips parted, another’s eyes gleamed with challenge. They were here to win.

  The auctioneer—who he vaguely remembered Kate introducing as Rhian—flicked a smoky look his way. “Well, I don’t know about you ladies, but I’d empty my pockets to secure this lot. And remember, it’s for a good cause, so let’s not get stingy now. Who’ll open the bidding at three thousand?”

  Immediately paddles inscribed with numbers shot up everywhere and the bidding came fast and furious. Ryder did his part, posing, using a wind machine he flashed in to act the beefcake. His Handler’s exact words had been “wear a G-string for bigger tips.” Ryder wasn’t going that far, but he’d ham it up for the kids.

  He’d gestured for water to drip down his hair and over his torso, turning his white tee into tissue paper, when he spied Hailey at the back of the room. He almost choked on the pouring water.

  Her paddle lifted every other second, a scowl of determination carving an adorable groove across her forehead. A storm brewed in her eyes, as if she had to win or die trying.

  Satisfaction flowed thick and deliciously sweet through his veins as he squeezed the excess of water from his hair, giving the crowd an opportunity to gawp at the muscles in his arms. So. He wasn’t the only one to have felt the humming attraction that slicked across their skin like a lick of fire. He just found it easier to admit it.

  He tried to catch her gaze as he went into a series of poses, but she was too intent on Rhian. Smug, he let his mind wander to after the auction. Maybe he’d take her to dinner first, get her nice and relaxed. She’d make her wish, and he’d ease her up to his apartment for a nightcap. Then he’d take that teasing hairdo apart so it fell to—

  What the hell?

  Bidding had just reached eighteen thousand. Paddles were still popping into the air with enthusiasm, but Hailey’s paddle had faltered. Something like clarity cleared the intensity from her eyes as she glanced from Rhian, who was still snapping out the bids, to Ryder.

  He raised his eyebrows in a challenge no woman could resist.

  Except Hailey, who instead gave him a little shrug. It encompassed everything from an apology to a nice-working-with-you good-bye.

  Why would she stop bidding? She’d been totally set on buying his
wish—until Rhian had called out eighteen thousand, he realized.

  So that was it. The bidding had become too rich for her blood. A flash of empathy swarmed him as he glanced from her to the other society women still bidding.

  Along with the empathy came a nugget of rock-stubborn determination. He was so tired of giving out wasted wishes to people with more money than sense. There were only so many boob-job wishes he could take, for God’s sake.

  And if Hailey wanted his wish, she was damn well going to get it. He’d make those sad eyes clear if it was the last thing he did.

  The bidding had reached nineteen and a half by this point, and Hailey had already stood up to leave. He’d have to work fast.

  Ryder turned his attention to ridding the more determined women of their paddles. Some flew to their feet, some disappeared, some wouldn’t budge from their owner’s laps. Bidding slowly petered out until Rhian was glancing around, a frown nestled between her eyebrows at the sudden halt.

  “The bidding is with the woman in the gold dress at twenty-one and a half thousand,” she called out, surveying the room. “Would anyone else like to bid?”

  Ryder glanced at Hailey. She’d made her way down the row she’d been sitting in, murmuring apologies, and now stood in the center of the aisle, back facing the stage. Her paddle was at her side.

  Perfect.

  With a silent apology as she started to walk, Ryder pushed a jolt of magic at her, enough to make her stumble. In the same breath, he lifted her paddle as her arms flailed for balance so the numbers caught Rhian’s attention.

  “Good, I have twenty-two now. Twenty-two, do I see twenty-two and a half?” She pointed her hammer at the front row where the most judicious bidders had been. “Twenty-two and a half, do I see twenty-two and a half thousand?”

  Ryder threw a blanket hallucination over the crowd, so they would only see more bidding. A little voice in the back of his head questioned why he was going to so much effort for a pair of sad eyes and gorgeous legs, but he dismissed it easily. It wasn’t about how she looked. It was about a wish going to a deserving home. It was the decent thing to do.

  Hell, he was practically a saint.

  Hailey had caught herself on an older gentleman’s shoulder, apologizing and little realizing she’d made a bid at all.

  Ryder caught the grin before it emerged. Wait for it . . .

  A little nonplussed, Rhian nevertheless shrugged and called the bid out one last time. The gavel banged. “Sold to paddle number three hundred and forty-five for twenty-two thousand dollars.”

  Applause broke out, most of it tepid. Sour grapes.

  Ryder put a hand to his mouth and used his fingers to whistle his jubilation. Any minute now he’d see the happiness on her face. “Congratulations, Hailey,” he called from the stage when she made to walk down the aisle. “You won!”

  The best bit was when Hailey spun around, her gaze bouncing from her paddle numbers to the stage, her mouth rounding into a perfect O of shock.

  He was sure the happiness would happen any minute now.

  Yep. Any second.

  3.

  Hailey was pretty sure she was hyperventilating. The not-being-able-to-breathe thing was kind of a giveaway. Not to mention, all her blood seemed to have rushed—very peculiarly—to her feet, which felt very heavy to walk with. Or was it on? Either way, she’d stopped trying, leaning weakly on the back table for support.

  Around her, guests were patting one another on the backs, verbally and literally, helped along by the excellent champagne the waiters were now serving. A toast to the success of the auction, which had raised a staggering amount of money, aided by the last lot. Ryder. The lot Hailey had originally bid on as her version of flipping the bird to Ethan.

  When she’d been unsuccessful on the previous lots, her earlier doom and gloom had descended again, wrapping its shroud of disappointment around her shoulders. While she was pleased so much money had been raised for the kids, it was also freaking unbelievable that she’d come to blow a huge chunk of money—that by rights she should put into savings—and had been unable to. Like the universe was preventing her from proving she could be rash and impulsive.

  She’d been fairly certain the man next to her could smell her desperation as the lots sped by. He’d certainly been eyeing her like she was likely to jump up and streak though the room in hysterics. Or maybe she was just sensitive. One or the other.

  The last lot had been announced, and Hailey had known pressure like a soldier going into battle. Do or die.

  And Ryder had strode on stage, muscles rippling, clad in that white tee that left nothing to the imagination, and she’d almost dropped her paddle. Wary of looking like a fool in front of him again, she’d wavered in her determination. Ultimately, she’d decided his wish was the perfect bird to flip at Ethan. Not only throwing money away that he’d “invested in their future,” but throwing money away on another man. A Genie.

  A fog had descended, blinding her against anything but winning.

  When she’d almost upped her bid to a thousand more than she had, she knew she’d come to the end of the line. Clarity had brought along its cousins, reality and practicality, and she’d reluctantly stopped bidding. Resigning herself to simply donating the money, she’d stood to go, and that would have been the end of it if she hadn’t tripped and somehow managed to secure the winning bid.

  For five thousand dollars more than she had. A drop in the bucket for some of these women, but for Hailey it represented living on ramen for the next six months or so.

  And she hated ramen.

  Hailey avoided the other women’s jealous stares and instead studied the heels that had made her trip twice this evening. She couldn’t remember hitting her head, but maybe that was what this was. A concussion. She’d wake up in a minute.

  She placed a hand on her stomach as she drew breath in. It was going to be okay. All she had to do was talk to Kate, explain the accident. Somehow, Hailey doubted they’d have trouble finding a backup buyer for the lot she’d won.

  A wish. Unbelievable.

  Yes, she’d played the lottery a couple times when she’d turned eighteen and had become eligible to buy a ticket, but she’d never expected to win and have her wish granted by one of WFY’s Genies. That was something that happened to other people.

  And now her.

  Hailey scuffed her shoe on the carpet. A wish would solve her life’s biggest worry right now, namely make her a partner without having to play along in Erica’s puppet theatre. A wish could unlock the hold she’d put on everything else in her life except work, like a man, a house, kids.

  A wish she didn’t intend to bid for because she didn’t have thousands to burn.

  God. She couldn’t even try to be rash and exciting without it going wrong. No wonder she preferred to plan everything to the last dotted i. Look at what happened when she diverted from type.

  Twenty-two thousand dollars. Christ.

  She wondered if she could break a paddle clean across her knee.

  “We meet again.” The distinct smoke-and-sunshine voice of the Genie with looks too good for her own good rumbled behind her, causing her stomach to tense again.

  Great. Now she was going to have to try to explain the strange fact of winning a lot she didn’t have the money for. After already looking like a klutz and throwing herself into his arms.

  Life sure was good at the moment.

  Hailey turned, braced for the impact of the Genie’s smile. “Hi.”

  “Congratulations,” he said again, his body way too close to comfort. “On winning.”

  She eased back. “Thanks.”

  “I’ve never seen someone so determined.” His eyes sparkled amber, like the notes in an aged brandy. “You really wanted to see me again, huh?”

  His arrogance untied her tongue. “Please. The only man I’d spend that kind of money on is Christian Louboutin.”

  “With your legs, I guess that makes sense.” He shifted onto his back foo
t as if realizing he’d set her back on hers with the compliment. “But it still stands that you bid. On me.”

  “On a wish.” Hailey blinked, backpedaling. “I mean, I didn’t bid. Well, yes, I did, but I didn’t mean to bid at the end.” Smooth talker. Flustered, she cleared her throat. If only he’d move back. “I was actually leaving.”

  “Nice way to catch people off guard.”

  “It wasn’t a strategy.” She motioned at her shoes. “I tripped.”

  He looked skeptical. “You tripped and managed to bid, all at the same time?”

  Put like that, it did sound like she was trying to save face. Except for the fact that it was the truth. “Yes.”

  “Hmm.” A smile creased his cheek, a dimple playing there.

  The beginnings of annoyance stirred. “What does that mean?”

  “What does what mean?”

  “You hmm’d. At me.”

  “You make it sound dirty.” That smile deepened. “I was just thinking that some people have too much pride. It’s all right to admit it; I won’t hold it against you.” He waved her off as she spluttered, amazed at his arrogance. “I’m interested, too. You don’t need to act aloof.”

  Defensive, Hailey glared at him. Her silk dress rustled as she folded her arms. “I’m not so hard up I have to buy my dates. And I’m not interested.”

  Liiiaaar, sang Inner Hailey.

  Okay, so it had been a bit barren in dating country since Ethan, but why waste time on men when all you got were recriminations and insults and blows that took your ego and pounded it into a teeny-tiny ball?

  Ryder clucked his tongue. “You’re sad again.”

  “Stop that.” Hailey tightened her arms as if that protection would hide her shortcomings from his perceptive gaze. “Look, I admit I did bid. Hey, when do you get the chance to win a wish?”

  “Every Saturday on the lottery, for about two hundred years now since a Genie invented wireless communication.”

  Her teeth ground together. “But,” she continued, “I’m on, shall we say, a fixed budget. I stopped bidding when I reached the top end.”