His Command

by Sophie H. Morgan

  “You never hear of small talk?”

  “I’ve heard of it.” Her lips twitched. “Tell me about the party you want.”

  Answering amusement swirled in his eyes, amber dappling the brown. He leaned back. “So you want to play hardball?”

  Instead of replying, Hailey lifted her coffee mug and sipped.

  “Okay, then.” His thumb stroked down the wine stem as he studied her. “What about a trade?”

  “Another?” She slanted a gaze at him.

  “Yep. I’ll answer a question . . . if you answer a question.”

  Every alarm that existed launched into being. What was the brown-eyed Genie up to?

  “Come on,” Ryder said now, teasing. “It’s just a little fun.”

  That’s what she was afraid of.

  But egged on by his challenging eyebrow, Hailey nodded. “Fine. But I won’t answer if it’s offensive.”

  “Wow. And here I was about to ask what underwear you were wearing.”

  Hailey’s look was designed to burn.

  He chuckled and sank farther into the cushions. “I’ll start.”

  “Naturally.”

  “Do you like being a wedding planner?”

  Caught off guard, Hailey opened her mouth with nothing to say. She’d expected personal, delving into her love life or something. “I love it,” she answered finally. “I can’t imagine doing anything else.”

  Nerves fluttered like soft wings as he concentrated all his attention on her. How long was it since a man had gazed at her like she was the most interesting thing on the planet?

  More than three years and six months, honesty whispered in her ear.

  She pushed the truth away and focused on the Genie. “What kind of party do they have in mind?”

  “Celebratory.”

  Dry, she shook her head. “I’m going to need more than that.”

  “Then you have to answer another question.” He grinned, the devil in denim. “Why were you at the auction the other night?”

  Her stomach relaxed at the easy question. “Kate’s a friend. She wanted me there to fill an empty seat, show some support. Plus she has this idea I don’t get out into the world enough.”

  “Do you?” His eyes were direct.

  Her toes curled. “First you have to answer my question.”

  “All right.”

  She’d meant to keep it on a strictly business level, but when she opened her mouth, what came out was, “Why were you flirting with me at the auction?”

  Her question surprised him, but he shook it off quick enough. His smile was slow. “Why does any man flirt with a beautiful woman?”

  Nice dodge. “You’re free to flirt, then?”

  There was a beat before his lips curved wider. “If you wanted to know if I’m single, Hailey, all you needed to do was Google it.”

  Instant fire lit up her cheeks as she protested. “No! I . . . it’s a legitimate question. I can’t stand men who flirt with other women, even when they’re in a committed relationship.” Seeing him study her as if he’d figured out that was what Ethan had used to do, she hurried on. “I mean, I don’t care if you’re single. This is business all the way, nonmonkey, and it’s already messy with me paying for this and your employer hiring me and you being the middle man, and you know, it’s hot in here, right?” She fanned herself, cursing her rambling tongue.

  The drift of his warm gaze made her shift in the chair, inappropriate tingling popping up all over the place.

  It didn’t seem to matter that she wasn’t ready for anything with a new man, or that she was a workaholic who craved stability. The man oozed sex as effectively as Jax Michaels—and Hailey was beginning to understand why nobody said no to a Genie.

  The way he looked at her . . . as if he could make any spot on her body an erogenous zone.

  She recrossed her legs, clenched them together. “We got off track.” She cleared her throat. “Who’s the party for?”

  His fingers tapped once, twice on his knee before he spoke. “It’s for my brother. My twin, actually.”

  Twin.

  Light-headed. She felt light-headed. “There are two of you?”

  “One way to put it.” Ryder rubbed his chin. “Leo’s a little more groomed, but the basics are the same. Eyes, hair, build.”

  “Which one’s the good one?” she joked.

  “Depends on the situation.” His gaze dipped and dragged down her legs, focusing on the skin her skirt revealed. “Sometimes it’s good to be bad. And, no,” he continued while that statement played pinball with her hormones, “I don’t have a girlfriend.”

  All the moisture in her mouth vanished. Dried up. Call it Sahara mouth.

  In fact, hey, was that a cactus?

  Damn it, Lawson. Pull yourself together. She’d muddled through arrogant grooms, haughty mothers-in-law, meltdowning brides, and one uncle who hadn’t been able to understand the word no until an ice swan’s beak deposited itself down his pants. She could handle one, admittedly melt-your-panties gorgeous, Genie.

  “Now,” he said as she fought to apply mental ice cubes to her libido, “I believe I answered several questions there.”

  “Objection,” she said at once. “They were follow-ups, not new lines of enquiry.”

  His chuckle warmed places that had no business warming. “Overruled, Counselor.” He took a sip of wine as she settled with a huff. “Is Kate right?”

  She fidgeted with the handle of her mug. “Is it wrong to like staying in?” she avoided.

  “Not when it’s with the right person.” His grin was slow summer nights and seduction. “My turn.”

  “No, I—”

  “You asked me if it was wrong to like staying in.”

  Her mouth opened. Closed. “That’s cheating.”

  “Genies don’t play gentlemen’s rules.” He stroked his chin, all evil villain. “What to ask?”

  She eyed him warily.

  “What kind of man,” he said with narrow-eyed interest, after a drawn-out moment she knew he did on purpose to put her on edge, “sets your engine revving?”

  If she’d taken a swallow of coffee, she’d have spat it all over his face. As it was, air got stuck in her throat until she cleared it with an awkward cough. “Why, ah, do you want to know that?”

  One shoulder lifted. “I like to know the people I work with. It’s just a question.” He dragged his gaze over her. “I could guess.”

  “No, that’s really not—”

  “You think you want a man who lets you be in control,” he said, his voice gravel. He shifted until he was nearer, the scent of him swirling through her head. His eyes were searching, as if teasing out the secrets of her soul. “But that’s not what you need. You need a man who puts you first. Pushes you to try new things, to lose that control. Who knows the word cherished and does whatever possible to make his woman feel it. A man who knows what you want before you think it, who can make your breath catch, your knees weak, your heart race. A man who can make you burn.”

  Her lungs certainly were.

  That’d be because she’d forgotten how to breathe.

  His voice was low and dark with sin as he smiled. “Well?”

  “You’re wrong,” she blurted out. “I like blondes. Really short blondes with glasses and a full beard.”

  There was a beat, a space between heartbeats, as he continued to stare into her face, so close she wondered if he’d cross the invisible barrier and kiss her.

  Instead, he eased back, lightening the mood with a chuckle. “All right.” He drawled it so she had no doubt he didn’t believe her. “Takes all kinds, I guess. A follow-up, then. What’s the best night you can think of?”

  It took her a while to wade out of the sensual haze. She swallowed and squeezed her mug between her hands. “I like to read.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “That’s your idea of a good night?”

  “Yes.”

  “Alone, in your apartment, reading. That’s the best night you can
think of?”

  “Many people would agree with me,” she pointed out.

  “Staying in. God. Leo would love you.” His eyes moved over her face. “But I think you haven’t met the right man to show you a better time.”

  Jesus.

  She downed the rest of her coffee on a gasp. “Right. That’s enough getting to know you. Let’s plan a party, shall we?”

  She put aside the coffee mug and rose to select one of her many notebooks from an overstuffed bookcase. Props. Props were good. Then her hands wouldn’t feel so awkward, so empty. A pen out of the Snoopy mug joined the pad in her hand as she took the moment her back was to him to let out a long breath.

  Prepared now to be professional and act like he hadn’t seared that fantasy man into her coming dreams, she returned to her seat.

  His gaze called her coward but he shrugged. “Your call.”

  Her nod was decisive.

  Time to get the evening back on track.

  7.

  Hailey started with the easy questions to give her brain time to reboot from the sensual overload. “So WFY wants to throw a party for your twin?”

  “That’s right.”

  “He must be a big deal for the company to throw a party for him.”

  “Let’s just say it’s a special day. I asked, my Handler agreed.” He smiled. “No big deal.”

  Privately she thought if a multibillion-dollar organization like WFY was throwing someone a party, there must be more to it than that.

  But as the planner, she didn’t need to know the why, she needed to know the whos, the whats, and the whens. “A birthday?”

  “Nah.” Ryder lounged against her couch, glass held loosely in his hand. Unlike her, who felt as if she needed to dash to the bathroom and pat herself down, he seemed unmoved by their previous exchange. “You don’t tend to celebrate birthdays when you’re immortal.”

  She darted a glance up from where she’d buried it in her notebook. “He’s a Genie, too?” Maybe that was why they were getting a party thrown for them.

  “WFY’s only twin pair. They trot us out at conventions or functions. We helped open the new children’s wing at Mercy Hospital—you didn’t see it?”

  She shook her head. Curiosity danced on the tip of her tongue, but she buried the question.

  Nobody knew much about how Genies were selected. Once a year on New Year’s Eve, five mortals were recruited from the millions upon millions who applied. Competition was fiercer than a one-day sale at Barneys. It had never been a dream of Hailey’s, but she understood the perks: powers, immortality, and after a one-year trial period and a permanent contract, one wish of your choice.

  What would Ryder have wished for?

  “Well, it’s all part and parcel of the gig,” he said. “We don’t have to do all the major stuff like Jax Michaels, national interviews, televised wishes, and what have you, but we do the city things. Apparently twins have appeal.” His dimple teased her.

  “Who knew?” she said faintly and tapped the pen nib on the paper. “So what’s the party for, if it’s not a birthday bash?”

  Ryder rested his boot against his knee. “It’s our ten-year anniversary since becoming Genies. It’s a celebration. And like you”—warm brown met her green—“Leo doesn’t get out much. So I’ve taken matters into my own hands.” He blinked. “WFY has, I mean.”

  “He must be excited.”

  “Like a dog with a new ball.”

  She smiled and made a notation in her notebook.

  (And ignored the flutter in her stomach.)

  She cleared her throat. “So what does WFY want as the theme?”

  He looked at her blankly.

  “Black tie? Something more low key? Balloons and banners or candlelight and classic music? Is it in a hotel ballroom or your friend’s basement? Three-tiered cake or one where a stripper pops out the top?”

  “Definitely the stripper cake.”

  “I wasn’t serious.”

  His eyes flashed with humor. “Neither was I.”

  As she fought the smile and lost, he shrugged his answer. “I guess . . . I don’t know.” His laugh was a shade self-conscious. “Don’t you have any ideas? Isn’t that what WFY is paying for?” He waggled his eyebrows. “You want that wish, right?”

  That had been nibbling at the back of her mind all day, all the possibilities. Everything she could do. Except . . .

  She doodled a star in the margins. “About that. I’ve been thinking.”

  “Never a good line from a woman.”

  A narrow-eyed look. “Look, it was an accident. I’m happy to plan the party in exchange for WFY covering the money, but as far as the wish goes . . . I don’t deserve one.”

  “You’re earning it by planning Leo’s party.”

  The weakest argument since she’d tried to tell her dad she needed a tattoo to be fully expressive about her personality. Unsurprisingly, Lieutenant Commander Lawson hadn’t budged.

  She cast Ryder a doubtful look. “You’re not just feeling sorry for the poor girl?”

  “Well, sure.” He laughed at the scowl she slid him. “The truth is, I want you to have it. You’d use it more wisely than any of those other bidders.”

  All those rows of diamonds and pearls around the society women’s necks had her nodding.

  “Honestly, you get sick of granting a wish for more money.” He hesitated, then shrugged. “And I’d like you to have it to make you happy.” His gaze warmed. “Because you’re not, are you, Hailey?”

  Aaand there was Mr. Candor again.

  His blunt comment drew an exasperated smile from her. “You say whatever’s on your mind, don’t you?”

  “Pretty much. Why hide what you’re thinking?” He placed his glass on the table and threaded his hands together. “Does it annoy you?”

  She fiddled with the pen, glancing down at it. Huh. Blue. Fascinating. “I don’t think it matters if it bothers me or not.”

  “It matters.”

  They were swimming much too close to the personal waters again. Cold-shower time.

  She pushed back her hair. “Okay, I’ll think of some ideas, but WFY has to sign off on them.”

  “Fair enough.”

  “And you have to give me the basics. Time of day?”

  “Sunset?” he suggested. “An ending, a beginning. Or is that too corny?”

  “No, I like it, as long as WFY will.” And she liked that he’d thought of a meaning behind the time. Too damned much. She wrote it down. “Location?”

  “We’ll do it at my brother’s.”

  “And where’s that?”

  “Malibu.”

  She stopped writing. “You want me to plan a party in Malibu from New York?”

  “You must do it for weddings all the time. And I said I’ll help. I can flash over and back in the time it takes to pick up a phone.”

  Ultimately he was the client—or at least, the client’s middleman—and he was right. On rare occasions, Erica did contract for outside–New York weddings.

  Hailey shrugged. “Malibu it is.”

  “His place is on the beach, so maybe something more low-key.” Ryder was warming to the idea, his eyes shifting amber specks. A girl could get lost in those eyes.

  But not her. And not with a Genie, especially that Genie. She’d never be able to control everything with him—look at how well she was doing so far.

  “Low-key.” Hailey studied her notes so far. “Like a luau-based thing? Big barbecue pit, buffet tables, DJ setup?”

  Ryder nodded with a grin. “And women in coconut bikinis.”

  “Dress code, casual,” Hailey noted as she wrote it all down. “You sure this is what WFY has in mind? It doesn’t sound like their usual ritzy, expensive affairs.” She bit her lip. “And I’ll be honest: I doubt this will match the five grand they’re exchanging. In fact, how’re we paying for this? All the money’s going to the charity, so . . .”

  “You think too much.”

  “Oh, yeah.
Overthinker, that’s me. Stressing about silly things like paying the bills. What do you wanna bet the vendors share my point of view?”

  He grinned. “Don’t worry about how the vendors are getting paid. The five grand is in exchange for you to organize everything. So do that and we’ll be fine.”

  “But—”

  “Christ.” His eyebrows lifted. “Just send the bills to me, and we’ll sort it out. Organize, set things up, and you’ll have done enough to match the five grand we’re donating to cover your bid.” A small chuckle slipped loose. “You look like you swallowed a fly. Not used to not being in charge?”

  She slid him a sour look.

  He ignored it. “As to the party matching up to your five grand ‘fee’, well, you ever see Genies drink?” He snorted. “My Handler alone could drink a grand’s worth of the best scotch. Trust me, five grand will be well spent. If anything, we’ll go over.”

  “And if that happens . . . ?”

  “I told you; I’ll handle it. I want the best for Leo. If it looks great, get it.”

  Jesus. Couldn’t he belch or something to be a shade less attractive?

  Hailey closed her notebook and twiddled with the pen. “You want me to call when I’ve gathered my thoughts?”

  “Sure.” He checked his watch and pushed to his feet. “I’ll get out of your hair.”

  Hailey shoved down any disappointment and followed him to the door. “So, yeah. I’ll give you a call when I’ve got some more ideas. About numbers. And stuff.”

  He’d gone through the door when he turned suddenly. He rested his foot against it to keep it from closing as he angled his body toward her. His broad shoulders filled the doorway. “You never did answer my question.”

  “Which question?”

  “Does it annoy you when I speak my mind?”

  Hailey stared up at him. “Not really,” she admitted. “It’s kind of refreshing.” At least she knew where she stood with Ryder. He’d never feed her false flattery when really he was thinking something else.

  Not that he was auditioning for the role of the next man in her life.

  She forced a businesslike smile. “And a client should always speak their mind to their planner.”

  Ryder placed one palm against the jamb above her head. His mango scent surrounded her, teasing gently as he leaned in. “I’m not your client, Hailey.”