by Myla Jackson
Her hand spanned across his solid muscles, reveling in the strength packaged in warm skin. Harry was a god compared to her dweebish, boring self. What was the use? Be practical. The man couldn’t be interested in her. “You need clothes.” Edie wanted to push against him for real this time, but she couldn’t bring herself to touch him. She didn’t fear what he would do, more afraid of her own reaction. With his help, she sat up.
Harry stood and looped the towel around his waist. Then he reached his hand out and helped her to her feet, steadying her with an arm around her shoulders. “You should be more careful on slippery floors.”
Stepping away from his embrace, she armed herself with anger. “You shouldn’t go flashing your-your—”
“Manhood? Penis?” He smiled. “What do they call it in the new millennium?”
“The same things.” Averting her gaze from the tent he’d made of the towel, she strode toward the door, ignoring her lightheadedness. But damn it, she must have swayed. It didn’t help she couldn’t manage to breathe like a normal human being around this man.
Harry was beside her in a second, his bare arm circling her waist. “You sure you’re all right?”
His nearness cleared the fuzz from her brain. “Yes, yes. I’m going to run next door to see if I can borrow some clothes. Don’t go anywhere.”
“Like this?” He held his arms out wide. The bright white of the towel created a stark contrast to his deeply tanned skin. With his dark hair wet and slicked back from his forehead, he looked like the pirate from her dream.
“Good point.” As soon as she said the words, her gaze dropped to his point protruding against the towel.
Harry chuckled, a deep throaty sound.
Edie ran.
She didn’t stop until she stood outside the door to her nearest neighbor. With a few deep, cleansing breaths she calmed her racing heart. Ever since she’d discovered Harry, she’d felt like she was in a long-distance marathon unable to stop and let her lungs catch up with the rest of her body. She was utterly exhausted.
Now to explain to her neighbor, Mitch Gallagher, why she needed to borrow men’s clothing. After everything else she’d been through that day, this little effort should be a snap. And maybe Mitch could help her get her grip back on reality. She knocked firmly on the solid wood door.
Mitch, the resident ladies’ man, worked as a stockbroker on Wall Street. He’d always offered her a friendly smile and she’d actually spilled her guts to him on one embarrassing occasion. But his revolving door was forever swishing through a parade of lovelies. After a few moments, he answered the door wearing a wrinkled white dress shirt over boxer shorts, his normally neatly combed sandy blond hair stood on end. His gaze ran the length of her from toe to tip, stopping when he got to her face. Denim blue eyes twinkled as his lips lifted in a slow sexy smile. “Edie! You look absolutely delectable.”
Edie snorted. As if he really meant those flowery words. “Save the flattery for one of your girls, Mitch. I know you don’t mean it.”
With a silent shake of his head, Mitch asked, “Then how might I be of assistance?”
After months of watching him through her peephole, Edie should have been drooling over his muscular legs and go-to-hell good-looking smile. But she had bigger fish frying in her pan back at her apartment. “I need to talk to you. Quick!”
Mitch’s face lost its sleepy, sexy look, and he straightened away from the door. “Come in, come in.”
After a swift glance at her door, Edie ducked into Mitch’s living room. “Mitch, I need your help.”
Mitch leaned out into hallway, looked both ways, shrugged and closed the door. “What’s wrong?”
Edie stood in the middle of the foyer, her arms hugging her middle. “Nothing. Everything.” She flung her hands in the air and paced a short distance from Mitch. “Oh, Mitch, I’m so confused.”
Standing with her back to Mitch, Edie didn’t realize he’d walked up behind her until he grabbed her shoulders and turned her to face him. “Why don’t you tell ol’ Mitch all about it.”
Where to start? “I opened a sarcophagus. I rubbed the dust off the bottle. Then I heard thunder and when I turned around, there he was. I stole the stone and the bottle. He’s in my apartment. Naked! And everything is so messed up, I don’t know if I’m coming or going.”
“Whoa. Slow down.” Mitch chuckled. “Who’s naked in your apartment?”
“Harry!”
“He’s hairy?” Mitch dropped her arms and scratched his head.
“Yes, no. Oh good grief!” Edie grabbed Mitch’s arms and shook him. “He kissed me!”
Mitch leaned back, his brows rising into the hair dipping down over his forehead. “My Edie had her first kiss? And here I tried for months.” He shook his head, the gleam in his eyes teasing. “This is serious, very serious.”
When Edie realized she was still clutching Mitch’s arms, she dropped them and stepped away. “Oh, Mitch, you know I’m not your type.”
Crossing his arms over his chest, Mitch frowned. “And what type is that?”
“You’re a magnet for the gorgeous, outgoing, fun types.” She rolled her eyes. “My basic nightmare.”
“And who says you aren’t all the above?” Mitch cupped her cheek in his hand. “Excluding the nightmare, of course.”
“Be real. I know my limitations.” She stared down at her bare unpolished toenails. Her father had pretty much nailed it. She wasn’t beautiful. She wasn’t even merely pretty. And who wanted to go out with a woman who dealt with dusty bones and old relics?
“As far as I’m concerned, someone’s fed you a line of bullshit.” Mitch tipped her chin until her gaze met his. “You could be beautiful, if only you’d see it in yourself.” He touched his hand to her loose hair. “I like your hair down. You should wear it this way more often.”
For a long moment, Edie considered Mitch’s words. If only he was right. But wishing to be beautiful wasn’t going to solve her larger-than-life problem next door.
“Mitch, he kissed me. Now what do I do with him?’”
“Kiss him back.” Mitch tapped her nose and smiled.
“I did!” Edie clapped a hand over her mouth and her eyes widened. “I kissed him back.” Her vision clouded again and she staggered backward to collapse on the couch. “I don’t even know this man.”
“Yet he’s in your apartment and he’s naked?” Mitch sat in the chair beside the couch. “Interesting. And all this time I thought you had a terminal case of virginity.” He whacked her on the back, chuckling. “Edie, my girl, there’s hope for you yet.”
“This isn’t a joke.” Edie sat forward and placed a hand on Mitch’s knee. “And there’s more. The man can smoke in and out of the bottle, and he has to grant my wishes.”
“Whoa!” Mitch raised his hands. “Wait a minute. What’s this about bottles and wishes?”
“That’s just it. He kissed me, not because he liked me but because I wished it.” Edie chewed on her lip. “Harry has to do everything I wish because he touched the stone, and I happened to be the lucky girl that woke him from the bottle.”
Leaning forward he rested a hand on her shoulder and stared into her eyes. “Edie, are you on drugs? ‘Cause if you are, I want some of what you’re having.”
With a huffy sigh, she shoved his hand aside. “I’ve botched this. Let me start from the beginning. You’re never gonna believe it anyway.”
Fifteen minutes later, Mitch’s eyebrows had settled into a deep frown. “You really believe this, don’t you?”
“I didn’t want to, but I can’t deny what I saw.”
“And he’s in your apartment, as we speak?”
“Yes. Or at least I hope he is.” Edie sprang from the couch and strode toward the door. “I need to get back in case he decides to take off with the stone.” She spun around. “Oh yeah, and I need some clothes for him. He can’t go around naked all the time. All that skin is too distracting and I can’t think.”
“Now that’
s something I can relate to.” Mitch clapped his hands together. “I’ll get the clothes, but I’m coming over with you.”
“Good. If it’s all the same to you, I’ll wait.” Armed with backup, Edie would be only slightly more prepared to face Harry.
Mitch ducked into his bedroom and returned with a handful of assorted items. “I don’t know what’ll fit, so I brought a selection of loose-fitting and tailored items. Let’s go meet your genie.”
Chapter Four
“Thank God you’re back.” Harry met Edie at the door grasping her hands in his. “I thought you’d left the country or something, you took so long.”
A blond-haired man stepped up behind her. “You must be Harry.” He held out his hand, but his eyes were narrowed as if checking Harry out. “Name’s Mitch.”
At a definite disadvantage, being covered only in a towel, Harry accepted the hand. “Harrington Taylor the Third.”
When Mitch’s grip tightened into a bone-crunching vise, the friendly handshake became a battle of strength. Harry gave as good as he got, forcing a smile to hide the strain on his hand. “Nice to meet you, Mitch,” he said through gritted teeth.
“Likewise, Harry.” Mitch didn’t try as hard to hide the effort. Finally, he loosened his grip shaking Harry’s hand free. “So, what’s this I hear about you smoking in and out of bottles?”
Harry shot a glance at Edie.
She nodded and walked the rest of the way into the room. “I told him everything. Mitch and I have been friends for two years. I trust him.”
“That black thing on the table made beeping sounds while you were out.” Harry waved at the offending machine.
Edie smiled. With her hair down softening the angles of her cheeks and jaw, the simple gesture lit her entire face. “That would be the phone with the built-in answering machine.”
Harry made a note to himself, make Edie smile more often. He also noted Mitch staring at her as if seeing her for the first time. With a frown, he made another note to punch the bastard as soon as Edie was out of the room. Why, he didn’t know, but his body urged him to do so. “I could hear a voice but I couldn’t find the man talking.” He shrugged. “He said he was your father.”
As if the lights dimmed in the room, Edie’s smile faded. “My father, huh? Great.”
Mitch shoved a stack of clothing into his chest. “You might want to go put some clothes on.”
Harry almost considered putting on Ernie’s dirty coverall as opposed to wearing anything the bone-cruncher, Mitch, might provide. But one look at Edie’s nervous countenance convinced him to take the damned clothes graciously. “Thank you.” Although he itched to, he’d hold off punching the man to save Edie additional grief, having caused her sufficient amounts already.
Carrying the clothes Mitch gave him, Harry walked back into her bedroom and pulled the door almost shut, leaving a little bit of a gap. If Mitch and Edie talked, Harry wanted to listen.
“He doesn’t look like a genie,” Mitch was saying. “Where are his harem pants and gold wristbands?”
“I told you, he got sucked into it because of the stone,” Edie’s voice was almost too quiet to hear.
Harry leaned his head closer to the door’s opening.
“Where’s the stone?” Mitch asked.
With one foot in a pants leg, Harry paused. Maybe Edie would show Mitch the stone, he’d touch it and the idiot would be confined to his very own bottle. Jamming the other leg into the blue denim pants, another thought occurred to Harry. Or maybe since the only gilded bottle available was Harry’s, Mitch might get confined in the same space with Harry. Ye Gads! He’d left the stone on the counter in the kitchen.
Shirt in hand, Harry threw open the bedroom door.
Edie and Mitch were shoulder to shoulder, leaning over the counter in the kitchen.
A pinch of annoyance whistled across Harry’s nerves. Although why he should be aggravated with Mitch and Edie being so close together, he couldn’t fathom. He’d sworn off lasting relationships since his fiancée had ditched him for someone more “settled”. If Mitch made Edie happy, more power to him. Why then did the thought stick like a bone in his craw?
“I wouldn’t touch that stone if I were you,” Harry warned.
“Don’t worry. I have no desire to be the prisoner of a bottle or at a woman’s beck and call.” Mitch’s lip curled up in a wicked smile. “I prefer to have my women cater to my wishes, thank you very much.”
Edie jabbed Mitch in the stomach. “Leave him alone. He didn’t choose to be cursed by the stone.”
Harry’s stomach tightened. How embarrassing to have a woman defending him against another man. He opened his mouth to say as much, but Edie beat him to the punch.
“I know someone who might be able to help us.” Edie reached into her purse and pulled out a small black book with the word “addresses” written in gold letters on the surface. “Perhaps Professor Johansson can help us.”
“What does this Professor know?” Harry asked.
“He’s an expert on Persian and Arabic history, and he’s my friend. Maybe he can find more information about the stone.” She thumbed through the black book until she stopped on a page. “Who knows? He might tell us something about the dig you were on in 1924. He has access to all kinds of historical files, books and records.”
“Good, maybe he’ll help us find my partner, too.” Harry slipped into the shirt.
Edie made her call, giving the professor a full description of the stone, its carvings and just enough information to make his inquiries without telling him the entire story. When she hung up, the telephone beeped again.
“There, that’s the sound I heard.” Harry pointed at the black box.
“That’s how the telephone rings, Harry.” Edie punched a button. “Hello. Oh hi, Dad.” She grimaced and walked to the other side of the room. “Yes, Dad, I was kissing a man in the hallway.”
Uh-oh. News of their kiss must have made its way to Edie’s father. He hoped she didn’t take a lot of grief over one little kiss. Mostly, he hoped Mrs. Bartelli hadn’t noticed that he’d had his hands up Edie’s shirt.
“Yes, his hands were up my shirt and no, I’m not a slut.” Her angry whispers grew louder.
“Frank Ragsdale is a complete asshole,” Mitch said. “He’s always putting her down.”
Harry wanted to take the telephone away from Edie and give the man a piece of his mind. “Why does she put up with it?” For the first time since he’d met Mitch he felt a connection to the man, he couldn’t fault Mitch for caring about Edie. Someone needed to.
“She insists that she’s used to it and it doesn’t bother her.” Mitch’s lips tightened. “But it does. You can tell.”
“Dad, it’s none of your business who I sleep with,” Edie said. “I could sleep with the entire team of the New York Knicks if I wanted to. No, I’m not trying to embarrass you. I know I’m not beautiful, and he’s probably just after the sex, but maybe so am I. Look, Dad, I don’t want to die a virgin. If paying for sex is the only way I can get it, maybe it’s not such a bad alternative. I’m sorry, Dad, he’s waiting for me in my bed. I have to go have raunchy sex before my money runs out.” Edie punched a button on the phone and slammed it down on the table.
“Hey, you go, girlfriend!” Mitch raised his fist in the air.
Edie stood with her back to Harry. She was so still, she appeared frozen in position, then her shoulders began shaking. Was Edie crying?
Harry strode across the room and gently turned Edie toward him.
Instead of tears, she was laughing so hard she didn’t make a sound. Then she inhaled. “Oh my god, I can’t believe I said that to my father!” She clutched her stomach and doubled over, her eyes glistening. As quickly as the weather shifted in New York City, her laughter changed to sobs and the tears Harry had expected spilled down her cheeks. “He couldn’t believe a man would want to kiss me.”
He pulled her into his arms, leaning his chin against her hair. “I did.”<
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“Only because I wished it!” Edie sniffled and rubbed her nose on her sleeve.
With his finger and thumb, Harry tipped her face up to his. “You’re not wishing now.” He dipped down and claimed her lips. This time he felt the difference. The invisible puppet master wasn’t making him do anything he didn’t want to do. And boy he wanted to kiss Edie.
He tasted her, running his tongue along her full bottom lip, delving in for more. Harry wanted to lie naked with her, making love through the night, showing her with each touch and stroke just how beautiful she was.
Soft hands crept up to circle his neck, and as Edie pressed her body against his, the scent of spring flowers seeped into his senses. Heat burned a path from where her breasts rubbed against his chest downward to fill his groin. This woman was going to kill him.
“Ah-hem.” Mitch cleared his throat noisily behind them. “You do have an audience here. Not that I mind. But if you’d like more privacy, I’ll leave.”
Edie broke off the kiss and pushed out of Harry’s arms, her face flaming red. “No, no, don’t leave. I was just about to do something. I just can’t seem to remember what it was.” She laughed and hiccupped all in one.
“You already did. You called Professor Johansson about the stone,” Mitch said, a wry smile twisting his lips.
Harry leaned against the wall, feigning a nonchalance he didn’t feel, his hands making a fig leaf over that part of his body that wanted to continue on where he’d left off with Edie.
“You know, Edie?” Mitch said, pacing across the room. “While you and genie-boy were sucking face, I was thinking.”
If Edie’s face could get any redder, Harry feared she’d likely explode. Her embarrassment was sadly painful.
“Enough with the teasing, Mitch.” Harry glared at the other man.
He held up his hand to Harry. “Hold on, you’ve got a part in this.” Mitch smiled at Edie. “If he really can grant your wishes, why not?”
“Why not what?” she asked.
“Why not make a few wishes?” Mitch said. “What can it hurt?”
