by Natasha Deen
“What?”
“Let’s go home. This charade’s gone on long enough. You love me, I love you, and I’m going to undo this stupid wish, save Ebony, and kiss you by the end of tonight.”
Chapter Five
After a frantic series of woofs, barks and whines, Aggie conveyed her need to go back to Dillon’s house. They hurried down the steps to the sidewalk, hung a left on the sidewalk, and saw Brandy’s car parked on his driveway. Aggie froze, Dillon retreated.
“Dillon—woo-hoo! I’m on the porch.”
He managed a weak wave, an even weaker smile, and bent down to Aggie’s ear. “I would never encourage you to run away from me, but if you could manage a fast trot and get me out of this, I’ll give you gourmet meals for the rest of your life.”
She sat on the pavement and looked into his eyes with earnest sincerity. “I can do you one better, if you’ll just get me to the backyard.”
“Well, it was worth a try.” With a sigh, he rose and slow, leaden steps took both of them to his front stoop.
“Brandy, what a…surprise. Why are you here?”
She leaned against the railing, her hands jammed into the pockets of her trench coat, and smiled. “I forgot my bag.”
“Oh, I would have brought it to work and given it to Maxine.”
Her grin turned predatory, and Aggie heard Dillon gulp—hell, she bet the voles underground heard it. “I was in the neighbourhood.”
“Right.” He moved past her and opened the door—just wide enough to fit his hand through. “I think it’s right here—”
“That’s fine.” She pushed through the door.
Dillon’s body went rigid with annoyance and Aggie’s lip curled. She ached to take a bite out of the brassy redhead. Aggie trotted inside and gripping the bag between her teeth with enough force to leave holes, she tossed it at Brandy.
Dillon grinned and his pride made her body go heavy with pleasure. “Isn’t she the smartest dog?”
“Yeah, she’s a regular Lassie.”
“Lassie was a male, twit.” Aggie nosed the bag, pushing it onto Brandy’s open-toe Jimmy Choo sandals. Her fake Jimmy Choo sandals. Aggie snorted and turned away from the heavy scents of Brandy’s perfume. The patchouli burned her nasal passages—but that was probably because to her doggy nose, it seemed as though Brandy had bathed in the fragrance.
“Since I’m here…” She untied the belt of her coat with slow, deliberate movements and made a production of removing the trench from her shoulders. The stretch poplin material slipped from her in a crackled rasp, revealing smooth alabaster skin. A lot of it. Underneath the coat, she wore nothing but black, lace panties, matching bra, and a smile.
Aggie gasped at the sight, inhaled a mouthful of perfumed air that set her coughing and sneezing. Dillon gaped, his lips moving but no sound emerging.
“Where—where are your clothes?” His question came out in a shocked gasp. Dillon’s eyes were gaunt, horrified, his expression full of terror.
“The car—I didn’t think I needed them.” She swayed towards Dillon, the rhythm of her walk, sultry, slow, that sent burning flashes of jealousy coursing through Aggie.
Dillon—God bless him—retreated from the half-naked woman in his foyer, babbling, “I think there’s been a misunderstanding.”
“No misunderstanding.” Brandy purred the words. “I want you; I’ll have you.”
“I don’t think that’s appropriate—you’re my boss’s relative.”
“Exactly.” She slunk towards him with a voracious smile. “Think of how Maxine will feel if I’m upset. You don’t want me upset, do you?”
Aggie blitzed an end run around Brandy, positioned her furry body in between her and Dillon, and growled.
Brandy’s face contorted with contempt and distaste. “Can’t you do something about that mutt?”
“Yes, yes, do something about me. Take me outside and let me get that lamp.” She whined and yipped, pulling at Dillon’s jeans with her teeth.
“Princess, what is it? She probably needs to go out. Excuse me.” He sidestepped Brandy as though she was a land mine, gingerly toe tapping past her coat, and hurried to the patio door. The quick clicks of Brandy’s heels behind him, made his eye twitch.
“You don’t have to come with me, I’ll just be a—” He turned as he said it but his words were cut short as he slammed into Brandy. She laughed and wrapped her arms around him, her grip as tight as an octopus.
“That’s all right. I think I’ll enjoy coming with you.”
He jerked, wriggled his way out of her grasp, and flashed Aggie a frustrated glance. His jaw rippled and his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat.
“Just get me outside, and I’ll take care of this sex-crazed behemoth.”
He flipped the lock, and Aggie bounded outside. She barrelled down the stairs—head first, praying she wouldn’t break anything important. Impatience and frustration marred her judgment, and she ran about the yard, her search pattern vague and scattered. Afternoon shadows of the house and fence played against the grass, creating shapes where there were none. Common sense finally kicked in and reminded her that the lamp would be by the fence, and not in the middle of the lawn. Aggie sniffed and kept her gaze roaming the perimeter for any sign of glittering metal.
Edginess and aggravation hampered her efficiency, but she found the lamp in a dark corner by the fence. She grasped it in her teeth, pulled it into the open. Once again, she tried to rub the lamp, but it just jumped and hopped from her grasp.
The sounds of Dillon and Brandy reached her sensitive ears. Desperation and frustration throbbed in his voice, manipulation and coercion slithered in hers.
“Come on, come on—this must be possible for a dog, it worked for a cat!” Still the trick to rubbing the lamp eluded her. Heavy, rapid footfalls sounded on the steps. She grabbed the lamp and ran for the side of the house.
“Princess, where are you?” The thud of his feet on the grass moved towards her.
She pawed the pot and a frustrated growl revealed her location.
Dillon appeared from around the corner. Confusion drew his brows together. “What do you have?”
“The answer to our prayers.”
A frown wrinkled his forehead. “Here, give me that. What are you playing with?”
She dodged around his legs and ran for the open yard, skidding to a stop when Brandy blocked her path. The antique dealer’s eyes narrowed as she stared at the Turkish teapot.
“What’s that dog doing with my stuff?”
“Your—” incredulity made Aggie’s jaw drop and the lamp fell to the ground. “It’s mine, you lying piece of...” Her mind whirled, but couldn’t think of a big enough insult. She snapped up Ebony’s house, and growled. Her fur bristled, her lips curled back from her teeth.
“Your what?” Dillon came to rest beside Aggie. He glanced at her, the lamp, then went back to watching Brandy.
Her finger, the red-lacquered nail as long as a talon, pointed to Aggie. “She’s got my antique pot.”
“That’s not yours—it can’t be.”
“It is. That mutt took it from my bag.”
His arms folded in front of his chest, Dillon’s face turned as black and stormy as the clouds before a hurricane. “Liar.”
Brandy’s head snapped back, her eyes narrowed into tiny, brilliant, slits. “What did you call me?”
“You heard me. There’s no way this pot is yours. Princess couldn’t have taken it from your bag—we would have seen her.”
“It’s mine. And if you want to keep your job, you’ll give it back to me.”
“Don’t threaten me.” Rather than gaining volume, his voice dropped to low, ominous tones. “And stop hitting on me. I don’t want you.”
She snarled, the sound vicious and threatening. “You really don’t want that cushy job of yours, do you?”
“Try and get me fired.” Anger and conviction burned in his expression and made him look like a god about to wage war. “I’ll
sue you and Maxine for so much money, those pieces of lace you’re wearing will be all you have left.”
“Don’t threaten me.”
“It’s not a threat; it’s a promise.”
While they continued to argue, Aggie slunk away, creeping from them in slow, quiet steps.
“Hey!”
She jerked at Brandy’s scream.
“That’s mine.”
Her hand snaked into Aggie’s view, and dog instinct took over. She dropped the lamp and bit Brandy. The woman screeched—more shock than pain—because Aggie hadn’t put any pressure or force into the bite, and recoiled from her. Grabbing the lamp in her canine jaws, she bolted for the back fence.
“I’m getting that dog put down. It bit me—I could have rabies!”
How do you think I feel? I’m the one with the bad taste in my mouth.
“You’re not touching my dog.” Conviction and promise throbbed in his words.
“I’m calling the authorities right now.”
Aggie scrapped at the lock, but her claws and paws proved as ineffective on the fence as they did with the lamp. Dillon and Brandy continued to fight. Her voice screeched into the air, ripped into Aggie’s ear drums, and left her panicked.
“I’ve got a friend on the board—I’m going to make sure that dog is put down by the end of the night.”
“Don’t even try it, lady.”
As their voices rose into the descending twilight and euthanasia coalesced into a possible future, desperation gripped Aggie. She tossed the lamp to the ground, threw herself on top of it, and wriggled, stroked and did every action that could conceivably be thought of as “rubbing.” The welcome hiss of smoke and the sight of pink vapours curling into the air brought a sob of joy from Aggie.
“What the hell—?” Dillon’s voice sounded behind her.
Mist continued to climb in sensuous, rippling tendrils.
“Hurry, Ebony. I’m about to be put down.”
A pop, a bang, and the joyful sight of Ebony’s kitten face appeared. Aggie heard a thump behind her and turned. Dillon remained standing, his expression shell-shocked and disbelieving. The soles and heels of Brandy’s shoes greeted Aggie—the redhead had fainted and for that, she was grateful.
“Aggie, where have you been?”
“Aggie?” Dillon’s astonishment made his voice jump an octave.
“Ebony, I’ll explain later—turn me back. Quick!”
“You have to wish it.”
“Fine, fine. I wish to undo my last wish. Now hurry!”
Blackness engulfed her. As the brilliant shades of light exploded around her, and unconsciousness overtook her senses, Aggie prayed the wish would work.
****
Muffled sounds—water, voices—rippled into her mind. The scent of fresh laundry and the feel of a warm blanket called her to waking life. Her eyelids fluttered. A great weight seemed to rest on them, but she pried them open and blinking, looked around. The fuzzy image of Dillon’s face swam into view. She squinted and squeezed her eyes shut, then re-opened them.
“Hi.” He said it softly, as though a normal speaking voice might shatter her.
“Am I human again?” Even as she asked the question, she knew the answer. Her inner-sense sent messages from toes and fingers, and the crinkle of the sheet against her breasts shouted her human form.
“Yep.” He held up a glass of water. “Want some?”
She nodded and rose into a sitting position. The sheet slid from her, and cold air hit her body. She looked down and the messages her body had sent her came into sharp, fibre-optic clarity. “Why am I naked?”
“I have no idea. Genie magic, perhaps.”
“You’ve seen me naked.” She pulled the sheets up to her armpits, though the action seemed pointless.
“So have you.”
A blush of pleasure and guilt set her ears tingling. “Oh yeah.”
He settled on the floor beside her and leaned against the couch cushion. “So many things make sense now.”
“Thanks for the drink. Where is Brandy?” She took the glass from his hands.
He grinned. “Gone, long gone.”
“She knows about the lamp—”
His grin widened. “Who will believe her? I’m not going to say anything, neither are you.”
Aggie leaned over, set the glass down on the floor, and reached for his hand. “I’m so sorry—I’ve cost you a job.”
“Nothing of the sort. While you were passed out, I called Maxine. We sorted everything out.”
“Really?”
He chuckled. “She likes her sister-in-law even less than I do.”
She glanced around the room, not seeing the lamp, and fear gripped her. “Where’s Ebony?”
“Exploring. I told her she could wander around, have some time away from that claustrophobic lamp.”
“That was sweet of you.”
“So is your quest to rid her of the lamp and make her your pet.”
She cocked an eyebrow.
He smiled and shifted to his knees. “You’ve been passed out for a few hours. We talked. How did you end up a dog?”
She blinked. Admitting she loved him was no big deal, since she knew that he loved her back. But telling him the rash words that turned her into a canine made her feel foolish. “Oh, I wished wrong.”
He leaned in to her. “What did you wish?”
She looked into his dark eyes, saw the desire and affection pooling in them and grinned. “I wished to be in your arms.”
“Why?”
She moved towards him, until their noses touched. “Because I love you—and I know you love me, too.”
He sighed and took a breath that shuddered in his chest. “I do, with all my heart. When I thought you had left or had been hurt, Aggie, I wanted to die.”
“Don’t die on me—unless it’s in the Shakespearean sense.”
“Huh?”
“Orgasms.”
“Oh.” His pupils dilated into large, black circles. “Aggie?”
“Hum?”
“If you don’t kiss me, I’m going to die—and not in the cool, Shakespeare way.”
“We can’t have that.” She tilted her head, his lips came tantalizingly closer—a sudden thought, and she pulled away. “Wait—I can’t do this, not yet.”
His eyes snapped opened, surprise filled the black irises. “Are you kidding?”
“Don’t whine—I’ve been waiting on you for three years. You haven’t even gone twenty-four hours.”
“So…why are you torturing both of us?”
“Ebony. How can I celebrate when she’s still stuck in that stupid lamp? If I don’t make another wish, she’ll be stuck there until the next unsuspecting human comes along, and I can’t do that to either of them.”
He chuckled and shook his head. “Ebony,” he called, “come here.”
The light sounds of her steps, the scent of figs and vanilla, and she was in front of them.
“Now,” Dillon said to Aggie, “repeat after me. I wish to undo Ebony’s last wish.”
“Oh!” Aggie clapped her hands, delighted. “You’re a genius.”
She leaned in, intending to give him a quick kiss of thanks, but as her lips touched his, the fruition of a dream coming true overtook her. Their mouths melded into a warm, soft embrace. His tongue flicked along her lip. She opened herself to him, the sizzling sensation of their tongues intertwined sent her senses reeling—
“Excuse me. Kitten genie who would like to be made mortal.”
“Oh—Ebony, I’m so sorry.” She pulled herself from Dillon’s embrace. “I wish to undo Ebony’s last wish.”
If there was dark or fireworks, Aggie didn’t see them. All she saw was Ebony, flopping over like a dropped rag doll, and turning from semi-transparent to a solid consistency. “Is that what I did?”
“More or less.”
She picked up the tiny kitten. Ebony’s soft breaths puffed against her hand. “Is she okay?”
“Ye
ah. She’ll probably be out for a while—you were unconscious for six hours.”
Aggie stroked the soft fur. “What a good friend she is—she brought me the best wish of all. You.”
He smiled and wrapped his arms around both of them. “We should get her a playmate and decide whose house we’re keeping.”
She gazed into his face, seeing nothing but contentment. “I’ve had three years to love you and decide to make a life with you. You’ve only had fourteen hours. Are you sure you want to rush into living together?”
“I was thinking of marriage.”
“M-marriage?”
He pressed kisses against her eyes and cheeks. “You don’t know how scared I was when I couldn’t find you. How terrified the thought of never having you in my life, made me. You’re back and you’re safe, and wherever you are, is where my home and my heart will be.”
Joy did a victory dance in her chest and her heart beat so fast and happy, it almost broke her ribs.
“From bachelor to husband and kitten father, all in one day.”
He smiled, took her in his arms, and said, “Sounds like a wish come true.”
Chapter One
Her parents had named her Vanessa, and for this she had never forgiven them. Vanessa. It conjured other names, like Redgrave and Williams—women who personified the class, grace and sophistication it took to shoulder a name that meant ‘butterfly.’ Vanessa Helph, on the other hand, was more suited to a name that meant ‘earnest but ineffective’ or, better yet, ‘well-meaning but harmful to the appendages.’ She could no more carry the ethereal moniker than she could wrestle the packing boxes under her arm into submission. They poked, prodded and did their best to pitch her down the smooth, tiled steps.
“Nessie, darling, over here!”
Nessie. The nickname’s origins had their roots in her then-seven-year-old brain and in madness. Seeded by the exquisite pain of seeing Vanessa Redgrave on the silver screen and knowing she could never live up to the name, she had concocted Plan A: begging her family never, ever to call her Vanessa again. When they’d asked her what name she should be called, did she have the imagination to ask for something more suited to her gangly limbs and crooked smile?
