Her Wish--A Playboy Genie Romance

by Sophie H. Morgan

  After the laughs had died down, Lisette signaled for the boom to move to someone else.

  This time it was a skinny blonde with cool blue eyes and a voice that could melt ice. “Hey, Jax.”

  Nope. Not a clue. “Darlin’, you look more beautiful than ever.”

  “I know,” she agreed as she smoothed her hair. “I have to agree with”—she flicked her hand at the brunette—“her. When Jax and I were together, we had so much sex in one night, I thought my legs would fall off. That man has bursts of energy!”

  Somebody in the crowd hummed the Speed Racer theme tune. Titters broke out.

  Jax half rose from the couch. Maybe if he was careful, he could set the man on fire without anyone knowing it was magic.

  “And finally, Tiffany. Tiffany?” Lisette motioned toward the woman in the second row. “What have you got to say?”

  Another blonde, this time petite with a mouth made for sin. A faint memory stirred. He gave her an absent wave as his mind latched on to the idea of suing Lisette for . . . for . . .

  Defamation of character?

  No, that was Charlie, and he couldn’t do a thing against her or everybody in the entire English-speaking world would figure her claims were true.

  But, hell, it was humiliating having his sex life aired on daytime TV for the titillation of mortals. Didn’t anyone know who he was?

  He simmered on a low boil as he forced himself to sit still.

  “I can’t speak for everyone,” Tiffany breathed into the microphone. “But when I was with Jax, I couldn’t help but notice that he’s pretty big. Not a matchstick.”

  “How big?” called the joker from the front row. “Show us.”

  A muscle in Jax’s jaw clenched. He pretended to scratch his head. The comic jerked as if electrified, leaping from his chair. A curl of smoke drifted from his ass.

  Jax twisted his head to see Tiffany considering the man’s request. He definitely remembered her now—unfortunately, poor old Tiff’ hadn’t been the brightest spark, though she had had a ton of enthusiasm to make up for it.

  He willed her now to sit down, not to give in to the bright lights of TV.

  C’mon, darlin’, remember those five hours in Bali we spent together? Do it for Bali, baby.

  Tiffany held two fingers a short distance apart. “U-um,” she stammered. “I can’t remember. How big is a sausage?”

  Jax closed his eyes.

  Now, not only would matchstick be linked to his dick, so would sausage. And the eventual chipolata jokes.

  “It’s all right, hon.” Lisette waved her down. The glint in her eyes was one only TV people got. She’d gone fishing and landed a whale.

  Enough.

  Jax yanked control back, going with an idea that had been brewing since the moment Charlie had insulted his dick. “I think we’ve proven my stamina and girth,” he said through a stiff smile. “Unless you want a sneak preview?”

  Lisette laughed, kept it light. “Yeah, right, darling.” She shook her finger at him. “Naughty boy. But tell me, Jax.” She feigned seriousness. “Why would Charlie Donahue say such a wicked thing if it wasn’t true?”

  “What can I say? I guess some people don’t know fact from really bad fiction.”

  “I suppose not,” she murmured. Her head tilted. Somebody coughed in the audience. “From that clip, I take it she’s not made a wish then?”

  “Not yet.” Jax slipped on the confidence he wore like a second skin. If Charlie wanted to play, then he’d play. He hadn’t had a challenge in a while. Okay, so he might have been surprised by her apparent immunity to his looks, his body, his Genie status, his . . . well, everything. But there was more than one way to catch a woman playing hard to get.

  He smiled. “Can I be frank?”

  “Oh, Jax, I don’t think we have any secrets anymore.”

  His jaw felt like it needed oiling as he laughed again. A few more minutes until the producer called time. Just a few more minutes.

  “When I approached Charlie, I sensed a troubled soul who just needs somebody to fight for her.” He sighed, made sure to flex his arms and angle his head so the camera caught his best side. “Apparently, her past is . . . not the best.” He left interpretation of that fact—which could go multiple ways—up to everybody watching.

  Lisette put a manicured hand to her mouth. “Oh, dear.”

  “Yes,” Jax interrupted, before she could say anything else. “Which is why I feel so strongly about this wish. She needs to understand that I won’t be turned away. It’s classic behavior for somebody troubled to push away helping hands until they realize they’re not going to be disappointed.” He swiveled to stare into the eye of the camera.

  “Charlie,” he said with just the right touch of determination and sincerity. “I will not give up on you. I will make your life better. Because WFY cares.”

  As the audience exploded into cheers and applause, the female half sighing at his generosity, Jax glanced at the camera and raised his eyebrow in a direct challenge to the woman herself. He winked.

  Game on, Donahue.

  * * *

  “Excuse me—you’re Charlotte Donahue, aren’t you?”

  Charlie’s shoulders tensed. She paused, fingers hovering over a Julie James novel.

  With a low sigh that came from the deepest part of her, she pasted on a polite smile and twisted. “Hi, can I help you?”

  From the moment she’d opened three hours ago until about five minutes before when Kate had escaped to get them both Starbucks, The Book Nook had had dozens of eager female customers, all of whom had seen that morning’s “special” broadcast of Lisette’s Hour and all of whom were apparently desperate to aid Jax in saving Charlie’s soul. Apparently, the Genies couldn’t wait until Lisette’s Hour’s usual evening slot to throw mud at a (not-so-) innocent woman. And since Lisette’s Hour pulled in the kind of numbers cigar-smoking businessmen only wet-dreamed about, Charlie doubted it had taken much arm twisting for Lisette to air whenever—and whatever—the hell she wanted.

  It’s classic behavior for somebody troubled to push away helping hands . . .

  She had to give it to the ass. He’d struck well.

  Charlie studied the latest Jax fan. Dressed in a navy pencil skirt that hugged lean hips and a white, frothy lace shirt that tied in a big fussy bow at the front, she screamed fancy.

  So not out for the latest horror release then.

  As Charlie raised her eyebrows in question, the woman’s painted lips curved in a professional smile. She held out her free hand, the other gripping a leather briefcase. “I’m Cola May.”

  Charlie blinked as she automatically shook. “Cola?”

  “That’s right. You are Charlotte Donahue?”

  “Ah, yeah.” Charlie shoved a hand through her hair, which probably resembled a haystack after the last three hours of dealing with bimbos. “Yeah, that’s me.”

  “Is it Charlotte, or do you prefer Charlie?”

  A frown pulled at Charlie’s eyebrows. She leaned one hip on the bookcase behind her. “Can I help you?”

  The woman—Cola—placed her free hand on her chest and gave a husky laugh. “Yes, sorry. Lisette likes to have a thorough background on her guests.”

  Neurons fired. Charlie almost groaned aloud, but managed to hold it back. “You’re with Lisette’s Hour.”

  “That’s right.” Cola beamed as though Charlie had identified the cure for cancer. “I’m here to talk business.”

  Charlie thought she’d prefer one of the bimbos. At least she could palm off a cupcake on them.

  She wondered how to put it delicately. “Look, Ms. May,” she began.

  “Please, call me Cola.”

  She could not call a woman Cola. “Ah, I’m very busy. We’ve been slammed today with customers, and my colleague has just stepped out, so I’m sorry, but—”

  “Of course you’ve been busy, what with the footage.”

  “Yeah . . . the footage.” Charlie’s smile was weak.
<
br />   “I’ve got to tell you, my eyes about went out on stalks when I saw it. I mean, is it true? How do you know?” Cola’s bottle-blond hair shook in glossy waves around her shoulders as she leaned in. Her eyes gleamed. “Have you firsthand knowledge?”

  Charlie choked. Her mind—already keen to display lurid images of gorgeous men—flashed to the self-satisfied image of Jax on camera, winking at the audience. His muscles had flexed in the tee he’d worn on Lisette’s Hour, all golden and eminently lickable. And his eyes, that Baltic blue that seduced with images of satin sheets and champagne under a starlit sky, had glittered with challenge.

  She didn’t intend to accept, no matter how much he provoked her. Their war ended with her backfiring plan B.

  In that vein, she wet her lips and pressed them together. “Look, Cola,” she said, ignoring the woman’s inappropriate question. “While I appreciate what I think you’ve come here to ask, I’m not interested in playing Lisette’s performing monkey.”

  “Monkey?”

  At Cola’s blank look, Charlie fought the urge to shove a dictionary at her. “I don’t want to be the latest juicy gossip.”

  “Too late for that.” Cola giggled. She glanced around and then set her briefcase on a table with a three-for-two sign. Unlatching the lock, she slid it open and reached inside. A contract, similar to the one offered by Jax’s assistant yesterday, was produced.

  “I think you’ll find everything to your liking,” Cola said. She pointed with scarlet claws at a section. “The inducement to come on tomorrow’s show is fairly spectacular.”

  Whoa, mama. “They want to pay me ten thousand dollars to come on a TV show?”

  “Jax Michaels sells—and so does conflict. Lisette feels you would like to voice your own opinion to a sympathetic audience. We would all be behind you one hundred percent.”

  Charlie gawked at her. “You believe what he said. About me being troubled.”

  “It’s not shameful.” Cola patted her on the hand. “We all need help every now and again.”

  “I don’t believe this.”

  “Look, I’ll leave the contract here, and you let me know later today.” Cola suited action to word and closed her briefcase with a click.

  Charlie stared at the thing, her mind spinning like she’d had a triple espresso. With that money, her business could stay afloat another few months at least. She hadn’t wanted to scare Kate, but red was becoming a familiar color for The Book Nook. Her friend knew they were struggling, but nothing else. The store was Charlie’s worry, after all, and she would find a way to fix it. On her own terms and without Kate’s money.

  With regret weighing on her shoulders, she let out a breath. “There’s no need,” she forced out. She nodded at the contract. “I won’t be coming on the show.”

  “Just think about it,” Cola urged. She held up her hands and backed toward the door. “It doesn’t need to be tomorrow. Any time in the next week will do. And Charlie, we’re all here for you.”

  With one last wave, Cola ducked out of the door. The sky, for once, wasn’t bawling and instead hung a depressing murky gray. The bitter wind didn’t even seem to touch the woman as Cola slid inside the waiting limousine. With barely a noise, the car purred off.

  Charlie’s eyes were drawn back to the contract. To think her childish impulse had led to this. Ridiculous didn’t even cover it.

  She should have just let it lie. Who’d have stopped her if she’d walked the other way—turned the other cheek as Kate would say? But no. She’d had to sink to the Genie’s level. And now she was further into this mess than before, like being attacked with superglue. In trying to wrestle free, she’d only managed to get herself more stuck than ever.

  And the worst part was that it wasn’t over. If Jax had ever had the slightest inclination of leaving her alone before, she knew as she knew her own name that an arrogant charmer wouldn’t let a challenge like her blot his polished record. Not only would it dent his pride, surely his organization would hate the image of an ungrateful lottery winner.

  Man. She couldn’t wait for the next Saturday’s lottery—and that was the first time in her life she’d ever thought such a thing. Maybe when the next winners were announced, and her own un-wished wish had faded into the obscure past, along with her, cough, completely childish and unfair comments, cough, her life would settle down. No plaguing interview requests, no bimbos dying to see the woman who’d mocked the grand seducer, and no—

  “If it isn’t my favorite troubled soul,” a low voice purred from behind her.

  —lethally attractive and unbelievably arrogant Genie who seemed determined to push her to the edge. Her eyes narrowed.

  His chuckle was pure seduction. “Put down the letter opener, Charlie.”

  4.

  Jax made sure to lean at just the right angle so that his biceps bulged and his T-shirt pulled in tight against his rock-hard abs. His smile was crafted to be easy, a hint of bad-boy devil mixed in. He already suspected it would have no effect on Charlie Donahue, but he wanted to see how she’d react to an unexpected drop-in. Which was why he’d materialized behind her to catch her unaware.

  With an audible sigh, the woman herself twisted to face him, releasing the letter opener she’d grasped at his entrance.

  One eyebrow arched as she cocked her head. “Doors passé now, charm boy?”

  “Just thought I’d ‘pop’ in.”

  Her smile was droll. “Cute.”

  “I knew you’d finally admit it.”

  The snort was expected.

  He let out a breath as he came forward out of the entrance to the back room. She stood between two of the tables in her store, hands on hips, chin angled, a challenging gleam in eyes that seemed more amber than brown in the dim lighting. Unusually shaped, they slanted at the corners to give an undeniably erotic impression.

  Jax blinked. O-kaaay.

  Skin itchy and uncomfortable, he rotated one shoulder around to loosen tight muscles. She was his target. He needed to remember that. She didn’t fall for his lines or his smiles, she didn’t want to wish, but, man, she plain got under his skin. Like a burr. Or a switchblade.

  Admittedly, a lot of his fury had dissipated since their first meeting. He almost had to respect someone who fought that dirty. Didn’t get dirtier than bringing his dick into conversation.

  “You gonna stand there all day?” Drier than a dehydrated camel.

  “Why—do you think I’ll upset the customers? Oh, wait.” He sent a pointed look around the empty store.

  She flushed. “For your information, we’ve been slammed all day.”

  “Uh-huh. And how many saw Lisette’s Hour this morning?”

  If a silence could prick him with a thousand needles, the one that followed would have.

  He let out a laugh that should’ve curled around her insides like warm chocolate. Instead, it made the frown between her brows nestle deeper.

  How was she immune to him? His mom had always said he’d popped out of her womb fully able to charm the nurses into giving him attention, and he hadn’t looked back.

  Charlie had obviously missed the memo that he was irresistible.

  Jax let his eyes skim her body. The overall image was average—like he’d first thought of her photograph on the winner’s list.

  Except for her eyes. It wasn’t fair someone so shrewish had those eyes. Eyes like that belonged to a dusky gypsy maiden or a seductive jazz singer.

  “Seriously, what do you want?” Charlie said, snapping him from thoughts that had no place being in his head. She waved a hand. “I’m sure it looks like nothing to you, but small as it is, I have a business to run.”

  “Let’s get one thing straight, darlin’. Me being in your store can only help your business.”

  “Well, it hasn’t so far.”

  “Of course it hasn’t.” Jax took another look at the dark interior. “Look at this place. It’s depressing.”

  Charlie’s jaw firmed. “Okay, you’ve already got New
York thinking I’m troubled. Lay off my shop.”

  “I was just saying . . . Where’s the ambience? What invites someone to stay, to spend money?”

  “Gee, thanks for the unwelcome advice. Let me return the favor: lay off the tan before you start to look like a Simpson.”

  “Seriously, woman, what is your problem?”

  She folded her arms. “I don’t like you.”

  He snorted, rubbed his eyebrow with his thumb. “That’s ridiculous.”

  “And I don’t like wishes.”

  “Well, now you’re not even making sense.”

  “Why?” she challenged. “Because they appear to be good? Nothing’s ever that good. There’s always a price.”

  “Look, we don’t hold people’s hands afterward. What someone does with their wish is their business.”

  “Exactly.”

  “They’re adults,” he persisted. “It’s their responsibility.”

  “If you give someone a gun and they shoot someone, is that not a little bit your fault?”

  He was not getting into a debate about the morality of Genies and their wishes. He didn’t need to. He’d signed up to be a Genie and all his problems had melted like ice cream in hell. WFY was through and through decent, and so was the product they peddled.

  “You know what?” Charlie sliced a hand through the air. “I don’t care. All I want is to be left alone to run my store. So why don’t you”—she sneered the word—“run off and find someone else to haunt.”

  “You are the most ungrateful creature.”

  “There’s the door. Feel free to use it if you can fit your ginormous ego through.”

  Jax hauled air in through his nose. He wouldn’t lose his temper. “We’ve got off track. I came here today to have it out.”

  “Have what out?”

  “What you really want.” Jax smiled. It wasn’t particularly nice. “It’s a good cover, pretending not to want a wish, but the day I believe that is the day I start needing a wingman to get a woman. So, tell me what you want.” He folded his arms, pumping his muscles automatically. “A live TV interview? A bonus wish?” A sarcastic grin flashed. “Me?”

  “Only in the ‘gone’ sense of the word,” she retorted, all fire and sizzle. His belly tightened at the animation that lit her face. “I told you: I just want to be left alone.”