Her Wish--A Playboy Genie Romance

by Sophie H. Morgan

  “I’ve been given authority to make a deal with you.”

  She smirked. “WFY getting worried I’ll bring bad press? Attention drawn to the cosmic price on what you offer.”

  “No,” he denied. He shifted closer and detected a light scent of vanilla. “But I can only devote so much time to one winner.”

  “The door hasn’t moved.”

  “Why are you being so stubborn?”

  “Why are you being such an ass?”

  About to retort, Jax stopped short when he realized he had to look down to meet her eyes. How had they gotten so close? Enough so he could see individual notes of amber in her (brown? hazel?) eyes.

  His gaze dragged down.

  Her cheeks were flushed with irritation, her full lower lip poked out and quivering. Vanilla wrapped around him in a seductive, teasing fog.

  It would take only a couple of inches for him to lean down and kiss her.

  Jax swallowed, reminding himself of the reasons against lowering his mouth to hers.

  She mocked me in public . . .

  She thinks wishes are corrupt . . .

  She despises me . . .

  She . . .

  His groin tightened as the tip of her tongue touched that inviting lower lip. The silence in the store was now as loud as it could be, every movement of clothes, every heartbeat, every breath deafening.

  Holding her gaze, he lowered his finger to caress her cheek.

  An electric shock snapped through their skin and he faltered, letting the finger drop as she jerked back.

  Her eyes blinked fast and furious as he tried to regain his equilibrium. Hard to do when that lower lip was still so goddamned moist.

  He speared both hands through his hair, looking everywhere but at her. His eyes came to rest on a thick bundle of papers on the table next to her. Two words jumped out.

  With a curse, he snatched it, ignoring her protest. His hands curled tight into the paper. “This is a contract to appear on Lisette’s Hour.”

  The only sign of . . . whatever the hell had just happened between them was the rosy glow in her cheeks. She wrapped her arms around today’s sweater, a too-large navy selection that hid any shape from his eyes.

  Not that he was looking.

  He shook the contract. “You’re not going to deny it?”

  “It would be pretty stupid of me when you’re holding it.”

  He didn’t appreciate her sarcasm.

  “Are you going on?” he demanded. The papers rusted in his grip. “No,” he decided in the next breath, and with one thought set the pages on fire. They crumbled into ash within seconds.

  Her mouth fell open. “I cannot believe you just did that. You arrogant jerk—how dare you?”

  “I let you fight dirty once.” He prodded a finger at her. “Not again.”

  “Oh, like your little Charlie-needs-saving speech wasn’t dirty?” She batted his finger away. “I told you once—leave me alone.”

  “Or what?”

  He knew his reaction was so far over the top he should be in space, but couldn’t seem to stem the inappropriate rush of betrayal.

  Charlie’s hands curled into fists at her sides.

  The little bell over the door rang, interrupting whatever violence she plotted, and Kate stepped in. She shut the door with her hip, both hands occupied by two large Starbucks to-go cups. “So, they didn’t have—Oh.” She stopped as suddenly as if she’d hit an invisible brick wall. “Jax. You’re here.”

  “Jax was just leaving,” Charlie bit out.

  Jax held her stare for a drawn-out moment. The air around them buzzed with challenge, the tiny hairs on the back of his neck teased to attention.

  Finally, he gave her a mocking nod. “She’s right,” he directed at Kate, but continued to stare at Charlie. “But I’ll be back.”

  He disappeared before she could get the last word in.

  Charlie twisted her keys in the lock and pushed open the store’s door. A bright jangle tinkled from the bell as she stepped in and relocked the door behind her. The alarm beeped as she deactivated it and flipped on the lights. She came to an abrupt halt.

  Her eyes narrowed at the package on the counter. “Damn him.”

  For the last three days, ever since her strange argument and almost-but-maybe-not moment with WFY’s most arrogant Genie, fussily wrapped packages had been appearing on every available surface.

  Kate thought it was cute—a Genie’s way of apologizing.

  Charlie called it manipulative. She was not going to be charmed. The man had incinerated a contract. Not to mention he’d gone on live TV and stated she was troubled to some million viewers. No amount of get-around-the-woman presents was fixing that.

  She’d received three in all, each sneakier than the last. The first one, wrapped in navy paper with a silver bow, had materialized on the three-for-two table about two hours after Jax had left the store.

  Kate had discovered it and squealed as she’d read the tag—a simple dedication with Jax’s name signed underneath. Inside, a cashmere scarf the color of winter berries, softer than candy floss, warmer than a log fire. Inside, on another tag, were words written in capitals as bold as the pen-wielder: TO KEEP YOU WARM AT NIGHT UNTIL I’M WITH YOU.

  Disturbingly, the words had prompted an unwilling smile. She’d quelled it and stuffed the scarf in a drawer.

  The second gift had arrived the next morning in the tiny staff room in bright fuchsia-colored paper. Inside had been a box of chocolates, Godiva, naturally, and a tag that read: SAW THIS AND THOUGHT OF YOU. It was only then that Charlie realized they were all nutty.

  This time, the smile had become fully fledged.

  The third present had arrived the same day as the chocolate, only in the afternoon. Unexpected, just like Jax. She’d gone into the back room to retrieve a file and found a small gold-foil-wrapped package on the desk.

  She’d toyed with the wrapping, wondering why he was doing this, unable to deny the warm, liquid feeling in her stomach. His was a sneak attack, charming from behind the scenes. And damn it, it was working.

  The third present had turned out to be a neatly cut article from a tabloid, commenting on Jax’s “size.” It had been placed inside a Tiffany frame. The tag read: THE LAST TIME YOU’LL NEED TO SPECULATE.

  Charlie had been on tenterhooks all day yesterday, the third day, peering at every available surface, and had actually been disappointed when nothing had appeared. Thinking he’d given up, she’d returned home in a funk where the oh-so-gracious Ian had been waiting with a conciliatory Kate, and had proceeded to eat her weight in Aunt Mabel’s chocolate chunk cookies.

  And now this.

  She hated to admit it, but the sight of that rectangular-shaped box, wrapped in fussy purple paper, lit something inside her. She’d never had a guy go to so much trouble, and while she told herself over and over—and over and over—again that he was trying to charm her so she’d make a wish, it didn’t stop the fact that there’d been thought in every one of the gifts. They’d been intended to make her smile. And that, goddamn it, was sweet.

  Torn, Charlie eyed the present. What she should do was ignore it. Kate might think the gifts were a sign of attraction, but she knew better. Okay, so there’d been that moment, that oh-my-god-he’s-going-to-kiss-me-a-GENIE-is-going-to-kiss-me pause where his eyes had darkened to such a degree that the shimmering flecks simmered like molten gold.

  No thought of a wish on his mind then.

  It was a good thing Kate had interrupted. If Charlie was this melty after a few gifts, she might be toast if the man ever suited action to words. Thank heavens he seemed to be all talk. Yep. It was a good thing that he hadn’t kissed her. She didn’t like either him or his promises.

  But she might open the present. It’d be rude not to.

  After approaching the package as one would a vintage champagne—with deliberate respect—Charlie untucked the corners of the paper and slid out the object. It was a book. She flipped it over to read the
title.

  She laughed aloud. Damn him.

  * * *

  Kate’s nose wrinkled as she turned the book over as though jewelry might fall out. “This isn’t romantic.” Disappointment turned the corners of her mouth down.

  Charlie rang up a sale, smiled at the pretty female who’d bought two romances. “They’re great,” she told her. “I read them both in one sitting.”

  “Thanks.” The woman took the handles of the shopping bag and headed for the door, pausing by the cupcake stand. She peered in through the glass dome. “Are these homemade?”

  Charlie nodded. “Baked them fresh last night. They’re vanilla and triple chocolate chunk.”

  The woman looked torn. “Oh, I shouldn’t . . .”

  “You can’t read a romance without having something to sink your teeth into.” Charlie winked and lifted the glass dome to select a chocolate chunk cupcake with the rubber tongs. She placed it in a white paper bag. “On the house.”

  “I couldn’t,” the woman said, already taking the bag.

  “I insist.”

  Charlie waved as the delighted woman lugged her romances and free cupcake out of the shop.

  “You’re keeping something from me.”

  Charlie blinked at Kate’s accusation. “No, I’m not.”

  “Yes, you are. You just gave away something. You never give something for free.”

  “Okay, that makes me sound awful.”

  “No. It’s careful. It’s you. And you’re in too good a mood this morning.” Kate waved the book she still held. “Too good to come from this book.”

  “It’s a good book.” Charlie plucked it from Kate’s grasp and placed it back on the counter. She fought to keep her hands from curling around the pages possessively. “And I figured she might come back if I gave her something free.”

  Kate eyed her.

  Charlie laughed. “Honest.”

  After a pause, Kate sighed. “I’ll find out eventually,” she warned, heading to the back room.

  “Kate, nothing’s going on,” Charlie called after her. She shook her head at her suspicious friend.

  So what if she was melting—a very little—in her dislike of all Genies? She knew Jax for what he was, knew what he was up to. Even if he was taking his time about getting the wish, he was after it. She knew that.

  But these gifts were indicative of so much thought . . . and wit . . . and humor.

  Why shouldn’t she be a little dizzy that such a magnetic man had put so much effort into winning Charlie Donahue over?

  She allowed a smile to curl her lips as she stared at the book.

  “I forgot.” Kate returned to the main floor, holding a stack of envelopes in her hand. “You got more mail today.”

  “Seriously?” The smile disappeared as Charlie put out her hand. “How do they know where I live?”

  Kate’s shoulders lifted. “Ian thinks you should take a few of the interviews.”

  “Yeah, well, Ian thinks walking to the fridge is exercise.”

  “Charlie . . .”

  “Sorry, sorry.” Charlie flicked through the envelopes. “Wow, even Big Brother’s interested.”

  Kate paused in straightening books. “Oh, no.” Appalled in capital letters. “Don’t go on there. That’s just tacky.”

  “I’m not going to go on any of them.” Charlie threw the envelopes down and feathered a hand through her hair. “I don’t even know why they want me. What makes me so interesting?”

  “The fact that you’re probably the only person ever since the lottery started not to want a wish?”

  Yeah. That news had broken a day after she’d last seen Jax. According to the articles, an “unnamed source” had confirmed that the “loopy” New York winner wasn’t keen on coughing up a dream.

  “Unnamed source” her ass. That had Ian written all over it. If it wouldn’t distress Kate so much or if she had any proof, Charlie would’ve already blasted him for talking to the press. She wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d have spelled his name for the reporters, but apparently even leeches had an iota of sense. As in, he stepped over the line and Kate’s gravy train would come to a screeching halt if she ever found out.

  “I just don’t get it.” Kate spread her hands. “I know you think they’re trouble, cost is too high, blah, blah, blah, but, c’mon. It’s a wish. You could have anything you wanted.”

  “I know what it is.” Charlie tapped her nails on the book. “And I’m sorry, but even if I was inclined to wish for something tiny just to kick WFY to the curb, that would give Jax Michaels much too much satisfaction at this point.”

  “Charlie . . .”

  It made her grin. “Boy Wonder could use a failure. It’s character building.”

  “I got that ticket to make your life better. Not to score points.”

  Because Kate genuinely sounded distressed, Charlie stopped joking. “Sorry, Kate. I don’t mean to be ungrateful, because I love you for thinking of me . . . but next time, maybe a box of Aunt Mabel’s cookies would be better than a lottery ticket.”

  “You eat too many of those.”

  “No such thing, my friend.” Charlie sighed. “Now, if only everybody could just let it go,” she said with soft emphasis.

  Kate shook her head. Her curls were confined in a ponytail today, and small wisps tickled her face, making her look about eighteen. “No chance of that,” she said. “Face it, Charlie. Nobody’s ever said no to Jax Michaels before.”

  “A fact he’s well aware of.”

  “Don’t be too harsh on him.”

  Charlie’s hands fluttered to her chest. “Me? Harsh?”

  “He’s trying so hard to make up for whatever he did to make you mad.” Kate flicked a perturbed look at the book. “Although he could’ve chosen some of his gifts better.”

  “I like it.” Charlie could’ve bitten her tongue off as soon as she admitted it. Kate acted like a marshmallow, but one of the reasons why she was so good at caring for people was because underneath all that pillowy, gooey softness was a terrier ready to go for the ankles.

  As expected, her friend’s eyes brightened. “You like him.”

  “It. I said ‘it.’”

  “Same thing. He’s gone to the trouble of picking presents for you—maybe he’s not really after the wish.”

  “And I think I just saw pigs straddling a cloud.”

  “I saw the way he was looking at you. You could have roasted s’mores off his stare.”

  “Yeah. He was mad.”

  Kate sighed. “Hopeless.”

  Charlie searched for a change of subject as she battled down the fizzy wonder that Kate could be right. She wasn’t. “Well, even with my sudden rise to celebrity, we’re still not selling enough.”

  Instantly concerned, Kate crossed to the counter. “Even with all the extra footfall?”

  “People are coming in, but they’re not buying. Too interested in seeing the woman who turned down a wish and Jax Michaels—and I’m not sure which New Yorkers are more surprised at.”

  “Turning down Jax Michaels.”

  Charlie laughed.

  The bell jingled and two women sidled in, looking everywhere but at Charlie. Both dressed in jeans and coats, they drifted around the store, sneaking glances as though they expected Jax to be squatting under a table.

  Kate squared her shoulders. “Watch me work.” She swayed off on her three-inch heels, a bright, determined smile fixed to her face. “Ladies!”

  Charlie had to smile.

  Of its own volition, her hand stroked the book she still couldn’t put away until she forced it to stop. She gazed down at it with a hint of a frown. It really was sweet, in a weird perfect-for-her way.

  “Did you like my presents?”

  She didn’t give him the satisfaction of jumping. Shoving her heart back down her throat, Charlie took a breath and twisted.

  Jax stood behind her, as gorgeous and captivating as ever. Out of sheer survival instinct, Charlie lowered her gaze
from his face, only to get stuck at his throat.

  His shirt was unbuttoned three buttons down.

  All she could do for a moment was stare at that triangle of tanned skin, wondering how he’d react if she stepped forward and placed her mouth there.

  When she finally steeled herself to look at him, his smile was knowing.

  It snapped her out of her teenage-girl act quicker than a chuck under the chin.

  She inched back as far as she could. Distance was key. “Presents? They were okay.”

  “And the book?” A gleam flirted in his eyes.

  She played dumb. “The book?”

  “Yeah. The one you’re holding.”

  Blast. Heat blossomed in her cheeks. Damn the Genie, why did he always make her feel like a little girl instead of the strong, capable woman she was?

  Charlie looked at the book as though she couldn’t understand how it’d come to be in her hands. “Oh, this one.”

  “Yes.” With two fingers—and no warning—Jax tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. As his finger grazed her skin, an electric shock tingled down to her toes in their sensible shoes. “I thought it was apt.”

  Her throat was dry—when had her throat become dry?

  “You think I need tips, then?” she managed. The counter pressed into the small of her back as she leaned away.

  “Hardly.” He extended a hand and a sunflower materialized. Long and gorgeously yellow, it twirled in his fingers. “Peace offering.”

  “What happened to red roses?” She made no move to collect the flower.

  His eyes snagged her gaze, held it. “Roses are typical—you’re not a typical woman.”

  Her breath clogged somewhere between her lungs and her mouth. She tried to not let it affect her. “So you’re calling me weird?”

  He rolled his eyes. “You definitely don’t need tips.” He peeled one of her hands off the book he’d given her and wrapped her fingers around the sunflower’s stem. His lips curved. Maybe at the contrast of the sunflower—his peace gesture—and The Art of War in her hands.

  He grinned. “I think Sun Tzu could’ve learned a trick or two from you.”