5.
Charlie fought the smile but lost. She pulled off a shrug and placed both the flower and The Art of War on the counter. “So, what’re you doing here?”
“‘A good defense is a good offense’?”
“Something like that.”
He edged closer with a silken smile. “What is it you think you need to defend against, Charlie?”
Breathing became an issue.
Thankfully, he continued without waiting to hear her answer. “I thought it was time we talked. Without arguing.”
“Gee, do you think that’s possible?”
“It is if you behave yourself, smartass.”
“I’m the smartass? Who went on live TV and told the whole world I needed professional help?”
“Who told the whole world I had a small dick and no staying power?” he countered.
Her lips twitched. “Suggested. I suggested that.”
“Anytime you want definitive proof . . .”
She leaned her hips against the counter, ignoring the stares from the two customers across the way. Kate was putting up a good fight, trying to engage them in the latest thriller, but Jax was the biggest thrill a woman would find in this store.
The biggest thrill pushed a hand through his hair, tousling the already perfectly rumpled waves. Such perfection itched like a knitted Christmas sweater.
She pointed. “Do you style it like that on purpose?”
“Style what?”
“The whole just-risen-from-bed hair.”
His grin was decidedly wicked. “Flirting, Charlie?”
Knees, don’t you dare buckle. “In your dreams.”
Jax’s scan of her face was thorough, penetrating, and oh-so-hot until her belly quivered, but after a drawn-out minute, he moved on. “Well? Shall we talk?”
“Let the peace negotiations begin.”
“I swear you’ve got to be the most sarcastic female I’ve ever met.”
“Thank you,” she said, all politeness.
Lips twitching, he braced a hand on the counter. “So,” he said, “is all forgiven? Have I softened you?”
In more places than you think.
Charlie shifted. Down, you dirty hussy. “Sneaky, Charm Boy, giving all those presents. You get your assistant to buy them?”
“Nope. They were all picked with these two hands.” He lifted the ones in question. “Impressive, huh?”
“Oh, yeah.” Her tone was so dry, it could have used sauce. “A Genie using magic. There’s a novelty.”
“So the whole truce thing’s fallen by the wayside?”
Charlie knew she was being a bitch. Because of the mere fact that he was in her store, standing in front of her, tan and sexy and a Genie, with some small knowledge of what she liked, her tongue kept spitting out nasty retorts. And it wasn’t fair to him. He hadn’t actually done anything.
Except make a spark of—not hope, but definitely in the family—that he wasn’t only after her wish anymore. Even though he was the most conceited, aggravating man, he was also an escape from a life where she was lucky if she had two cents to rub together. And she was starting to like the feelings she got when he showed up.
So she gave a small—very small—conceding nod. “You’re right. I’m sorry.” The words squeezed through her throat, rubbed it raw.
A pause.
Things were suddenly way too vulnerable with that apology floating. So she scowled. “You actually going to apologize as well as sending cutesy presents?”
Jax glanced around, and then settled his hips against the poster advertising the latest Stephen King. She held back a shiver, eyes drawn to him.
He was pure carnal invitation, lounging back, eyes smoky, lips curved. She could almost imagine stepping between his legs, raising on tiptoe, and sinking her teeth into his lower lip.
“All right,” he said, popping her fantasy like a balloon. Heat leaked into her cheeks as he gestured. “I was out of line. I shouldn’t have set your contract on fire.”
“Why did you?”
Amazingly, he hesitated. “I thought we could work out our stuff between the two of us. I thought we . . . Well, that we understood each other. Even liked each other.”
Swear to holy bananas, she thought her heart stopped as his eyes flicked her way and back.
“Anyway,” he continued, brushing aside that earthquake-like revelation. It had certainly shaken her. “When I saw the contract, I guess I became . . . disturbed.”
Even shaken, she’d never let him get the upper hand. “Admitting it is step one.”
He turned an ironic look on her. “Can we keep this thing between us?”
“If you agree not to call me troubled again.”
“And if you can leave my dick out of it,” he shot back.
“Trust me, I’m not going anywhere near that area.”
His dimple winked. “I’ll remind you of that when you’re in my bed.”
“You’ve already used that line on me.” She chose to be annoyed instead of dwelling on how her ribs were sure to break if her heart hit against them any harder.
His expression turned repentant. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”
“The false charm or using the same line?”
“My charm is one hundred percent original.”
“If you believe that, I’ve got some great time shares in the Cayman Islands to sell you.”
When he laughed, it wrapped around her like the cashmere scarf he’d bought. Soft, caressing, it smoothed her skin. Like massage oil.
Charlie was very aware of the customers’ whispers now. The conversation needed wrapping up before the women got sucked in by Jax’s pull.
“So, great, we’re not fighting,” she said. Then froze as she caught the blunt impact of a dead-on Jax Michaels genuine smile.
Don’t you go gooey on me.
“I—I’m still not making a wish,” she finished, reaching behind to wrap her fingers around the counter’s edge. His scent, apple musk, teased her like a lover’s grazing hand.
“You’re still playing hardball, huh?”
“It’s not playing, Jax.” Quiet but determined words.
His eyebrow rose. “What if I told you I didn’t come to see you about the wish?”
Thoughts jumbled like the inside of a washing machine. She opened her mouth to say God only knew what when one of the customers decided bravery was the better part of valor and approached.
“You’re Jax Michaels, aren’t you?” As breathy as a porn star, as ordinary as the next groupie.
Like she was becoming. Like he was making her.
On a wave of disillusionment, Charlie left them to it. She was in no mood to watch women worship at Jax’s altar, not when she’d almost been sucked under his spell. Damn the man. Of course he didn’t really like her. He’d probably only said that to . . . to throw her off his scent.
If only he wasn’t a) too gorgeous and charming for his own good, and b) a Genie.
Kate joined her by the sale table with a droop to her shoulders. “I failed. Not one bite, not even a nibble.”
“I think they’ve found something else they’d rather nibble on.”
A high-pitched giggle floated across the store.
Charlie cringed. Save us all.
* * *
Jax glanced over at Charlie, casual-like, just to see if there were any signs of jealousy as he flashed his most charming grin at the two women pressing close to him.
Her head bent toward her friend, they discussed something in low voices. She didn’t even feel the magnetic pull of his eyes to tangle gazes with him.
Well, there was no point in continuing his fluffy let’s-exchange-banter-in-a-possible-lead-up-to-sex conversation with the two women who’d introduced themselves as Sam, gymnast, and Lisa, up for a threesome.
He could only imagine what Charlie would say about these two.
And why that amused him was anybody’s guess. He must be getting sick or something.
&nbs
p; He managed to extract himself from the two determined females with the ease of experience, their numbers inked on his skin. As they swayed out of the shop in their heels, the ink magically detached from his skin to blow off into the ether. Last week he might have been all for their offer of “twisting him like a pretzel.” This week he was over it.
His eyes locked on to Charlie again, the primal beat of challenge thrumming in his blood. He wasn’t sure why she was still playing this hard-to-get game, but he had to admit, while frustrating as hell, it was also stimulating.
Not in the sexual sense. Charlie wasn’t a dog, by any means, but neither was she a Victoria’s Secret model. She was . . .
Interesting, he decided, as he ran his eyes over today’s shapeless outfit. He’d never known a woman like her. While WFY might be getting impatient for her wish, he was starting to enjoy himself—even with the snarky comments he was getting from other Genies. And if he got one of those, a little flick of his fingers, a little fire, a little fungal crotch infection usually put an end to that.
He was no longer as recklessly confident as he’d been a few days ago at his meeting with Luka, but he wouldn’t have got where he was today without overcoming a few obstacles. For God’s sake—WFY recruited only five mortals to become Genies every New Year’s Eve. Millions applied.
Jax had beaten the competition to be one of those five people. He’d lasted his one-year trial period and signed on the dotted line to become a permanent Genie. And he’d never looked back, ascending to the top to become the face of the East Coast’s division within thirty years.
Charlie didn’t stand a chance.
If only he understood why she kept trying to push her theory that WFY and their Genies were soulless because they left what happened after a wish in the hands of the adults who bought the tickets. Say it with him now: the winners were grown-ups who didn’t need their hands held for the rest of their lives.
WFY had given him everything. They wanted to give her everything. So for her to snort at the chance she’d been offered . . . Well, along with the curious fans were the not-so-nice ones who were ranting about her lack of gratitude. If she was smart, she’d not hold him off forever in case one of his fans suited action to words.
Putting that out of his mind, Jax ambled over to where the women stood, sliding his hands inside his trouser pockets. He was embarrassed to admit he’d worn the charcoal-gray suit because he knew it looked amazing on him and emphasized some of his best features, including making his eyes shine a brilliant azure. He wanted some show of weakness from the tower of strength. Screw it—he wanted her to look at him the way thousands of women looked at him: like they were the dog and he was prime rib.
Kate stammered as he came over, a clownish red blooming in her cheeks. She was attractive, no doubt, but his eyes were drawn to the bland expression of the other woman. The one looking past him to the door.
“You couldn’t have sold them something?”
He shrugged. “I could have.” His lips curled to reveal his teeth in a baby-I’m-so-bad kind of smile.
It, of course, didn’t affect her in the slightest. The only time he’d seen her armor dented was when he’d snuck up on her and that book. That dreamy smile . . . It had been worth agonizing over each present to peek through the crack in her shell.
To tell the truth, he was disappointed she wasn’t wearing the cashmere scarf. He’d pored over the color selection until his eyes felt like they were going to bleed out of his skull. He might know how to “work it” as East Coast’s IT Genie, but he was still a guy. Shopping was a single step up from a colostomy.
But the book had definitely made a dent. A nice flush had washed her neck, a gleam was in her hazel (yes, hazel) eyes. They seemed browner today in the dim light of the shop. It made him want to lean in close to verify their exact color.
“Maybe we should hire him.” Kate spoke fast and to Charlie, as though speaking to him would enable the loss of speech.
It had happened.
Charlie eyed him. “I’m guessing his rates are a little steep.”
“We could always take it out in trade, gorgeous.” Eat your heart out, Casanova.
Charlie rolled her eyes upward. “Sweet mercy.”
Jax ignored that, scanning the dead store. “You never seem to have people in here,” he commented. “Why is that?”
“We don’t know,” Kate rushed to say, wincing as Charlie’s elbow caught her in the ribs.
“We’re fine.” Her stubborn chin angled. “It’s the time of year, is all.”
“You sure it’s not the warm hospitality?” He laughed at her death glare. “Seriously, you ever thought about brightening the place?”
Charlie rested a hand on the sale table. She said nothing.
Kate, however, tilted her head and stared in the vicinity of his left cheek. “What do you mean?”
He waved a hand. “This place . . . It’s depressing.”
“It’s classic,” Charlie countered.
“Boring.”
“Traditional.”
“Dark.”
She’d obviously run out of counters so contented herself with a glower. Amusement floated through him like dense fog, swamping him, forcing a reluctant smile to his face. She was just so cute. A mini thundercloud daring him to say anything critical about her beloved store. Well, she’d have to perk up her ears. Here was one way he could help.
“I bet since the draw you’ve had more people coming in, right?” At Kate’s nod, he shrugged. “You should’ve had more sales, then, but because it’s so damn gloomy and Victorian in here, people aren’t tempted to stay.”
Charlie muttered something vicious.
“What would you do?” Kate nibbled her bottom lip, switching her gaze to his right cheek. That flush still rooted in her cheeks, but he expected it to die down eventually.
Jax swept the room with a thorough glance. “I’d capitalize on the infamy your boss has drawn.” He dipped his chin in Charlie’s direction. “And there’s the fact that I keep coming in.”
“Nobody’s asking you to.” Charlie’s shoulders were around her ears, her arms crossed tightly across her chest.
“You have the power to make me go away,” he reminded her, an odd ping in his chest at the thought of waking tomorrow with the knowledge that he wouldn’t have to fight with her anymore.
She grumbled but said nothing else.
“Like it or not,” he persisted, “I’m a huge draw. Hundreds of women alone will appear in droves if you put it about that I drop in here every day. The hardest thing is getting the fish into the shop. Then they’re hooked and in your hands.
“Now,” he continued. “About the way this place is set up . . . What did you do, hire Edgar Allan Poe?”
If looks could poison, he would be on his back, rolling around in agony. She’d probably stand over him and laugh, too. Bloodthirsty wench.
He fought the grin. He was beginning to like that in a woman.
* * *
Josh scratched at his eyebrow. He was having a difficult time squeezing the photo shoot for GQ into Jax’s schedule for the following day, which had a meeting already scheduled with an influential businessman in the morning as well as two wishes for Jax to grant. He’d manage it, though. Part was pride, but the other part was proving to Jax he hadn’t made a mistake hiring the clumsy geek.
He fiddled with the schedule as noise thrummed around him. On the thirtieth floor of the WFY building, business went on as usual, Genies flashing in left, right, and center, their assistants hurrying to perform some task and grab whatever coffee was left in the pot. Faxes droned below the shrill ring of the phones, and chatter swirled as Josh calculated how much time it’d take to push the businessman out the door. The noise didn’t bother him; he’d been raised with four older sisters. Noise wasn’t noise until somebody had stolen somebody’s best top and spilled ketchup on it.
Seated at his desk outside Jax’s office—which might as well be cloaked in cobwebs on
account of Jax’s hectic schedule—Josh curled his fingers around his Nerds Like It at the Right Angle mug. Although the coffee, heavily sweetened, would by now be lukewarm, he took a swig.
He barely noticed the taste. Yes. If he moved the businessman to a four o’clock, then Jax would have all morning to grant the two wishes in Boston and Salem and could pout at the photo shoot in the early afternoon. That was, if he wasn’t sniffing around Charlie Donahue.
He’d never seen a woman turn Jax down before, and apparently that was all it took to hook the guy’s interest. He’d been obsessed the past few days about scarves and books—and he’d framed possibly the most humiliating article you could publish about a guy’s junk.
Josh’s lips quirked.
He didn’t mind her. The one time he’d met her she’d been pricklier than a blackberry hedge, but he never judged on first meetings. If he had, he might never have come to work for Jax.
It was the bald truth that the Genie was . . . sure of his appeal. Narcissus’s vainer elder brother was how Charlie Donahue had phrased it. With a stress on the elder.
But Jax had never met a goal he hadn’t scored, never met an obstacle he couldn’t jump, never met a woman he couldn’t seduce. Of course that was gonna give a guy the idea that he was irresistible.
Beyond that, Jax was decent, hardworking, loyal, and a generous boss. He also had a sense of humor, which Josh counted as a good thing considering his disposition to drop things, fall over, spill liquids, or, on one memorable occasion, slice ties in half. Not a lot of bosses would overlook that, let alone make sure he had five weeks off a year, a bonus every quarter, and nights off unless there was a rare need for him.
Truly, he was blessed. His ma hadn’t stopped crying since the day he’d told her he was working for Jax Michaels—and neither had his sisters. Every so often they’d show up in the tightest, lowest-cut things a woman could wear before being arrested for public indecency, and Josh would have to send them home before Jax caught wind of it. His boss probably wouldn’t mind, but he did. It was embarrassing.
Letting out a breath, Josh double-checked the schedule and nodded. Shipshape and ready to forward to Jax. He also needed to let the businessman’s assistant know the time of the meeting had been moved. He made a note on his organizer and picked up his coffee mug.
Her Wish--A Playboy Genie Romance Page 7
