Her Wish--A Playboy Genie Romance

by Sophie H. Morgan

“The only place you should be going is the hospital.” Obviously striving for nonchalance, the quaver in her voice gave her away. “I don’t even know if I dressed your wound properly—not like I have a lot of experience.”

  “Hey, you owe me,” he pressed. He winked. “I got shot for you. I want to take you somewhere.”

  She eyed him with obvious suspicion. “I don’t trust that grin.”

  “Trust this one?” He flashed a seductive, climb-on-top-of-me-now-woman smile.

  “Absolutely not. Let go.” She pulled her hand again.

  “Charlie. Please.”

  She sighed, long, loud, and dramatic. Hot color flushed her cheeks, bleeding into the fast bruise that bloomed purple on her cheekbone. “Fine. I suppose I can clear a space in my social calendar.”

  He grinned. “Cute.”

  She slid him a look. “You going to tell me where we’re going?”

  “Just dress in one of your sexy sweaters and pants. That’ll be fine.”

  “Sexy?” Her mouth became a wide oval. “What’ve you been smoking?”

  “I’ll swing by ’round five, so close the shop early.”

  She arched an eyebrow, at last looking like the old Charlie. “We finally have customers coming in and buying so I’ll be here at six. Take it or leave it.”

  “Bossy. I like it. Six it is.” Before she could move away, he brushed a light kiss over her parted lips. A tease to both of them, something he absolutely should not be doing. Blame it on the blood loss.

  Lightning snapped through his blood, but he pulled back before he lost himself.

  She’d gone bug-eyed with astonishment.

  Perfect. With this woman, keeping her on her toes was vital to his game plan. And he didn’t mean the one where he got her to wish.

  Jax’s lips curved. “See you at six, gorgeous.”

  As soon as he flashed into his own apartment he healed his wound.

  * * *

  Jax’s smile was slow and smug. “You’re wearing my scarf.”

  Charlie stepped out of her apartment and shut the door behind her. Against her will, she stroked the soft nap of the cashmere. She must have wound the stupid thing around her neck, then unwound it, then rewound it again about a dozen times. After her confession—blame it on adrenaline letdown—she’d been unsure where she stood with Jax.

  He had kissed her. Briefly and only a whisper of a kiss, but the shock of it had zapped her down to her toes. Oh, she knew they’d exchanged flirty banter and he’d stared at her with desire haunting those gorgeous blue eyes of his plenty, but there was the wish between them still. That if nothing else had come out of the other night, even as he insisted he’d never lied with his touches, his teasing looks.

  That kiss and her confession had changed things. And there was the minor matter of him taking a bullet for her. That tended to marshmallow a girl up quicker than you could say “s’mores.”

  She ignored his compliment and stared at his waist. “How’s the wound? Is it healing?”

  Jax caught her hand as she reached for it. “It’s fine.”

  “You know, Jax, I won’t think less of you if you admit it hurts.” His thumb was brushing sexy little designs on the back of her hand. How was she supposed to think when he was doing that?

  “Good to know.” He linked their fingers and tugged. “Come on—we’d better get going.”

  “Where are we going?”

  He grinned at her over his shoulder as he led her down the hall. “It’s a secret.”

  She made a face, then noticed where he was leading her. “Ah, Jax? That elevator’s been out of order since I moved in. I really don’t think—” She broke off as the lift dinged and the doors slid open in welcome.

  Her jaw dropped. “How on earth . . . ?”

  Jax tweaked her nose. “Let’s just say it’s good to date a Genie.”

  Any moisture in her mouth dried up like a puddle on a fiery summer’s day. “Date?” She allowed him to pull her into the enclosed space.

  His eyes flashed hot gold. He pressed a button without looking. “You got a problem with that?”

  Charlie lowered her gaze to their joined hands. “You confuse me.”

  “Good.” The lift shuddered to a halt and the doors glided open. “Come on.”

  It was as though she was on a perpetually spinning disk. She couldn’t see the floor anymore, or anything around her. The only solid thing in her sight was Jax.

  “You know your building’s security is a joke,” he commented as he walked with her outside. The sleet from last week had vanished, leaving an endless wash of gray cloud. Still, it was dry and relatively bright, and a handsome, charming, kind man was holding her hand. She’d had worse days.

  With that in mind, Charlie decided to live for the moment. Who cared what Jax was up to? He’d taken a bullet for her—either he was really committed to his job or he cared for her, at least a little.

  She enjoyed the cool breeze as it wound through her hair. “Security?”

  “I could get in here with a credit card.” He shook his head. “You need better security.”

  “Tell it to the landlord.”

  “Why do you live here if your shop’s on the Upper West Side?”

  “Because my shop’s on the Upper West Side. Rent doesn’t come cheap there, you know. Besides, this area’s not so bad.”

  “You got assaulted a block away.”

  A shiver tickled her spine. “Well, it wasn’t that bad before the lottery win.”

  He squeezed her hand as he led her to the edge of the sidewalk. “Maybe you should move.”

  “To where? Trust me; nowhere that I can afford is going to be safer than here.”

  “I could loan you money.”

  “Easy, charm boy. I’m fine here.”

  His lips pressed together like he was going to argue, but he let it go with a sigh. “At last let me secure the building. You don’t know if those men will try again.”

  “Gee, thanks for that nightmare waiting to happen.”

  “Well?”

  She lifted a hand in concession. “Fine. But I’m paying.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  Her eyes narrowed, but she didn’t press. For now. Instead she looked around. “Any reason we’re standing at the curb?”

  Jax grinned, a wicked slant. “I’m waiting for you to hop on.”

  “Hop on what?”

  When he waited, her eyes flickered. “If you think I’m going to ‘hop on’ you just because you called it a date, forget it.” She tried to yank her hand away from his. “I’ve got better things to do than trade innuendos.”

  His laugh was whiskey smooth as he held fast to her hand. “Charlie, you surprise me. I never knew you had such a dirty mind.” He gestured to the motorcycle parked just down from where they stood.

  Charlie blinked and instantly burned twenty different shades of red. “Oh.”

  “But if you want to ‘hop on,’ please, feel free.”

  She sent him a sour look. “Cute.”

  He smiled and plucked the bike helmet from the back seat. “For you.”

  “Wow, nobody’s ever got me a helmet before.”

  “And I even stenciled a pink star on the back just for you.”

  Charlie fluttered a hand in front of her face. “You sure know how to treat a girl, Jax Michaels.”

  His grin was delighted. “Charlie Donahue, are you flirting with me?”

  She slipped the helmet over her head. “Get on the bike, Michaels.”

  His chuckle was muted as he straddled the machine.

  Her thighs clenched at the image he presented. With his sapphire-blue shirt unbuttoned partly, a battered black leather jacket slung over it, and jeans worn in the right places, he was sex and sin and temptation beckoning her to slide her hands up those powerful thighs and explore what she could “hop on” if she let herself.

  She carefully sat behind him, relieved she’d worn pants. She’d never been on a motorcycle before, but truth be told,
she’d always longed to try it. Safety was severely overrated.

  Charlie linked her hands around his waist, scooching forward to nestle her front to his back. Then memory blasted her and she jerked back, her arms sliding free.

  “What’s the matter?” His voice was clear over the engine’s growl as he gunned it.

  “I don’t want to hurt you,” she shouted. “I’ll squeeze your wound.”

  He felt for her hands, drawing them back around him. “Trust me; I’ll let you know when it hurts.”

  With that, he took off and she grabbed hold before she knew what she was doing.

  The wind slashed at her as they roared into the dusk, the scents and noises of the city blending into one and rushing past her. He was solid and warm, his familiar apple scent teasing her nose. She squeezed her thighs around his. Her eyelids fell a little as the throbbing of the engine loosened something inside.

  Her fingers brushed his shirt, completely of their own volition, as she imagined what he’d do if she unbuttoned his shirt and slid her hand inside. Would he have hair on his chest or would he be smooth?

  Liquid heat pooled as she imagined her hands reversing direction and gliding to the impressive bulge between his thighs.

  Okay, so she’d looked. Sue her, she’d been a single, celibate woman for two years now. And she’d noticed enough to know there was enough there to feast on.

  When he stopped on the Upper West Side twenty minutes later, she was totally, embarrassingly, inevitably aroused.

  He cut the engine. “We’re here.”

  “Okay.” Her voice was husky, broken from her effort to hold back from lunging at him.

  He got off the motorcycle, turning with an easy smile. “Did you enjoy it?”

  Oh, God, yes.

  “It was . . . fast.” Charlie clenched her thighs as she slid off. Her knees were weak and she stumbled. Jax caught her against him, strong arms around her hips.

  “Whoa.” His teeth flashed. “You need to get your cycle legs. Happens to us all the first time.”

  “How’d you know it was my first time?”

  “I probably have bruises on my hips from the first mile.” He lifted the helmet off her head and chucked it on the seat. He combed his fingers through her hair, as easily intimate with her as she wasn’t with him. Every touch was akin to pain, her skin sensitized from so much close contact.

  When she didn’t return his smile, his dropped. “Are you sure you liked it—I didn’t scare you, did I?”

  “No.”

  “Then why . . . ?” His fingers tightened on her hips as he cut off. The heat of them seared through the thin fabric of her pants.

  “Charlie?”

  His voice made her quiver.

  As if he felt it, his eyes darkened to a shimmering navy. The gold in his eyes heated as he drew her between his legs. “You have the worst timing,” he groaned.

  “What do you mean?” she managed as he pressed her closer.

  His grin was crooked. “Gorgeous, I know when a woman’s turned on. The motorcycle got you hot, didn’t it?”

  Charlie flushed and pushed away. Get control, Donahue.

  “So what if it did?” she retorted. “It’s a cliché for a reason.”

  To his credit, he didn’t laugh. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, watching her with predator eyes. “Worst timing,” he repeated.

  A sigh left him. When he looked back, the heat was banked. “Come on.”

  Charlie ignored the desire tearing apart her insides and hurried to catch him as he walked toward the pretty block of apartments. “Where are we going? You never said.”

  “To see a friend.”

  “Mystery.”

  “Man of, gorgeous.” His smile was less magnificent than usual as he held the door open. Warm air rushed to embrace them.

  A curved reception sat to the left, a spiffily dressed guard reading a newspaper directly behind. The pages rustled as he put them down. “Mr. Michaels.”

  “Hey, Stan. How’re those Yankees?”

  “Doing good, thanks, Mr. Michaels. You here to see Mrs. Harrow?”

  “Yeah. It’s a surprise, so if you don’t mind . . . ?”

  The guard shrugged, reclaiming his leather chair. “I don’t mind, Mr. Michaels. She’s always happy to see you.”

  Charlie’s brow knitted as she walked in silence toward the row of elevators at the far end of the grandly decorated foyer. Plants dotted the area, along with a water feature carved into the wall. Piped-in classical music lilted in the background as Jax pushed the button to summon the elevator.

  She waited until they were inside. “Jax?”

  “Yeah.”

  “We’re not here to see an old girlfriend, are we?”

  He chuckled. “No.”

  “Good.”

  “Would you be jealous?” His eyes slid her way.

  She stared at their wavy reflection in the brass doors. “I’d be pissed.”

  “Good to know.” His mouth twitched.

  He settled back against the wall as the numbers climbed, seemingly content to let the mystery lie. Charlie, on the other hand, positively itched with the need to know.

  She broke down around the twentieth floor. “Oh, come on,” she pleaded. “What is it? Secret club? Pop-up restaurant? Selling me into white slavery?”

  “It’s killing you, isn’t it?”

  Her eyes slitted. “You’re enjoying this too much.”

  “Relax. All will be revealed.”

  When the doors slid open, Jax took her hand in his and led her out, heading directly for the final apartment on the floor. He knocked on the wooden door.

  It swung open after a thirty-second delay. An older woman, about fifty, stood framed in the doorway. She was dressed in lime-green pants with an orange floating top, a bizarre combination on anyone, let alone someone who lived at such a fancy address.

  Her features were refined, with only a few wrinkles showing her age. Interested green eyes the shade of jade widened before narrowing a second later. “Jackson Michaels, you utter reprobate. You’d better have brought my motorcycle back in perfect condition or I’m taking it out of your hide.”

  9.

  As Charlie blinked, Jax rolled out a chuckle. “Not even a dent,” he assured the woman.

  “Yeah, well, you’ve got those magic powers.” She paused. “What are you waiting for, boy? Get over here.”

  She let out a trill of laughter as Jax caught her up in a python-like squeeze. “Let me down, you idiot, before my bones crack. I’m not exactly twenty anymore.”

  “Because you’re a crypt keeper now.”

  It was like Charlie was watching a show rather than being an active participant. She knocked her feet together, one hand pushing through her hair awkwardly.

  She caught the eye of the woman as Jax lowered her to the ground. “Hello.”

  “Hello, hon.” She peered at Charlie’s face. “Good lord—did you run into a doorknob?”

  Charlie’s brow creased before her hand flew to the bruise she’d inexpertly tried to cover with makeup. “Oh. No. It’s, ah, a long story.”

  “Looking forward to hearing it, Charlotte.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “I read the papers same as everybody else, especially when there’s something about my Jackson here.”

  Jackson?

  Charlie looked in silent question at Jax.

  His grin oozed amusement as he slid a hand to Charlie’s hip. “You going to let us in, Mabel?”

  The woman’s—Mabel’s—hands fluttered and she stepped backward. “I don’t know where my head is these days. Come in, come in.”

  Charlie tugged Jax back as he went to follow. “Who is that? Is that your—?”

  “No,” he interrupted, a brief shadow darkening his eyes like cloud over a summer sky. “No, it’s not my mom.”

  She hadn’t thought so, unless Mabel had had him very young. “Then, who?”

  He brushed a finger down her nose. “Nosy. You
’ll find out in a minute.”

  The apartment was huge by New York standards. A long corridor led from the front door, several rooms branching off, including a large, fully outfitted kitchen and a charming library decorated with Queen Anne furniture. In the middle of the hall, white lilies bloomed out of a crystal vase on a walnut end table with legs shaped like Ss.

  She turned the corner into an impressive living room. A fire crackled in a brick wall at one end, a mint-green couch opposite that looked soft enough to sink into. A wingback chair in the same material sat at a right angle to it. A walnut armoire with its door open to show the TV inside was in the corner, next to the row of wide windows that looked out on a gorgeous view. Tasteful artwork decorated the white walls, and as she wandered in farther, she saw a golden cocker spaniel snoozing in its own plush version of the mint couch.

  It opened one eye and its tail began thumping. Letting out a joyous bark, it scrambled to its feet and dashed across the floorboards, launching at Jax.

  “Whoa.” He laughed as he caught the dog against his knees. He stroked its ears. “Still in training, I guess.”

  “Merlin isn’t what you’d call the quickest on the uptake.” Mabel stood to the side with her hands folded, watching the pair with a fond eye. Love shone even as she pretended to scold Jax for letting the dog scrabble at his legs. It was clear there was some kind of relationship between them. If she wasn’t his mom, maybe an aunt?

  Jax glanced at Charlie, lit up like a Christmas tree. She smiled back, unable to help herself. This was the most relaxed she’d ever seen the groomed Genie. It was a window into what he was truly like when he let his guard down.

  Pure catnip. That’s what it was. She wanted to roll around with him on the floor, nudging her face against him.

  She wet her lips as Jax pushed down on Merlin’s butt.

  “Sit. Good boy.” His dimple flashed. “Charlie, you wanna see a trick?”

  “Sure.”

  “Hey, Merlin? Make a wish.”

  As Charlie watched, the dog brought its paws together in a begging pose.

  The laugh trickled from her unbidden. “Cute.”

  Jax grinned. “Good boy.” He flicked his hand and a treat dropped from thin air. Merlin’s teeth closed around it.

  “Can I offer you some tea, Charlotte? Brandy?”