by Myla Jackson
“Perfect.” J.C.’s lips curled in a sultry smile. “Me too.” She elbowed past Amira and headed for the door. “I’ll be back in a few,” she called out over her shoulder.
What the heck? Amira found herself biting her tongue and wishing she hadn’t given J.C. the go-ahead to purse the elusive Mitch West. He’d come on to Amira. Her body still wanted him, even if her mind told her he was no good for her. The thought of J.C. getting what he’d offered Amira a moment ago made her nerves bounce like pinballs inside her skin. After a full five seconds of indecision, she shoved all logical thoughts aside and marched for the door, ready to tell Mitch a thing or two about playing with women’s hearts. She might even tell her friend J.C. off for not reading in to the invitation to pursue the womanizer. They were best friends for Pete’s sake, couldn’t she tell when Amira was being sarcastic?
Claws unsheathed and ready to pounce, Amira stormed out of the club and onto the sidewalk.
Chapter Five
The brilliant light flashed and Harry braced himself for whatever landing the wish would give him. Although he held tight to Edie’s hand, he felt it slip from his grasp. He tried to reach out, but his arm wouldn’t move. He couldn’t see, he could only feel a sizzling burn like an electric current traveling through his body.
Then he was falling to the ground in the dark. Someone rolled into him with a soft grunt. By the feel of the soft curves, he knew it was Edie.
She slipped her hand back into his and remained low to the ground.
Harry’s eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness and he could make out the shapes of large crates and pallets. The writing on the sides of the crates was all in Arabic.
Edie leaned close and whispered, “Where are we?”
“I’m not sure. But I’d guess somewhere in the Middle East.”
“The sarcophagus has to be somewhere nearby. Did you bring a flashlight?”
“No, did you?”
“As a matter of fact, I have one stashed in my purse.” She pulled the bag from her shoulder and fished around inside until she unearthed what looked like a pen. She clicked the end and bright light shot a tiny beam into the darkness.
“Great, if we were looking for a needle in a haystack, you’d have the right idea.”
“All right, smarty, do you have anything better?” she asked.
“No, that’ll have to do.”
“Then let’s find that sarcophagus and get it to the Zagros Mountains.”
“Yeah, this should be easy. Stealing a sarcophagus, with a dead princess in it will be a piece of cake.”
“We’ll need a truck,” Harry said, ignoring Edie’s sarcasm. A loud hum preceded the flickering of fluorescent overhead lights blinking above them. “We may have more pressing needs at the moment.”
They were inside a warehouse stacked high with crates and boxes. Where, Harry didn’t have a clue.
Voices carried to them through the aisles. The voices were growing louder along with the pounding of determined footsteps.
“Hide!” Harry grabbed Edie’s hand and dragged her down an aisle between the stacks of crates. When he came to a single stack of wooden boxes, he pulled on the lid of one box. Screws held the lid in place. He moved down the row, tugging at each lid until he found a loose one.
The voices sounded much closer and if he wasn’t mistaken, the metal clicking sound was that of someone slapping a clip into an automatic weapon. Harry’s heart leaped against his chest. He had to hide Edie. He’d never forgive himself if something terrible happened to the feisty redhead. “In here.” He lifted the lid and shoved her over the edge of the box before he climbed in behind her.
He sank into a sea of airy fabric before he hit something hard halfway to the bottom of the crate, like slamming into a stone wall.
“Uh, Harry?” Edie whispered.
He lifted the lid just a little, enough to peer out into the warehouse. Two men appeared at the end of the aisle, headed their way.
“I think we’ve found—”
“Shh!” Harry let the lid down slowly. “They’re coming this way.”
“Yeah, I bet they’re coming right here.”
Though he didn’t want to make a sound, his gut tightened and he asked, “Why?”
“We’ve found the princess.”
* * * * *
More angry than he’d been in…well, ever, Mitch grabbed a cab and gave the driver Amira’s address. If she wasn’t willing to help him get that bottle, he’d just have to get it himself.
Had he really thought he could seduce her into giving him the bottle? A woman who used men and then had her bodyguards throw them out? Hell no. He was just lucky Amira’s bodyguards weren’t in the mood to follow through on their original threat to break both his knees the next time they found him sniffing around Amira.
To hell with her and her daddy’s thugs. He’d get that damn bottle and get the hell out of her life.
Purpose stiffening his spine, he strode off in the direction of Amira’s apartment, his feet gobbling the distance, one angry step at a time.
Then a thought occurred to slow his pace. Even if he got the bottle, he’d be hard-pressed to get it to the Zagros Mountains without Amira to wish it so.
Fuck! He was screwed. He’d have to go back and convince Amira to give him the bottle and wish them to the tomb of Princess Vashti.
He hated dealing with difficult women. And despite the soft curves of her luscious body, Amira was perhaps the most difficult woman he’d ever had the pleasure of screwing.
* * * * *
When Amira emerged from the nightclub, her friend J.C. stood with her fists on her hips staring around. “Where the heck did he go?”
Relieved to find J.C. alone and at the same time disappointed Mitch didn’t try a little harder to fight off the bodyguards to get to her, Amira admitted defeat. Going back into the club wasn’t an option. Her head pounded to the beat of the bass drum, and not in a good way. All she wanted was to go home and crawl into bed.
With Mitch. Which was no longer in the cards since she’d had him thrown out, and the jerk had left accordingly.
Okay, well at least she could crawl into bed and hug a pillow, maybe get out the old faithful vibrator and perform a little magic of her own. The thought of getting herself off only made her more depressed over the outcome of the evening. She could be having wild and crazy monkey sex with Mitch if she’d only loosen up and accept Mitch for what he was, a bachelor with no intentions of changing his status in the near future. What was wrong with having sex with someone you knew wouldn’t stick around? As long as you went into the bedroom with your eyes wide open and with no illusions, delusions or otherwise of anything more to come of it.
Her temples throbbing, Amira signaled to her bodyguards to get the car. “J.C., it’s been fun, but I have a headache. Do you mind that I’m bugging out?”
J.C.’s shoulders sagged. “Nah. I didn’t see much of interest inside. Only the hottie you threw out and he’s gone. I’m headed home as well. Maybe next time?”
Amira hugged her friend and stepped into the waiting limousine, sliding across the backseat. She pressed the button to close the divider between herself and the two men in the front seat and leaned back against the plush leather seat, completely disgusted with her roller coaster emotions of the day. Why did Mitch have that effect on her? No other man made her as horny and crazy at the same time.
“Thinking of me?” The deep male voice shattered her thoughts and brought her upright. He sat in the shadows on the seat facing her, a grin spreading across his face.
“Mitch!” She dropped her voice to a whisper to keep the bodyguards from overhearing her. “What the hell are you doing in here?”
“I need something from you.” He moved across the limo and slid into the seat beside her.
Her heart pounded against her ribs, her breath coming in short, shallow puffs. Amira wanted something from Mitch as well. Right here. Right now. She leaned toward him, ready for anything he wanted to
do with her. Her hand found his thigh and moved along its muscular length toward her goal.
His fingers brushed the curve of her cheek, sliding down her neck to skim across her collar bone. “I need that bottle.”
Amira froze, her hand poised to close around the ridge beneath his trousers. “You need what?”
“The bottle. I have to return it to the tomb of Princess Vashti by tomorrow.” When Mitch leaned in to claim her lips, Amira halted him with a hand pressed to his chest.
“All the dancing and coming on to me was nothing more than a ploy to get that bottle from me?” Amira’s voice rose with each word, her rage making her face burn.
“No, of course not. I want you too, but I’m on a bit of a deadline, here.” He leaned back, a sigh escaping his lips. “Did I tell you that you’re hot tonight?”
“Mitch West, I wish—”
His eyes widened and he lunged for her. “Don’t do it. Don’t make a wish when you’re mad.”
She flung herself across the seats to the other side of the limo and finished, “I wish you’d just disappear!”
Mitch West, womanizer and sexier than an Olympic god, disappeared before her eyes. Completely disappeared. The door did not open. He did not fall out. Thunder boomed, lightning flashed and Mitch disappeared.
“Holy crap!” She leaned forward. “What have I done?”
“I don’t know. What have you done?” Mitch stared across at her, frowning. “Why are you looking at me that way?”
“Mitch?” She held out her hands and waved them in front of her. “Is that you? Are you still here?”
“Of course I’m here. I’m right in front of you.”
She moved closer. “Where? I can’t see you.”
“Interesting.” His voice caressed her like a coating of warm chocolate syrup. Rich, dark and melt-in-your-mouth sexy as hell.
A shiver of anticipation pebbled her skin with goose bumps. “Where are you?” She held out her hands. “Why can’t I see you?”
“Sweetheart, apparently your wish is my command.” A warm breath whispered against the skin of her naked shoulder.
“How can this be? Magic isn’t real, it’s all smoke and mirrors.” She blinked her eyes several times, thinking maybe her mind was playing tricks on her. She had been overexcited earlier and maybe she’d fallen asleep and didn’t even realize it.
“You’re not imagining this, Amira.” A large warm finger scraped along her jaw and up to tuck a lock of her hair behind her ear. “You aren’t dreaming.” Full, soft lips caressed her high cheekbones.
“I must be dreaming.” She opened her eyes wider and stared around the interior of the limo. “What else would explain it?“
“I told you it would sound crazy, but you can’t deny what you just saw.”
“You mean what I don’t see.”
“The fact that I was here a moment ago, and now you can’t see me at all.” He paused, his hand sliding down the long column of her throat. “But you can feel me, can’t you?”
She wanted to say no, but his hand skimmed the top of her low-cut strapless dress, tracing the mounds of her breasts. “Yes.” Amira’s head dropped back against the seat, every nerve in her body alight at his caress.
“Yes, you can feel me, or yes, you want me to continue?” His hand slipped lower, pressing the top of her dress downward until one puckered nipple peeked out.
“Yes.” When he rolled the turgid peak on his tongue, the air whooshed out of Amira’s lungs in a rush. “Yes!”
Hadn’t she been moaning about letting him get away earlier? Hadn’t she told herself, sex with Mitch was preferable to celibacy? “Yes!” she cried out.
The whoosh of the dividing window made Amira clap a hand to her exposed breast.
With the window six inches down, the driver glanced in the rearview mirror. “Are you all right, Miss Nassiri?”
If he noticed her flushed cheeks and the state of undress she was trying desperately to hide, he didn’t say a word, keeping his attention on the New York City streets.
“I’m fine, thank you.” Amira waited until the black panel slid back in place, before she said, “Don’t touch me like that again.”
“You mean like this?” Hands grasped her shoulders and pulled her against a solid wall of muscles she could feel if not see.
She closed her eyes and inhaled the musky, spicy scent of Mitch, her hands rose to push him away. When her fingers touched his chest, they climbed up to lace around his neck, drawing him downward until his lips brushed hers.
Hunger built like a wave, surging through Amira. Hunger for his lips, his hands, his body against hers. She crushed her lips to his, her tongue delving between his teeth, stroking him, remembering the pleasure he’d given her with his tongue. For a moment she was lost in her body’s memory, coursing sensations stirring low in her belly. Along with the feeling of raw need came the memory of disappointment, hurt and anguish when he didn’t contact her afterward.
Anger fueled her hunger. How dare he come back into her life after making love to her and then walking away? Was toying with a woman’s emotions nothing more than a game for him?
Well, two could play by those rules.
He wanted something she had.
She wanted something he had. Releasing his mouth, she pressed kisses to his stubbled jawline.
He took up the dance and ran hands down her arms, his thumbs skimming over her breasts.
Her breath caught in her throat. Man, he had a way with his hands, his tongue, his entire body. Could Amira do it with a man she couldn’t even see? Could she lead him on, take what she wanted, for as long as she wanted, and then think about letting him have what he wanted? That damned bottle.
The bottle that supposedly gave her the power over him. The power to wish for anything her heart desired. Anything her heart desired, huh…?
A smile curled the corners of her mouth. This whole situation was nuts.
“Did I bring that smile to your lips?” He tongued her exposed nipple, drawing down on her top to expose the other.
“Yes, in fact, you did.” The smile broadened as she thought of all the wicked things she could wish from him. “You say that awakening you from the bottle gave me power to wish for anything I wanted?”
His mouth paused in its pursuit of her other nipple.
“Yes.” He stretched the one word out, his voice hesitant. Her question had him wondering. If she could see him, she knew he’d be looking up at her.
Good. Let him wonder and worry a little about what she’d do. Her hands slid along strong biceps and she pressed her pelvis into his cock suggestively. “I wish you’d make love to me.”
“Here? In the back of the limo?” His hands slid down to her waist and tightened.
“Yes, here. In the back of the limo. Now.” When she’d wanted to say her words like a command, they came out in a breathy whisper. So much for wielding her power. He was the one with all the power over her body’s reactions, and the really aggravating part was that he probably knew it.
Thunder rumbled and the car shook.
Mitch’s lips reclaimed her right breast in a long, deliberate tug. “You didn’t have to wish for that. I was getting there anyway.”
He eased her down, until she lay sprawled across the seat, the cool texture of smooth leather doing nothing to chill the passion rising within.
Amira, her breathing suddenly erratic, gave a brief thought to how close they were to her apartment. By the continuous stop-and-go of the vehicle, they were caught in the gridlock that was New York City on a Friday night. Hopefully, they wouldn’t arrive too soon. She’d have to ask the driver to circle the block…a hundred times. No, hell no, he’d have to circle all of Manhattan until daylight! She wanted more time with Mitch.
The heaviness of his weight eased off her body, leaving her feeling cold and alone. For all of two very long seconds. Then a hand caressed her knee and slid up the sensitized skin along the inside of her leg.
Her thighs fell
open, one foot dropping over the edge of the seat. Amira wanted him to take her now. The slow steady progression up her leg had her tied in knots of anticipation, her pussy creaming with every touch of his fingers and lips. How would she hold herself together until he reached THE spot?
As he inched his way upward, he slid the hem of her dress over her thighs, the silky material gliding effortlessly, tickling her skin. He nipped at the tender skin of her inner thigh, then licked the spot and let his tongue travel the rest of the way to the edge of her panties, flicking and laving a path of delight.
When he tugged at the thong she wore, she was more than ready to shed the little scrap of material and free her to his form of delicate torture. His fingers dragged the panties down over her thighs in a slow, sexy slide, his fingers tracing a path all the way to her ankles until the panties fell to the floor.
Amira moaned. At last, she was fully open to him. But she couldn’t see his expression. Was he looking at her? Did he like what he saw? She wished he’d say something, anything.
Heavy breathing and the warmth of his body hovering over her confirmed he was still there.
The rustle of fabric made her heart skip a beat. Was he taking off his clothing? If he were visible, she’d get to see all that fabulous skin, those rippling muscles, the sprinkling of hairs across his chest, making a vee down to his waistband.
Amira found herself straining to see what she remembered from the last time she’d made love with Mitch. Finally, she threw her hands in the air. “This is killing me. I wish I could see you.”
Chapter Six
For the second time in the back of the limousine, thunder rumbled and a blinding light flashed in Mitch’s eyes. His body tingled all over. When his vision adjusted following the flash, everything looked the same. Amira was lying with her legs parted, ready for him to take her, her long, dark hair tumbling over her bare shoulders and breasts, her skin flushed pink beneath that smoothly tanned exotic tone of her Middle Eastern heritage. She was so beautiful, it took his breath away. And she wanted him.
He’d been taking off his shirt when she’d made the wish. With a quick jerk, he flung the garment aside. It wasn’t until his chest was bare that he realized he could see himself now. Whew! What a relief! Being invisible had been fun, but he’d hate to make it permanent. How would he work? Who would take him seriously? Who wouldn’t think they were out of their mind if his disembodied voice spoke to them? Yet, teasing Amira into a lather of excitement had been worth the short time he’d been unable to see himself.
