Her Wish--A Playboy Genie Romance Page 3

  The Genie ran his eyes down Kate, then moved them to Charlie. His lips curved in a false smile. “Ah,” he said, tucking his hands into the back pockets of his jeans. “You’re Charlotte Donahue.”

  “Bingo.”

  “And you’re . . .” He shifted toward Kate.

  Who stared at him helplessly. “I’m . . .”

  Charlie fought to keep control of an eye roll. “That’s Kate. She works with me.”

  “I’m Kate.” Kate raised a hand, fingers spread, to wave. Her cheeks tinted scarlet.

  “Well, that’s even better.” Jax drew Charlie’s attention back to him. When he smiled, it was slow, a lazy curl of lips that teased the warmth in his eyes into pure wickedness. A dimple winked from his left cheek. “Now I have two beautiful ladies to entertain me until my assistant gets here.”

  Charlie’s smile was bland. “Aren’t you lucky?”

  Something moved behind his eyes. “Right now,” he soldiered on, “I feel like the luckiest man on this fair planet.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  She let her eyes travel down the impressive package that personified WFY’s “face you can trust.” His dark blond hair, likened to liquid sunshine by more than one female fan, curled haphazardly around his face, tousled as though from a lover’s hand. The ends were dripping onto his broad shoulders, caught in the sleet that had started early morning and showed no signs of stopping. He had a strong jaw with the smallest amount of stubble gracing its tanned surface, although he was usually pictured clean-shaven.

  His face was an intriguing mix of planes and angles, cheekbones that wouldn’t have been out of place on a male model, and a nose that was too long—depending on who you asked. His grin was slow, a little lazy, and slightly crooked. These small imperfections only made his face seem more rugged and male than a magazine’s steamy centerfold.

  The famous eyes, as clear and blue as the Baltic sea, scanned her face, no doubt waiting for the swoon she was as far from performing as she was from bursting into the final aria from Carmen.

  She stared back.

  Apparently disconcerted, Jax tried another smile. This one said trust me then take me, again with the boyish dimple creasing his cheek. He held a hand out toward her and a deep crimson rose appeared in his palm. Raising the rose to his nose, Jax gazed into her eyes.

  His shoes ate the distance between them until only the counter remained as a barrier. This close, Charlie was surrounded with the scent of crisp apples and musk. It lulled her, images of silk sheets tangled on a huge king-sized bed flickering.

  Tricky Genie.

  Jax extended the rose, twirled it in a theatrical flourish. “For you.”

  Charlie stared at it as she would a free brownie—with deep suspicion. Seeing no alternative without being childish, but very reluctant, she reached for the rose. As she clasped the stem, his hand covered hers.

  She stifled the instantaneous hitch in her breath. He radiated heat, and again that seductive apple scent curled around her. Rough calluses stroked her skin.

  As though sensing weakness, Jax leaned forward. The golden flecks in his eyes that marked him as a Genie danced. Always she’d seen the flecks with suspicion. Now she had to admit the fascination of those mesmerizing specks, the absolute allure of this man.

  His mouth curved. “Perfection for perfection,” he whispered.

  Aaaand like that, the spell was broken.

  Charlie edged away from him, the rose tugged from his grasp. She looked over his shoulder at Kate.

  “Here, Kate.” She walked from around the counter to where her muddled friend was standing. She thrust the bloom to her. “You might as well have this.”

  Kate blinked. “But Charlie . . .”

  “We both know you’re a lot closer to perfection than I am.”

  Charlie twisted to face the Genie. He was frowning, but the grimace cleared from his face as soon as he saw her looking.

  She crossed her arms under her breasts. “In fact, he can give you the wish, too.” She lowered her chin. “Because I don’t want it.”

  The bell above the door jangled.

  Charlie’s gaze skimmed toward the entrance, the challenging stare broken. A skinny young man stood in the doorway, face shielded by his vibrant green anorak’s hood. As she watched, he pushed it back, allowing blond-cum-ginger hair to spike from his head.

  “Bleh,” he said in a surprisingly rich voice, though disgust coated the words like slime. “I got hit by puddle water. Do you know how many toxins thrive in puddles?”

  “No, and I don’t want to.” Jax shifted, drawing her attention to him. He caught her gaze. “This is my assistant, Josh Lovett.”

  “Hi.” The assistant—Josh—unzipped his anorak, wrinkling his nose as slush melted from the material. He flicked his hand. Drops of sleet scattered, peppering the surrounding books like buckshot.

  Charlie winced. There went a week’s profits.

  “Josh.” Jax’s voice carried a tired warning. “Remember, we’re in a bookshop?”

  “Yeah?” Josh glanced around at the books, eyes alight with curiosity. He turned stricken when he realized what he’d done. “Oh, Lord. Oh, Ms. Donahue, I’m so sorry. Let me pay.” He reached into his wide anorak pocket and extracted a black leather wallet. As his elbow drew back, it knocked into the waiting pile of books Charlie had stacked on the recommended table. They tumbled with multiple thumps.

  Josh turned horrified eyes to her, scarlet blazing in his cheeks. “Oh, Lord. I am so sorry.”

  She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “Don’t worry about it.”

  “Honestly, I’ll pay.” Josh bent to collect the books. His foot suddenly skidded on a small puddle of melted slush, and he collapsed in a heap. His wallet shot out of his hand like a football and knocked into the display of cupcakes near the counter.

  They froze in midfall.

  Charlie blinked at the suspended cupcakes. They hovered as if someone had taken a photo before they floated back to their stand, which had returned to the countertop.

  As Jax gestured, the books Josh had bumped into drifted into the air and arranged themselves into a neat pile awaiting a move. Even the tiny droplets that had sprayed her books were sucked into the ether, as though somebody had held a blow dryer on each one.

  Her jaw firmed. Darned if she’d say thank you.

  “I’m so sorry, Jax.” Josh scrambled to his feet. “You can take it off my wages.”

  Before Jax could speak, Charlie butted in. “He will not, at least not on my behalf.” She glared at Jax, who only raised his eyebrows.

  Josh glanced between the two of them, his satchel hefted back onto his shoulder. “Oh, no,” he said, earnest. “Jax wouldn’t have—”

  “Come, come, Charlotte—Charlie,” Jax interrupted with smooth ease. His smile was devastating this time, a naughty element to its curve. “Let’s play nice.”

  “I’m not playing, Mr. Michaels.”

  “Jax.”

  “Mr. Michaels.”

  “Jax.”

  Charlie huffed in frustration. “What I said stands. I don’t want the wish.”

  Josh laughed from his position by the counter. He shook his head. “That’s a good one.”

  A muscle twitched near her eye. “I’m serious.”

  Kate, who’d had her nose buried in the rose Charlie had handed her, lifted her head. “Oh, no,” she said, keen to be included. Her eyes flirted with Jax. “She’s telling the truth. She doesn’t like wishes.”

  “Then why did she buy a ticket?” Josh placed his satchel onto the counter. He kept a distance of ten inches between himself and the cupcake stand.

  “Oh, she didn’t. I bought one for her.”

  “So she’s the real winner,” Charlie interjected.

  Josh shook his head. “She put your name down on the slip. It doesn’t matter who bought the ticket, only who’s named. Anyway.” He grinned, pushing his glasses up his nose. “It’s a fantastic opportunity.”

  “You
should be grateful to have a friend like Kate,” Jax said. He winked at Kate, whose fiery blush must have drained all the blood from the rest of her body.

  Charlie’s teeth ground together.

  “So, here is the contract.” Josh spoke over what would’ve been Charlie’s retort, sliding a bundle of papers from his satchel. He flipped to the last page where a pink tab marked a place for a signature. “Sign here and your dreams come true.”

  “Uh-uh. I’m not signing anything.”

  Alarm made Josh’s eyebrows draw together. “Ms. Donahue, it’s only procedure. It just says you can’t have more than one wish, and that WFY is not responsible for any result from a wish you make that you don’t like.”

  “Convenient.”

  “Charlie.” Jax waited until she looked at him. He was close enough that she could taste apples. “I can sense you’re a prideful woman. One who longs to make her own way in life. It’s admirable.” He reached for her hand. His fingers caressed her palm. “But don’t let pride deny you such a gift. You like your shop? You could have fifty of them. Any man could be at your feet. You can have anything you desire. You just have to let go.” His face was suddenly a handsbreadth away. His breath whispered over her face. “Reach out and take it.”

  Charlie ignored the sizzle of her skin, the flutters in her belly.

  She held his gaze. “Bull.”

  * * *

  Jax still steamed an hour later as he stormed down the street toward the Starbucks Luka had designated for their meeting. Sleet literally hissed as it came into contact with his skin, steam in the air. His teeth crushed together as he gestured. Immediately an invisible umbrella opened above to shield him from the worst of the weather.

  “Hey, it’s Jax Michaels,” some man off the street yelled. A murmur rose from the other pedestrians huddled under awnings and umbrellas.

  Jax summoned a charming smile, raising his hand in a broad how-you-doing wave.

  “I love you!” a woman screeched, sinking to the wet concrete. Her face twisted in obsessed passion.

  Concealing his distaste, Jax shot her a cheeky grin. As he turned the corner, the smile dropped from his face like it was poisonous. His hands curled into fists at his side, and he kicked at loose chippings from a broken sidewalk slab.

  He was drawing even more looks now, curious ones as he strode down the sidewalk. His long legs ate the ground with the sensual predatory grace that made him so good at his job. One woman smiled with coy appreciation at him as he passed by, and Jax shot her a wink, forcing back the irritation that itched with the same persistence as a rash. His job was to always, always be the model Genie; he couldn’t afford to be on the nine o’clock news punching a wall senselessly. Much as he’d like to.

  His mouth turned down at the corners.

  The bright lights of Starbucks came into view as he rounded the final corner. At one of the sleet-and-rain-splattered metal tables out front sat Luka, head tipped to the sky. Jax was certain that Luka was the only person he knew, mortal or Genie, who could sit outside in the midst of a shower and manage to look comfortable. A sad takeout cup stood on his table, soggy cardboard caving under the pressure.

  As Jax approached, Luka spoke without opening his eyes. “You’re late.”

  Jax cocked an eyebrow and pulled out a soaked seat. With a small grimace, he dropped into it, getting rid of his invisible umbrella. “You want to tell me why we’re sitting outside in the sleet?”

  “Good for the skin,” came Luka’s answer. His midnight hair was plastered against his scalp, the length of it stuck to his neck.

  Jax granted him a sarcastic smile, even though Luka’s eyes remained closed. “Funny.”

  The rain dripped and slithered inside Jax’s clothes, joining the chill that dabbled fingers down his spine. He would’ve kept his shield if Luka wouldn’t have given him that look that spelled pansy ass. If his superior could take this foul weather, then so could he.

  He settled back in his seat, determined to look as comfortable as if he were in some redhead’s arms. He draped his arm across the top of the chair. “You want to hear something even funnier?”

  “It’s not the one about the pea soup again, is it?”

  “No,” Jax snapped, stung. “And that’s a brilliant joke.”

  Luka’s mouth curved in a smile. One lazy hazel eye opened. “So what is it?”

  The rain had actually managed to soak into his boxers. Jax tried to hold back his scowl. “You know how every mortal thinks we’re the greatest thing since cookie dough in a tube?”

  “That is pretty amazing stuff.”

  Jax’s jaw tightened. The problem with his Handler wasn’t his competence but his annoying ability to never take anything seriously. “I went to see the New York winner about an hour ago at her bookshop.”

  “Charlie Donahue.”

  He stopped. “You know that?”

  “I know everything.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Jax arched his eyebrows. “Did you know that she refuses to make her wish?”

  Luka’s eyes slid open fully to reveal the swirling silver flecks of his WFY rank.

  The rain continued to fall, occasional bits of sleet forming to dash across Jax’s face.

  “Interesting” was what Luka finally came out with. “She said she didn’t want a wish?”

  “Oh, no.” Jax shook his head. Rain scattered from his chin. “She said, and this is a direct quote, ‘You can take your wish and shove it up your ass.’”

  Luka’s mouth twitched.

  “You think this is funny?”

  Luka held his fingers an inch apart.

  “Yeah, it’s hilarious.” Jax shot him a look full of disbelief. How could his Handler not care that he’d been dissed and dismissed by a mousy mortal with a tongue to match a viper?

  With a sigh, Luka raised his hands behind his head and squeezed out the excess of water from his hair. The black tee he wore flapped around his arms. “What do you want me to do about it?”

  “Nothing. It’s done. If she’s stupid enough to throw away the goddamned gift that’s been handed to her, then that’s her problem.” Jax drummed his fingers on the table.

  “Except it’s yours, too.”

  “Not anymore. I’ve washed my hands of it.”

  “No, remember—who wins, wishes.”

  “I’ve heard the party line, Luka. I was recruited thirty years ago, remember?”

  Luka cocked his head, smiled. “Such a child.” His eyes laughed as Jax made a noise somewhere between a growl and a snort. He settled back. “WFY does what it says on the tin, Jax. Who wins, wishes. No refunds, exceptions, or substitutions.”

  “Not even if the person in question is a shrew who told me to do something anatomically impossible?”

  Luka affected a look of shock. “You mean she turned down Jax Michaels?”

  “Ha ha. You should have a microphone and a brick wall behind you.”

  “Missed my calling.” Luka tapped his fingers on the table, ignoring the rain that sluiced down his nose. “What reason did she give for not wanting the wish?”

  Jax’s shrug was fueled by bad temper. “She said that she didn’t want to have anything to do with Genies. Something about ‘be careful what you wish for,’ and having to deal with consequences since Genies don’t have souls to care, and a whole other bunch of crap she threw at me, before she threw me out.”

  “She threw you out?”

  Jax’s eyes narrowed. “It’s not funny.”

  “Oh, I disagree,” Luka commented, his voice silken. “I think it’s very, very funny.

  “Don’t you get it?” Jax jabbed a finger at him. “She said no to me. Me.”

  “You,” Luka agreed.

  “I mean, who the hell does she think she is? Xena? I swear, if she’d had a sword, she’d have stabbed me through ‘my black, poisoned, corrupt heart.’ And yes, that’s another direct quote.”

  “So you’ll have to work a bit harder, charm a bit more.”

  “No.
I’m done with her.”

  Luka’s eyes gleamed in the reflection of Starbucks’s lights. “Sorry, Jax, but you’re not.”

  “Luka, she’s apparently blind, deaf, and dumb—how am I supposed to charm someone who’s the human equivalent of an irate squirrel?” Jax made a no way gesture, slicing his hands away from each other. “Uh-uh. I’m calling her bluff.”

  “Jax.” Luka steepled his hands, serious. “I meant what I said—who wins, wishes. The Partners at WFY have a very strict policy.”

  “I’ve never heard of it.”

  “Have you ever had someone say no to a wish?”

  Jax conceded with a dip of his chin.

  Luka rubbed at his eyebrow. “Look, go back to the shop, be your most charming golden-boy self, sweep her off her feet and get the wish. It doesn’t look good for the company—or you—if you can’t get one Plain Jane to wish herself a better face.”

  An uncomfortable feeling unscrewed in Jax’s gut. “She’s not that bad,” he heard himself say.

  Luka spread his hands. “Then it shouldn’t be a problem. At the end of the day, it’s your job. And from past experience, I know you can be damned good at it. What’s the trouble? So what if she’s prickly—”

  “Prickly?” Jax barked a laugh that was lost in the storm around them. “She’s a damned porcupine, wrapped in thorns and covered in barbed wire. I went in, I did my charm routine. And she called me on it.” Rain droplets dribbled down his nose. “There’s this woman who should be grateful I even deign to speak to her, and she brushes me off like a piece of lint.”

  “I wouldn’t speak too loudly,” Luka warned. His eyes slid to the side. “It wouldn’t be good if the press got wind of a rejection—the paparazzi’s everywhere.”

  The corners of Jax’s mouth pulled upward. “Yes,” he murmured, an idea taking shape in his mind. He rubbed his chin with two fingers, absently realizing he needed a shave. “Yes, they are.”

  He looked across at his Handler. “I’ll have it done by tomorrow. No woman’s a match for Jax Michaels.”

  Luka’s eyes gleamed with silver amusement. “Famous last words.”

  “He’s just such an ass.” Charlie shook her head in bemusement as they left the restaurant’s seating area. “That he’d even try the whole you’re-so-beautiful routine with me after putting the moves on you—sheer arrogance. That or stupidity. It could be either one, because let’s face it, the man doesn’t trade on his IQ, does he?”