Three Wishes

by Kristen Ashley

  Then, on that strange announcement, he stomped to the boot to get the rest of the groceries.

  “Daddy has been busy today. Busy, busy, busy,” Natasha told her with delight. “Fazire wanted to call you but I wouldn’t let him because it was a surprise!”

  Nate walked straight to her.

  “Lily,” he greeted.

  She spared him the briefest glance and started to look back at Tash to ask about this “surprise” when Nate leaned into her. She had stopped to talk to Tash but now she reared back to avoid Nate.

  He simply reached in and took all of her carrier bags of which there were five and he spared her a glance, his, again, annoyingly knowing. Then calmly, as if he had carried groceries into their house every day for the past eight years, he turned and walked into the house.

  She glared at his back and decided she found that annoying as well.

  “Come look, come on, come on, come on!” Natasha urged excitedly.

  Tash grabbed her hand and tugged Lily forward. Lily threw a look over her shoulder at Fazire who was carrying the last three bags into the house. His lips were thin and his face was set.

  Fazire, Lily knew, took Nate’s defection personally. He had, he thought, been the one to bring Nate into Lily’s life through her wish. Even though Lily tried to talk him out of it, Fazire felt personally responsible for all that happened to Lily. She knew it weighed on him heavily and he was determined to chastise himself and had even gone so far as to vow early retirement from Genie-hood considering the enormity of his blunder.

  “Mummy, come on!” Tash demanded and Lily allowed herself to be pulled into the house, up the stairs and to her bedroom.

  Then she saw her “surprise”.

  In the doorway to her room, she came to a dead halt. Her eyes widened. Her mouth dropped open. And she stared.

  “You can’t go in because the floors are drying. They’ll be back tomorrow to put in the new furniture. Isn’t it great? It’s just like Changing Rooms, except not done yet.” Tash’s excitement was barely contained, she was practically dancing in glee.

  Lily’s room had been transformed. All of her furniture was gone, not even a trace of it in the hallway. The walls were smooth and had been painted in the palest blue. The woodwork was gleaming with a new coat of white gloss. An enormous ceiling rose had been affixed to the middle where also an intricate elegant light fixture dangled glamorously. The cornices had also been replaced, looking beautiful, classic and clean. The floors had been sanded and re-varnished.

  Lily looked down at her watch. She left that morning at eight. It was now six thirty.

  She could not believe it had all been done in that time. It took her six months just to paint the hall.

  “There were, like, seven men here. I couldn’t believe they could get all of them in your room but they did. They even hoovered and dusted when they left so it would be tidy when you came home,” Tash explained and then breathed in awe, “Isn’t it lush?”

  “It’s lovely,” Lily murmured, now way beyond annoyed. So far beyond annoyed, it wasn’t funny.

  She was ready to do battle.

  “Do me a favour, baby doll, and help Fazire with the groceries.” Tash was so thrilled at what she thought was her father’s grand gesture, she didn’t notice her mother’s glittering blue eyes. “And, ask your father to come up here. I’d like a word with him.”

  “Okay,” Tash agreed readily, blind to Lily’s mounting fury, and raced headlong down the stairs. Her natural ebullience ratcheted up twelve notches to immeasurable at all the good fortune that she thought had befallen them upon the arrival of her father.

  While she waited, Lily paced the landing. Every time she turned back and caught a glimpse of her room, her temper flared even further out of control.

  When she caught a glimpse of Nate’s dark head sedately ascending the staircase, without a word, she broke out of her pacing and alighted the stairs that took them to the next floor. She wasn’t going to confront Nate on the landing, she needed privacy for what she had to say.

  She walked angrily to the living room and stood, hand on the door while Nate silently followed her and entered the room. When he did, she slammed the door loudly and whirled on him.

  “How dare you!” she shouted, letting her rage loose.

  “Lily.” This was all he said. He had crossed his arms on his chest and was watching her closely. She knew he didn’t miss a thing. He never missed a thing.

  Not that she was exactly trying to hide her fury.

  His gorgeous face, she noted, her anger hitting the stratosphere, was carefully controlled. She decided his control annoyed her most of all.

  “Where’s my furniture?” she snapped.

  “Gone,” he said shortly.

  “Bring it back,” she demanded.

  “It’s gone,” he stated implacably as if he had every right to toss out her belongings without a word to her.

  He walked toward her and she, unfortunately, was standing in front of the door she herself had closed. She had no retreat and realised her error immediately.

  Instead of moving back and being pinned by his body and the door, which she knew, in recent experience, he’d do, she stood her ground and he came up to her and stopped.

  He was close to her, very close. So close she could smell his tangy, earthy cologne. So close she could feel the heat from his body. Her belly threatened a gymnastics lesson and she resolutely ignored her reaction to his proximity. Letting herself go once was allowed, even expected. She had been, of course, pining for him for years.

  To do it again would be a catastrophic mistake.

  “I want it back,” she clipped, barely controlling her careening emotions.

  “It’s not coming back. It’s gone. New furniture will be delivered tomorrow.”

  “On a Sunday?” she hissed in disbelief. Hardly anyone did anything on a Sunday in England, except eat a Sunday roast and, perhaps, do a touch of gardening.

  Nate shrugged.

  Of course, the omnipotent Nate McAllister with his seven million pounds could get anyone to do anything he wanted.

  She lost control of her careening emotions and what’s more, she didn’t care.

  “I want you out of my house,” she ordered, her eyes blazing, her body rigid with fury.

  “We’re going to dinner,” Nate stated matter-of-factly as if she’d just stop, deflate, give in and say, “Oh, okay, whatever you wish.”

  At this she lost her mind.

  “We are not going to dinner. You may take Tash to dinner but we are not doing anything,” she yelled.

  “I already told Natasha we’re all going to dinner. She’s looking forward to it.”

  If she wasn’t mistaken, he’d moved in the barest inch. She remained exactly where she is.

  “Well, then, I guess you’re going to learn the painful lesson of telling your daughter she can’t have something she desperately wants because I’m not going to dinner with you.”

  His eyes flashed at her words, reading correctly that Lily had, over the years, been forced to learn the excruciating lesson of disappointing their daughter.

  His hand reached up and she stared in shock at it until it moved out of her eyesight. It then traced her hair at her temple, pushed its heavy weight back and tucked it behind her ear.

  His eyes watched the progress of his hand then they moved to hers. He spoke gently, reacting to what her words had meant but obviously he was still not to be denied.

  “Yes, you are.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  He leaned in again, his hand dropping to her shoulder, this time his movement could not be missed or mistaken.

  “Yes, Lily, you are.”

  It was then, she moved in, going up on her toes to put her face so close to his so that it was barely an inch away.

  “If you think you can stroll into our lives and turn them upside down with your money and power and… whatever, and… and…” She couldn’t find the words. She was too angry to sp
eak.

  “And what?”

  “I don’t know!” she shouted in his face.

  “I’ll not have you sleeping in that room the way it was,” he declared.

  Again, her mouth dropped open at his nerve and sheer arrogance.

  “It isn’t your choice!” she raged.

  His hand moved to cup her jaw.

  “I’ve never seen you this angry.” His voice was soft, contemplative. He was watching her with a warmth in his dark eyes that very nearly, but not quite, stole her breath.

  “We barely knew one another,” she snapped. “You’ve never seen me a lot of things.”

  Then he remarked quietly, “You’re incredibly beautiful when you’re angry.”

  Again, she gawped at him, so stunned at his unexpected compliment, she was unable to react when he stepped forward, forcing her back the step it took to pin her against the door. His warm body came up against hers and his hand tightened at her jaw, his other hand settled on the door beside her head.

  “You’re incredibly beautiful always, but angry, you’re magnificent,” he murmured softly, his eyes had dropped to her mouth. The mood had shifted and she was most definitely not prepared for it.

  “Get away from me,” she breathed, half-frightened at what she would do, half-angry at what he was doing.

  “Come to dinner with me,” he coaxed, his deep voice like velvet.

  “No,” she denied stubbornly, refusing to give into that voice and tried to jerk her head away but in her current position, it was impossible.

  “Come to dinner with me,” he repeated, as if the exchange of words they’d just shared hadn’t happened at all.

  “I… said… no!” She didn’t wait for him to ask again, she rushed on. “You need to step away right now. You may take Natasha to dinner and bring her home. Then your solicitors need to agree with Alistair a schedule for you to see Tash. I don’t want to see you again. I don’t want you in this house. I don’t want –”

  “We’re getting married,” he stated flatly, his voice again smooth and silky and the gymnastics team in her belly started to do their warm up stretches.

  She put her hands on his abdomen and shoved with all her might.

  He didn’t move away, instead, his arm closed around her like a vice, crushing her against his body. His other hand dropped, also coming around her, higher on her back so her breasts were pressed against him. His head was bent so that his eyes looked into hers, his hard, beautiful mouth a breath away.

  And then he spoke and his voice was no longer smooth and silky, nor was it gentle and nor was it coaxing. It was hard, low and full of steel and it surged through her like it was alive and breathing.

  “I’ve lost eight years of you. Eight years. I don’t know what you’ve suffered in those years but you’ve got the rest of our lives to tell me and I have that time to make it up to you,” he stated firmly then went on. “This, Lily, I assure you I’ll do.”

  It took every bit of willpower she had not to let his words penetrate her armour. Her hands had been forced away from his stomach when he pulled her to him and now she clutched the fabric of his shirt at his waist, pushing it back as hard as she could.

  “You’ve made me promises before, Nate,” she reminded him heatedly.

  “I know,” he ground out, his eyes still drilling into hers.

  “You broke those promises.”

  He didn’t hesitate and he didn’t deny it. “I know.”

  She glared, waiting for him to go on, to say something, anything that would make it better.

  He didn’t.

  “We’re over!” she yelled hysterically, she couldn’t take much more.

  “We haven’t even begun,” he promised.

  “I’m not going through it again!” she cried, lost in her panic, lost in her fears. Her anger had flashed and as usual was quickly gone and now she only wished for escape.

  Her life may not have been the heaven it had seemed to be when she’d been with Nate so long ago, but it was a good life, a contented life and she wanted it back.

  “You won’t have to,” Nate barked, shocking her by losing his own temper. He was no longer cool and casual. He was in the throes of his own personal storm. She should have acceded to the force of it for it filled the room, pressed into her like a slab of marble. But she didn’t, she couldn’t, there was too much to lose.

  “I don’t believe you,” she accused.

  “Fine. Don’t believe me. But our daughter has two parents and for the rest of her life she’s going to enjoy both of them. Together. She’s going to enjoy the safety of a loving home, her parents living together, taking care of her. Not shuttled back and forth. Not being forced to adjust to two homes, two lives. You saw her when she found us together. You know she wants it.”

  “You can’t have everything you want, believe me, Nate, I know.” His eyes narrowed dangerously at her words but recklessly she went on. “It’s a difficult lesson to learn but she might as well learn it early, rather than to grow up a hopeless dreamer like her mother and get crushed somewhere along the way.”

  She could have sworn his face registered the barest flinch but he continued.

  “You can’t tell me, given the power to offer her what she most desires, you wouldn’t move heaven and earth to do it,” he bit out.

  “She’ll adjust,” Lily snapped even though he was, unfortunately, right.

  Lily would move heaven and earth to give Tash what she wanted but just then she wasn’t giving an inch.

  “She’ll be devastated,” Nate correctly predicted.

  “You don’t know her enough to make that judgement,” Lily aimed at her target and hit a bull’s-eye. She knew this because his eyes started glittering angrily and she knew his control was stretched nearly to the breaking point.

  “I’ve changed my mind,” he clipped. “You’re not magnificent when you’re angry. You’re incredibly annoying and unbelievably stubborn when you’re angry.”

  “I’m not stubborn!” she denied stubbornly.

  His face, if it could be credited, moved closer and he changed tactics so swiftly, her head began to swim.

  “You want me, Lily, and you know it.”

  “I don’t!” Even she knew it was a lie.

  “You want me,” he stated baldly, “shall I prove it to you?”

  Frantic, because she knew what was coming, she threatened, “Kiss me again and I won’t be responsible for what I do.”

  “I know exactly what you’ll do.”

  And, without giving her the opportunity to retort, his lips crushed down on hers.

  This time she didn’t hold herself stock-still. This time she struggled, fought, pushed against him and tried to pull away. She clawed at his sides, tearing at the fabric of his shirt.

  His tongue touched her lips and a lone gymnast executed a perfect round-off and her whole body stilled at the sudden glory of it.

  As usual, he immediately sensed her capitulation. Surprisingly, he pulled away but not enough to allow her escape. Instead, he half-carried, half-dragged her to the sofa and before she could make good a getaway, he pushed her backwards onto it and his heavy, warm body landed on top of her.

  “Stop, Nate,” she demanded, scrambling beneath him

  “No,” he refused and before she could say another word, his mouth came down on hers again.

  His mouth was not gentle. It was hard, insistent, demanding. It was also familiar. It was also exactly what she’d wanted, wished for and dreamed of for eight years.

  Not another man had touched her. She’d been on a handful of dates without even a goodnight kiss (well, perhaps, a peck on the cheek). Lily had been too wrapped up in her life, her problems, her responsibilities. She didn’t have time for men.

  And no one compared to Nate. It was a simple statement of fact.

  His mouth moved to trail down her cheek to her jaw.

  “Please stop,” she whispered on a plea. Her anger was gone, replaced by longing, eight terrible, lonely
years of longing.

  “No.”

  “Please, Nate,” she begged.

  In answer, his hand moved on her leg, smoothing a caress all the way up her thigh, pulling her skirt up with it, her skin quivering at his intimate touch.

  His hard body pressed against her, so familiar, so warm, almost fevered. She wasn’t going to be able to deny her body much longer the attention it craved.

  “We can’t,” she pleaded.

  “We can,” he growled against her throat, the rumble of his voice moving through her until she shivered.

  He felt it, she knew, he couldn’t help but feel it and his mouth came back to hers and he kissed her again.

  This time she didn’t struggle. The minute his lips touched hers, they parted and his tongue slid inside.

  And that was it. She lost her battle and she acquiesced as the gymnastics team in her belly, warmed up and ready to go, gave the performance of their life.

  Eight years of grief and yearning poured out of her and she kissed him back, her tongue warring with his, her hands moving on his body, roaming over his back, down his hips, sliding over his behind. She’d forgotten how hard his body was, the tough sinew under his silken skin. She tore at his shirt, wanting the feel of him with nothing in the way. Once free of his jeans, her hands delved underneath the shirt to trail across his waist and up his back.

  His skin was burning to the touch.

  It was too much, too soon. The tears came up the back of her throat, burning as her body burned under his touch.

  His mouth never left hers, delivering its heady kiss, but one of his hands went to her breast, cupping it, finding her nipple with the pad of his thumb. She gasped against his mouth at the feel of him there, powerful shafts of pleasure shot straight through her.

  At her gasp, his kiss deepened and what was already wild became wilder. Years of grief changed to relief that he was alive, breathing, with her again, touching her again, kissing her again.

  This time, her hands and mouth became insistent, demanding, her fingers rushing across his skin, under his shirt, one of them moving to his belly, down, until she felt him hard against the palm of her hand.

  The tears sprang from her eyes, falling silently along her temples as he tore his mouth from hers on a groan at her touch, his mouth gliding to her ear.