Kate chided her with a look. “Charlie . . .”
“No, no. I haven’t even begun to talk about the man’s self-love. I swear, if we had mirrors on our walls, he’d have propositioned himself. As it was, I was afraid he was going to chat up his reflection in those super, super shiny shoes of his.”
Kate smiled at the man who held her coat. “Thank you.” She slipped her arms into it and knotted the built-in belt. With its three-quarter-length sleeves and peplum style, it enhanced her beauty.
Charlie’s was serviceable wool that made her look more like the abominable snowman than a model, but she’d rather be warm than fashionably freeze.
“Yeah, thanks.” Charlie grabbed her coat from the man and then pointed a finger at Kate. “And another thing—”
“Charlie.” Kate stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. “Are you okay?”
“Of course.”
“Are you sure? Because we just ate three courses—including a to-die-for chocolate brownie dessert—and you haven’t stopped talking about Jax Michaels the entire time.”
Charlie’s brow crinkled as she shrugged into her coat. “I have, too.”
Kate raised her eyebrows.
“Okay, fine, I haven’t, but can you blame me? The man waltzes into the store as though he owns the place, checks you out and composes an ode to your beauty—”
“He did not.” Kate’s cheeks bloomed with color. She nodded to the hostess and walked down the maroon rug that covered the hardwood floors. “He was being polite.”
Charlie trailed her. “He offered to put you on TV.”
“Is that what’s bothering you?”
A snort. “God, no. As if I want to project my image to the world.”
“I think you’re lovely.”
Charlie smiled. “Kate, you’re such a sweetheart.” A scowl immediately tugged down her eyebrows. “But as for that tool . . .”
“Charlie.” Kate paused by the chrome-and-glass double doors that indicated the restaurant’s exit. She bit her bottom lip. “Don’t you think you should be, I don’t know, a little more careful?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, he is a Genie. And a celebrity.”
“Are you suggesting that WFY will kidnap me if I make too much noise against them?”
“No,” Kate defended them. “But it is rude. And you don’t want to come off looking like . . .”
“Looking like what?”
“I don’t know. A sore loser.”
“But I won, didn’t I?”
“Yes, you did, so why don’t you make a wish?”
Charlie patted Kate on the cheek. “Nice try.”
Kate sighed and turned toward the doors. As she pushed one open, an icy draft slapped Charlie in the face. She shivered as she followed her friend, pulling her coat tighter to her body.
She knew she was being perhaps a tiny bit mean about Jax Michaels. Okay, the man was a complete tool and arrogant to boot, but he hadn’t actually done anything evil, like drown a bunch of puppies. Something about him plain put her on edge. Simply being around someone that sinfully attractive, with such an intensely sexual presence, was enough to justify her . . . itchiness.
She blinked. And since when did she find him attractive?
Okay, there’d been a moment when she’d stared into his eyes, one where sound had faded and a slow heat had stolen into her body like a cat burglar. A naughty moment in which her brain had begun to sketch images about how a Genie would take a woman to bed.
Expertly. Slowly.
Thoroughly.
Enough. Even if he was her type—which being gorgeous, arrogant, and in love with his own charm, he wasn’t—and she was his, having sex with a Genie would complicate everything.
“I don’t see what was so bad about him,” Kate said as they hovered in front of the restaurant, hoping to see a taxi. “He’s only doing his job.”
“He tried to charm me.”
Kate cut her a look that, for her, was sharp. “Charlie, you are attractive enough to be charmed. And charm isn’t always a bad thing—sometimes it’s . . .”
“Arrogance?”
“No.” Kate huffed, her arms around herself. “A part of your personality. You yourself have charm if you can get past the tart sarcasm.”
“Hey, that’s part of my charm.” Charlie grinned. “And, Kate, for you that’s mean. I like it.”
Her friend shook her head, but smiled.
“Seriously, I don’t want the wish, so what was I supposed to do? An arrogant man like that isn’t going to just shoo if I politely decline.”
A light moved behind Kate’s eyes. Her mouth parted. “Are you saying you were rude on purpose so he wouldn’t want to grant you a wish?”
“Would I do that?”
“You devious woman.” Kate gave a half laugh. “I’d never have guessed.” She broke into a shiver when another gust of wind blew at them. “You were right—I never should have worn this coat.”
“We could always take the subway—it’d be cheaper,” Charlie suggested hopefully. Paying the steepish rent on the Upper West Side on her shop was why her apartment was not on the Upper West Side, and why she preferred to either walk or subway it everywhere.
However, Kate, who had family money, preferred taxis. She always offered to pay, but Charlie refused to be the friend that sponges. Like a certain boyfriend she could mention.
Kate shot down the suggestion with a shake of her head. “As if. I’m sure there’ll be a taxi nearer the end of the street.”
She click-clacked off down the sidewalk in her four-inch stilettos.
“Anything?” she called over the wind.
Kate half-turned. “No, I—omigosh. It’s you.”
Charlie counted how many martinis Kate had had. “Yes, it’s me. Let’s get you into a taxi, huh?”
“I think she’s talking to me, Ms. Donahue.” The voice was the texture of whipped cream and annoyingly familiar after only one meeting.
A muscle twitched in her jaw. “Mr. Michaels,” she said without turning. Damn it, what was he doing here? Hadn’t she been rude enough without going so far as to call him a needle-dick—though that was starting to look more and more appealing. Call it plan B if she couldn’t get rid of him a second time.
She inhaled a breath of the crisp night air. And swiveled. She regretted it when she met blue eyes so much crisper than the air, and clearer than the purest ocean waters.
They glittered with hidden secrets, the golden flecks adding to the fancy. “Nice dinner?”
She decided to brazen it out. “Delicious, thanks.”
“And the service?”
“First rate.”
“Good, good.” He stared at her with a half smile, very much the satisfied man. It began a creepy-crawly sensation in her stomach.
“What are you doing here?” Her demand was accompanied by a suspicious squint.
His eyes laughed at her. “I’m taking a walk. Genies do walk, you know.”
“Really? I thought they popped everywhere.”
“Pop?”
“Yeah, you know—” Charlie made a popping sound. “Out of thin air.”
“Ah.”
His outfit had changed from the casual tee and jeans. He was now in a delicious charcoal-gray suit that was tailored to every muscle—and she meant every muscle. With the suit faithfully following broad shoulders to a lean waist and powerful thighs, the only part she couldn’t see was his firm butt. And of course it would be firm, because look at the man. As if he would accept less.
“Hi, Kate,” he said to her friend as Charlie stayed silent. “How are you this fine night?”
“Hi, Jax.” Kate sounded more breathless than an adult entertainer. She drifted closer. “I’m just fine, thank you. And you?”
“Well, I’ve got a dilemma, but I think it’s about to be solved.”
“I’m not making a wish,” Charlie cut in. “So you can be off to fall on the next supermodel/actress/singer/porn s
tar you’ve got lined up to fawn over you.”
Jax’s lazy smile stayed put, though Charlie noted with a certain satisfaction that his eyes narrowed at the corners.
“That sounds like jealousy, sweetheart. But there’s no need—there’s more than enough of Jax Michaels to go around.”
“Yeah, talking about yourself in the third person?” Charlie shrugged. “Kind of a dick move. But that’s just my opinion.”
“Charlie.”
Charlie didn’t take her eyes off Jax. That smile . . . he had something up his sleeve.
“Ms. Donahue, let me ask you a question.”
“Yes, I think you use too much product in your hair.”
His lips tightened. “Do you believe that all’s fair in love and war?”
Charlie looked down her nose at him, which, being five-foot-six to his six feet, was an impressive feat. “Jax Michaels,” she declared. “I’m not going to fall in love with you.”
He winked. “I’ll be generous not to remind you of that when you’re in my bed.”
Kate gasped.
To Charlie’s disgust, his brandy-on-the-rocks voice conjured the image of a naked Jax beckoning from across bedsheets, pulling her down and grazing her neck with that slightly stubbled jaw, his hands . . .
Charlie blinked as he continued. “Anyway, that wasn’t what I meant.”
“Then what?”
He smiled and looked beyond her. “Oh, wow.” His fake shock was staggeringly unbelievable. “Look at that.”
Already regretting it, Charlie turned. Her already-freezing cheeks grew even colder. Her hands clutched the handbag she wore at her side. “Oh, God.”
Jax moved in close as what seemed like thousands of paparazzi tumbled toward her, sprinting, climbing past one another, teeming like ants. Flashbulbs went off, TV crews shot tape as they hurried over. Thousands of questions peppered them like bullets.
“Checkmate, Ms. Donahue.” His whisper curled against her nape, tickled the sensitive skin, and sent ripples down her spine.
The meaning of his words hit with the impact of a rhinoceros. “You planned this.”
“Would I do such a thing?” It was an uncomfortable echo of what Charlie had said to Kate moments ago.
Her friend gaped at the rabble, grasping her purse like it was a safety line. Excitement flashed in her eyes.
Charlie grimaced. “It doesn’t matter,” she said in an aside to Jax. “You can throw me to the lions, but I’m not making a wish. Do you honestly think I care what other people think of me? I don’t care if they run with the headline Charlie Is Insane or if they paint me as an ungrateful idiot.”
“I’m sure the headline they come up with will be a little more alliterative.” With that, he walked forward, hands lifted to quiet the crowd. “Ladies, gentlemen, I’m stunned. Here I am, about to grant a wish to this exquisite creature, and you find me. I mean, what are the odds?” His smile was so charming, it might as well find itself a crown and call itself a prince. “But, since you’re here, let’s capture it for posterity. I’m about to change someone’s life for the better. Charlie Donahue’s life.” He angled back and held out his hand. “Come here, gorgeous.”
Charlie stood frozen like a rabbit as flashes went off in her face. He was making her look like a fool, calling her an exquisite creature, suggesting she was gorgeous. Tomorrow, her plain face with that headline would be sold to thousands of people. She’d be the laughingstock of the East Coast.
Her eyebrows drew together to form a strict hyphen.
If she was going down, she wasn’t going down alone. If she was going to be the butt of jokes, then he would, too. Time to launch plan B.
With a sweet smile, she forced her feet to carry her the few steps that bridged the gap between her and the Genie. As she glanced at his face, the evidence of his smugness danced in his eyes.
“Charlie Donahue, everybody.”
Questions fired at him, but again he held everyone off with a wave of his hand. “Now, then. I love this bit. Tell me, what would you like most in the world? Where would you like to go? What would you like to do?” He grinned, a slow curve of the lips, one that said Gotcha. “Go on, gorgeous, say something.”
Charlie smiled back, more acid than sugar. She opened her mouth.
3.
“So, Jax, we have to talk about last night.”
Jax remained in his comfortable sprawl, one arm extended over the top of the plump yellow couch, his left foot on his thigh. His teeth flashed as he waved her words away. “It’s so ridiculous, Lisette.”
Lisette sat across from him in her violet leather chair, Lisette’s Hour cards balanced in her hands. She smiled, her cheeks tinted a delicate pink. She tossed her head to shake back her golden ringlets.
Beyond her, the camera crew for Lisette’s Hour hovered in the dark, the only light the piercing red dot that reminded Jax he was on live TV.
“Oh, but it’s the only thing anybody is talking about,” Lisette said. Her simple gold chain swung across her tailored, scarlet skirt suit. She looked slyly at him. “Are you sure you don’t want to comment?”
Jax spread his hands. Inside, his temper bubbled like a pot left on too long. “Lisette, darlin’, you know I would if I could.”
“WFY not allowing you to talk?” She nodded in sympathy.
“Not that. It’s only encouraging the rumors if I talk about it.” Jax brought out the big guns and flashed his dimple. He lowered his voice until it was a growling caress. “And there’s so much more I could say to you.”
The pink in her cheeks darkened to match her suit. Unfortunately, though, Lisette was a talk show host first and a woman second.
“Well, for the benefit of our audience who haven’t seen the clip—as if anyone hasn’t,” she said in an aside to her viewers with a tinkling laugh, “let’s take a look.” She gestured to the silver TV behind her.
Jax fought the urge to tackle her to the ground as it flickered to life, revealing the street he’d cornered Charlie on.
Correction: thought he’d cornered Charlie on.
His fingers pinched the couch’s leather as he watched his image wave to the cameras and lead up to the wish. If only he’d stopped, waited, listened to the evil genius when she’d said she wouldn’t back down. But he hadn’t.
Now, as he had then, he watched the sinister little smile spread across Charlie’s face. She stepped forward and lifted her chin as though about to take a punch.
“Thank you, Jax,” she said with that same queer smile. “A wish. Golly. There’s just so many things I could do with it. Especially with this face, right?”
His image on the TV forced an awkward laugh. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, sweetheart.”
“Riiiight.” She tapped a finger to her chin, obvious and dramatic about it. “Hmm. My very own wish. So much choice! Hey.” She angled toward him as if with a brainwave. “What would Jax Michaels wish for?”
“Only for you to be happy,” he’d smoldered. Only Jax could see the irritation in his jaw.
“Maybe I should wish for you, then,” Charlie had cooed. Her eyes widened as if a thought had occurred to her. “Especially since I heard you might have a little happiness problem of your own . . .”
A few flashbulbs went off as his face flinched with the effort to keep bland. “A happiness problem, darlin’?”
Charlie’s eyes still wide, she lifted her finger and slowly bent it. “Staying happy,” she said in a voice that was about as quiet as a stage whisper. “Your ex said your, ah, matchstick—I think that’s the word she used—doesn’t burn for very long.”
The paparazzi buzzed with scandalized excitement as the words left her mouth, and she turned with shock that looked as fake as his own had been.
“Oh, dear,” she said, with a headshake. “Secret’s out. I’m soooo sorry.” With a smirk, she’d continued, “Maybe we’ll talk about my wish another time.” She cocked her head. “Or not.”
The clip cut to the laughter
of the audience, a wave of humiliation that swept out to enclose Jax in its crushing embrace.
It wasn’t true—more a pillar candle, baby—but one rumor was all it took. Now whenever anyone Googled his name, among the billions of other hits would be the comparison of his dick to a matchstick.
Fury and vengeance battled for supremacy inside as he coolly smiled at Lisette.
She fanned her face with her cards. “Phew! What an accusation.” Inviting him to laugh like a good sport.
He did, but it came out less breezy than he’d have liked. More like a growl.
“Tell me, Jax, when she mentions staying power, does she mean to imply that you, ah, die without warning?” The delicate question, saucily asked, sent the audience into even more guffaws.
Death to all talk show hosts.
Jax chuckled with her and forced his death grip on the couch to loosen. “I guess that’s what she was implying,” he agreed. “Complete BS, of course. I doubt she’s even met one of my exes.”
“Probably not.” Lisette moved to her next card and looked into the audience. “But just for fun, we’ve got some of your old girlfriends here to testify to your legend.”
Dread shot down to his core. His gaze winged into the studio audience and settled on the boom being moved across to a brunette with sultry eyes and legs up to her chin.
She bit her lip as she waved. “Hi, Jax.”
He didn’t remember her at all. “Hey, sweetheart.” He gave his trademark wink.
When the hell is the segment done? Five minutes, my ass.
The brunette cocked her hip. “Yeah, I wanted to say that that Charlie woman has no clue—Jax and I barely made it to the bed. In fact we had sex in the hallway, just inside the door.”
“Did he have to do it quickly to make sure he didn’t lose the flame?” quipped some guy in the front row.
I’ll show you flames, asshole.
Jax caught himself and killed the magic. He let out a breath, managing a rigid smile. Easy, Michaels.
Her Wish--A Playboy Genie Romance Page 4