Her Wish--A Playboy Genie Romance

by Sophie H. Morgan

  “I know. I mean, I agree.”

  “So, we think the sooner you get her to wish, the better. In the meantime, talk it up in the press, push the angle of her troubled past.” Luka had grinned again. “Nice idea, by the way.”

  “Yeah.” Jax’s brow had lined as he’d rubbed the back of his neck. “Can we not just keep it low-key? I mean, embarrassing her isn’t going to convince her to trust me.”

  Luka had tilted his head. His eyebrow had risen in a pointed fashion. “You’re not going soft on me, are you, Michaels?” His teeth had flashed. “That’s what Charlie implied would happen.”

  “What? No.” Jax had snapped to attention. “I only meant pushing her isn’t working, so . . .”

  “Ah, so we’re back to the old trick of seduction.” Luka had let out an amused breath. He’d placed the glass onto his desk. “You never cease to amaze, Jax. You fail with obvious charm, you fail with pushing her. But you don’t quit on WFY, you just get back in there and do your job.” Luka had pretended to wipe a tear from his eye. “Makes a Handler so proud.”

  Jax had let his middle finger talk for him.

  “Well, I’ll tell Clare you’ve got the situation handled. But Jax.” Here, Luka’s eyes had turned steely. “For the good of the company, we can’t let people think we’re dishonest. Charlie Donahue is already sparking a lot of talk on websites. At the moment there’re more voices against her ingratitude than anyone wondering if she has a point, and I’d like to keep it that way. Do your job.”

  “What’re you trying to say, Luka?”

  His Handler had stared at him. “Don’t get too close.”

  “Hey.”

  Jax snapped back to the present as Charlie clicked her fingers in front of his nose. Luka’s final words echoed inside his mind as he cleared his throat. He knew he was treading a slippery slope, seducing without being seduced. And it was obviously for her own good. So why did he feel like slime?

  “Where’d you go?” She sat back.

  “Nowhere. Guess I partied too hard last night,” he joked, refocusing on the pad of paper. “Right. Business.”

  “Look, while I appreciate the enthusiasm, it’s not your problem.” Charlie curled her legs underneath her again. She shrugged. “Besides, I’m used to being alone.”

  “Doesn’t Kate help?” Jax fought not to show how her words affected him. Something burned in his chest, a hot kernel of need to help, shield. Protect.

  “She tries, but running the business side is my problem.”

  “No other friends?”

  Color burned in her cheeks. “The store takes a lot of my time.”

  Jax stared, drawn despite his best efforts to this stubborn, prickly woman. She reminded him, in certain ways, of his mom. And that decided it for him.

  “Charlie.” He waited until she looked at him again. “I want to help. If you won’t let me grant you a wish, the least I can do is help you with the second thing I do best: marketing.”

  “Why would you want to help me if I don’t intend to wish?”

  Directness deserved to be answered with honesty. “I like you.”

  He watched, fascinated, as that flush dialed up to PVC red. Covering the heat, she cleared her throat and referred back to his original statement. “What’s the first thing you do best?”

  Jax patted the chair’s arm with a grin that dripped sex. “You wanna come over and find out?”

  She rolled her eyes, but smiled. “I’ll pass, thanks.”

  “Your loss, gorgeous. Let’s talk cupcakes.”

  * * *

  “Sweet baby Jesus.” The blonde gaped at him, the hand holding the door ajar slipping off. She brought it to her mouth where it fluttered like a butterfly. “It’s you.”

  Jax smiled. “Gracie Matthews?”

  Her head bobbed.

  “You know who I am?”

  “Jax Michaels,” she burst out. A titter broke at almost the same moment. Her eyes were rounder than a wheel of Dutch cheese. “I didn’t actually believe it. I mean Trina texted me that my name was on TV, but my set’s broken because the dog ran into it last week and I haven’t had time to have it fixed, and I haven’t paid the phone bill, but oh, lord, you’re actually here. In my hallway.” She shook her head. “Come in! Come in, come in.”

  Jax’s amusement simmered as he stepped past the five-foot ball of energy, beckoning Josh to follow.

  He had an impression of light, airy, and very pink, before spinning back to Gracie, the New York winner from Saturday’s draw.

  She was fluffing her hair but stopped when she caught him looking. “You want a drink?”

  “Nah, I’m good. Josh?”

  “Me? A glass? With this carpet?”

  Jax glanced at the cream flooring. He turned to Gracie. “We’re good.”

  “Are you a Genie, too?” Gracie stared with unabashed curiosity at the twenty-year-old wearing a backward cap and baggy jeans.

  Josh’s cheeks fired red. “I’m Jax’s assistant.” Clearing his throat, he fumbled for his satchel.

  “Really? You’ve got that whole sexy-geek thing going on.”

  Josh blinked, owl-like. “I, ah . . . Well.” A cough. He pulled some papers out of his bag, almost knocking a crystal vase from an end table. Jax corrected it with magic before it toppled.

  Josh didn’t notice. “So, I have the standard contract here. It basically says . . .”

  Jax tuned out his assistant as he watched Gracie absorb everything Josh was throwing at her as if there was going to be a test later.

  This was what he was used to. Making somebody’s dream come true without any hassle or questions or accusations.

  Not naming names.

  He wandered to the window that overlooked the busy streets of Chinatown. He’d left Charlie’s bare apartment yesterday around nine, having argued and discussed business plans until he’d felt like shaking her for her stubbornness. Or kissing her into submission.

  By rights, he should leave it alone and concentrate on softening her. But, damn it, he was right about the interior and he was right about the cupcakes. They were damn good, and she could make a killing if she’d listen to him and market the store the way he told her to.

  He’d finally worn her down about raising the price of the cupcakes, and she’d said she’d think about a loyalty card. He’d promised to swing by the bar, Jeannie’s, tonight and hang with a few of his Genie colleagues, but he intended to stop by Charlie’s apartment before the night was over. Knock up some designs maybe, exchange a few friendly insults, leer at her a bit to watch that tic under her right eye come into play.

  Hell. He just wanted to see her.

  Gracie let out a squeal as she finished signing the contract. She chafed her hands, beaming.

  “I just can’t believe it. You play these things, but the odds are so stacked against you, and then you always plan what you’d wish for in a funny maybe-one-day kind of way, but you don’t actually think it’s going to happen. I mean, Jax fricking Michaels is in my apartment.”

  His smile widened. It was patent Jax Michaels, a touch of bad boy with the sincerity of an angel. “He sure is, sweetheart.” He cocked his chin. “So, you got a wish for me?”

  “Oh, God.” Her fingers pressed against her mouth. “I don’t want to wish for the wrong thing. I mean, I know everyone always wishes for money, but that seems kind of soulless, and obviously I don’t need to wish for looks . . . Oh, lord.” She took some shaky breaths in before nodding. “Okay, I’m ready.”

  Jax snapped a leash on his amusement before it leapt to his face. Dealing with Charlie the past week, he’d forgotten how serious these moments were.

  He automatically angled his body into the pose that best flaunted his muscles. “Okay, then. Ms. Gracie Matthews. Tell me—how can I make your dreams come true today?”

  She breathed out, still wobbly, her hand pressing her stomach. “I wish to find true love.”

  Like he hadn’t heard that before. Still, there were worse wishes�
�see Luka’s unlimited-beer-supply guy.

  “Your wish is my command, sweetheart.” Jax’s lips tilted into a crooked I’m-thinking-naughty-thoughts smile. He snapped his fingers.

  After five seconds passed with no naked man appearing on her couch, Gracie glanced around in expectation. “Is that it?” Her voice dipped in disappointment.

  “Don’t worry. With these kinds of wishes, it takes time to manifest.” Jax wiggled his eyebrows. “Why don’t you go for a walk?”

  He could see it click as she blinked. “Oh, wow. Yes.” She whirled and grabbed her purse from a strawberry-pink couch where a dachshund sat watching the events. “Mommy will be back soon, sugar buns.” Smoochy noises followed.

  Jax arched his eyebrows at Josh, and together the two walked with Gracie out of the apartment.

  “I can’t thank you enough,” Gracie said as they headed for the elevator bank. She hugged herself. “God, to think I’ve been waiting thirty years for Mr. Right, and I’m actually going to meet him.” She touched Jax’s arm to stop him and levered herself onto her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “Thank you.”

  She rounded on Josh. “You, too, my sexy geek.”

  Josh burned with embarrassed color all the way to the bottom floor.

  As they waved Gracie off, Jax nudged him. “What’s next, sexy geek?”

  “Ha, ha.” Josh slid him a sour look. “Just my luck the only woman to flirt with me wishes for true love five minutes later.” He sighed, pushing his glasses back up his nose. “I’m doomed.”

  “Maybe don’t wear the baseball cap next time.”

  “Hey, it’s grunge, it’s hip. This is what the girls like.”

  “Uh-huh.” Jax greeted the chauffeur holding open the door of the town car with a nod before sliding onto the butter-soft gray seats and tugging at the top buttons of his shirt.

  Josh dropped next to him and flicked to the schedule on his organizer. “Right, what’s next? What’s next . . . ? Ah, while I’m thinking about it, don’t forget the ball on Thursday.”

  Jax shifted in his seat like a naughty schoolboy. “Ball?”

  “I told you a couple Saturdays ago—when Charlie won her wish. Remember? Charity ball? You’re supposed to be letting me know who to send roses and an invitation to.”

  “Huh.” WFY’s annual charity ball had been buried by the stress of digging out the hardiest weed in the garden. When Josh had mentioned it, Jax had assumed he’d select one of the women he picked up on his travels. Now, though . . .

  “Let me worry about that,” he said, glancing at his watch. “I’ll get my own flowers.”

  “Wow. Must be a special girl.” Josh looked over his glasses. His eyebrow lifted. “It’s Charlie, isn’t it?”

  Jax scoffed. “You really think she’d agree to come to a WFY function on my arm?”

  Josh considered. “No.”

  “There’s your answer.” Another button popped on his shirt. “Now, what’s next?”

  * * *

  The crack of pool balls filtered through the hard bass of Guns N’ Roses, layered with the sounds of multiple conversations pitched at different volumes. Among the scent of grease from the best burgers, yeast from the best beer, and perfume from the best groupies mixed an undercurrent of excitement. Because Jax Michaels was in the room.

  Already several women with towering hairdos and push-up bras—and yes, he could tell—had sashayed their way past the bar in an attempt to hook the biggest bass in the room. He’d become the biggest bass-tard, because he hadn’t spared them even a wink. No encouraging flirty comment or chuck under the chin. Not even a baby-you-melt-me-like-hot-fudge-on-ice-cream smile in the hour he’d been sitting down.

  One woman had now crossed past the bar so many times in what had to be five-inch heels, she was limping. The price for love, he supposed.

  Jax blocked most of it. He concentrated on the different designs he’d drawn on Jeannie’s napkins, a beer bottle by his hand mostly ignored. He wanted something unique, something that drew on how strange, how fascinating, how different the owner of The Book Nook was.

  Sheer frustration. That’s what Charlie was. Frustration that tiptoed to the edge, teased a toe over, before backing away and crooking a finger in challenge. What kind of red-blooded man could refuse an invitation like the one she represented with all her big talk and blushing cheeks?

  And those eyes. Damn, those jazz-singer eyes of hers were the worst.

  “Jax.”

  An automatic smile deepened into a genuine salute as Ryder Wood sank onto the bar stool next to him. A Genie almost as much in the public eye as Jax, the dark-haired playboy tipped his beer at Jax in greeting.

  “Ryder.” Jax nudged the designs into his lap. Ever so casually. “Where’s your twin?”

  “In the back with a book, predictably.” Brown eyes flecked with amber lights rolled up and around. An exasperated smile tugged at his lips. “I don’t get how he still gets laid when he’s got his nose buried in a book.”

  “Natural charm.” Jax’s shoulders lifted in a whaddya gonna do? “Some of us have it.”

  Ryder snorted as he tipped back his beer. “That’s not what I hear. The way Luka tells it, you’ve got yourself a battle on your hands.”

  “Luka exaggerates. Nobody can hold out against Jax Michaels.”

  “Uh-huh.” Ryder gestured and the napkins in Jax’s lap materialized in his hand. “Lookee what we have here.”

  A glower wiped the smile from Jax’s face. He didn’t say anything.

  It didn’t matter. Ryder had plenty to say.

  With as big a smile as any kid presented with the key to a candy shop, Ryder studied the designs before lifting his gaze. His teasing was foreshadowed there. “Working overtime, Jax?”

  “Every minute.” He refused to be embarrassed. And the heat in his cheeks? Well, it was hot in the bar.

  “You’re really going above and beyond for this wish.” Ryder eyed him. “Or is it the woman you’re jumping through hoops for?”

  Jax scoffed like Ryder had asked if Jax would like his balls removed. “As if. Women jump my hoops, Ry. Not the other way around.”

  “So this is all about the wish?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Very . . . inspiring.” Ryder’s eyes laughed. “And complete bull. You like this woman.”

  “No.” Sweat dribbled down Jax’s nape. That had never happened before. “Well, I don’t dislike her, but it’s not like that. Luka’s made it damned clear that she needs to wish, and soon. For the company’s reputation. And I don’t fail the company.”

  “I see. Instead of appealing to the brain, you’re tempting the heart.”

  “Very poetic.”

  “I know.” Ryder smirked. “Must have seen it in a movie or something.”

  Jax drummed his fingers on the bar’s counter. With just a thought, he made the napkins flash from Ryder’s hands to his pocket. “It’s for her own good, y’know. She lives in this ratty apartment without decent furniture, hardly any money to spend. Her store is one sneeze away from falling down. The only thing she’s got bags of is pride.”

  “Something in common.”

  “Ha ha.” Jax glared at him. His hand patted the pocket absently. “It’s for her own good,” he repeated stubbornly.

  “Whatever.” Ryder tipped back his beer and sighed appreciatively as one of Jax’s admirers made her thirty-second lap across the room. “Blondes,” he murmured as if it were the clue to happiness. “Can’t beat them.”

  An image of Charlie’s ruler-straight brown hair wavered in Jax’s mind.

  “Anyway,” Ryder continued, eyes intent on the blonde as her shoulders sagged with defeat and she made her way to the other side of the bar. “You’d never catch me working so hard for a woman.”

  Words Jax might have bragged himself two weeks ago. Now . . . ?

  He had to focus on the wish and not get attached. That was what his orders were, and Jax had always, always been a company man.

  Ryde
r slid off the stool with an easy grin. “Sorry, Jax. I think my dad could use some help behind the bar and a certain sorry blonde looks real thirsty.”

  Jax watched the Genie ease in beside his father, who owned the bar, lean on the counter, and flirt with the blonde. The flush in her cheeks reminded him of Charlie when she was trying to play it cool.

  Damn it. This wish needed to get over and done with before he started reading poetry and standing outside Charlie’s window reciting it. Before he actually started . . . feeling something.

  He ignored the whisper of too late and flashed to Charlie’s apartment to finish this.

  * * *

  “I think you’re crazy.”

  “Me, too. I mean, Jax Michaels.”

  Charlie stared down at her clenched hands. Not for the first time, the idea of retreating to her bedroom shimmered like an oasis after three weeks in the desert.

  She should’ve stayed in there, but when Kate’s keys had jangled in the door, she’d wandered out, hoping to have a girly chat about Jax and the maelstrom of confusion he whipped up in her. All business or . . . ?

  Instead of only Kate, she’d been greeted by the Tweedle twins and the ever-scowling Ian, who’d brushed past her to grab a beer from her refrigerator and promptly sat in a chair and farted. Classy.

  That still wasn’t as bad as the nonstop interrogation from the dumber-than-wood Tweedles whose shock hadn’t waned in the past hour and still had no end in sight.

  That was, unless the fantasy in her head came to life and duct tape spontaneously appeared over their mouths.

  “You’re telling me you haven’t wished for a thing?” Disbelief raised Tweedlecute’s perfectly plucked eyebrows. “Not a new job or house or money?”

  “No.”

  “Seriously?”

  “No, I’m joking. I got a face transplant.”

  “Seriously?”

  “No.”

  “Oh.” Tweedlecute smoothed a hand down the denim of her jean skirt. “Well, I think you’re crazy.”

  “So we’ve established.”

  “I think it’s crap.” Ian opened his packet of chocolate-covered peanuts and popped a few in his mouth. Through his crunching, he said, “She’s been handed this amazing chance and she’s being an ungrateful dumbass.”