Her Wish--A Playboy Genie Romance

by Sophie H. Morgan

  She tipped her chin. “Never.”

  His breath puffed against her forehead as he traced her cheek. “So stubborn.” He paused. “How’s the bruise?”

  “It hurts a little,” she admitted.

  “Want me to get rid of it?”

  “You can do that?”

  “Gorgeous, there isn’t anything I can’t do. Look, no hands.”

  She squeaked as an invisible hand pinched her butt. “Jax.”

  He laughed and backed away with his hands raised.

  She made a face, but gave in to the smile.

  Jax held out his hand and she slid her own into it. “I’d take the bike, but she wants to take her investment banker out on it on Friday,” he explained. “I can either call us a town car, flash us back, or we can walk. Your choice.”

  Charlie considered. His leather jacket was surprisingly toasty, his hand in hers rough and strong. “Walk.”

  “Okay.” He began to saunter along the street.

  Every so often a fan would stop to stare, some shouting his name and waving with enough enthusiasm to knock themselves out. One bold woman actually pressed her boobs into Jax’s side when she passed him her number.

  As the woman swayed away, Charlie cocked her head. “You don’t get any privacy, do you?”

  “Not a lot, but I don’t mind. It’s a consequence of the job.”

  She needed to understand. “Why do you love it so much?”

  He shot a wave at another fan. “I’m helping people. I know you don’t believe in it, but WFY is about helping others, and I enjoy being a part of that. I enjoy the travel and the interviews, the schmoozing, the PR play of it all.” He tilted his head toward her. “Every day is fresh and new.”

  “Me, I like routine.” Charlie looked straight ahead as they wandered around the block. “Give me my seven a.m. alarm, my seven oh five coffee, my nine a.m. opening.”

  “Routine can hold you back.”

  “Or it can be reassuring if you never had consistency.” She shrugged. “I told you about my mom. It’s nice knowing that when I wake up tomorrow, life won’t be altered.”

  Jax was silent as they avoided a passing couple, but he squeezed her hand.

  “Tell me about Mabel.” Charlie pulled his jacket around her.

  “She’s a ball of energy.” Jax’s dimple winked. “When I first met her, she spat at me and called me a perv.” He glanced at her. “Sound familiar?”

  She smiled.

  “I wanted to help her. I’d only just signed my permanent contract, but I went to my Handler about sponsoring someone. It’s rare, but WFY does sometimes grant pro bono wishes.” He lifted a shoulder. “I convinced Luka—that’s my Handler—to take Mabel to the Director for consideration.”

  “And she got what she wanted.” Charlie mused over this as she enjoyed the feel of his shoulder brushing hers. “You have to admit, though, if it wasn’t for you, she’d have been kicked out of there within a week.”

  “WFY would’ve stepped in.”

  Charlie stopped herself from pushing harder. She’d pointed out a flaw, evidence that wishes weren’t foolproof. She didn’t need to beat him over the head with it.

  “Well, in any case,” she said, “it gave me a glimpse into the real Jax Michaels.”

  One strong hand flattened against her belly, stopping her. He moved in, all man and teasing heat. “Oh, yeah?”

  She stared at him. “Underneath all that arrogance and charm, you’re nothing but a big softy.”

  “Careful, gorgeous.” His hand slipped from her belly to just under her breasts, thumb pressing her stomach. “There you go assaulting my manhood again.” At the caress, everything in her body tightened.

  She swallowed air too thick and too hot. Jax’s other hand let go of hers to brush her hair away from her neck.

  “So what if I am?” she managed.

  His smile was slow and wicked. “I guess I’m going to have to give you some firsthand experience.”

  She expected a full-on assault, but of course, Jax never did what she expected.

  His lips hovered above hers for the longest time. Her hands slid to his chest, resting against the muscles there, while his thumb stroked back and forth beneath her breast like a sexy pendulum.

  Her skin was itchy and tight, so tight she ached to step out of it.

  When he grazed his lips against hers, her knees almost went. His lips were firm yet soft, teasing as they sipped at her like she was a fine wine. He lulled her, his hand cupping her neck as he took his time, stroking her mouth with his.

  She tangled her hands in his hair, pushing her body closer as she stretched on tiptoe to press her mouth more insistently against his.

  As she parted his lips, he lightly sucked her tongue into his mouth. He tasted like he smelled, apples and sin and the wine they’d had at dinner, decadent and addictive. Their tongues tangled in a slow waltz, their bodies urged against each other.

  The swell of him beneath his button fly surged against her, and she knew she’d been talking crap. This was no matchstick.

  Liquid heat pooled between her legs as she felt him rise, and she tugged his head closer, yearning to be filled.

  The air crackled as he swept a hand down her back. He grasped her butt with one hand and tucked her more snugly against him, making her falter against his mouth. She shuddered at the sparks of pleasure.

  He took the time to kiss her eyebrow, her eyelid, her nose, before finding his way back to her mouth.

  They kissed time away before Charlie finally broke off. Breathing shallowly, she dropped back onto her heels. Shivers of unfulfilled desire undulated through her, simmering in her blood as she touched her forehead to Jax’s chest. It was heaving like hers, his hand still planted on her butt, the other beneath her breasts.

  “Damn.” Jax removed his hand from her butt with obvious reluctance.

  Charlie drew in a shaky breath and stepped away from him. She wasn’t sure what was developing between them, but it was hard to think words right now, let alone big things like the r word.

  “I bet you say that to all the girls,” she managed, smiling, touching her bruised lips.

  He let out an amused breath. “Just you.” He looked up and down the street. “Come on, I’d better get you home.”

  10.

  Dawn was stretching out inquisitive fingers to the sky when Jax strode into the amber marble building known as WFY headquarters. Because of the time, barely anyone was around, only the night guard and a few assistants straggling in to prepare coffees for their bosses.

  His sneakers made a whisper of noise as he crossed the marble foyer, avoiding the security lines and booth that every mortal and employee had to go through. Being a Genie, he just flashed himself to the other side.

  “Hey, Carl.” He greeted the night guard with an easy smile, pausing. It was his routine, whenever he stopped by the offices, to chat with the guards, the janitor staff. He remembered a time when he’d helped out his mom with her cleaning jobs, and she’d always appreciated kindness from the higher-ups.

  Carl, a balding forty-something mortal with an unfortunate liking for apple strudel—and because of this, an unfortunate pot belly—glanced up from the cameras he was reviewing behind the large circular desk. His chair creaked as he moved. “Hey, Jax,” he said, his grin genuine. “You’re in early. In trouble for something?”

  “You know me, always in trouble for something.” Jax indicated the cameras with his chin. “Anything good?”

  “Nah, not even a false alarm” Carl shrugged. “Everybody’s getting ready for the WFY charity ball tonight. They’re not wasting time in the offices.”

  “Right. That’s tonight.” He’d forgotten. He tapped his fingers on the desk in thought and then shot Carl a wave. “I’ve got to get on. Take it easy.”

  “Yeah, you, too, Jax.”

  Jax pushed away from the desk and headed for the elevator bank at the far end of the foyer. He passed the empty rows of hot-orange couches, the wh
ite plastic tables, and the exotic flower garden that grew in organized chaos around the sides of the foyer. The room was vast: at least twenty feet wide and forty feet tall. The height lent the area the hushed, echoing feel of a cathedral. There were people who worshipped Genies, but thankfully, none could be bothered to get out of bed this early.

  Jax slipped into an open elevator and hesitated when confronted with the panel of elevator buttons. Pressing his lips together, he pushed the button engraved with an L. Queasiness tickled his stomach as the lift descended.

  He stuffed his hands into his jeans and leaned back against the paneled wall, directing his thoughts toward the charity ball. Although Josh had reminded him days ago, he’d still managed to forget.

  That wasn’t like him. Yes, Josh was his right arm, but Jax kept a mental file of where and when he should be at all times. Not only was it what his mom had drummed into him, it gave the correct impression of the face of WFY.

  He shifted in place as the lift got closer to its destination. He wanted Charlie to go with him. As his date. And that idea had more issues than the New York Times.

  What could he say? He liked her. She was smart and funny, irritating and stubborn, and so goddamned sexy he’d thought he’d bust his jeans last night as she’d sucked on his tongue. Although it had been erotic as hell, the kiss had also been thorough and slow, and the heat had built with every passing stroke. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d kissed a woman when she hadn’t tried to climb inside his mouth.

  And then there was Mabel. He’d never taken a woman to see Mabel before. She was . . . his family. Ever since he’d caught the grimy, furious, lost eighteen-year-old stealing his watch, there’d been a bond not even his celebrity status had destroyed. Introducing Charlie had been huge.

  Something Mabel obviously knew as she’d texted him five minutes after he’d left. I’m going to wear my zebra-print hat to the wedding.

  Maybe the blood loss had affected him more than he’d thought. Or maybe there was just something about Charlie that drew him in. He might have been enraged at the beginning, but maybe it was sort of relaxing that she didn’t want him to be the legendary Jax Michaels. Maybe around her it was a relief to just be Jax.

  Who was he kidding? Luka’s instructions not to get close had already fallen through the moment she’d opted out of Lisette’s Hour for him.

  He straightened as the buzzer dinged. The doors slid open.

  “Welcome. To. The Library,” the female digital voice uttered.

  His palms were clammy as he looked down the cheerfully patterned corridor.

  Guided tours were often led in this area to showcase the vast array of books and art Genies had collected over the years. For the most part, they donated the more valuable pieces—like Monet’s Water Lilies collection. But the archive was the best place to find information on the history of Genies. Like how WFY was established in the sixteen hundreds, and the lottery that had started around the early nineteen hundreds.

  Of course, this early, nobody was down here.

  But us chickens, Jax finished soundlessly as he walked down the hall. Piped-in jazz crooned as he stopped before two double doors carved from rosewood. Their handles were twice the size of a man’s hand, pure gold, and carved with WFY’s symbol: the triquetra. Over the years, mortals had exaggerated it so it almost looked like a star in some articles and literature, but the triquetra represented one link for each of the three Partners who had set up the organization.

  You’re stalling, Michaels. Grab your balls and get moving.

  He released a long, slow breath before grasping one of the handles. He pushed the door open.

  Jax had been in the Library before. All temps—the mortals temporarily handed the powers and gifts of a Genie for their one optional year—had. WFY encouraged them to learn about what could be their heritage if they signed the permanent contract at the end of the year. Of course, Jax had been too busy out in the real world to waste too much time looking at books about Genies. He’d wanted to live it. He’d known he was going to sign up permanently, even if there’d been the smallest possibility that he hadn’t loved it. He’d needed the wish, the wish every newly graduated Genie received upon signing the contract.

  Thankfully, he had loved it. Still did.

  He’d told the truth yesterday: he hadn’t taken Charlie to see Mabel because of the pro bono wish. He was starting to truly believe it was a losing battle to try to get Charlie to wish. After hearing about her mom, how her callousness had prompted a five-year-old Charlie’s belief that wishes came with a price tag, Jax knew down to the soles of his Converses that no Genie was getting her to wish, not even him.

  And unless he could prove otherwise, she would always have that suspicion that it was entirely WFY’s fault. Jax had no doubt that the wish had nothing to do with it. He didn’t know her mom, but nobody changed that quickly unless they already had it in them.

  But he also knew a five-year-old, abandoned by a loving mom, would blame anybody she could to survive it.

  He was going to prove to her that wishes could come true sans consequences, if only so she could move on. His idea of how to do that had brought him to the vast expanse of the Library.

  Visitors were always surprised when they saw how big it was. It ran the entire length and width of the street WFY sat on, built beneath the grand building. They’d bought underground rights when they’d begun construction, and of course nobody had said no. Picture windows created the illusion of real sunshine and clouds to stem claustrophobia, magic supplying the warmth of real sun, the shadows of passing clouds.

  Old pine and walnut were the key features, winding banisters and towering bookcases overflowing with colored books. The Library ranged over four different levels, each with its own Librarian to help assist in any way she could. Jax was hoping to avoid the Restricted Section’s Librarian, but doubted he could. Anne-Marie was originally mortal, with a nose like a gundog and was just as fiercely territorial about her beloved books. She’d begun work in the twenties, right after WFY HQ opened, and had been a fixture ever since. The Partners had approved of her so much, they’d granted her immortality.

  A few university students were camped out at tables on the ground floor, huge coffee mugs beside them and books spread out on every available surface. Their eyes were glazed as he passed. WFY and Genies were always a popular subject for any course, be it psychology, English, science—mortals loved trying to figure out the whole magic thing—or sociology. Students were a regular fixture in the lobby, and apparently the Library, too.

  Jax nodded to a few and moved with as much stealth as he could to the stairs. Steps creaked under his feet as he climbed, bypassing the platform that led to the first floor and the platform that led to the second. He climbed past third and exited on fourth.

  He paused. Anne-Marie was around; he could smell it.

  He took one step onto the platform.

  “Well, well, well, if it isn’t the famous Jax Michaels.”

  He cringed before pasting a wicked public smile on his face. He twisted to face the five-foot-ten woman wearing a voluminous black dress that made her look like a crow. “Anne-Marie, as beautiful as ever.”

  She snorted. Her hair, dark as the ink on the pages she guarded, swung loose and down to her waist as she narrowed espresso-brown eyes at him. Her skin was pale from lack of sun, but that only emphasized her sharp bone structure. If it weren’t for the stern mouth and the slightly hawkish nose, she’d have been stunning.

  As it was, she made him afraid she’d peck at him if he did something she didn’t like.

  She tapped a volume on her hip as he smiled at her. “What do you want in the Restricted Section?”

  “To see you, naturally.”

  If anything, that made the lines between her eyebrows deeper.

  Retreat, retreat.

  He chuckled uncomfortably. “It’s for this wish I’m having a hard time granting. I thought researching some old cases might help.”
>
  “You mean Charlotte Donahue?”

  When he blinked, her lips creased in what could generously be called a smile. “I read.”

  “Of course you do,” he hurried to say. He edged away toward the back of the floor, where it was dimmer. “So, ah, I’ll just be a few hours. Got an interview, and then of course, I’ve got a thousand and one things to prepare before tonight’s charity ball. Mousse my hair, that kind of thing.”

  “Hold it.”

  He paused by one of the looming bookcases. “Mmm?”

  “You haven’t punched in.”

  A breath whistled out of him as he dragged his feet back to the platform. It was a strict rule that anyone exploring the Restricted Section punch in and make a log of his entry. He’d been hoping to avoid that as well.

  After he’d pressed his thumb to the scanner attached to one of the wooden railings and it confirmed his identity, he curved his lips into a smile. “Okay?”

  “Fine. But do not spill, tear, run with, or do anything to the books.” She lifted a warning finger. “And if I find you’ve folded over corners . . .”

  “I won’t. Promise.” He managed another smile before his escape. Sweat was actually beading on his brow.

  If he got any files out without being pecked at, it’d be a minor miracle.

  11.

  Charlie rubbed at her right temple, the headache brewing there getting steadily sharper the longer she was on the phone. Curling her fingers tighter around the plastic, she smiled at a few browsers. Through gritted teeth. “Mom, I really can’t talk right now.”

  “You can’t make time for your own mother?”

  “Of course, but I’m at work. Kate isn’t here, and—”

  “Kate?”

  “Yes, my friend. She works with me.” The woman I told you about twice last month alone. “She’s getting coffee, so I’m here alone. And I have customers.”

  “Of course you have customers. I’ve seen the photos.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Honestly, Lottie, it’s like I’m talking to myself.” Her mom gave a long-suffering sigh. “The photos of you and Jax Michaels.” Her mom’s voice took on an edge. “You didn’t tell me you were dating a Genie.”