At Your Command

  Chet didn't seem to hear her. He was excited now and ready for action. He couldn't stand still. He led her off the well-lit sidewalk and into the shadows of the parking lot. "We can go back to California and finish up things there. I know we can get new funding to work here in the Midwest someplace."

  "We?"

  "I'm sorry. I don't mean to pressure you professionally. I can understand now why you were reluctant to leave your old job. You can still take that position near Chicago. Your working as a school psychologist will provide me plenty of material on which to base my work."

  He moved closer, for the first time his gaze softening from the fever that had them afire. "When I said we, I meant you and me, Margaret. I want to marry you, now more than ever. This delay has only shown me how good we can be together, how necessary you are for my life."

  She didn't resist when he kissed her, but watched as if a stranger grabbed her arms and crushed her against his chest. His kiss was full of passion and ardor.

  When she looked up and stared into Tom's eyes, she knew what was missing.

  Magic.

  Her eyes widened over Chet's shoulder. Tom stood in the glow of the street light, his arms crossed over his chest. His features were chiseled, hard and smooth. He didn't smile or snarl. She couldn't see any reaction, except the single tear that slid down his cheek.

  Then the light went out.

  Chet released her. "Gee, I'm sorry. I guess we talked so long the store closed. Hope you weren't going for anything important."

  Maggie wiped her mouth on the back of her hand and searched the shadows for Tom.

  "Are you all right?" Chet sounded far away.

  The grocery store, the entire town, slipped into nothingness. She had to find Tom. So many people had hurt him. She didn't want to be like the others. She wasn't like the others. She wasn't because--

  It hit her like the proverbial bolt from the blue. That was why her mother's words stung so, why she left the house, ran away rather than face them. She'd been ready to honor and cherish Chet. Hell, she'd even obeyed him on more than one occasion. What she couldn't do was love him.

  "I'm sorry, Chet. I came to the store because--"

  "Yes?" He tried to take her arms again, but she shook free.

  With as much compassion as she could muster in her confused state, she stood her ground and looked him in the eye. No more running away, no more leaving messages on answering machines. She was strong enough to tell him how she felt. "I should have never left that message on your machine to cancel the wedding."

  At the look of hope on his face, she almost backed down. "I should have had the courage to face you and tell you myself. I don't love you, Chet."

  He stiffened, letting his hands fall from where they were poised to take her shoulders again. An ironic little grin twisted his mouth. "And that means?"

  "That means we're not getting married."

  Chapter 9

  THAT NIGHT Maggie entered her room singing. Telling Chet the truth to his face resulted in feelings she hadn't anticipated. She felt happy and free, and she wanted to share her feelings with Tom. His bedroom had been empty, so she wasn't surprised to find him sitting cross-legged on her bed, Sam curled contentedly in his lap.

  Stroking the soft fur was having its desired effect. Tom looked supremely calm, even the redness around his nose and eye had faded. By tomorrow no one would be able to tell he'd been hit.

  The presence of old scars brought out the beast in some of my masters. Remembering his words made her shiver.

  He didn't look up, forcing her to speak first. "I wanted to explain about what you saw this afternoon."

  She'd planned what she was going to say. No, there wasn't anything between her and Chet anymore, and there couldn't be anything between her and Tom either. She had to get her life in order, she couldn't keep on living in this dream world, and Tom wasn't any better for her than Chet. She loved Tom but he was a temporary apparition in her life, quite literally. She needed something that fell in-between cold logic and illogical fantasy.

  Then he looked up.

  Had his eyes always been that incredible shade of brown, so deep and dark, and warm? She could hide in them forever and never have to face reality again.

  "The master does not explain to the slave."

  She took a step back, bumping into the door. When it shut with a click behind her, she had the irrational urge to open it just for the pleasure of slamming. For once, Maggie followed through on her instincts. The crack of the door echoing through the hall sounded as angry and brittle as she felt.

  How could he say such a thing so calmly? Wasn't he angry about his condition? Wasn't he angry with her? "If I want to explain my actions, I will and you'll sit and listen."

  He looked up, all-innocent, stroking the cat. "I am sitting, My Maggie. Do you wish me to kneel?"

  That man could get her mad without trying. "Don't start that I'm the master, you're the slave bit. It can be fun occasionally in bed, but people don't live in bed. They live out in the real world, working, going to school, taking care of kids. The master doesn't explain to the slave. What kind of way is that to talk? I don't think of you that way."

  "How do you think of me, my Maggie?"

  She swallowed hard before she answered. Then she looked at him again. It wasn't just his broad bare chest, was it? Or the way he looked so regal on her narrow bed, his head held high, wearing only black silk boxers? Mother had been shopping for him again. It was obvious Mother liked him best. She never did give Chet a chance.

  But turning down Chet had nothing to do with her mother or how he looked in boxers. It had to do with love and the tearing feeling inside when she had looked from Chet's closed eyes and into Tom's wet ones. She was in love with a fantasy, a creature who should not exist, but he did.

  "How do you think of me, my Maggie?" Tom repeated his question, never blinking as he stared into her eyes.

  Could he read her mind? Did he know she wanted him to fold her in his arms and make love to her tonight? A wish she could not say aloud. He had to take her willingly.

  When she walked toward him, he brushed Sam from his lap and set her in the cat's place before she had time to think. Then, she didn't want to think, only feel. Tom lowered his mouth to hers and slipped her clothes from her body.

  WHEN MORNING CAME, Tom held Maggie to his chest, then slipped out from under her. He stared out the window a long time before he made his decision. She had told him last night she would not be marrying Chet, despite what he'd seen in the parking lot. Tom wanted to believe that would be for the best.

  He felt uncertain, a sensation unfamiliar to him and uncomfortable as hell. He should know, he had sent more than one individual there and received the last of their frantic thoughts as they plunged downward. According to what Glenn had said about women, Chet was what Maggie wanted. Certainly, Glenn would know. He made Sarah happy.

  Maybe Chet needed only small changes to become acceptable to Maggie. She could make her last wish, the one she thought was her last, to make Chet the perfect husband. The man obviously had a few flaws.

  He had been kissing her all wrong, for one thing. Maggie liked her hair pulled back from her face when she was kissed, and a hand on her lower back sent the most delightful spasms shooting up her back. Tom didn't need special powers to know she wished for more.

  She would know what else needed fixing. She had canceled the wedding, after all. Maggie, sensible woman that she was, would have had a reason.

  Tom returned to the bed to clear the hair from her eyes. If he could have a wish, if somewhere in this unfeeling universe there existed a power that granted wishes to men with cursed souls, he would wish for his perfect Maggie to be less sensible. Less sensible enough to find room in her heart for her less than perfect jinn.

  When she opened her eyes, her lips curled in that early morning smile of hers that made him want to rejoin her in bed and spend the rest of the day.

  "You're up early," she said.

&
nbsp; "I have work to do," he replied.

  "Oh, yeah? What kind of work does a mythical genie do? Maybe that should be my last wish. You can find me a job and then do it, while I sleep in every day."

  Tom's heart thudded in his chest. The day had come. It didn't matter now that he'd planned to grant her a wish today and set her free. What mattered was that she wanted him to grant one, and she believed it would be her last.

  Yes, the master was enslaved to the wishes just as the slave had to serve the master. Maggie would never have her home, never be happy until she was free of her wishes and free from him. It had always been so. No master he served had ever found happiness while Tom waited for his orders.

  "I don't think that would work." Tom managed a weak smile. "After I grant your last wish, I must return to the abyss." Was that what she wanted? Had his Maggie grown tired of him so soon?

  Maggie stumbled out of bed, looking less perfect every moment. "You're always coming up with some excuse. I don't think you like granting wishes."

  What did she mean, he didn't like granting wishes? Would she? Would anyone? Why should he be the one who was always giving things? He who had never had anything except a bit of warmth around a fire thousands of years ago.

  He followed her into the bathroom and into the shower. The fit was tight, but their bodies slid past each other deliciously, without friction, while he shampooed her hair. He didn't want to fight this morning. She was right. He didn't want to grant any wishes, especially not the one that would send him away from her forever.

  When he finished with her hair, she soaped his chest. "Maybe I can grant your wishes this morning," she purred.

  Forget what I said about not being perfect. My Maggie is beyond compare. "Does my Maggie read minds now, as well?"

  "Not your mind, exactly."

  When she lowered her hands to his waist he realized what she meant. The shower left little space between them. His erection crossed the distance and pressed into her belly. It wasn't evening. Sarah would call them to breakfast soon. Chet would be waiting downstairs. Making love in the morning wasn't sensible.

  Tom didn't care. "Perhaps, I can grant some smaller wish, some desire, that does not require magic."

  You are sending me away. I will never see you again, not like this.

  A brief look of panic lit her features. "We should really be going down. Mom might send Glenn looking for us."

  "A most sensible man. He will know exactly what we are doing and not intrude." Tom ended the possibility of further protests with his mouth.

  Her struggle was brief, but it nearly ended him. She bucked against him, her taut nipples exciting his chest. He almost came at once, against her hot, wet belly. Her hands pushing against his hips provided him with the balance to remain upright. Her tongue answered his, entering his mouth. The rhythm of her body changed.

  This delightful rhythm he had never known before Maggie. An eager woman. Not merely willing or doing as ordered, but eager for him and him alone. His body responded with force and grace he hadn't known he possessed.

  When he lifted her off her feet, she wrapped her arms around his neck. Her fingers slipped beneath his collar, massaging the skin that begged for her soothing touch. Her tongue in his ear wrung a groan from him. He retaliated by lowering her, inch by inch, onto him, keeping her hips still until he rested fully inside her.

  His feet braced against the wall at his back, he cushioned her head with his hands and rested her against the other. He had failed to notice the water had grown cold, until, with her head thrown back, Maggie began to choke.

  He almost slipped when he was forced to balance her single-handedly while he turned off the water. He managed to fall slowly to his knees, one arm holding Maggie in place on the narrow shower bench. Her eyes were closed now, and she began to move against him as if in a trance. With his tongue, he followed drops of water as they left her chin to dance off her breasts.

  He lapped water from her fawn brown nipples, unaware of anything but her tight warmth around his throbbing need. She started that rhythm again, that beat in his brain and made his hips answer of their own accord. His woman was calling him, and he was responding as men had done for centuries. For centuries he had watched, never daring hope he would be found worthy.

  Now he had his Maggie. He would never let her go.

  A pounding sounded, close, on the bathroom door.

  "Oh, God," Maggie gasped. She tried to pull away, but the shower walls kept her from moving far. "I'm taking a shower."

  "Sarah sent me to get you. Breakfast is ready."

  Tom ground his teeth at the sound of Chet's voice. Lady Sarah should have sent Glenn. He had more sense. Tom tried to ease Maggie back into his arms and into rhythm with his still heated body. Surely, the fool would go away.

  Maggie shoved against his chest, making him lose his balance and fall forward. He groaned when he slipped out of her, much too soon. His forehead banged against the wall.

  To make the moment perfect, she hissed at him, "keep your mouth shut."

  His mouth shut? She hadn't complained about his mouth being open a few moments ago. She hadn't given him orders to be quiet then.

  "Are you all right, Margaret? I don't hear any water." Chet tried the door.

  Tom looked up in time to catch Maggie's panicked expression. He hadn't locked the door. A sensible precaution, but one he hadn't taken. Well, he was cursed, he wasn't perfect.

  Maggie looked distressed at the prospect of Chet seeing her without clothes. Tom had noticed that about Maggie. She was not entirely comfortable when nude. Mayhap this was why she had canceled the wedding. Could Chet be such a fool that he didn't find her attractive in this state?

  "Stay out," Tom said, secure in the knowledge that Chet would not violate such a simple request.

  When Maggie slapped her hand over his mouth, he was no longer so sure he'd done the right thing.

  "Margaret? Is that you?"

  She didn't release Tom's mouth, not even when he kissed her palm, not even when he started to nibble, which usually did the trick.

  "I heard something fall. If you don't say something, I'm coming in."

  Maggie shot Tom a warning glance, but when she opened her mouth, nothing came out.

  Sometimes his sensible Maggie surprised him with her nonsense. Since he needed both hands to keep from falling on her, he shook his head to free his mouth. "Maggie and I are making love in the shower. We will join you for breakfast as soon as we are done."

  Now the water on her face was from her tears. "Oh, Tom." This time when she pushed, he landed outside the shower. They didn't hear anything from the other side of the door.

  Tom decided to retreat. He closed the shower door and left the bathroom when the water started to run again. Chet had already gone downstairs, as Tom expected. He didn't know what Maggie was upset about. What he had said had the desired result and was truthful. What more did she want?

  Why didn't she want Chet to know they were making love? She had already decided she didn't want to marry him. Unless...the approaching thought disturbed him. He shook it away and slipped on his jeans. The rough fabric irritated his still-damp skin, but he didn't want to return to his assigned room and his clean clothes. He didn't want to leave Maggie.

  She chose that moment to burst into the room, when he was trying to maneuver himself into pants. Not an easy task in his present state.

  "Why did you do that?" she demanded.

  The thought flashed through his mind that with one tug he could separate her from her towel. She was tapping her foot. Part of him recognized the warning sign, she was impatient, angry. The other part could only stare at her delicate, still damp toes. He almost asked if her feet were cold. He was too aware that they hadn't finished making love to take an interest in this argument.

  Maybe she was hungry. Would it be too far fetched to imagine he could convince her to return to bed after breakfast? He could tell everyone how pale she looked and insist she needed a nap. Or mayb
e his injuries of yesterday would require her soothing touch on his forehead while he took a nap.

  He didn't know if he'd actually made a move to hold her or if she had finally noticed him eyeing her toes. The tapping stopped. She stuffed her feet into slippers and slipped on her bathrobe. Her wet towel fell to the floor unnoticed.

  "Well," she demanded again. "Why did you do that?"

  Maybe if he hadn't been so damnably uncomfortable he would have taken time to consider his response. "That's the question I should be asking you."

  "What do you mean by that crack? You had no reason to embarrass Chet and me that way."

  So it was true. She wasn't angry because Chet had discovered her with a man in her shower, she was angry because Chet had discovered her with him.

  "Believe me, what I was doing in the shower with you had nothing to do with embarrassing Chet. It had nothing to do with him at all. For one thing, I don't think there's enough room in there for three. Besides, I understood there wasn't a Chet and you any more."

  "You know what I mean. You knew they would be expecting us for breakfast. It's not like you don't know the routine."

  Tom's chest grew tight. Routine. She wanted to fit love into a routine. He had seen her there, all naked and willing and wanting him, and she expected him to shove those feelings aside and wait for an appropriate moment. She was willing to accept him, quite willing, when he fit into her schedule, when he was convenient, when he responded to her commands. But he wanted...no, he needed...to make commands of his own. Commands and demands.

  Despite what he had said earlier, he couldn't be her slave. Even now, the collar threatened to tighten around his throat.

  "You're right about one thing, my Maggie. I know what you mean. Chet may be feeling a little foolish right now, but he'll get over it. You're the one who's embarrassed. Admit it!"

  "Admit what?" She crossed her arms over her chest in blatant mockery of him.

  "You're ashamed to be seen with me unless you can explain me away as some sort of nut case you've taken pity on."