Wishful Thinking (2 page)

“You’re crazy.” She pushed him away, blinking back tears of rage. Why had she left her purse at her desk? She had no access to her cell phone to call for help. Attempting to tug away, she soon realized her limited strength was no match for the two determined men. For the moment, she had no choice but to try and appease them. "Fine. I'll do it."

“You make me that gold.” Clinton’s eyes glittered with greed. “Hell, I’ll even give you that promotion. If you don’t, you’re fired. I’ll destroy your reputation in this industry.”

Before she knew it, they shoved her in the conference room and flipped on the light. Clinton patted her down in an extremely invasive way, but since she didn’t have anything on her person, he came away empty handed. Dan retrieved the phone from a small side table by the door, yanking the cord from the wall.

“Wait!”

Ignoring her, they slammed the door and were gone.

She was alone with nothing but her racing thoughts to keep her company. Damn it, no matter how ridiculous the idea sounded, what if they weren't talking literal gold? What if they really wanted her to call the old clients and find out if they wanted to book a future event? That way, money would come into the company and be considered "modern" gold. "Get a grip, girl. The pricks removed the phone." She took a deep, shuddering breath and blew it out. Fine. No reason to panic.
I'll just work throughout the night, do the best I can and hope for a miracle.

Chapter Two

Bored with waiting on the guys to bring in the contracts, she walked around the rectangular table and trailed a fingertip along the scalloped edge of the woodwork. Finally, she sank into one of the four buttery-soft leather chairs. Jovie ran a hand through her hair and glanced around the intimate space. Unlike the other conference room, this one could only accommodate four people.

Heavy oak shelves lined one wall, filled with all sorts of books ranging from law practice to cooking for crowds to the latest styles of dancing and anything in between. Sadly, none of that knowledge would help her escape her current predicament. How many re-worked contracts would they expect her to turn over? Ten? Twenty? She ignored the sick feeling in her stomach. Seconds before she moved her gaze to the tabletop, it fell on a hard-backed collection of fairy tales.

Rolling her eyes, Jovie crossed her arms on the table and sank her head on top. Wouldn’t it be great if she could snap her fingers and call forth a magical being? Then everything in her life could go back to normal without incident and she wouldn’t be trapped in a conference room, her fate hinging on the whim of two jerks. Why stop there? If magic were alive and well in the world, she could summon a being that would sweep her away from this madness. He’d fall in love with her and they’d live happily ever after on an island.

She laughed, and the sarcastic sound echoed back at her. What an idiot. The only way out would be from hard work and dedication. Too bad there wasn’t any such thing as magic and fairy tales weren’t real.

Experience had taught her that time and time again. One bad relationship after the other, a string of uncommitted men and not one of them had touched her heart or satisfied the hunger deep inside, the need to connect with another person on more than a physical level.

With a sigh, she closed her eyes. If Dan and Clinton didn't hurry up, she'd walk out of the conference room, out of Romantic Escapes, and into the unemployment office. There was only so much crap she was willing to take before calling it quits. Except she really needed this job and finding another in this economy would be almost as impossible as Clinton's plan.

After what seemed like hours, a heavy knock on the door awakened Jovie. She lifted her head, rubbing her tired, tear-swollen eyes as Clinton wheeled in a catering cart. On the bottom shelf rested a copy paper box brimming with stacks of paperwork. On the top level were a few bottles of water and the silver tea service Romantic Escapes used for their clients. A silver dome covered what she hoped would be food as her stomach growled for attention.

She jumped to her feet. “Before I get started, let me run to the bathroom.” Her attempt to dart past resulted in him grabbing her wrist in a grip strong enough to make her eyes water. “You’re hurting me.”

“I guess you don't want this job enough, huh?" This time, Clinton managed to give her a rough kiss. "Give me what I want and I’ll do the same for you.”

Jovie skittered back, wrenching from his grasp, resisting the urge to spit the taste of him from her mouth. “This is total crap. What you and Dan are asking of me is stupid. Not to mention, I’d rather die than do anything with you. I quit.”

“It’s your career.” His lips stretched with a leer. “Dan thought you should at least have dinner since it's likely you'll be here all night. I disagreed, saying the more desperate you were, the better the results.” He bent and hefted the box. “We’ll see what happens in another couple hours. I'll be in my office right across the hall if you change your mind and take my offer.”

Fear rose in her chest and chilled her skin. “You’re insane.” When he dumped the papers on the table top, she jumped. Stapled contracts tumbled across the glossy surface and slid to the floor.

“Maybe so, but I intend to own this company and take it to new levels that Dan never thought of. You can either come with me or try to live down the media scandal I’ll create. Your choice.”

She crossed her arms over her chest and glared.

Clinton shrugged. “I’ll begin the process of transferring your clients into my name. Nice working with you. See you around at the local super store. Hope you enjoy being a greeter in a little blue vest.” Villainous laughter followed him out into the hallway. He closed the door behind him.

With a cry of frustration, Jovie rushed at the door. Yanking it open, she looked across the hall. Clinton stood in the doorway to his office, his grin wide. “Damn it, Clinton! If you think this ends here, you’re a bigger ass than I thought!” She slammed the door, smacked a palm flat on the wood then turned around and sagged against it.

Fine, if he wanted her to produce, she'd do it. It couldn't be that hard, right? She needed to rise above the situation and make it work for her. Hadn’t she heard that enough times from the slick salespeople she worked with? Put a positive spin on the issue and make it an opportunity for her advantage. Make a few calls, craft a deal the clients couldn't refuse and boom! New contracts.

A heavy sigh escaped her lips. No matter how she tried to think about it, it was still a tall order. Not to mention it would be difficult to call clients without a phone. Time for a cup of tea to start the creative process.

Ignoring the mess of the paper-strewn table, she moved to the catering cart and poured a cup of the amber-colored liquid. Immediately, the floral fragrance of the tea wafted around her. She dropped a sugar cube into the hot beverage, watching as the block dissolved under the surface. When she reached for the creamer container, she frowned to see the shiny, silver vessel marred by fingerprints and water droplets. Stupid men who didn't know how to properly clean the silver service. Jovie retrieved a linen napkin from the tray and polished first one side then the other until it shone under the gentle overhead light.

“Much better.” Jovie poured a thin stream of milk into her cup and smiled when the glassy surface clouded. She'd picked up the habit of enjoying tea during her trip to London a few years ago. In the midst of chaos, the act of sitting down and sipping the beverage promoted calm.

As she returned the creamer container to the tray, a cloud of shimmering aqua smoke filled the conference room, obliterating the table, the catering cart and everything else for several seconds.

She coughed when the dust entered her lungs. It tasted faintly of exotic candied fruits yet was perfumed with warm spices and bergamot. Tears streamed to her cheeks from the irritant, prompting her to dab at the moisture with the napkin. When she opened her eyes, the smoke had cleared and a strange man stood before her.

“You’re right.” A subtle English accent danced through the baritone voice. “This
is
much better.”

“Who are you and where did you come from?” She couldn’t help but admire the man even as her brain screamed out a warning to run.

Skin the hue of a New Orleans café-au-lait and eyes of such a brilliant green they could have been tinted contact lenses, he moved away from the catering cart and prowled the small room. Black hair fell to his wide shoulders in windblown waves. It looked so soft she wanted to reach out a hand and touch it to confirm.

Jovie swallowed hard. That skin made her crave fried pastries. She followed the thought with another—sprinkling him with powdered sugar so she could lick off every white fleck, from those to-die-for shoulders over his probably swoonful abs and… Oh God. Flutters filled her stomach. Her mouth watered as she stared. "Who are you?" Come on, answer me so I can figure out if I'm talking to an illusion.

He wore a soft-looking white t-shirt that hugged a fit chest and showcased muscled arms and broad shoulders. Heat rushed through her bloodstream, making her limbs feel they had the integrity of cooked pasta, but she continued her perusal. How could she not? His torso tapered into a narrow waist and slim hips. Powerfully built thighs stole her breath. Though black denim covered his bottom half, she tried to imagine what those legs would feel like, pinning her to a bed or how his unleashed cock would feel like as it spilled into her hands.

Yeah right. If this man ended up being real, there was no way he'd want to do
that
with her.

As if aware of her thoughts, the man’s sensuous lips parted with a grin that flashed white teeth. "You never know." The bulge at his fly twitched. “I have been cursed into that vile creamer pot for a century. You have no idea how wonderful it is to be free.”

Curses? A century or so old? Jovie’s mind reeled from the new information. “What are you doing here? In this room? At this company?” She glanced at the still-closed door. “No matter what Clinton told you, I'm not stupid. How did you really get in here?” Was this part of her boss's plan to distract her away from her work?

The man sighed, as if he’d had this exact conversation too many times in the past. “I occupy the space between worlds. A nether realm if you will, sent there by an extremely over-zealous voodoo priestess years ago.” He closed the distance until a mere arm’s length of air separated them. “She had a rather adverse reaction to my ending our affair. Thus the curse.”

Jovie shook her head. Still bemused by his sudden appearance and overheated from his proximity, she didn't believe him. “I don’t understand.” A quick glance around didn’t show any holes in the ceiling or floor, no fissures in the walls where he could have come in. The door to the room remained shut. “You came out of the creamer container?” A peek at the tea tray didn’t reveal anything odd, no tiny sign saying "genie inside".

“Yes, doubting one, and I’ve come to rescue you from your problem.”

“My problem? Do you mean Clinton or this mess?” She shifted her gaze to the papers on the tabletop.

"To them and whatever else is troubling you." He snapped his fingers. Several sets of contracts slid over the edge of the table and onto the floor. A mischievous smile tugged at his lips. "Shall we start?"

"How do you know about any of it?"

“I know everything that pertains to your life, Jovie. I’ve watched you for many months, from the first moment you suggested to your boss that this tea service be used for customers. You brought me into the light of day again.” He cupped her cheek with one hand. “I am your humble servant and will do everything in my power to please you for releasing me from my prison.”

She shivered at the brief touch. Her cheeks warmed under his intense gaze. “Why?” None of this could be happening. It must be a hallucination brought on by extreme stress. Slightly hysterical laughter left her throat. Death by paperwork. Yeah, that's the ticket.

“Poor lost lamb.” His hand slipped from her cheek to the back of her neck and he brought her close to his Hollywood-hero body. “Consider me your magical genie, a fairy godfather, a guardian angel, if you will, except there’s really nothing angelic about me, which is probably why I’ve been cursed.”

“What does that mean?” She blinked, staring up into his six-foot height and feeling small and vulnerable even in her heels. “This can’t be real.” Women like her could never land guys like him. Didn't the fashion mags and popular TV shows drill that into the public time and again?

“Then let me convince you.” He snaked his free hand around her waist to press against the small of her back and lowered his mouth to hers.

Tingling sensations flitted through Jovie’s body in little teasing, buzzing jolts. She felt more alive than she did from the burst of caffeine in her tea. She attempted to pull out of his embrace, but he tightened his arms about her, unmovable as steel.

He lifted his head. “Relax, little one, and let me set your mind at ease. I will change your many papers into gold bars and give you leads for new clients besides. After that, you’ll know the same freedom as I do, at least for a time.” His breath warmed her cheeks, his fingers strong as he held her. "Of course, freedom never comes without a price. Are you willing to pay it?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Did she suddenly have a stroke and now lived in a fantasy world?

His gaze intensified. "It's extremely important you agree to all consequences before we start. If you do not, I have no choice but to return to the creamer container."

"I don't know what the rules are for your game."

With his shrug, his gaze morphed into over-the-top sexy again. "Does it matter?"

"No, I guess not." Especially if she were dreaming. "I accept." Wondering if she really had lost her grip on the real world yet desperate for help and understanding, she said, “Okay. What now?”

"I seal the contract with a kiss."

"Oh." With a trembling sigh, she nodded slightly. A soft moan escaped her throat when he kissed her again, this time with more urgency.