Mad About You (66 page)

Jasmine snatched a linen napkin from the table to wipe her eyes, but the very sight of their abandoned meal renewed her torrent of tears. Only one candle still burned, but it was fizzling out in its own wax, so she blew it out. The other half-burned candles must have extinguished themselves. Yet another careless mistake: they could have torched the entire block.

As quietly and quickly as possible, she repaired her hair and makeup with the limited contents of her purse. God only knew who might be lurking outside in their car with a camera at this very moment, waiting for her to emerge. She slung her purse to her shoulder and glanced back at Ladden, who still hadn't moved. She had a terrible feeling the worst was yet to come.

She took a deep breath and passed through the door to the fully lit showroom. If not for the rain, she would have been perfectly spotlighted for anyone watching from outside, but she could barely see her car across the street. Quickly, she unlocked the front door, then stepped outside and made a run for it.

* * *

A telephone rang in the distance, but by the time Ladden roused, it stopped. He sat up and surveyed the room, knowing Jasmine was gone. At least the rain had stopped. He sighed, passing a hand over his face. Her leaving without waking him was not a good sign.

But as he pushed himself to his feet, he couldn't resist a little self-satisfied smile. What an incredible evening—first dinner, then their lovemaking, then the carpet ride. He laughed. Of course, he could never repeat the story, but how appropriate that he had experienced the amazing incident with Jasmine. Glancing down at the rug, he said, "I was beginning to think you had no redeeming qualities."

The phone rang again and he reached for the extension on his bookshelf.

"Hello?"

"Hi... it's Jasmine."

His heart vaulted at the sound of her voice. "Where are you?"

"On my way home." She sounded curt, distant.

"Why didn't you wake me?"

In the instant of her hesitation, he knew he had lost her. "I thought it would be best to simply leave."

Hurt pierced his heart. He closed his eyes. "Can we discuss this?"

"My behavior was reprehensible," she said quickly, her tone cool. "I only hope all of us can get through this unscathed."

As always, she was worried about McDonald. "I'll do my part," he promised.

"Thank you."

"I thought your road was closed by the flooding."

"I just heard on the radio that it's reopened." She cleared her throat politely. "Ladden, under the circumstances, I think it would be best if we don't see each other again—not even on a professional basis."

Another blow. "I see. And do I have any say in the matter?"

"No." Her voice was quiet.

"Well, then," he said with false cheer, "it's been good sleeping with you—have a nice life."

"Ladden, what happened was a mistake—"

"No," he cut in angrily. "The only thing wrong about it is that we're skulking around like teenagers."

"It was a one-night stand," she said flatly. "It meant nothing."

Her words cut him deeply, but he couldn't let them pass. "Tell yourself whatever is necessary to rationalize what happened between us, but I was there, and you can't tell me that it meant nothing." He took a deep, calming breath. "Look, I know all this magic stuff has got you spooked, but don't you see? How else could the two of us have gotten together?"

"Magic? I don't know what you're talking about."

Incredulity washed over him. "How can you say that after this evening—after the carpet ride?"

Silence stretched over the line. When she spoke, her voice shook. "Like I said, I don't know what you're talking about, but I really have to go. Goodbye, Ladden." And she hung up.

He stared at the phone, then slammed it down. His frustration and anger overflowed. He strode across the room to the table where they'd eaten dinner and cleared the surface with one sweep of his arm. The horrific crash of glass and metal on the wood floor was only slightly therapeutic.

"Greetings, Master."

Ladden spun around to find Gene inspecting the mess. "Oh, it's you." He glanced at the floor sheepishly. "I, um, got a little upset."

Gene sighed. "No lovey-lovey?"

Shifting nervously, Ladden wondered how much the genie had observed from whatever plane he lived on when he wasn't... visible. "Yes, there was lovey—yes."

"Then why this?" the man asked, gesturing to the heap of broken glass and flowers.

"It didn't make any difference. In fact, being together only made things worse. Jasmine doesn't want to see me anymore at all."

"Ah." The old man shook his head. "American women are stubborn, like a camel." Then he brightened. "No worries. You will find your princess someday."

Ladden pulled on his jeans, then nodded. "You're right. I can't make her love me. I need to get on with my life."

"Yes, and you still have a final wish." With a broad grin, he threw his arms wide. "What will it be?"

He laughed—he'd forgotten about the third wish. "Gee, I don't know—what do most people wish for?"

"Money... power." His eyes lit up. "I can make you governor, then you will have your Jasmine!"

Ladden frowned. "I don't want Jasmine to be with me because I have all the fancy trappings of some office. I'll leave that job to McDonald."

"Then how about gold?"

A definite possibility, Ladden thought wryly. But having the extra storefront would already provide him with the means to make a very comfortable living. "I can't decide. Do I have to use it right away?"

Gene shrugged. "No, but I must remain close until then."

"Let me think about it. I'm going home to get some sleep." When he turned around, Gene and the mess Ladden had made were gone. Whistling under his breath, he marveled at his own ability to adjust so quickly to having a genie around.

But on the drive home, Ladden set aside thoughts of genies and wishes and reflected only on the intimacies he and Jasmine had shared. The contours of her lithe body rose in his mind, amazing him all over again. Now that he'd had a glimpse of her sensual side, getting her out of his mind would be even more difficult.

And Jasmine hadn't heard the last of him yet. He was no genie, but he still had one trick up his sleeve.

* * *

"Ms. Crowne, a delivery van just arrived."

Jasmine glanced up at the secretary, her hands stilling on an onyx horse-head sculpture. "With the rug?"

"Yes."

She smiled in relief. A simple black woven rug from a carpet warehouse was better than no rug at all. Jasmine stepped back to check the sculpture arrangement on Trey's dressing table. Satisfied, she joined the woman, checking her watch. "Good—this is even earlier than I was promised."

"I told him to drive around to the west hall entrance. That way he won't have to carry it so far to the governor's room."

"Thank you, Ms. Rogers. I'll take it from here."

Jasmine smoothed a hand over her hair and checked her suit. She wanted to look her best when the cameras arrived, to show an outward appearance of calm, even if she were falling apart inside. Thankfully, she hadn't been followed home last night, and the news crews were too distracted by the freak storm to notice her car had been parked near Ladden's store for over three hours. If she were very, very lucky, maybe she and Ladden would be the only people who had to live with the knowledge of what they'd done.

When she walked into the west hall, she stopped abruptly. Her heart jumped to her throat at the sight of Ladden standing just inside the wide delivery door. He wore his usual jeans and T-shirt with a white ball cap that read Atlanta Braves. Every intimate act they'd shared last night flashed through her mind.

As she walked closer on rubbery legs, he removed his hat. "Hello," he said politely. No innuendo, no spite. Just hello.

"What are you doing here?"

His brow furrowed in puzzlement. "I brought your rug."

Alarm shot through her. She couldn't put that, that... thing in Trey's room and have it traveling the halls of the governor's mansion. "I changed my mind."

"But you said you had to have it. You said it would be perfect for McDonald's room."

"I told you," she said, trying to keep her voice calm, "I changed my mind."

"From last night to this morning?" he asked, one eyebrow raised. "What happened to change your mind?"

Everything. "I decided it wasn't right for the room after all."

He shrugged, "Too bad. You asked for a rug, you've got a rug." Then he pulled out a pair of work gloves and turned toward the exit.

"But I don't want it!" she said, trotting after him.

He turned back. "Why not? It’s just a rug after all…it’s not as if it has some kind of magical power."

She bit her tongue. With her luck, the rug would wait until the TV cameras were rolling, and then get up and do a jig.

When she walked out on the stoop, Ladden emerged from the truck with the rug resting on his big shoulder. "Which way is the governor's room?"

She didn't answer.

His mouth curved into a wry smile. "Don't tell me you've forgotten."

Pursing her lips, she sighed in resignation. Maybe she could get rid of it later. "Follow me."

Jasmine walked stiffly back to Trey's room, knowing Ladden perused her figure from only a few steps back. When she led him into the room, her skin tingled with the awkwardness of the situation.

Ladden lowered the rug gently to the polished wood floor. "Nice. My entire showroom would fit inside here."

She nodded, not knowing what to say.

He unrolled the carpet carefully and combed the fringe, touching the rug almost lovingly. "There. Your first instinct was right—the colors are great for this room." He turned a smile her way. "And how appropriate that this rug be in this room, don't you think?"

So she could remember their lapse every time she stepped into Trey's bedroom. Feeling lightheaded, Jasmine reached for a chair to steady herself. "Ladden—"

"Jasmine, I love you."

Her chest felt ready to explode. Hot tears burned her eyelids, but she blinked them away and took a deep breath. "Ladden, I’m not the right woman for you. We're very different people with very different goals in life."

He removed his hat, folding it in his hands. "I thought everyone wanted to grow old with someone they love."

"But I want... excitement and travel and fame." She measured her words, trying to be as honest with him as possible. She owed him that much. "Ladden, not very many people know that... that I came from absolutely nothing." She swallowed and lifted her chin. "Being with Trey is the opportunity of a lifetime for me."

He didn't say anything for a while, just stared at her with sad, dark eyes. "So you're going to marry this man?"

She nodded curtly. "If he asks, then, yes, I'll marry him."

"And will he ask?"

"I think so, if he wins the election." She dropped her gaze.

"Well," he said slowly. "I guess there's only one thing I can do to make sure you're happy."

She glanced up, confused.

"I wish that Governor McDonald be reelected," he said loudly, directing his voice to the room at large, as if speaking to an unearthly ear.

Two seconds passed before the enormity of what he'd just done washed over her: he'd used his third wish. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out.

Ladden jammed his hat back on his head. "Good-bye, Jasmine."

Chapter Fifteen

JASMINE LAY IN HER BED and watched as a bright blue butterfly walked the length of a still blade of her ceiling fan. Would she ever get them all out of her place?

For two weeks, her life had resembled a whirlwind. The tours she'd given of the governor's mansion had made her friends in the media circles. Gradually, the rumors about her and Ladden had died while Trey McDonald had made the most amazing comeback in the state's political history. He'd won by a landslide, a surprise to everyone around him except her, she noted. The staff had celebrated for days.

Today was the first day she had no pressing appointments, no appearances with Trey, no congratulatory parties to attend. She dreaded it.

Because when her mind slowed for even a second or two, Ladden Sanderson was there, loving her. With the entire unscheduled, unfrenzied, free-thinking day ahead of her, it would drag interminably.

After the election, she'd sent the magic carpet back to him along with a thank you note. No one else knew what he'd done for Trey—what he'd done for her. She hadn't heard back from him and didn't expect to.

Finally, she swung her feet to the floor and made herself get up. After a shower, she shuffled into the living room to have a cup of coffee and watch a local morning news program. Everyone, it seemed, was preparing for Thanksgiving dinner. She watched with mild interest as a local chef demonstrated how to clean the turkey and what to do with the giblets. An image of Ladden's family came to her mind, and she smiled. They probably had huge gatherings during the holidays.

Thanksgivings had stopped in her house when her mother had died. As well as Christmases, birthdays, and any other reason to celebrate, as far as her father was concerned. He had never abused her physically, but he had tried to crush her spirit with his constant browbeating and ironclad rules.

Her heart swelled suddenly and she wondered if he'd changed in the fifteen or so years since she'd seen him. He still lived in the same little shack in Glenhayden. She drove by a couple of times a year just to make sure the name was still on the mailbox. Her most recent drive-by had been yesterday, and to her surprise, the house had been painted and the yard tidied. Her first sinking thought had been that he'd passed away and someone else was living there, but he'd been sitting in a lawn chair on the tiny porch, wiping his forehead.

He'd looked older and weaker, she thought, her heart hammering as she'd navigated her sportscar around the clunkers parked on the side of the street in the run-down neighborhood. She had almost stopped, but at the last minute she'd been much too frightened—her childhood had been an ugly, unhappy part of her life, and she didn't want it to taint her new life and her new image.