A Man for Megan Page 5

  He rolled his eyes heavenward, then vanished.

  Megan moved away from the door. It swung inward, Elliot half falling through it. He grabbed at the door frame.

  “Elliot?”

  He righted himself and took a deep breath, brushing off the front of his Polo. “I thought I heard you talking to someone?”

  “Me?” Megan squeaked. “Who would I be talking to? There’s no one here.”

  Elliot tilted his head. “I swore I heard voices.”

  “Voices? Oh, I know. I was singing.” She broke into a strained trill. “I dream of Jeanie…”

  “It was a deeper voice.”

  Megan lowered her voice to a tenor. “I dream of Jeanie …”

  Elliot stared at her, his brows pulling together, forming tiny furrows at the bridge of his nose. “Anyway, I just came back to tell you, Mom asked us to Sunday dinner tomorrow afternoon.”

  “Oh” was all Megan said.

  “I know you and she don’t always see eye to eye—”

  “Don’t beat around the bush. Your mother doesn’t. She has made it clear on several occasions how she feels about me. The woman can’t stand me.”

  “Aren’t you exaggerating just a bit?”

  “The last time I saw her, she said, ‘You aren’t going to marry my son, you’re going to bury him.’ From that statement, I think it’s pretty safe to say your mother does not care for me.”

  “Now, now.” Elliot punctuated his words with a flap of his hands. “I know that sounds like she doesn’t like you, but that’s just Mom’s sense of humor.”

  Megan crossed her arms. “If she’s planning on going into stand-up comedy, advise her not to quit her day job.”

  “You have to get to know her. That’s why I told her we’d be there tomorrow. So you and she can, well, interact.”

  “You’re killing yourself here, Elliot.”

  “I told her we’d be there at two.”

  “You accepted? Without checking with me first? You knew I was planning on cooking dinner for us.”

  “Now you won’t have to. You can put your feet up and be a lady of leisure all day. You’ve been working too hard. Tonight you were lucky you didn’t kill yourself. Besides, I want the two girls in my life to get along. Mom’s making an effort. You can, at least, meet her halfway.”

  Megan sighed. “You’re right. Your mother and I are going to have to learn to get along sooner or later.”

  “Thanks, Megs. I owe you one.” Elliot rewarded her with a kiss. “And don’t worry, someday soon, I’ll give you everything you’ve ever wanted.”

  “For now, just give me some suggestions on how to convince your mother I’m worthy of her only baby.”

  “Just be yourself.”

  “I already tried that. It didn’t work.”

  “Give it time. She’ll come around. It’s just that since Dad died, I’m all my mom’s got.”

  Megan closed the door behind him, locking it this time. She did understand, more than Elliot thought. Because Elliot was all she’d had, too. Until today.

  “I dream of Jeanie?” Gino asked behind her. “Very cute.”

  Megan sat down at the kitchen table. The clock on the wall said 3:10. She rubbed the center of her forehead. Weariness pooled in her eyes. “Do you always have to come and go like this?”

  “Don’t worry. I’m always within five hundred feet.”

  Megan looked at him from between her fingers. “What do you mean you’re always within five hundred feet?”

  “If I’m not in my chosen container, I must always stay within five hundred feet of my master. And since the crock pot is gone, my only other alternative is to stay close to you.”

  Megan’s hands dropped from her face. “The chosen container?”

  “Once I spent three years in a tackle box. I didn’t like that at all. Another time, I was trapped in a half-empty bottle of Dom Pérignon. Now that was fun.”

  “Five hundred feet?” Megan repeated as if trying to understand.

  “That’s right. I’ve got a five-hundred-foot leeway except when I’m in between masters. Then I can’t leave the container of choice at all until someone lets me out. Of course, then, they become my master, and well, it’s a vicious cycle.”

  Megan jumped up from the table and opened a cupboard. When she turned back to Gino, she had a plastic white container with a clear top. “Try this.”

  Gino shook his head. “That won’t do.”

  “Listen, I know a Cool Whip container is a step down from your crock pot condo, but, for now, it’ll have to do.”

  “You don’t understand: I have to stay in the container my current master found me in.”

  “What is that? Part of the genie creed?”

  “It prevents less scrupulous genies from playing hide and seek with their masters.”

  “Wait a minute.” Megan began pulling out an endless variety of bowls and plates stacked high in the cupboard. “I must have something that’ll work. What about this?” She presented a large cranberry-colored bowl to Gino.

  “Look.” She picked up a matching cover and pressed it on the bowl. “It’s got a patented lock-top.” She lifted a corner of the cover, and the bowl burped at Gino.

  He shook his head. “Nothing’ll work but the crock pot.”

  “You genies have a lot of rules.” Megan began to put the dishes back into the cupboard. “Okay, tomorrow, we’ll go to Wal-Mart and buy another crock pot.”

  “That won’t work, either.”

  “Sure it will.” Megan sat down at the table. “Listen, what size was your other one? Two and a half quarts? We’ll buy you a five-quarter. You’ll have double the room you had before.”

  He shook his head. “It has to be the chosen container.”

  “You mean the one you came in?”

  He nodded.

  “What if that container is gone? You and I are joined at the hip?”

  “Give or take five hundred feet.”

  “Well, blink or wriggle your nose or say bibbidibobbideeboo and bring it back.”

  “I can’t do that.”

  “What do you mean you can’t do that?”

  “If you want me to bring it back, you have to wish for it.”

  “You want me to make a wish for…a crock pot?”

  He nodded again. “You’re the keeper of the crock pot.”

  Megan dropped her head into her arms on the table. “Why is this happening to me?”

  She heard an indignant snort. “You’d think you were the one cursed.”

  Megan raised her head. “Well, you’re no help at all. The genie in Aladdin could do William Buckley. You couldn’t even give me a simple Italian accent this afternoon.”

  “Lasciate ogni speranza, voi ch’entrate,” he answered.

  She eyed him. “What does that mean?”

  “‘Abandon all hope, ye who enter.’ La Señorita is cranky.”

  Her smile came before she could stop it. “And what about the blood on the steering wheel?”

  “At that time, my first concern was healing you. I would’ve steam-cleaned the whole car if you didn’t shoo me away like I was still a fly.”

  “So, genies do have feelings?”

  “Not normally. But, unfortunately, I’m one-third human. It’s the other curse I carry.”

  “You’re one-third human?”

  “My father is King of the Ifrit Clan of the Jinn, but my mother was a mortal.”

  “Then, you’re one-half human.”

  “Please.” His laugh sounded, short and scornful. “One-third is penalty plenty. The blood of my genie ancestors is far superior to human. Human genes pale to half-power when the two are mixed.”

  Megan slowly looked him up and down. “So, what third of you is human?”

  “The lowest common denominator,” he answered without a trace of teasing. “My father’s momentary descent to the mortal level is the burden I’ve carried since birth, rendering me impure and unworthy of the Royal Throne.”
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br />   “Why?”

  “Only a purebred genie can rule in the Upper Tier.”

  “But I thought you said after you granted my three wishes, the curse was over, and you’d be King.”

  “Yes.” Gino smiled. “After I grant your three wishes, Ishtar has pledged to end both curses—the one she sentenced me with two thousand years ago and the eternal one willed me at birth by my mother’s tainted heritage. Not only will I be free, I’ll be pure, as pure as the air that created the angels.” His gaze went past Megan to an unseen horizon. “Free of my mortal flaw I will sit without shame on the throne now denied me.”

  Gino’s gaze came back to Megan. “So, you want riches, power, everlasting youth, fine, but just because I’m your servant doesn’t mean you have to treat me like, well, a servant.”

  “I didn’t mean it, Gino. I just didn’t know how to explain—”

  He held up a halting hand. “And that name. Nowhere in the curse does it say I have to answer to…” He paused, took a deep breath, then spat out, “Gino. I’m a genie prince, not an organ-grinder’s trained monkey.”

  Megan flattened her hands on the table. “How did you expect me to explain you to Kitty, never mind, the police? Don’t you think my fiancé might wonder what I’m doing in the middle of a field with a man at midnight? Oh, wouldn’t his mother have a field day with that one?”

  “Doesn’t your fiancé trust you?”

  Megan’s fingers clenched until the bones in the back of her hands became visible. “This isn’t about Elliot and me. This is about you and me. Do you think this is fun? Since you’ve arrived, I’ve called the fire department out on a false alarm, hed to Elliot, been accused of drunk driving and wrecked my car. You may be a bona fide blue-blooded genie, buddy, but you can also be a royal pain in the…” She stopped and caught her own breath. She never, ever lost control like this.

  The genie lifted one eyebrow. “Deretano?” he provided.

  “what’s that?”

  “It’s Italian for—”

  “Never mind. I get the idea.” She unfurled her fingers and waved her hand as if trying to brush away her anger. “I’m sorry.” She massaged the spot between her eyebrows. “It’s been a long day.”

  He leaned back in his chair, propping a foot on his knee. “You’re tired.”

  “I am.” Her eyes closed as she continued to knead the bridge of her nose. “Anyway, we can’t introduce you as Gilligan.”

  “It’s Gilgamesh,” he said, correcting her.

  “Sorry, but that still won’t play in Shady Hook, Connecticut.”

  “And Gino will?”

  “It’s better than Gilgamess.”

  “Gilgamesh.” He corrected her once more.

  Megan’s fingers moved up to rub the middle of her forehead. “What would you like to be called?”

  No one had ever asked him what he wanted before. He looked at her and saw once more the face he knew he’d never forget.

  “I’ve always been partial to Elvis.”

  Megan’s eyes opened. “Elvis?” She saw his earnest expression and checked her laughter.

  She shrugged her shoulders. “I’ll allow Elvis.” She smiled. “But I draw the line at ‘The King.’”

  He smiled back. “Soon enough, I’ll be called King.”

  “For now, we’ll just say your mother was a big fan.”

  “My mother?” he questioned. “What does she have to do with this?”

  “Nothing really. I was just saying—”

  “We’ll just stick with Gino.”

  “Are you sure?” Megan’s voice was concerned. “It’d be easier, but we can explain Elvis.”

  “Gino will be fine.”

  “But—”

  “I don’t even know why we’re discussing this.” He cut her off. “You’re going to make your two last wishes, and I’ll be gone.”

  Megan said nothing.

  “You’ll make your last two wishes, and I’ll be gone?” His comment became a question.

  She picked at a piece of metal trim pulling away from the table. Finally she met his eyes. “You can’t expect me to just whip two wishes off the top of my head?”

  “Yes, I can.”

  She lowered her gaze again. “I’ve got to think about it.”

  “What’s to think about? There’s money, power, thin thighs.”

  “Is that what your other masters wished for?”

  “Pretty much. There was one woman’s request involving the Flying Kamazov Brothers and twelve quarts of Ben & Jerry’s Chunky Monkey, but that was an isolated incident.”

  He loved seeing the lines in her face lift and ease as she laughed. The thin creases across her brow smoothed, then disappeared.

  He had to go to her. As certain as the fact he was her slave, he had no choice. He got up and kneeled before her. He took those tiny hands in his, covering the cuts, the red chapped skin at the knuckles.

  “Megan.” He spoke sincerely, her name tasting sweeter than rainwater on his tongue. “I can give you anything you want.”

  “Anything?” She moistened her lips. Her expression was rapt, her cheeks warming to the pink of the sunset-filled clouds.

  “Yes.” His answer came out a breath and a promise.

  “But you can’t give me more wishes?”

  “Is that what you want?”

  “No. I understand why masters are limited to three wishes, but what about love? Why can’t you grant love?”

  He shook his head. “It’s beyond genie powers. We have no knowledge, no influence in that realm.”

  “What are you saying? Genies know nothing about love?”

  Gino shrugged, his thumb absently stroking the back of her hand. “We mate frequently.”

  “So do humans.”

  “But I don’t think that’s what you mean by ‘love.’”

  “No, it’s not,” Megan agreed.

  “Then, I’d have to say, you’re right. We don’t have love where I come from.”

  Megan looked at him in the careful way she had. He had seen her study him that way before. As if suddenly becoming conscious of the force of gravity, her features would fall, rendering her face a silent, thoughtful cameo.

  “Sometimes, it’s hard to find love where I come from, too,” she said softly.

  She stood up, taking her hands back from his. “I’m too tired to even think about all this right now. I’ve got to get some sleep. There’s a bed in the spare room with clean sheets.”

  Gino stood up, too. He hid his disappointment beneath a bland “Thank you.”

  Megan shifted her weight from foot to foot. “Good night.”

  “Good night…” He almost said her name, but knew he only wanted to feel the touch of it on his lips once more. And for some reason, he felt that would be wrong.

  She turned at the doorway, giving him a last glimpse of her face. “We’ll talk first thing in the morning, I promise,” she said. “Good night.”

  Even in its fallen state, her face was still beautiful. “Good night…” He waited until he heard her bedroom door open and close. Then he allowed the name to fall as soft as satin on a woman’s skin.

  “Megan,” he whispered.

  Chapter Four

  He could not sleep. Restlessness seized him, making his limbs twitch, his thoughts troublesome. He thought of turning into animal form, but abandoned the idea. There were not wings strong enough nor paws swift enough to carry him away from the sensations beating within his chest.

  Two wishes were all that stood between him and his freedom. Two wishes, and he could return to the world from which he came, and triumphant, take his place on the throne as King.

  Two wishes were all that was left of Ishtar’s sentence

  Two wishes and a tiny woman.

  Once more, he was tempted to soar high until the house he now stood in looked to be no more than a piece on a game board. But his yearnings were futile. At five hundred feet, he would fall back to the clay creatures, back to Megan.

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nbsp; So he stayed human, substituting mundane pacing around the room for flying close to the clouds. He made an endless circle around the tiny bedroom, finally stopping at the lone small window. The night was dark without a promise of the dawn.

  His agitation should not surprise him. Its source was simple. Two thousand years he’d waited. Now so close, his patience could no longer be counted on. Even his reasoning seemed to have suffered, sending his head spinning at the mere presence of a woman—a human woman.

  The moon was a silver sphere in the sky above. Two wishes, he thought. Two wishes, and then, he could go home.

  His muscles threatened to go into spasms at their stillness. He made one, two, three turns around the bedroom, then stopped counting. Time seemed to stop. All he knew was the moon still reigned high when he headed toward Megan’s room.

  BENEATH A SINGLE SHEET, Megan watched the circle of the fan above. It turned leisurely, bringing a benign breeze to the woman with the wide-open eyes below. She tried to think of wishes but the possibilities were so overwhelming, her mind rebelled and went blank. Instead, against her brain’s black tableau, appeared the man who had promised to make all her dreams come true.

  Was he real? she had to ask once more. She couldn’t deny what had happened at work today. The man obviously had powers past the realm of everyday ability.

  Was that the reason her hands clenched and her breath seemed to go faint every time she was in his presence?

  Never, not with Elliot, not with any man or woman, had she felt such a greed to be with someone. That, more than the proof of genies and supernatural powers, scared her most of all.

  The air stirred across her face as if it were a lover’s touch. Two wishes, and he’d be gone. Life would be back to normal. She tried to focus on what she wanted, what she should ask him for.

  Her mind saw only him.

  Her bedroom door opened. She saw him in the shadows, wearing only loose white cotton pants gathered at the waist and ankle, and for a moment, she thought she’d dreamt him once more. Then, she realized she was not dreaming. Bronzed, bare-chested and beautiful, Gino stood in the dark doorway to her room.

  She sat up, the sheet clenched to her own chest. “What’re you doing in here? What do you want?”