Mad About You

final wish?"
    "Wait a minute." Ladden threw up his hands, shaking his head. "I am standing beside a busy highway talking to some kook in a turban who is trying to convince me he has the power to grant me anything I want."
    The man frowned. "I cannot grant any wish. I am unable to take a life, to bring someone back to life, or to make someone fall in love." His face lit in another grin as he lifted a bony finger. "But I can help." He winked. "She is beautiful, your Jasmine. She reminds me of a princess I once knew."
    "Okay, okay," Ladden said, clasping the man by his arm and steering him back to the car. "You're some rich lunatic who goes around eavesdropping on people and trying to make them happy. But I can assure you," he said sternly, waving back to the billboards, "this did not make anyone happy. Because of you, I am in deep hooey."
    "Hooey?" the man asked.
    "Horse shit," he clarified.
    "Ah, camel dung," the man said, nodding.
    Ladden sighed, guiding the man toward the passenger door and getting him settled. He waited for a break in the speeding traffic to walk around and climb in on the driver's side.
    "Call whoever you have to call to get rid of those things," Ladden said as he turned over the ignition.
    "They will be gone soon," the man promised.
    "Good," he said as he pulled out on the highway. "Now I've got to come up with an explanation for Jasmine."
    "Remember," the man said, when Ladden dropped him off in front of the homeless shelter a few minutes later. "A final wish—do not waste it."
    Ladden smirked, then pulled away and drove as fast as he could to the rear entrance of his store. "Jasmine," he practiced, as he unlocked and swung open the back door, "you're not going to believe this, but—"
    Ladden stopped, eyeing the carpet that once again lay draped over the table he was saving for Jasmine. He glanced at the corner where he had left it, rolled and standing on its end, then bit the inside of his cheek. He kept walking through the connecting door and into his showroom.
    "But there's this madman with a turban who—"
    He stopped again, glancing toward his front door where a crowd of people had gathered, including Uncle Ernie, Aunt Silvie, various other friends and relatives, and several photographers who were capturing the front of his store on film. His heart thudded in his chest as he unlocked the door to admit his uncle and aunt. Instead, a stocky, suited man pushed his way inside, then closed behind him, shutting out Uncle Ernie and Aunt Silvie.
    "Ladden Sanderson?" he barked.
    Ladden frowned at the man and crossed his arms. "Yes."
    The man flashed a badge, then shoved it back into his breast pocket. "Security, governor's office. Mr. Sanderson, if you so much as look at, talk to, or think about Jasmine Crowne again, you will be sorry. Is that understood?"

Chapter Seven

    LADDEN FLICKED HIS GAZE over the stocky man standing before him. Inch for inch and pound for pound, they were a match. But with a badge and the weight of the governor's office behind him, the suited man had the upper hand, and by the smug look on his face, he knew it.
    Ladden's mind raced as he considered the alternatives. He could deny he had anything to do with the billboards and risk looking like a fool, or he could lie and take responsibility for the ads and prove he was a fool.
    Or he could try to turn the tables. And at this point, what did he have to lose? Certainly not his dignity. Assuming a wide-legged stance, he said, "I didn't catch your name, friend."
    The man's expression remained stony. "Duncan, but I'm no friend."
    Crossing his arms slowly, Ladden said, "Well, Duncan, I didn't realize Governor McDonald was Ms. Crowne's personal keeper."
    Duncan's left eyebrow rose a fraction. "Let's just say he's concerned about a very close acquaintance."
    Ladden gave the man a tight smile. "Was this visit at the request of Ms. Crowne, or did the governor take it upon himself to come to her rescue?"
    "I'm not at liberty to say."
    Which meant Jasmine probably didn't know about it, he thought with a little zing of relief. "Funny, but I'm wondering what bothers the governor more—the fact that those billboards are directed toward a 'close acquaintance' of his, or the fact that the messages replaced his campaign ads."
    Duncan narrowed his eyes and turned to leave. "Watch your step, Sanderson. Trey McDonald could buy and sell you a thousand times."
    Despite the reality of the man's words, Ladden raised his voice after Duncan's