Mad About You

to do?"
    "Someone will find us."
    "But we can't be found!" Jasmine rocked back and forth on the bench. She'd discarded the other shoe and sat with her bare feet on the tiled floor. "Half of Sacramento already thinks we're having an affair thanks to those billboards!"
    "I know," he said miserably. "I'm sorry."
    "The last thing Trey needs right now is a full-fledged scandal."
    "I know," he repeated, walking over to her. "Believe me, I'm sorry."
    She glanced up at him. "I don't suppose that well-intended friend of yours had anything to do with this."
    Ladden pursed his lips—then shook his head. "Gene wouldn't go that far."
    "Gene?"
    He lowered himself to the bench, a good distance from where she sat. "This old homeless guy who says"—he laughed—"who says he lived in the copper lamp you bought and is going to grant me three wishes for releasing him from bondage."
    A strange smile curved her mouth. "You mean, this guy thinks he's magic?"
    "Something like that." He felt his ears growing hot.
    "How on earth did you meet this strange person?"
    "Remember the day of the earthquake tremor?"
    "Yes."
    "He must have been walking by my store when it happened because when things settled down, I found him sitting in front of the counter."
    "That's odd."
    "The next thing I know he's calling me Master and ranting about granting me three wishes."
    She laughed, a tinkling sound that stirred his blood. "He sounds like one for the books."
    "Definitely."
    "Well," she said in a teasing voice, "did you make your wishes?"
    Ladden debated for a moment whether to reveal the rest of the story, the bizarre coincidences, the weird goings-on with the carpet. Hell, for all she knew, he could have followed her here tonight and planned this entire episode.
    "Ladden," she said more softly, with a slight catch in her voice, "did you make your wishes?"

Chapter Ten

    JASMINE STARED at the dark-haired man next to her, her throat dry. Of course, the very concept of wishes being granted was preposterous, but his hesitation spoke volumes.
    He exhaled noisily, puffing out his smooth cheeks, then met her gaze. "I, um... I did inadvertently say, um, a couple of things aloud that... happened."
    The hair stood up on her arms. "Wh-what things?"
    After an awkward laugh, he said, "Well, I was a little frustrated with the tremor damage yesterday, and my place is getting so crowded, I sort of wished aloud that my neighbor would retire and give me her storefront."
    "And?"
    "And this morning she announced she was going to retire and wanted to give me her storefront."
    The story sounded too fantastic. "Had she ever hinted at doing such a thing?"
    Ladden shook his head. "No. We've been friends for years, and I kind of helped her with the repairs and stuff after her husband died, but I never expected—or dreamed—something like this would happen. It was just a crazy statement, something off the top of my head."
    "Does she have children?"
    "No."
    "Then it's possible she meant to give you the space all along and simply hadn't mentioned it."
    "That's what I thought... at first."
    "And then?"
    He stood and turned his back to her, offering a nice view of his physique. His shoulders filled the dress shirt impressively, then gave way to a narrow waist and trim hips enclosed in dark slacks. She'd never seen him wear anything other than jeans, and the transformation was astonishing. With a few inches off his longish hair, he could blend in easily inside any corporate boardroom—although his exceptional shoulders might betray the fact that he didn't sit behind a desk all day.
    Ladden cleared his throat. "After I dropped you off last night, I sort of wished aloud that you could see how crazy I am about you."
    Her skin tingled with desire at his admission. "You said this when you were driving home?"
    "Yeah."
    Her mouth fell open slightly. "And the billboards..."
    He nodded slowly.
    She laughed nervously and rose to her feet. "But there's nothing magic about arranging for billboard space—I mean, if this crazy old man did it, he must have overheard you say something about"—a flush warmed her neck—"me."
    "I thought perhaps he had crawled in the back of the truck without me realizing it and overheard me, but it seems like a stretch."
    "Oh, and the alternative isn't a stretch?"
    "Yes… but there's more."
    "More?"
    He pulled his hand over his mouth. "Last night before you dropped in at Tabby's, the bartender gave me a note from someone who fit this fellow Gene's