Mad About You

description."
    "That was the note your uncle was teasing you about?"
    He smirked. "Right."
    "What did it say?"
    "It said, A wise first wish, Master.' "
    She shrugged. "There's nothing magic about a handwritten note."
    He massaged the bridge of his nose. "How about a customized newspaper headline?"
    "What?"
    "This morning when I opened my paper, the entire front page read, 'A wise second wish, Master.' "
    A laugh of disbelief bubbled out of her throat. "Ladden, that's impossible. Did you keep the newspaper?"
    He dropped his gaze. "The wind scattered the paper and I couldn't find the front page."
    "What about the note?"
    "I found it this morning. You scribbled your tag number on the back."
    "I remember."
    He lifted his gaze. "But the other side was completely blank."
    Jasmine shook her head slowly. "This is starting to spook me. Ladden, if I didn't know better—"
    "You'd think I was insane," he finished for her. He lifted his hands. "Hell, maybe I am."
    Searching his face, she asked, "Did you call the sign company? Someone had to cover all that expense."
    Nodding, he said, "They received a stationery envelope with my store's letterhead full of new one-hundred-dollar bills."
    She swallowed hard. "Maybe he stole an envelope."
    "Maybe."
    "Maybe he's rich and eccentric."
    Ladden gave her a wry smile. "He said he printed his own money and showed me a stack of bills that looked too new to be real, so I doubt that he's rich, and I wonder how much trouble I'll be in if he paid for the billboards with counterfeit money."
    "You have to go to the police."
    He laughed and looked heavenward. "It'll be hard for me to run my business wearing a strait-jacket."
    "But you have his name."
    "Not really. He calls himself Genie, I call him Gene."
    "Do you know where he lives?"
    "He seems to simply show up—complete with turban."
    Jasmine felt as if her body's functions had come to a screeching halt. Her heart stopped, her throat tightened, and the muscles in her legs gave way. She sank to the bench. "A turban? A b-black turban?"
    Ladden didn't even have to answer—the expression on his face told her. He joined her on the bench, looking somewhat boneless himself. "Don't tell me you know him."
    Vague recollections flooded her mind and she rubbed her temples. "Not really, but the night my car was towed, a street vendor wearing a black turban directed me to your family's tavern to use the phone."
    "It could be a different man."
    "But the next morning when a cab arrived, I thought the man looked familiar."
    Ladden dropped his head in his hands. "I'd forgotten that Gene told me he was with you when you saw the billboards."
    "He's here."
    His head snapped up. "Gene's here?"
    "Now I'm sure it's the same man, but when I first saw him I assumed he was in costume."
    "Did he talk to you?"
    "Yes..." She felt the blood drain from her face. "I asked him for directions to the ladies' room and he sent me here." She staggered to her feet, backing away until the wall of metal lockers stopped her.
    Ladden's face was anguished. "Jasmine, I know this looks bad, but I swear to you I didn't have anything to do with this."
    And while her head screamed danger, something inside her knew by his pained expression that he was telling the truth—that he, too, was a victim of this lunatic matchmaker. She relaxed slightly and nodded, gulping for air. "Okay. I believe you. Do you think he locked us in?"
    He sighed, glancing back toward the door. "It's possible, but..."
    "But what?"
    "How did he know I'd be coming here?"
    "Did you tell anyone? Could he have eavesdropped?"
    "I told Betsy on the patio, but I walked down here within a few seconds of telling her."
    Betsy? The red-haired woman in the sexy outfit? Considering the floral tie he wore, it seemed likely that the female caterer was the friend he'd mentioned he was helping. Why did the thought of Ladden having a girlfriend rankle her?
    "The timing doesn't seem right," he said. "Unless he gave you directions immediately after he overheard me."
    Feeling sheepish, she shook her head. "I stopped to stargaze for a few minutes along the way. You would've arrived first." She smacked the locker behind her and the metallic clatter reverberated in the room. "There has to be a reasonable explanation."
    "There's more," he said.
    Jasmine laughed hysterically. "More?"
    He nodded, shifting from foot to foot, his face reddening.
    "What?"
    "The rug you want."
    "What about it?"
    "It, um... moves."
    Now she'd heard everything. "It