Mad About You

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.
    Her father wouldn't have a clue how to get in touch with her even if he wanted to—which had been the primary reason for changing her last name as soon as she became an adult. And even if he had purchased a TV or picked up a newspaper, he would never recognize her as the skinny little mouse she'd been under his thumb.
    Still, the vision of him sitting alone in that lawn chair haunted her.
    As she sipped her second cup of coffee, the program aired a feature segment on Trey and how the analysts were now saying that nothing would stop the man from reaching the White House. Her name was mentioned several times, and her face shown in conjunction with his. They played an excerpt from his acceptance speech and she was visible in the background, off to the right.
    Halfway to her mouth, her hand stilled, sloshing a few drops of