The photos of them landed in the paper the next morning.

Ryder had convinced Hailey to take a few hours at home to “work,” when really he had every intention of going for a fifth time. The woman made him crazy. The scent of her, the way she looked at him, the little moans she made. Not to mention the blush that moved into her cheeks every time he suggested something other than strict missionary.

She had so much to learn, and he had so much to teach her. Strictly casually, of course, and all according to the rules.

He didn’t mind her need to define their affair—especially when it coincided so well with what he always wanted with a woman. If keeping a mental rule book made her relax and able to let go, then she could laminate it for all he cared.

What really mattered was that, even though they’d only known each other two weeks, Ryder could already see a boost in her ego, a subtle feminine knowledge that put a seductive sway into her step. He figured some of that had to be down to him. And that made his morning extra sweet.

He whistled a tune as he slid two slices of bread into the skillet. It felt like a French toast morning.

Ryder deftly finished the toast, sprinkling it with brown sugar. He slid it onto a plate for Hailey before making his own.

Halfway through his, his phone rang. He nudged it between shoulder and ear as he finished his own off. “Yello?”

“Have you seen the Star this morning?”

At the sound of Luka’s voice, Ryder frowned. “Haven’t been up long.”

“Your secret’s out.”

“Damn, I knew I should’ve come clean about the dead bodies in the basement.” Ryder flipped the toast with a spatula. “What secret?”

“That you and Hailey have . . . taken it to the next level. Or to call a Genie a Genie, you’ve seduced her.”

“Hey,” Ryder protested, waving the spatula. Butter splattered Hailey’s cupboards. He vanished the offending butter off with a thought. “She seduced me.”

“You poor thing. I’ll put you in for counseling.” Luka sounded amused, not pissed, which relieved Ryder somewhat. His Handler hadn’t forbidden him to have sex with Hailey—which, really, he couldn’t have—but he could have made life harder for Ryder.

He exhaled. “Is the Director mad the fictional affair’s turned into fact?”

“I’ll handle her.”

“Thanks, Luc”

“No worries. So, c’mon. Where was she on the heat-o-meter? A scorching ten? A wet-lettuce two?”

The spatula bent in his hand. It wasn’t unusual to have Luka ask, but ranking Hailey made Ryder feel . . . pissed. “Don’t go there, Luka.”

A beat before his Handler spoke. “I see. It’s like that.”

Ryder scowled. “Like what?”

“Different.”

As if. Yeah, he liked her, but all that meant was that they were having more fun than usual.

No. Not more fun than usual.

The same fun as usual.

Annoyed, Ryder shoved the toast onto his plate and banged the skillet back on the stove. “It’s the same.”

“Then score her.” Luka waited as Ryder struggled. “Can’t do it, can you?”

“Thanks for the heads-up about the Star.” He jabbed the end-call button on his Handler’s laugh and thrust his cell back in his jeans pocket. Damn it. He shouldn’t have gotten wound up—that was Luka’s specialty, and the fact that Ryder had reacted would only make the Genie worse.

At his gesture, a copy of that morning’s Star appeared on the table. No surprise, front and center was a picture of him and Hailey in black and white, wrapped around each other like a stripper and her pole. FROM SNAGGING A WISH TO BAGGING A GENIE screamed the headline.

Ryder picked the paper up and studied the article. Basic stuff, how it was becoming clear the way to score a Genie was to win a wish. Thank God nothing about the auction particulars. He thought they’d gotten away with that one. The press was definitely more intrigued by the romance than anything else.

His eyes narrowed. Damn interfering Handler. He’d bet his balls that Luka and Director Clare had planted this. Hordes of people would be lining up for lottery tickets as soon as they finished their morning papers. He’d agreed to the show, but this further publicity made his back teeth grind.

He so owed Luka a nut kick.

“Morning.”

Ryder glanced up as Hailey came out of her bedroom wearing nothing more than his white tee and a blush. The long thighs he’d slid between last night were barely covered by his shirt. As it should be.

He smiled as the familiar lust stirred. Simple, fun. Uncomplicated. As it always was. “I made you breakfast.”

“You didn’t have to.” Delight lit her eyes to a dancing green as she wandered closer. “But I love French toast.” She sat and folded her arms. “So how many women have enjoyed the Ryder Wood special?”

He tossed the paper on the table. This called for a distraction.

As he leaned in for a kiss, she grinned. “Your lips are sealed, huh?”

With a teasing smile, he pressed tight lips to hers and deliberately unsealed them. She melted into him, fingers tunneling through his hair.

Visions of upended plates started to dance enticingly in his head before she pulled back. Flushed cheeks and all, she smiled. “Nice save.”

He stole one more kiss before sitting opposite her. “Dig in.”

He’d kept her food warm for her by a bubble of heat. It surprised her, pleased her. It pleased him.

He watched her eat for a couple of bites before gesturing to the paper. “We’ve hit the headlines again.”

She paused, fork in midair. “Huh?”

He nudged the paper toward her.

“Oh, jeez.” She looked pained as she read the headline, took in the photo. “My dad’s gonna kill you.”

“Immortal, baby.”

“Hey, he’s a lieutenant commander. You know what that means?” She stabbed her fork at him. “He knows places to sink a body even a Genie couldn’t flash his way out of.”

“I’m trembling.” He couldn’t help but grin when she did. “But, seriously, I know you agreed to Lisette’s Hour, but this continued prying . . . I know it sucks, but can you deal? Being with me, even in a casual sense, is kind of a free pass to the papers.”

She made a face. “I don’t love seeing my face in black and white. But,” she added as she chewed, “I suppose it keeps them off the auction like WFY wanted. Though I wonder how they knew we were in Montana . . .”

“Stableman probably called for a few extra dollars.”

“You really like this life?”

“Now you see why I live in a hotel.” Ryder disappeared the newspaper. “It’s just a part of my job.”

She nodded thoughtfully as she picked up the latte he’d flashed in for her.

“You didn’t answer,” he said, fighting not to drum his fingers and show how suddenly tight his throat felt. “Can you deal, or have you changed your mind about . . . everything?”

Her eyes glinted green as she stared at him over her coffee cup. “And give up what I felt last night?” She snorted. “What are a few inches in the tabloids to . . .” She lowered her gaze.

“If you say a few inches,” he warned, “you will be very, very sorry.”

She only grinned.

And he felt lighter since Luka had mentioned the damn article.

“So anyway,” he said, diverting from the unwanted side effect of his career and not giving her the chance to change her mind, “I know exactly what the next stop on our ‘fun’ agenda should be.”

“My bedroom?”

“Great idea, but I have a few more. Ones that might . . . blow you away.”

Cautious, she sat back. “Blow me away?” Realization dawned. “Oh, no. You’re not taking me skydiving, Ryder. No way in hell.”

* * *

He took her skydiving, so high into the clouds it felt like she could touch the stars. She screamed the entire time, holding his hands, and felt so elated when she touched down, demanding to do it again and again. Especially when Ryder introduced the art of skydiving-kissing into the mix.

He made her sing karaoke in a dive bar in Brooklyn, line dance in Texas in a real cowboy bar with a pink Stetson on her head and five Lone Star beers sloshing in her belly. Racing cars as fast as bullets on a Formula One track was fun, but not as much as when he let her steer the yacht he’d borrowed from a Genie colleague.

In her element, she’d felt strong and confident and sexy as he held her from behind as she explained all the boat basics, like port and starboard, the jib, the sheets. She didn’t know how much he’d learned since his sole focus had been ridding her of her clothes and making love to her right out there in the open, under the Greek sun. Her. Hailey Lawson.

It was worth it for that alone, the pleasure she found in Ryder’s arms as he introduced her to new and exciting ways of making love, over and over and over again. He’d been right; she never doubted his stamina. Time seized when they were together, melted like hot sugar to bind them as one. He didn’t allow her inhibitions. He made her feel alive.

Work continued as normal, planning weddings, even if every so often she’d catch herself staring into space, daydreaming about her Genie lover. Only about how good they were together, she constantly assured herself. She never expected anything from him, but he always constantly surprised her, excited her.

Quentin and Max were in agonies of ecstasy for her, both peppering her with questions she did her best to avoid. Even if this was a simple affair, it still felt private, and she didn’t want to lie too much about how she and Ryder had started. She was feeling far too good about herself to deal with the cramping guilt that rose whenever her friends brought up the auction.

The Star seemed the only one determined to violate her feelings about privacy. Every time Hailey and Ryder took another spontaneous trip, there were photos the next day. They never saw the photographers—and thank God there’d been no nudie, porn-like shots the day from the yacht—but it was becoming pretty plain that the public craved the relationship like a new drug. It seemed, while Jax Michaels and Charlie Donahue laid low, Ryder and Hailey had been thrust into the spotlight, and it wasn’t a place she was comfortable with. Especially since her dad called at least every couple of days, threatening Ryder if he exposed any part of her body to the paparazzi that she wouldn’t want a priest to see.

But she’d agreed to do it for WFY and for Ryder, and Lawsons didn’t go back on their word. She’d put up with the press, plan Ryder’s twin’s party, and then get a wish at the end of it. A freaking wish.

Life was finally fun and freeing—except for the small storm clouds that gathered on the horizon. Ethan’s wedding.

It was early October when she met with him and Serena again. A couple of weeks had passed since their last painful meeting at Lullaby, and surprisingly, she found herself able to walk into reception on steady legs, able to shake hands with both without faltering at the memory of Ethan’s words scraping her confidence off like a layer of skin. Ryder’s complete focus on her, his belief that she could be anything she wanted, helped bolster her resolve as she led Serena and Ethan to the meeting room.

Hell, she didn’t even feel like grabbing a nail file and raking it over Ethan’s pitying blue eyes. Instead, all she felt was a pang of dislike, a wish not to be there, and itchy feet to get this meeting done with. Like someone had pulled the plug on her hatred, it had sunk to a level where she hadn’t even thought of him or his cruel accusations in days. She was finally starting to feel whole, and God, it was amazing to remember herself again.

Would Serena and Ethan think it weird if she broke out the Twain dance?

Probably.

Did she care?

Maybe not.

The thought made her smile as she went over the confirmation of everything she’d last spoken to them about. Serena had called a couple times since their last meeting, mainly fishing for information about Ryder, though she had mentioned she’d found her dress and it matched the theme perfectly. And a steal at five thousand dollars.

Hailey had reminded herself she was the one with a Genie lover and no expensive bridal gown could compete with Ryder’s magic hands. She counted it as growth that she kept that thought to herself.

“I think that pretty much covers it,” she said in the present, as she jotted down a last few minute details about the wedding songs. She pressed her lips into as sincere a smile as she could manage, met both pairs of eyes briefly. “You must be getting excited.”

“I can’t express how much.” Serena placed her hands over Ethan’s. Her words conveyed joy, not so much her face. Maybe the Botox was preventing it.

Okay, so maybe she still had a way to go before she could completely claim no feelings toward the pair.

“I spoke to your father.” Hailey moved past that irritation with seamless grace, flipping through her notebook to the relevant page. “He says he’s handled the music, the catering for the rehearsal dinner?”

Serena nodded. “I talked to them myself at the start of the week.”

“Great.” Hailey made a check mark on one of her many lists. “I’ve ordered the flowers, many of which we’ll be using to drape the aisle and the bower in the Lighthouse, and the lanterns, which will only be at the head table in your father’s event room.” Don’t even get her started on the fact that Serena’s dad had an “event room”/ballroom in his house. She glanced up, pen poised. “Have you written your speeches or organized someone to do a presentation, slide show, that kind of thing?”

“Ethan’s written a poem.” Serena slid a hand inside Ethan’s suit jacket to lay it on his heart. “It’s called ‘Girl in the Meadow.’”

Hailey’s pen jerked, a whip of sound on the paper. Any self-congratulatory pats on the head faded as she stared at Ethan. To his credit, a manly blush colored his cheeks as he slid his gaze away from her to Serena.

“He wrote it for me, isn’t that sweet?” Serena cooed to him and lightly pecked his lips.

“I meant every syllable,” he murmured in his soft poet’s voice.

Rage as powerful as a tsunami threatened to break free of Hailey’s planner persona, but she caged it as fast as she could. “How sweet.” Her voice came out almost sneering.

Serena glanced at her slyly. “I’m sure Ryder does that kind of thing for you all the time.”

The woman could not let anyone be happier than her.

Hailey longed to throw the fact that Serena’s so-called poem had been written for Hailey in her smug face, but she restrained herself. She was a professional and she only had three more weeks before this nightmare was over.

Vibrating with fury so sharp it cut under her skin like knives, Hailey rose to her feet. “Sometimes,” was all she said. “Though they’re more of the erotic haiku variety.” She smiled, all teeth. “I’ll walk you out.”

Serena sailed out first, chattering about her friend’s speech for the rehearsal dinner. Hailey was careful not to brush Ethan’s sleeve as he held the door open for her.

“Hailey,” he said with quiet emphasis. “I didn’t mean . . . It wasn’t intended to hurt you.”

“It never is, Ethan,” she hissed before inhaling sharply. She marched forward, Ethan following close behind. “Forget it. We’ve been over a long time. I don’t care.”

He frowned, a dab of concern. “Because of the Genie,” he said. “He’s using you.”

Hailey’s smile was sharp as they reached reception. “We’re using each other, and you know what? It’s freaking fabulous. Because he doesn’t lie to me.”

“I didn’t—” Ethan stopped short as they saw the devil himself leaning on the reception desk, making Mona’s cheeks pinken. Her ex cast her a look as if that proved it.

Hailey knew better. Mona’s boyfriend had dumped her that morning. Knowing Ryder, he’d noticed her misery and had set out to make her smile. He was the most decent man she’d ever known, except for her dad. And that said something.

Ryder straightened from his slouch, eyeing all three of them with his usual quiet confidence. He took the few steps over to Hailey and dropped a kiss on her head. “Hey, baby.”

At least he’d toned it down from last time.

She shot him a grateful look. “You remember Serena Norwood, Ryder?”

“Nice to see you again.”

“Always a pleasure,” Serena purred.

Hailey fought the eye roll. “And this is Ethan Plaitt. Ethan, this is Ryder Wood.”

Something changed in Ryder’s body language, a subtle tensing only visible to her because she knew his body like her own hand. Amber wavered in the brown as he held out a hand. “Plaitt.”

Ethan took the hand and shook once, firm. His eyes for once were blue flint. “Wood.”

It was crazy seeing the two side by side, past and present. One blond and blue-eyed and soft handsomeness, the other dark and gorgeous with a casual recklessness. Ethan was lean whereas Ryder was muscled; one wore a suit as if he was born in it, the other his staple Wranglers and a black tee. It was almost like she’d chosen someone the complete opposite of Ethan.

Yeah, a voice inside whispered. Ryder makes you feel like you can do anything. Instead of nothing.

Finally, the men released each other’s hands.

“I hear you’re getting hitched,” Ryder said, hooking his thumbs into his belt loops. “Congrats.”

“Thank you. We’re very happy about it.” Not that Ethan’s face reflected this.

Serena hooked her arm into Ethan’s with a sweet expression. “You should come to the wedding, Ryder. Hailey will be there working, I’m sure, but we could find someone to entertain you.”

“I’m busy.”

Hailey nudged him with her hip. Maybe Ryder was a little too honest sometimes. She cast him a look to which he shrugged.

“Oh.” Serena rebounded with a twitchy smile. Her fingers drew small designs on Ethan’s sleeve as she fought to regain footing. “Well, if you find yourself at a loose end, one of my friends has been dying to meet you. I’m sure she’d love an escort to the wedding.”

Don’t react. Don’t react.

One . . . two . . . three . . .

“I’m with Hailey.” Ryder cast Serena a duh look just this side of rude. Maybe the other side, actually. “If she wants me at the wedding, it’ll be to hang with her.” He linked his hand with Hailey’s, grazed it with his lips.

Serena’s smile thinned. “Isn’t that sweet?”

“Are you two serious?” Ethan blurted out. The dark frown on his face suggested what he thought of that.

Hailey wanted to strangle him. How dare he even form an opinion about someone she was with? He had lost his right to vote the day he’d thrown her self-respect in the fire and left her broken hearted.

“We’ve only started seeing each other.” Hailey couldn’t resist the dig, no matter how unprofessional. There was the poem, after all. “We’re enjoying ourselves, taking our time.” Unlike him. “Going with the flow.”

Ryder’s hand tightened on hers in support as if he remembered the tidbits she’d thrown out about what Ethan had said all those months ago.

The elevator doors opened on a sudden ping. Erica stepped out, coiffed and elegant and perfect in tailored black. Her expression moved from neutral to a blinding smile in an instant. “Serena. Ethan. How lovely to see you both.”

The tension that had built since Ryder had joined the threesome deflated. As Erica greeted Serena with an air kiss, Hailey released Ryder’s hand. Erica knew she was “dating” him, but it would be a capital offense to bring your boyfriend to work. Or whatever he was.

Crap. Not to mention the small issue of Hailey still not asking him for that damned favor . . .

She should have met him outside.

Erica turned to Ryder with expectation. “I know the face, of course, but Hailey? Do the honors.”

Damn. There went her plan of yanking the alarm and screaming fire to avoid her boss and Ryder meeting.

With a grimace-cum-smile, she did a little introductory wave. “Erica, this is Ryder Wood. Ryder, my boss, Erica Pearce.”

Erica held out her hand. “Such a pleasure, Mr. Wood.”

“Please, call me Ryder.” He shook her hand and rocked back on his heels, casual. “I hope you don’t mind my picking Hailey up here.”

“Oh?” Erica’s eyebrows rose that little bit. “She’s going somewhere?”

It was almost five, but that didn’t matter to the Duchess. A day wasn’t complete without an employee who dropped from exhaustion.

Usually, that was Hailey. Trust Erica to pick the one day she left early to poke her nose in the office.

Hailey produced another weak smile and fought the urge to shuffle her feet. She was keenly aware Serena and Ethan were watching, the former probably anticipating a dressing down. “The details for the Kelmann wedding are on your desk, and I’ve already started working on a presentation for the Goldbergs.”

Erica still wasn’t pleased, that much was obvious from the pinched look around her mouth. “I hope you haven’t rushed Serena and Ethan in your eagerness to leave.”

“We’d finished our discussion.” Hailey included the couple with a look, biting back any retort to the catty comment. “Everything is set for the rehearsal dinner next week.”

“And the wedding, one presumes?”

Hailey only nodded.

“It’s perfect, Erica.” Serena hung on to Ethan’s arm with a vague smile. “Your recommendation was spot on.”

Wow. A compliment. Better check her back for the hidden knife.

Erica chatted to Serena for a minute before waving them off. Only when the society couple left did she turn to Hailey. “I need a moment before you leave for the evening.”

Stomach. Lead balloon. She knew where this was going.

“Okay.” She looked back at Ryder as Erica strode off on her Manolo Blahniks. “Wait here?”

He nodded.

June, standing sentry as Erica swept into her office, got in a judgmental sneer at Hailey as she followed—as if she knew the verbal beatdown that was to come.

Erica unbuttoned her suit jacket and threw it over the back of her chair. A cigarette came out, accompanied by her Tiffany lighter, which she took to the window. Presumably for the view.

“Hideous traffic,” she said, nudging the window open and lighting up. She sucked and blew out smoke. “Always makes me crave one of these.”

“It’s stressful.” Hailey didn’t fidget, but stood still in the center of the carpet. She knew Erica couldn’t pick on her appearance. No crying in the bathroom today, no snags in her stockings or loose thread. She’d even gone for a shorter skirt suit in a becoming russet the color of fallen leaves. But she doubted her looks were top of Erica’s list.

“Mmm.” Erica blew more smoke, pink lips pouting around the cigarette. “Have you asked him yet?”

A sailor slipped in and tied a nautical knot in Hailey’s belly, forcing acid up her throat. “Ah. I . . . haven’t managed to find the opportunity.”

“In all these weeks you’ve been spending time together?” Disbelief radiated from Erica as she tapped ash outside the window. Her eyes were diamond hard. “I don’t find that acceptable, Hailey.”

“I’m sorry.” She just couldn’t. Especially now they were sleeping together. Murky didn’t cover it. Icky fit the bill. Like she was trading sex for favors.

“I don’t understand. I’m not asking you to secure Jax’s agreement. Honestly, Hailey. If you can’t even secure a meeting with a client through somebody you know . . .” She trailed off with an expectant look while an ambulance siren blared in the background.

The threat was clearer than if Erica had spelled it out in smoke letters like the caterpillar in Disney’s Alice in Wonderland.

“Erica,” Hailey said with care, toes curling in her shoes as she fought for the right words. “I think I’ve proven how capable I am.”

“You have. All I’m asking is for that something special. Something that will prove once and for all that I’m not wasting my time.” The cigarette smoke wound around her head like brimstone as she stubbed out her cigarette. Never had there been a more fitting image. “If I don’t have the meeting by the end of the month, we’ll need to talk again.”