Magic Gone Wild by Judi Fennell Page B

though she should have. It made sense, after all. But it was just going to make things harder.
    “Better here than in town. I don’t need the paparazzi showing up.”
    “Paparazzi?”
    “Oh, right. You don’t know.” He smiled. “I play professional football for a living. I guess, with being in that bottle for the last century, televisions and professional sports teams are probably off your radar. Radar probably is, too, right?”
    She knew condescension when she heard it, and it didn’t sit any better with her coming from Zane than it had from her parents. She put her hands on her hips. “I’ll have you know, Zane Harrison, that while I might not have been out and about in the world, it hasn’t passed me by. The djinn world has all the advancements you do. Matter of fact, I have a plasma screen in my bottle. Running water, too. Indoor plumbing, and even an iPad and Wii. Wanna see?”
    “You’re kidding.”
    “I don’t kid about being a genie. Ever.”
    He studied her, and it was the first time he’d looked at her that her hormones didn’t start sighing. She might not be the best djinni her world had to offer, but she was one nonetheless. He couldn’t insult her and get away with it. She raised her chin. “So, are you coming, or what?”
    “No snow this time, right?”
    The smile didn’t take the sting out of that question. He might think it was funny, but to her it was one more mess she hadn’t wanted to cause. “Trust me, Zane. Everything will be just fine.”
    She crossed her fingers behind her back, tossed her hair over her shoulders, summoned her pink smoke, and magicked the two of them inside her bottle.
    And this time, she wasn’t the one who yelled, “Holy smokes!”

11
    They’d landed in an Arabian Nights whorehouse.
    Zane knew his mouth was hanging open but could do nothing to stop it. Everywhere he looked was sheer fantasy.
    It was as if someone had gotten hold of every sheik porn flick ever made and splashed the sets all over the inside of Vana’s bottle. Or as if that person had taken a peek inside his brain when he’d been kissing her because he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about this. And now here it was, in Technicolor.
    Her bottle had not looked like this the last time he’d been here. If it had, they never would have left.
    The bed, sprinkled with rose petals and covered in mounds of pillows and silks and pink satin sheets, turned slowly on a raised dais. Gauzy curtains draped from the ceiling, amazingly unscorched by the hundreds of candles flickering around the bed. An ice bucket with champagne and a plate of grapes were on one side, bottles of oils on the other. Soft music and incense filled the air, the perfect set-up for seduction.
    His or hers?
    He didn’t care.
    “I, um… oh dear.” Vana darted to the bed, brushing rose petals onto the floor and snuffing out candles as she went, shaking the heat from her fingers after each one. If she kept that up, she wouldn’t have any skin left. And that’d be a damn shame because, God knew, he liked Vana’s skin.
    “This wasn’t supposed to be here, Zane. It’s not what I was planning—ouch!” She popped a finger into her mouth.
    He was not immune to that utterly sexy image, and from the look of this place, she didn’t want him to be.
    “Sssh, Vana.” Four strides, that’s all it took, and he was beside her. “This is considerably more than fine. You really went all out, and all I can say is… thank you.”
    Her finger slid from her mouth with a soft pop. “Thank you?”
    “For making this so perfect.”
    “Perfect?” Her grey eyes darkened to pewter, silver flashes in their depths, and the smile that lit her face was as perfect as the rest of the place.
    He touched her temple with the backs of his fingertips. “Just like you,” he whispered. Because the moment called for whispering.
    She took a tiny step closer—tiny, because that was all the space that separated them.
    Zane threaded his fingers