The Djinn's Dilemma Read Online Free PDF Page B

skin-to-skin contact.
    Memory returned to him, vicious and taunting.
    His mother had returned to her djinn world pregnant and died after giving birth to him, a half-breed, with no obvious signs of power. His family had dumped him in an orphanage. He’d been the lowest of the lows. Starved and abused, he’d been a scrawny, cowering whelp.
    For a fee, the orphanage would farm him and other orphans out to different households as servants. For room, board and a change of clothes, the master would expect him to do housework, run errands, wait on him and others for the time contracted. If he didn’t move fast enough, blows would land and food would be withheld. A few of the masters and mistresses were kind, but very few.
    That’d been his life until puberty hit and he came into his powers. A hybrid late bloomer.
    “I survived it,” he said.
     
    Sarah realized she’d touched on a sore subject as Rukh’s eyes turned cool and distant. No hint of the guy who’d been flirting and teasing just minutes before. But she’d seen him, enjoyed his company. She knew he existed beneath this frigid aloofness. Man oh man. She had to fix this.
    She found herself talking about the Caribbean islands she’d long left behind, of grilling fish right on the beach, of Calypso drums playing deep into the night.
    His shoulders relaxed and he laughed. She realized they still held hands.
    For a time, she forgot about work, about nerves, about suspicions. She liked the way Rukh laughed—from the heart. It made her shiver with delight. Then there were the sizzling looks that passed between them, the casual way his thumb stroked back and forth across the edge of her hand as they talked.
    He reminded her of hot nights, close dancing and heady living. He reminded her of a time when Grandmama made her cure-all teas and told her stories at bedtime, a time when laughter and dreams came easy. He reminded her of Jasmine White losing her virginity at fifteen on a moonlit beach. Suddenly she could smell the spicy-sweet perfume of ginger lilies.
    The bakery’s cuckoo clock cooed out nine notes and jerked Sarah back to reality. She jumped out of her chair. “I have to go.”
    Rukh snagged her hand, brought it slowly to his mouth. Keeping his gaze locked on hers, he brushed his lips lightly across her skin. A soft caress full of promise.
    Her breath quickened.
    “Have dinner with me.”

 

    Chapter Four
     
    Sarah replayed the highlights of her morning—starring Rukh—during her drive to the Austin American-Herald , as she walked through the lobby and smiled at the receptionist, throughout the elevator ride to the third-floor newsroom, and now sitting at her desk. For some reason her mind kept zeroing in on his sensuous lips and intense eyes, the color of sapphires. The rough silk of his hand on hers. Man oh man, she had a bad case of Rukh fever.
    Feeling silly, she glanced at Grayson’s office. He was tied up in a meeting with two gray-haired women, probably representing one of the many women’s do-gooder organizations and demanding coverage. Good, they’d keep him out of her hair for a bit. She Googled Rukh O’Shay. No results. The man apparently didn’t have Twitter or Facebook accounts, and stayed out of the news. Was he a modern-day Luddite?
    She stole another glance at the office. Good, still busy. Trying to act as nonchalant as possible, Sarah pulled up the paid databases the newspaper gave her access to. Her conscience pinged at her for misusing her time and resources. But Grayson would understand. This wasn’t just idle curiosity, but a safety issue. She should know something about a guy before going out to dinner with him.
    Soon frustration had her grabbing a Hershey’s bar from the secret stash she kept at her desk in case of emergencies. She ripped the paper away and chomped down on the dark chocolate goodness as she ran search after search. Still no matches. How could a man not even have a driver’s license? In any of the 50