I looked down at the thing Diesel handed to me.  It was a small, cedar box – almost a miniature chest.  I looked up at him, “What is it?” I asked.  I was afraid to open it without knowing – Diesel sometimes had an off sense-of-humor. 

He smiled at me, flashing those killer dimples.  “It’s a gift.”

That wasn’t helping.  “What type of gift?”  It wasn’t my birthday, and it was long past Christmas.  I didn’t even get gifts from my sometime-boyfriend, Morelli.  Getting a gift from Diesel was just…weird. 

“It’s a TRUE gift.  Will you just open it?” he asked with an exasperated sigh.  “Jeez, you’d think I’d wrapped a bomb or something.  It won’t bite,” he grinned, “although I will if you let me.”

That and the grin were giving me a little thrill.  Diesel was gorgeous, and sexy in a scruffy kind of way.  He had a different vibe to him than the other two men in my life.  Morelli, previously mentioned non-gifter, was all lean angles and hard muscle.  He was 100% Italian and most days wanted to marry me – when I wasn’t involved in some crazy adventure.  Ranger was half-a-head taller than me, with muscle definition The Rock only WISHED he had.  He was Cuban-American and most days wanted to put a satisfied smile on my face – and it didn’t matter what I was involved in.  Probably because he was also involved in some way.  Anyway, Diesel was blond, green eyed and hot – but I suspected he was a few fries short of a Happy Meal, and quite possibly an alien.  So, not exactly dating material.

With a sigh, I shut my eyes tight in case of explosion and opened the cedar box.  There was no big bang, so I opened my eyes and looked down.  Inside the box was an emerald-green four-leaf clover. 

“Um, ok.  This is nice, I guess.”  Really, what was I supposed to say?

“Go ahead, make a wish,” said Diesel.  He stuffed his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels with a little smile. 

“A wish?  Why?”

“What do you mean, ‘why’?” he said, giving me a confused look.  “I swear, only you would question the gift of a no-strings wish.”

“Well,” I said, “call me crazy, but it’s been my experience that unexpected packages hold bad things.”

“Not this time.  It’s a four-leaf clover – not a severed horse head.  Those run-of-the-mill wishes can be kind of tricky.  Like, you wish you’d have a million dollars one day and you get a million dollars…for ONE DAY.”  He pointed to the clover, “This type of wish is different.  It’s a REAL wish.  You think of the thing you want most in the world, and you get it. No tricks.”  He smiled, “It’s pretty simple.”

“But I want a lot of things, how do I know what to wish for?”

“You’re ruining this for me, Sweetheart.  You make a wish – your heart’s true wish – and BANG!” He clapped his hands in front of my face.  “There you are.”

“Why would you give me this?  And, I don’t even know what my heart’s true wish is anyway.”

“I’m giving it to you because, well” he shrugged, “I like you.  And, you’ve helped me out a few times so I thought I’d give you something nice.”

I started thinking about the things I wanted.  I’d like a plasma TV, my very own donut shop, a new Chevy Trailblazer, unlimited shopping at Macy’s, a gazillion dollars in the bank…the list was endless.  How could I choose just one? 

Diesel slung a lean arm across my shoulders and gave me a squeeze.  “Honey, you’re thinking too much.  Your brain doesn’t know your heart’s true wish.  If it did, it would be called a ‘brain’s true wish’.  It’s not about what you know, it’s about what you feel.”   He picked up the clover and placed it in my hand.  “Just close your eyes, clear your mind and there you’ll be.”

I closed my eyes and cleared my mind.  I felt Diesel brush a kiss to my forehead, “Tell him he owes me one,” he whispered.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

I opened my eyes to the gray light of dawn. I was in a room that I didn’t recognize, but was strangely comfortable in.  French doors and large windows were letting in the filtered light.  The room was decorated in subtle earth tones with splashes of color here and there.  It looked like it had started out masculine and then someone added a woman’s touch. 

The bed I was lying in was a wrought-iron canopy with ivory-colored curtains and 1000 thread-count sheets.  I was warm and I wasn’t alone.  There was a warm, firm and very male body behind me.  He had the fingers of his left hand entwined with mine and resting on my left hip.  His other arm was under my head. 

He brushed a kiss across the nape of my neck and whispered, “Good morning, Mrs. Manoso.”