Charmed & Ready

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Authors: Candace Havens

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BOOK: Charmed & Ready
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Charmed & Ready
Candace Havens

 

THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP

Published by the Penguin Group

Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA

Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario M4P 2Y3, Canada

(a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.)

Penguin Books Ltd., 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

Penguin Group Ireland, 25 St. Stephen's Green, Dublin 2, Ireland (a division of Penguin Books Ltd.)

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(a division of Pearson Australia Group Pty. Ltd.)

Penguin Books India Pvt. Ltd., 11 Community Centre, Panchsheel Park, New Delhi—110 017, India

Penguin Group (NZ), Cnr. Airborne and Rosedale Roads, Albany, Auckland 1310, New
Zealand

(a division of Pearson New Zealand Ltd.)

Penguin Books (South Africa) (Pty.) Ltd., 24 Sturdee Avenue, Rosebank, Johannesburg 2196, South Africa

Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

This book is an original publication of The Berkley Publishing Group.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

Copyright © 2006 by Candace Havens.

The Edgar® name is a registered service mark of the Mystery Writers of America, Inc.

All rights reserved.

BERKLEY is a registered trademark of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

The "B" design is a trademark belonging to Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

PRINTING HISTORY

Berkley trade paperback edition / September 2006

ISBN 0-425-21161-4

PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

 

To all the divas of the world who love a great pair of shoes

Acknowledgments

A special thank-you to the lovely Anne Sowards for taking on my books and making the transition seamless. Leslie Gelbman and the rest of the gang at Berkley, thank you for making my dreams come true.

Sha-Shana Crichton, please know how much I admire your patience and intelligence. To the writers of DFW Writers' Workshop, NTRWA, FF&P, ChickLit, Romance Divas, Witchy Chicks, The Fast Draft crew, and all of you who have supported me, helped with research, and listened to countless drafts, thank you.

To the readers of
Charmed & Dangerous
who kept asking, "When does the next one come out?" Thank you.

Britta, Shannon, and Rosemary, your friendships are priceless. I tip my tiara to you all. Jodi Thomas, Jennifer Archer, Gena Showalter, Laurie Moore, and Sarah Clark Jordan, thank you for always being there when I have the "crazy" questions.

Steve, Jeff, and Parker, I love you all. Mom, Dad, and Grandma Irby and the rest of my family, you have always believed, and I am forever grateful.

Music is often my inspiration and these folks helped my story along: Sheryl Crow, Joss Stone, The Rolling Stones, U2, The Killers, Switchfoot, Yellowcard, Jack Johnson, Faith Hill, and Martina McBride.

Prologue

 

"Two weeks of sipping raspberry margaritas and mojitos on the beach. No worries, just sun and fun." I shifted on the dirt floor. The smell of dead rats overwhelmed my senses. I couldn't face Simone. The chains binding us to the steel pole wouldn't allow much movement.

"I know." The demon slayer sighed.

"I'm taking time off and we'll do nothing but fun girly things. Spa days, tanning, a trip to the hair salon to see Sir David; he's a master with highlights." I bit my lip and looked up at the ceiling. Nothing there that would help us.

"He is." The chains rattled. "And you're beautiful. Your hair's never looked better."

I ignored the compliment. "Sleep as much as you want."

"Well, there was that first day." Her voice carried an edge.

"I was shot with a tranquilizer dart." I tried to grab the chain with my hand, but was bound too tight.

"Yes, but you slept like a baby for twenty-four hours." She had the nerve to giggle.

"Get away from all of your troubles at home and experience how the Hollywood set lives. See the sights, and hang with the real
party crowd,'"
I grumbled. I couldn't help it.

"We were at a great party before this happened, and that one guy totally wanted in your pants."

"Yes, a demon who wanted to impregnate me with slime-filled eggs." I knocked on the pole with my fist. "This so sucks."

"Yep."

The door burst open. "Who is the first to die?" the demon roared. Stupid creep was way too dramatic. That's Hollywood for you.

I guess it was time.

"I'll go. Anything is better than listening to her bitch." Simone slid halfway up the pole.

"Simone?"

"What?"

The demon unshackled her chains. He smelled like dog pee. I suppose that was his natural aroma. At the party his body odor hadn't been so offensive. But he'd been masking as a human.

"If we get out of this, I'm going to kick your ass." No levity in my voice.

"You'll have to wait in line. And I'd like to remind you, the assholes waiting upstairs are after you."

I cleared my throat. Damn, I'd guessed they were warlocks. Simone's senses confirmed it. "True. I'm sorry. None of this is your fault." It really wasn't. I tend to get in a bad mood when doom is near. I couldn't keep the worry from my voice. "I didn't mean it, before. You know that, right?"

She half laughed. "I know, Bron. It's not your fault, either."

"Enough talk. Come, demon slayer. The master waits." His big horned head motioned my way. "I'm going to enjoy watching you squirm, witch."

Can't believe I thought that jerk was cute at the party. He pulled Simone up the stairway and I smelled the smoke from the fire as he opened the door.

Man, I hate it when bad guys sacrifice my friends. And I especially hate the fact I'm next.

Chapter One

 

Monday, 9 A. M.

Manhattan

Spells
: 5

Charms: 3

Bad guys: 0 (Unless you count the almost boyfriend who ignores me)

I've finally discovered something I don't like about Sweet, Texas. August. I like warm weather but this is insane. I walked out the front door to get the paper, and by the time I returned to the porch, my body was covered in sweat.

Ack!

Stood under the vent in the living room for a good three minutes to cool off. I've got to pack for New York, which I understand isn't much cooler than Sweet right now.

The prime minister called last night and asked me to meet him there. He's one of my best clients, and the guy who gave me the big break in witchy protection. So, I usually do whatever he wants. And he's a good guy, who cares about his people.

"Bronwyn, I'm meeting with the vice president, Dr. Zocando, Sheik Azir and that rock star Zane. We're in talks about world hunger, and I'd like you to sit in with us." The PM's usually clipped tones sounded a bit frantic.

"Is everything okay, sir?"

"Miles is on vacation and things don't seem to run well when he's not around."

The PM's snippy twit of an assistant, Miles, was a royal bore and pain. But he did keep the diplomat's schedule running smooth.

"Wait. Did you say Sheik Azir would be there?"

"Yes, is that a problem?"

"No, sir. I just wasn't sure I'd heard you correctly." I'd had an almost romance with the sheik a few months ago, and hadn't seen or heard from him since. Didn't really have time to think much about seeing him again, but I suddenly felt queasy.

"I'll be there around 8 P.M. Will that work?"

"Yes, we have a room booked for you at the Gansevoort Hotel."

"Oh, before you go. Is there anything in particular you want me to look for at the meeting?"

"I'll explain when you get here." No good-bye, he just hung up the phone.

Well, if I'm going to make lunch with Sam before I leave, I'd better hurry up.

 

12 A.M.

Lunch with Sam. Dinner with Azir. It's been one hell of a strange day.

Met Sam for lunch at Lulu's in the middle of his first day back at work. He sat at a booth and had iced tea waiting for me.

I love Lulu's. It smells like fresh bread, carrot cake and hamburgers. Ms. Johnnie and Ms. Helen, who run the cafe, have lived a lot of life, and are some of the best cooks I've ever known.

Sam wore jeans and a blue and white striped button-down. You could take the prep out of Harvard, but couldn't get the Harvard out of the prep. He'd only recently traded his khakis for jeans. I thought it a great accomplishment—mostly because his ass looks really good in a pair of button-fly Levi's.

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