Charmed & Ready (2 page)

Every time I see him, my heart does that funny flutter thing. I've never been in love like this, and it's still kind of weird for me. In a good way.

I kissed Sam and touched his cheek. He looked sallow and tired around his beautiful blue eyes. The fact that he suffered made me want to kill that warlock who had attacked him all over again.

I knew better than to ask him how he felt. Two months ago when he opened his eyes after days in a coma, he made me promise to never ask that question. He pushed himself so hard in physical therapy that he proved the surgeons who said he wouldn't be able to walk for at least a year wrong.

Sam used a cane, propped next to him in the booth, but he walked just fine.

"So how is the first day back at work?" I poured sugar into my tea and gave it a stir.

"Hectic, but great." His smile still made my stomach flip-flop. "Lots of heat rash and sunburn for the most part. So it hasn't been that difficult of a day. I'm still not used to being on my feet so much. But it's all good."

Ms. Johnnie, who looked adorable in strawberry colored Capri pants and matching T-shirt, stopped by to take our order. Rumor had it that she would be turning seventy in a few months, but you'd never know it by the way she dressed and hopped around the restaurant like an athlete on steroids.

We agreed on turkey sandwiches and vinegar chips. Nothing too heavy for hot days like this.

"Um." I picked at the corners of my paper napkin. "I need to tell you something and I think it best if I just come out and say it."

"Okay." He frowned.

"I've got to fly to New York tonight."

"Okay, and this is bad because?"

"Well, it's my first time to leave Sweet since—" I blew out a breath.

"The accident?" He added.

"Yes, and well, the prime minister called and asked if I would please come, and I've turned down the last few jobs."

"What do you mean, you turned down jobs? I never asked you to do any such thing. Bronywn, what's going on?"

"Well, you were so sick and I couldn't leave. And I love you," I said in a rush. "Wait, that came out wrong. I love you and I didn't want to be away. Not because you were sick, but because I love you. Crap."

I'm so bad at this man thing. Just the worst.

He chuckled.

"I think I understand, and I appreciate all of your tender loving care the past few months. There were many days when I'm not certain I could have made it without you, but I never meant for you to give up your job to help me out. I love you too." He took my hand.

His touch always reassures me. I love the strength of him. The kindness of his soul has touched me since the day we met.

I squeezed his fingers. "I know."

"You said the prime minister would be there. Who else?"

I swallowed. "Oh, you know. The regular dignitaries, that musician Zane. People like that."

"Will Azir be there?" There was a hint of an edge in his voice.

I'd been staring with great intent at his hand holding mine and I raised my eyes to meet his.

"Yes."

"And you were nervous about telling me?"

"A little."

"He's your friend, and he's in love with you. I can't say it doesn't bother me, but I can live with it if you can." He let go of my hand and looked at his watch.

"I've got to get back to the office." He pushed himself up with one hand on the table and grabbed the cane.

I stood and kissed him. "Sam," I whispered against his lips.

"It really is okay, Bron. I just need to go. And so do you. It's time for you to go. What we have is real and we both have to learn to trust it. I'll be here when you come back."

"I'll call you when I get to New York."

I started to walk away and he grabbed my hand. Pulling me tight to his chest, he kissed me so hard that, eight hours later, I can still feel the imprint of his lips.

See, that's the thing with Sam. He sticks with me more than anyone I've ever met. I handed my heart to him a few months ago, and it's been the scariest, most wonderful thing I ever did.

Had I known when the prime minister invited me to dinner tonight that Azir would be there, I think I would have passed. I hadn't been ready to see him again. Oh, the meal went well.

We all chatted about world affairs and who would be there the next day. The prime minister believes that this Zane guy is going to bring a great deal of attention to the cause.

We were in the VIP section of the restaurant, on the second level. The couples downstairs celebrated anniversaries and birthdays over candlelit dinners with the cream-colored tablecloths, and bottles of champagne in neat silver cylinders.

But everything seemed so weird. I'm not sure what I expected. Maybe for Azir to give me longing looks throughout the meal. I couldn't keep from sneaking glances every once in a while. He was dressed in Hugo Boss pinstripes.

His dark brown eyes, framed with those deadly long lashes, barely registered my presence. And he gave no indication that he had any interest in me at all. Well, in
that
way.

Strictly professional.

I guess that's a good thing, since I'm with Sam now.

I'd dressed up for dinner in a long black skirt, four-inch Manolos Mom gave me and a red wrap top. I reasoned that I wanted to look nice because of the strict dress code of the five-star restaurant. But in some twisted, womanly way, I also wanted to impress the sheik.

There. I said it. I wanted him to notice me.

That's just sick.

Two months ago he told me he loved me. Then he left town, and I hadn't heard a peep since. And I thought, "Good riddance." I didn't need the complication.

And then tonight when he didn't really seem to notice me, my ego deflated. I have to stop. I'm not going through all of that again.

He wants to keep things on a professional level, and I should be grateful.

But at the end of the night, when I shook his hand, the sparks flew between us. Just for an instant when we touched he looked in my eyes, and I was lost. He smelled like sandalwood.

No, Bronwyn. Bad girl.

Azir bad. Sam good.

Easy peasy. No need to get all crazy again.

Take a big breath, old girl, and just get over yourself.

He's moved on. I've moved on.

Crap, who would knock on the door at this hour?

I sent my mind past the wards to take a peek.

Azir?

Manhattan

Potions
: 5

Charms: 3

Spells
: 5

Sexy rock stars:

I've spent the last few hours putting wards on everyone's rooms. The Gansevoort Hotel is a small boutique hotel, which is good for our purposes. The less people around, the better.

It isn't my style, but I love the sleek modern look of the rooms with their big plasma televisions.

Also gave Azir and the prime minister new charms laced with primrose. In the old days primrose was used to keep the fairies out of the house. With a decent spell it works well against all evil.

Ack. My brain hurts. Too much information and I'm in overload. It doesn't help that Azir is playing some kind of mind game and he didn't mention the rules.

He stopped by last night to drop off the files the prime minister forgot to give me at dinner. Turns out, Azir's suite is just across from mine.

Interesting. Have no idea if he set it up that way.

"Here's the file on the participants of the meeting tomorrow morning." He'd loosened his tie and shirt. His dark chest hair peeked through.

I had a sudden urge to reach up and touch him to feel the curly softness for myself. But I resisted.

"Thanks." I took the folder and leafed through a couple of pages.

"Well, good night then." He turned to step across the hall.

"Azir?"

He stopped and turned around.

"Yes."

"Is there a reason you've decided to treat me like the black plague? You didn't say two words to me directly at dinner and you seem—I don't know. Uptight?"

He frowned. "I can assure you I am not uptight. This meeting tomorrow morning is important to me and I have a lot on my mind." He pushed through his doorway and never looked back.

Whatever. Maybe he needs some distance between us, or he might not give a damn anymore. It's kind of stupid, because Sam's my man, but it's weird to see Azir acting this way.

I didn't have much time to worry. The prime minister wanted me at breakfast early the next morning.

That's where I meet rock star extraordinaire Zane. I knew his music. Crap, you'd have to live on Mercury not to have heard him. He's everywhere.

Before I read his file I suspected that he used this World Hunger Organization as a PR ploy. But he's really a pretty straight-up guy. He's donated millions of his own funds and set up five different benefit concerts to raise money for the hungry children of the world.

"He's brought more attention to the issue of hunger in the last year, than we have in the last twenty," the PM explained before Zane joined us for breakfast. "He has a great passion for the work." The PM buttered a roll. "Ah, here he is."

I'd seen pictures several times but they didn't do the man justice. He wore a white poet's shirt with ruffled sleeves and black leather pants that would have looked idiotic on anyone else. On him it worked.

His golden curls were professionally mussed and his green eyes took in the room as he crossed the floor. He owned it. The whole place, as soon as he entered. I'd never seen such a presence.

"Prime Minister." Zane held his hand out to grasp the PM's. "So good to see you again. How's your tennis game?"

"Better. We should set up a match soon." The PM smiled. "I think I might make you work a bit harder the next time you beat me."

Zane laughed. "Well, you can certainly hope that will be the case."

It was difficult to reconcile this rock star, whose life had been tabloid fodder for the past five years, with a man who played tennis with world leaders and helped care for the poor.

His penchant for wooing the fairer sex had been news on the entertainment shows for years. And I wondered as I watched him if any of it was true.

He turned to me, took a step back and put his hand on his heart. "And who is this gorgeous beauty?"

I shook my head and snorted, because that's what cool chicks do.

The PM looked at me curiously, as if beauty was an odd word in relation to me, and then he introduced me. "This is Bronwyn, a consultant friend of mine."

The PM was up-front about my chosen profession. Consultant actually covered a multitude of sins, and no one ever asked what I consulted about.

Zane stuck out his hand and I did the same. When he touched me, my body relaxed. As if I'd been comforted by a close friend, which was strange since I don't know him.

Maybe that's what he used to get all those women into bed. He wasn't a warlock, but he definitely had special abilities.

"Charmed to meet you, lovely woman, and so happy you could join us for breakfast." He sat down with a great flourish and propped his elbows on the table.

He and the PM talked about a new project proposal directed at international corporations that would underwrite the cost of feeding a large portion of the Third World.

Halfway through the conversation Zane stopped talking and turned to me again. "Bronwyn?"

"Yes?"

"Are you Simone's friend? She's a demon slayer in L.A."

Hello sudden shift in conversation. What was this about? "I do know Simone. How do you know her?" Most people in the "real world" know Simone as a scientist and professor, not as a slayer.

He waved a hand. "Oh we've been friends for ages. She called you once when I was at her place. Something about a demon she needed to kill. She told me that you are a powerful—um. Oh." His eyes widened and he looked to the prime minister.

"A powerful witch? Yes, she is." The PM smiled.

"Wow." He reached out and grabbed my hand. "I've wanted to meet you since that day. Simone isn't impressed by much, so when she turned to you for help I knew you must be special."

"Well, thanks." I shrugged, not really knowing what to say. It was kind of sweet, and the word "special" isn't usually spoken by Simone.

Realizing he must sound like one of those crazed fans he's always running away from, he grinned sheepishly. "Sorry. It just dawned on me who you were."

"No worries." I forked up some eggs.

And he returned to his conversation with the PM.

I had a chance to call Simone later and she had all kinds of helpful information. Well, not helpful really, but interesting just the same.

"Oh, that Zane, he's a hot one. Did he try to get into your pants yet?"

"No, don't be stupid." Should he have? Damn, have I lost my touch? And why would I want him to? "Simone, you know I'm with Sam."

"Just because you're with someone doesn't mean you're dead. And that Zane is a pro at making a woman feel very much alive." Simone always has such a direct way of putting things.

"Whenever he's in town he calls and says, 'Hello, luv, how about a bit of a tuck in?'" Simone's British accent was lacking, but it made me laugh.