Charmed & Dangerous

by Candace Havens

  “I thought perhaps we could go together at your scheduled time tomorrow.”

  That meant another day and night here at the house. Great.

  “Sure. Um, I’ve got some plans this afternoon but I could show you around town. It should take all of about six minutes.”

  He laughed.

  “Only you could make me smile at a time like this.” He reached out to pull me into a hug.

  Wanted to remind him of the “no hugging the clients” rule that I made up when we were in Oslo, but it didn’t seem the right time. The man needed comfort. Caring arms to soothe a sad soul.

  But it was just a hug. While we did have chemistry, I couldn’t stop thinking of Sam. I wanted to be in Sam’s arms.

  I stepped away and cleared the spell. The mist dissipated, leaving nothing but bright sunshine filtering in through the glass. I took one last sniff of the earthy scent of my garden, and we went into the kitchen for breakfast.

  Getting ready to meet Sam for lunch. I’m sure he’s going to be way excited that I’ve got the sheik and Maridad along for the ride. Oh, well.

  Twenty-one

  Thursday, 7 P.M.

  Sweet, Texas

  Boyfriends who get along: 2 (Okay, technically, they are friends who are boys. Only one of them is a boyfriend, and I’m not even sure about that.)

  I don’t know what kind of karmic wickedness I’m trying to work out but I wish it would hurry up and happen.

  With the sheik and Maridad in tow, I checked the jets at the hangar and made sure we were good to go for tomorrow. Then we headed over to Lulu’s for lunch with Sam. I had a chance to call him and let him know that we had extra guests for the meal. He had been surprisingly accepting and said he might be a tad late, but would definitely be there.

  At the diner Ms. Helen and Ms. Johnnie threw a fit over the sheik. Seems Ms. Johnnie had herself an Arab lover back in the day, who bought her a Bentley. Every once in a while he sends her a new car, even though they haven’t seen each other in more than thirty years.

  The sheik marveled at the collection of photos sporting Ms. Helen and Ms. Johnnie, spread over the walls of the cozy café.

  “You’ve lived an interesting life.” Azir pointed to the photo of Ms. Johnnie with a college basketball team from Austin. She must have been about twenty at the time, and every man in the picture had his eyes on her.

  “Oh, my, yes. Those boys were absolutely delicious.” Ms. Johnnie winked. “See that one, third left from the bottom? He was husband number one. Such a wonderful boy. I really loved him, too, for about a year.”

  Then she walked off to check on some other patrons.

  The sheik looked at me, and I only shrugged. “I have no idea, but I guarantee you if she ever shares the story it’ll be an interesting one.”

  We sat down at the big table in the back just as Sam, dressed in dark denims with a deep burgundy shirt, walked in. He smiled, no hint of the previous night’s jealousy in his face.

  My gorgeous Sam. I sighed, and Azir looked at me strangely.

  Sam shook hands with Maridad and the sheik, and then leaned in and kissed me on the cheek.

  Damn, he smelled good. Sandalwood with a hint of orange spice and patchouli.

  “Oh, how’s Mr. Gunther?” I asked Sam as he sat down at the table. “I thought we might stop by and see him this afternoon if he’s up to it.”

  “He’s doing much better. Whatever you did seemed to work.” Sam grabbed one of the plastic menus from the center of the table and put his napkin in his lap. “And I know he’d enjoy a visit before you leave town again.”

  Ms. Johnnie came and took our drink orders. It was quiet for a few minutes while we perused the plastic-covered menus.

  Sam grabbed the sugar and put two of the packets in his iced tea as he spoke. “I don’t know what you like, but everything here is good.”

  Azir and Maridad watched him and then they did the same thing. Never dawned on me that they might not have had iced tea before.

  “Is the chicken-fried steak a chicken steak? I’ve never heard of such a thing.” Maridad’s puzzled look made me smile.

  Sam turned to her. “Well, it’s not really chicken. It’s a beef cutlet that is battered and fried to perfection. This is one of the best places to try it if you’re willing.”

  When Ms. Johnnie came back we ordered a round of chicken-fried steaks, mashed potatoes, and Texas toast. I’d worry about the food coma later.

  Again the conversation lulled. Without the distraction of menus to hide behind, the tension around the table became palpable. With these two handsome men in the same space it was difficult for me to think.

  “We’ll definitely go by and see Mr. G today.” Okay, so I repeated myself, but I was desperate to get the convo going and I’m not exactly the queen of small talk.

  “You’ll be surprised by how much better he looks. He’s made quite a turnaround.”

  “Who is Mr. Gunther?” The sheik stirred his tea slowly. Took a sip and then smiled. It’s hard not to like Lulu’s tea.

  “He’s a patient at the nursing home. Bronwyn’s been helping with his case. He suffers from Alzheimer’s and she found a way to help with his memory.” Sam grabbed a piece of corn bread from the red basket Ms. Johnnie had put in the middle of the table.

  Again the other two diners followed his actions and slathered butter onto their bread. I bit my lip to keep from laughing.

  “Um, yes—he’s a great guy, full of wonderful stories.” I coughed into my napkin to get myself under control. Watching Sam and the sheik play Simon Says gave me a fit of giggles. “I devised a potion that gives him mental clarity. Had to go back to the drawing board earlier in the week, though.”

  “Back to the drawing board?” Maridad asked before she took a small bite of her corn bread. Her eyes widened and she looked at the bread and stuffed the whole thing in her mouth. Ms. Johnnie’s baked goods do that to people. She absolutely inspires pigdom.

  “I had to rework the potion so that we could boost his energy. Part of the disease—it’s okay if I talk about this, Sam?” I’d remembered his doctor-patient thing and didn’t want to cross any lines.

  “Sure, you’re not a doctor and Mr. Gunther’s given his permission anyway.”

  “OK, so fatigue is also a part of the disease and I had to find a way to boost his energy without crashing his immune system or causing more memory troubles. It wasn’t easy but it sounds like we’re on the right track.”

  “Fascinating. So do you normally use magic in your practice?” The sheik turned to Sam. He said it in a way that made the other man smile. Not condescending or reproachful but more in awe. I wondered how he knew Sam was a warlock.

  Knowing Azir, he’d probably had the doctor investigated.

  “Not to the extent of what Bronwyn does. I’m a natural healer, so yes, I guess magic comes into it.”

  I’d never heard Sam talk to anyone else about his abilities. He seemed so comfortable with the sheik. I hadn’t known what to think about the two men dining together.

  Well, that’s not true. I thought for sure there’d be some jealousy, but they were genuinely interested in one another. The sheik asked about Sam’s practice and Sam questioned the other man about his work with Duban Industries.

  “The company name sounds familiar, and not just because I know my father uses your golf balls.” Sam flagged Ms. Helen over when she came out of the kitchen and asked if she had any fried okra today. She ran back and then brought a huge basket with ranch dressing.

  I wasn’t sure what Maridad and Azir would think of the heart-clogging meal, but what the heck. They seemed to enjoy the experience of trying something new.

  Sam thumped himself on the head. “I know. Did you work with my father on the new wing of Children’s Hospital in Chicago?”

  “I was involved, and hired the architect.”

  Turned out Azir and Sam’s father were old friends and Sam knew about the sheik’s humanitarian efforts. After that it was a virt
ual lovefest between the two men. It ended, after slices of chocolate pie, with the sheik offering to take Sam on his next mission to save the world.

  Whatever.

  Later in the afternoon we checked in on Mr. Gunther and I took him another journal. I know it’s wrong but I keep thinking that if he feels like he has to fill another one, maybe he won’t give up on life too soon.

  I’ve got to pack for the trip to Brussels and then we’re going over to Kira’s for dinner with everyone. She’s decided to put on a last-minute Mexican fiesta for Maridad and the sheik.

  I’m bringing the margarita mix and sparkly lights to decorate the living area. It should be an interesting evening.

  Friday, noon

  Waning moon

  New York City

  Confused witches: 1

  Spells: 1 (I did it for mental clarity)

  I flew us into New York and we are refueling. The other pilots, who (under Azir’s insistence) are flying us to Brussels, are doing a final flight check.

  The sheik is all business today but he cut loose more than I’ve ever seen him last night. He and Maridad don’t drink, it being against their religion, but they did enjoy the virgin margaritas I mixed. I did the same since I had to pilot the plane this morning.

  Kira fixed every kind of enchilada known to man. There were cheese, sour cream, chicken, beef, and spinach along with a giant pot of refried beans and bowl of Spanish rice. I’d never seen so much food in one place.

  After the artery-damaging lunch we had, I was surprised to see Azir load his plate with one of everything. Cocked my head and raised an eyebrow as I stared at the contents he’d piled on. Could this be the same guy who served fish and vegetables for days on end?

  “I hear Americans eat their emotions, so I’ve decided to join the crowd.” He smiled.

  “Well, at the rate you’re going you’re headed for a nervous breakdown.” I’d meant it as a joke, but when his face turned into a frown I mentally clonked myself in the head. If anyone had the right to lose it big time, it was this guy.

  “I think I’ll join you.” I laughed, trying to take the edge off my words.

  Kira’s dining room wasn’t large enough for all of us, but she’d spread large pillows throughout the living area. I loved her style. It was like hippie meets old world with a lot of bold colors thrown in. The sofa and pillows were tapestry with touches of deep maroon velvet. But in the doorway separating the dining room from the other part of the house hung beads, which had been formed into a picture of the Mona Lisa. Anywhere else it would be absurd, but in Kira’s home, it worked.

  I watched from the archway as the sheik was drawn into conversation with my friends. They made a real effort to make him feel welcome. He looked more relaxed and happy than I’d seen him in weeks, sitting there on the floor of Kira’s living room.

  “Is he in danger?” Sam stood beside me. I’d been so absorbed in what was before me that I hadn’t noticed.

  “I can’t talk about it”—I turned to him—“but yes.”

  “And it’s your job to protect him?”

  “You know it is.”

  “He’s a good man, but it hurts me to see you with him.” Sam stared at me.

  “Really? You seem so comfortable around each other….” Tried to act nonchalant, but he saw through it.

  “Oh, don’t for a minute think I’m not jealous, Bronwyn. I’m absolutely seething with it. That man can offer you the world. And while I could make you comfortable, the most I have to give you is me.”

  I didn’t think it possible but my heart caught in my throat. “Sam,” I whispered.

  “Do you love him?”

  What a question. And it wasn’t easy to answer.

  “I care for him.” I shook my head. “I know what you think, but I have a rule about getting involved with clients. I just don’t do it.”

  “I wish I could believe that. You can fool yourself if you like, but the rest of us can see when you look at him that you’ve gone way past caring. And I’d bet my life savings that he’s in love with you.”

  “No, Sam, you’d be wrong. He might be in lust with me, but it isn’t love.”

  “Open your eyes, Bron. Really open them. You’re the one who is wrong. That man is in love with you. Trust me, I see it in the mirror every day.”

  Sam didn’t sound angry; sad more than anything. He took the plate from my hand and drew me into the corner nook of the dining room where Kira had set out all the food.

  “I love you.” He cupped my face in his hands. “No matter what happens in the next few weeks, I want you to know that we belong together. You are my heart.”

  He kissed me long and hard as if he knew I had no response. That isn’t true. I loved him, too. I just couldn’t say it yet.

  I also had feelings for the sheik, but not what I felt for Sam. Unfortunately, in that moment I couldn’t verbalize the way he made me feel.

  He showed me words weren’t needed.

  He leaned against the wall and pulled me with him. Wrapping our arms around one another, we stood in silence just hugging. I could see the shimmer of a purple aura as our magic mixed. In many ways he completed me, and I didn’t even know how exactly.

  I nibbled at his lips and then deepened the kiss, sliding my tongue into his mouth as I pushed my pelvis into him. I wanted to show him what I couldn’t tell him. And I prayed he understood.

  Someone cleared a throat behind me and I turned to see Maridad. “I’m sorry, I—the enchiladas are quite tasty and I wanted to try the ones with the cheese.” She rambled on nervously. “I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

  “It’s okay. They’re the ones with the sour cream sauce.” I kissed Sam on the cheek and squeezed him tight one last time. Then I turned to help her.

  Sam walked into the other room.

  “I apologize, I didn’t realize you were in here.” She put her hand on my shoulder.

  I smiled. “Don’t worry about it.”

  “Your doctor loves you very much. You can see it in his eyes.” Funny, Sam had said the same thing to me, only he’d been referring to the sheik.

  “He’s a good man.”

  “You are unsure of your heart?” Maridad’s questions hit the point rather quickly. She never minced words.

  “I guess you could say that. I care for him more than I thought possible, but…”

  “Again, I say I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude into your private business. I worry about Sheik Azir. He too seems to care for you, and I wouldn’t like to see him get hurt.”

  “Nor would I. And I think you’re right about the caring thing. If I’m more honest than I should be, I’ll tell you it goes both ways. Hence my troubles with the good doctor.”

  “My mother, who seems to understand the relationships between men and women better than anyone I’ve ever known, says that when the heart is certain it makes the choice and it doesn’t matter what our minds tell us.” Maridad smiled as she added refried beans to her plate.

  “That sounds exactly like something my mom would say. How about you? Is there someone you love back in Dubai?”

  “Yes, very much. But he has no idea.” She looked through the beads at Azir.

  I wondered what she meant by that. Was she in love with Azir? She didn’t act like a scorned woman, and she had treated me with nothing but respect. I didn’t get the chance to ask because she joined the crowd in the living room before I could question her.

  The sheik and Maridad?

  No one wanted to leave the party, but with the early flight, we had to go a little after midnight. I obviously break the rules when it comes to getting involved with clients, but I take the rules of flying seriously and I needed my beauty sleep.

  As I sit here watching the sheik dictate a business proposal to Maridad, it’s hard to imagine the man in the blue pin-striped suit and starched collar as the same guy in jeans and T-shirt with ranchero sauce on his chin last night.

  He looked up at me a few minutes ago and my stomac
h fluttered with the wings of a million butterflies. Then he winked at me and smiled.

  Geez. I wish he wouldn’t do things like that. It makes me all confused.

  And if Maridad is in love with the sheik then all bets are off. I can’t even think about it.

  There are so many other things I need to be worried about, like keeping the PM and Azir alive over the next few weeks. Both men are in serious danger, something I sensed yesterday, and it all centers in Brussels.

  Twenty-two

  Monday, 1 P.M.

  Brussels

  Ghost hunters: 1

  A zir is seriously into castles. This time we are on the side of a mountain looking down over Brussels in a home that was built in the fifteenth century. We’re talking drawbridge with a moat. Insane. But very, very cool.

  I don’t know who owns this spread, but there are about twenty politicos hanging full-time and there’s still plenty of room.

  My room is almost a duplicate of the one I had in Oslo. Dark velvet draperies and a huge bed so tall I need a step stool to get into it. There are strange tapestries of not-so-pleasant battle scenes on every wall. Gives the feeling that the owner has a boner for war.

  The history of the place smacks you in the face at every turn.

  But it’s weird. I’m having déjà vu so much I have trouble figuring out what reality I’m supposed to be in. When I walked through the huge wooden doors of the castle I knew exactly where the kitchen, dining rooms, and everything else was located. Never have I experienced such a connection with a place.

  Everything is so strange that I called Garnout for wizardly advice and he’s checking into my past-life history.

  “Sometimes when you intuitively know a place, it’s an indication that you’ve visited either through astral projection or in a past life,” Garnout told me. I could tell he was busy helping customers. The cash register dinged and once in a while he’d pull the phone away and in a hushed voice say, “Please come back and see us again.”

  “If you’re busy we can do this later.” I touched one of the tapestries and closed my eyes. The battle had taken place only a few miles from here. The smell of horses and blood…so strong…and a feeling of extreme dread. The bile rose and my stomach tightened in pain.