Prince Charming Doesn't Live Here

265 Pages·2004·1.11 MB·English

by  Warren Christine

Praise for New York Times bestselling author Christine Warren
BORN TO BE WILD
―Warren packs in lots of action and sexy sizzle.‖
—Romantic Times BOOKreviews
―Incredible.‖
—All About Romance
―Another good addition to The Others series.‖
—Romance Junkies
―[A] sexy, engaging world…will leave you begging for more!‖
—New York Times bestselling author Cheyenne McCray
BIG BAD WOLF
―In this world…there‘s no shortage of sexy sizzle.‖
—Romantic Times BOOKreviews
―Another hot and spicy novel from a master of paranormal romance.‖
—Night Owl Romance
―Ms. Warren gives readers action and danger around each turn, sizzling
romance, and humor
to lighten each scene. Big Bad Wolfis a must-read.‖
—Darque Reviews
YOU’RE SO VEIN
―Filled with supernatural danger, excitement, and sarcastic humor.‖
—Darque Reviews
―Five stars. This is an exciting, sexy book.‖
—Affaire de Coeur
―The sparks do fly!‖
—Romantic Times BOOKreviews
ONE BITE WITH A STRANGER
―Christine Warren has masterfully pulled together vampires, shape shifters,
demons, and
many ‗Others‘ to create a tantalizing world of dark fantasies come to life.
Way to go, Warren!‖
—Night Owl Romance
―A sinful treat.‖
—Romance Junkies
―Hot fun and great sizzle.‖
—Romantic Times BOOKreviews
―A hot, hot novel.‖
—A Romance Review
WALK ON THE WILD SIDE
―A seductive tale with strong chemistry, roiling emotions, steamy romance,
and supernatural action. The fast-moving plot…will keep the readers‘ attention
riveted through every page, and have them eagerly watching for the next
installment.‖
—Darque Reviews
HOWL AT THE MOON
―Howl at the Moon will tug at a wide range of emotions from beginning to
end…Engaging banter, a strong emotional connection, and steamy love scenes.
This talented author delivers real emotion which results in delightful
interactions…and the realistic dialogue is stimulating. Christine Warren knows
how to write a winner!‖
—Romance Junkies
THE DEMON YOU KNOW
―Explodes with sexy, devilish fun, exploring the further adventures of The
Others. With a number of the gang from previous books back, there‘s an
immediate familiarity about this world that makes it easy to dive right into.
Warren‘s storytelling style makes these books remarkably entertaining.‖
—Romantic Times BOOKreviews (4 ½ stars)
SHE’S NO FAERIE PRINCESS
―Christine Warren has penned a story rich in fantastic characters and
spellbinding plots.‖
—Fallen Angel Reviews
WOLF AT THE DOOR
―This book is a fire-starter…a fast-paced, adrenaline-and hormonally-
charged tale. The
writing is fluid and fun, and makes the characters all take on life-like
characteristics.‖
—Romance Reader at Heart
Christine Warren
ONE
“Danice Carter, Esquire. Just the woman I wanted to see.‖
―Well, take a good, long look then, because you‘ve got about twenty-seven
seconds before I pull open a window and fling myself out.‖
Stocking feet slapped across the chilly marble in front of the sixteenth-floor
elevators, then onto plush tweed carpet as Danice stalked toward her office.
She hadn‘t had a particularly pleasant afternoon.
Ignoring the danger signs, Celia turned to follow.
―How did things go with Wilkinson‘s team?‖
Danice shoved open her office door and launched her soft-sided briefcase
toward the back wall with the approximate force of an anti-aircraft missile.
―Peachy. Their client has decided that in addition to causing the collapse of
his business, Henry Hollister and Grissom Holdings are also responsible for the
boom in the Chinese economy, the global recession, the greenhouse effect, and
unrest in the Middle East.‖
―Ah.‖
―They‘ve adjusted their demands for the settlement accordingly. I believe
the offer they presented me contained language about me giving lap dances in
the hall of Satan while they drink the blood of all of Grissom‘s senior corporate
officers from a golden chalice.‖ She used one of the shoes in her hand to
gesture toward her briefcase. ―The papers are in there. Feel free to go over
them and tell me if I‘m wrong.‖
―I‘ll get right on that.‖ Celia pursed her lips and took a seat in front of
Danice‘s desk while the other woman flung herself inelegantly into the leather
executive‘s chair behind it. ―Do you want me to call around and see if I can
find you pasties and a G-string?‖
Danice glared at her. ―You giving up your career as a paralegal for a future
in stand-up comedy?‖
―Maybe. I like to keep my options open.‖ Celia tilted her head and widened
her eyes ingenuously. ―Did you offer up your sense of humor as a sacrifice to
pacify the Wilkinson camp?‖
―No, I dropped it on the corner of Lexington and Fifty-first, along with my
afternoon latte and the heel of my three-hundred-dollar Kate Spade pump.‖
Scowling, Danice wound up like a starting pitcher and threw her shoe toward
the front wall, savoring the satisfying thunk of leather on drywall. If only she‘d
stuck with softball as a teenager, maybe she could have had the satisfaction of
leaving a dent. ―If only that had been Wilkinson‘s fat head.‖
6
Prince Charming Doesn ’t Live Here
―Mm, I hear clients don‘t appreciate being assaulted by legal representation.
They might
even file suit.‖
―Ha. Ha.‖
―Damn, girl, you need to lighten up.‖
Danice sighed and dropped her head to the back of her chair. ―I‘ll put that on
my list. Right after world peace and saving the whales.‖ She shifted her gaze to
Celia. ―What was the straw you had for me?‖
―Straw?‖
―When I came off the elevator, you said you‘d been looking for me. I
assume you have a straw for my back?‖
Celia grinned and took in her boss‘s sleek, camel-colored sheath dress. ―The
color‘s right, but there‘s something about the face that doesn‘t fit the picture.‖
―Thank God for that, at least. I don‘t have time for a nose job.‖ Bracing her
hands on the arms of her chair, Danice pushed herself upright and leaned her
elbows on her desk. ―You‘ve got something for me?‖
Celia offered up a slim brown folder. ―This.‖
Danice flipped open the cover and frowned down at a short stack of papers
that, at first glance, didn‘t ring any bells with her. ―Any clue what it‘s about?‖
―No, but it came down from on high. Ms. Eberhart brought it to me herself
just after lunch.‖
―Really?‖ That actually made Danice take notice. Her brows lifted, and she
looked down at the papers with renewed interest. ―If it came via Patrice
Eberhart, I‘m assuming the responsible heavenly throne belongs to Mr. Yorke?
‖
―You opened the folder.‖ Celia shrugged. ―At this point, you now
officially know more than I do. I was told to see that you got the folder as soon
as you got back to the office. My work here is done.‖
―You wish, Tonto. What did Ms. Eberhart tell you when she gave this to
you?‖
―Exactly what I just told you. To make sure you got that as soon as you got
in. And to buzz her so she‘d know you were back.‖
Danice rolled her eyes and reached for her telephone. ―See, that last part was
what I really wanted to know. I‘ll buzz her myself.‖
―I was getting to it. You‘re always rushing me,‖ Celia teased as she rose.
―You have notes for me from this Wilkinson meeting?‖
Danice nodded toward the window. ―In my briefcase.‖
―Okay. Thanks, boss.‖
Slim, creamed-coffee fingers punched in an internal dialing code then tapped
restlessly on the desk while Danice waited for an answer.
―Mr. Yorke‘s office. How may I help you?‖
―Ms. Eberhart, this is Danice Carter. I‘ve just returned from an outside
meeting, and my
paralegal gave me a message that you might need something from me.‖
The crisp, schoolmistress voice responded promptly. ―Ms. Carter. I assume
that you have
received the file I left with Ms. Alta.‖
7
Christine Warren
―Yes, Celia did give me a file, though I haven‘t reviewed it yet. As I said,
I‘m just back to
the office.‖
―Yes. I shouldn‘t worry. Mr. Yorke has asked me to invite you up so that he
can provide you with the background for this particular assignment. I‘m certain
your review of the provided materials will be more productive after you‘ve
talked with Mr. Yorke.‖
Danice felt her eyebrows shoot up and decided it was a good thing that her
Big Boss‘s assistant couldn‘t see her face at the moment. It might not instill the
right kind of confidence if it were known she‘d nearly passed out at the news
that one of the firm‘s senior partners had requested a meeting with her.
Matthew Yorke IV wasn‘t a senior partner; he was the senior partner, and the
namesake of one of the prestigious old firm‘s founders. The closest she‘d ever
come to speaking with him during her five years working for him had been
when she‘d excused herself as she walked in front of him at last year‘s
company holiday party.
―Of course,‖ she said, carefully keeping the shock out of her voice. ―I‘d be
happy to make time for Mr. Yorke. When would he like to set up a meeting?‖
―Actually, Mr. Yorke would like for you to come up now.‖ There was a
short, significant pause. ―If you‘re available.‖
Danice stifled the urge to laugh. Not because the comment was funny, but
because it was ridiculous. What did the woman expect her to say? That she‘d
check her calendar and get back to her? ―Of course. I‘ll be right up.‖
Hanging up, Danice flipped the folder in front of her closed and pushed to her
feet. Then she
swore.
―Celia!‖
A minute later, the paralegal‘s head appeared in the door. ―You rang?‖
Danice nodded and dropped back in her chair. She opened her bottom desk
drawer to pull out the makeup bag and mirror she kept there for emergencies.
―I need shoes.‖
―Shoes?‖
―Yes, shoes. I told you, I broke mine on the way back here from the
Wilkinson meeting, and I can‘t go up to Mr. York‘s office in my bare-assed
feet. I need shoes.‖
Celia blinked and drew back in shock. ―Mr. Yorke? You‘re going to Mr.
Yorke‘s office? Now?‖
Danice swiped a powder pad over her cheekbones and nodded. ―That‘s what
I just said, isn‘t it? He wants to see me about that file Ms. Eberhart brought
down.‖
―In person? Mr. Yorke wants to meet with you in person?‖
―Yes,‖ she insisted impatiently, reaching for a mascara wand. ―And I can‘t
go up there in bare feet. So where can I get me a pair of shoes in the next five
minutes?‖
Celia kicked off her heeled loafers and stepped onto the carpet beside them.
―You can take mine. But seriously, Mr. Yorke asked to meet with you in
person to go over that file? What on earth could be so important that Matthew
Yorke the Fourth, lord of all he surveys and potential secret ruler of the
universe, would want to meet with an assistant associate whose name he
probably can‘t remember unless his personal secretary is whispering it in his
ear?‖
―Wow, thanks for the vote of confidence.‖ Danice grimaced and twisted the
bottom of a tube of lipstick. ―What size shoe do you wear?‖
8
Prince Charming Doesn ’t Live Here
―Seven. I‘m totally confident in you. I just didn‘t think Mr. Yorke was.‖
―I have no idea if he is or not, but I intend to make sure he becomes just as
confident as I can make him.‖ She rubbed her lips together and tossed the
lipstick back into the makeup bag. ―Shit, I wear a seven and a half. On my
good days. Your shoes will be too small.‖
―Grin and bear it. Because it‘s either wear my shoes, or wear the sneakers
you have me keep for you for the days you decide to walk home, and I don‘t
think they‘ll go with that dress.‖
―Then I guess they‘ll have to do, won‘t they?‖
She sighed as she gave herself a final check in the mirror. She appeared
exactly the way she strived to appear—a reasonably attractive, twenty-eight-
year-old professional woman of indeterminate heritage. Her skin glowed the
rich golden color of café au lait, her brown eyes tilted up at the outer corners
from within a round and slightly shallow profile, and her thick black hair fell
straight and heavy to just above her shoulders.
As a child, some people had thought she was black, others Asian, or Latina, or
Native American, or Polynesian. Danice had defensively referred to herself as
100 percent American. She hadn‘t wanted to be judged by the color of her skin
or the shape of her face or the texture of her hair or even by the ethnicities of
her parents. She had wanted to be judged for herself.