"Especially with your darker hair," Tamara adds.

"I don't know. It's so ... red. And my arms aren't made for it."

"That's why you'll have your black shawl and that way you can wear black shoes," Debbie says.

"Two against one," Tamara says. "You're wearing the red one, and that's that."

Oh boy.

Debbie leaves in search of shoes, jewelry, and the shawl while Tam continues on my hair. I feel like I'm on one of those makeover shows. Always turns out well for them. Tam wraps my head in saran wrap to keep it in place, and as I don't look ridiculous enough, smooshes avocado mask all over my face. Debbie returns and chuckles. "You look like dinner."

"Funny," I say as I stand from the toilet. "Speaking of. I should start on-"

"Stop," Debbie says. "I'll take care of it. You aren't allowed to leave this room until the big reveal."

Debbie walks out to feed the little monsters while Tam paints my nails and then toenails bright red. She leaves me to call her kids as I gingerly switch to shorts so I can shave my legs. I read somewhere this is a no-no for a first date because it means you intend to sleep with him. Since I sort of do-fifty-fifty at this point-I go for it. I manage to finish the first leg with only a tiny nick and no ruined nails when the sound of running water from the girls' bathroom next door overshadows Carrie Underwood's singing. "Oh c.r.a.p."

I grab a towel to cover my bra and rush out of the bedroom. The water continues to run as I step into the hallway and pound on the bathroom door. "Sophie, take a shower later! I-"

The door flies open and the entire English language is zapped from my brain. Instead of a cute ten-year-old, I'm greeted by a sweaty werewolf in nothing but a tiny towel wrapped around his waist. h.e.l.l's bells. The animal part of my brain takes the wheel. I drink him in as if I was dehydrated. His legs are as muscular as the rest of him. I can't take my eyes off them. Okay, I can't unglue them from the gap where the slit of the towel reaches his hipbone. If he moves I might be able to ... I suppress a whimper. I better sleep with Guy tonight or pretty soon I'll be jumping the mailman. "Yeah?" he asks.

"Um ... " Say something! "You're sweaty."

"I went running."

All I can manage is an, "Oh."

"Do you ... want something, Mona?"

h.e.l.l, yes. I go to play with my hair like I do when I'm nervous but touch plastic. Reality, or really mortification, hits me. I'm in shorts, a ratty bra, my face is green, and I have goo in my hair. I am the bog monster from the planet Ick. "Shower! I'm dyeing my hair, and I need a shower in ten minutes."

"I'll be done by then. I'll just take a quick one."

"Okay, great, bye," I say quickly as I scurry back to my bedroom and shut the door. And I just killed any chance of him ever having romantic feelings for me. Dead. Yeah. Ugh! I groan and shake my head before shuffling to the bathroom to beautify myself for a man I still have a chance with.

I shave, trim, shower, shave some more in a place I never thought to before-per Tamara and Cosmo's advice-moisturize, exfoliate, blow dry, straighten, and keep perfectly still as my sister and best friend apply makeup as if they were painting a Monet. What we women go through while men just shave, brush their hair, and walk out the door. So unfair.

Finally, after over two hours of torture, I pull on my Spanx and dress-which barely zips-and step out in my faux velvet heels. "Tada!" I say with little enthusiasm.

"Oh. My. G.o.d," Tamara says, eyes bulging.

"Wow," Debbie adds with a similar expression.

I go to the full length mirror and join the eye-bulging brigade. I look ... amazing. The darker hair and red lipstick off-set my skin, making it almost glow. My brown eyes pop with the eyeliner and shadow even brings out the gold flecks. But that's nothing to what this dress does to my figure. It's almost a perfect hourgla.s.s with just enough cleavage to be s.e.xy yet not trashy. I should wear heels more often because my hearty calves look muscular. h.e.l.l's bells, I'm a babe.

"Sutcliffe won't know what hit him," Tamara says with a proud smile.

Per their instructions, I wait in the hallway as Tam and Debbie gather everyone for the big reveal. "Does she look pretty?" Cora asks downstairs.

"Very," Debbie says. "Got the camera ready?"

"All set," Tamara says. "Presenting the most eligible bachelorette in Gardenia County, though I guarantee not for long after tonight, the spectacular Mona McGregor!"

That's my cue. They all applaud as I step onto the landing. I'm greeted by shock and awe below. Sophie smiles, Cora squeals, and Adam ... his hands stop mid-clap and his jaw drops a little. Goodbye bog monster, h.e.l.lo gorgeous. "How do I look?" I ask the audience.

"Awesome," Sophie says.

"You're so pretty!" Cora squeals.

"Thank you," I say to them before turning to the still shocked Adam. "Adam? Male perspective?"

"Um ... " He pauses. Seems he's caught speechlessness from me. He looks at me as if there is nothing else in the world. "Beautiful. No other word for it. You're simply beautiful."

His words come close to bringing tears to my eyes. I want to stop in time and live in this moment. "Thank you," I say, voice quaking with emotion.

But it's not to be. "Picture time!" Tamara says, killing the mood.

I pose for about five pictures without my usual protest, as I'm sure I'll never look this good again. When I descend the stairs, the girls insist on hugging me and petting my dress. Adam keeps glancing at my chest when he thinks no one is looking. I do have a great rack. "Guys, I gotta go. I'll be late."

Debbie turns to Adam. "You're not going dressed like that, are you?" she asks the gray shirt and blue jeaned man.

"He's staying here," I say.

"But he's your bodyguard," Debbie says. "What if the demon-"

"He's not going on my date with me," I state. "End of story."

"Yeah, she's going to need privacy," Tamara says with a wink.

"Why?" Cora asks.

"Duh," Sophie says, "she's going to have s.e.x with Dr. Sutcliffe."

"O-kay," I chuckle before she can elaborate further, "it is definitely time for me to leave." I kiss the girls' heads. "Behave." I look at Adam, who wears the remnants of a scowl. "I guess I'll be home ...

whenever."

"Fine," he says curtly.

I give a quick hug to my fairy G.o.dmothers, grab my car keys, and hustle out the door before I lose my nerve.

Here goes everything.

Bachelorette auction For a non-member of the Gardenia Country Club, I am here quite frequently. Just this year I've graced its halls seven times, mostly with Debbie and Greg to coordinate the wedding with the staff. On any normal year I come here about half a dozen times for various weddings, birthday parties, or when Clay is nice enough to bring me as a guest so he can whip my b.u.t.t at golf. Tonight it is as elegant as always with the gas lamps flickering up the driveway, white globe string lights hung on the lawn amid the Spanish moss and willow trees, all leading to the entrance over perfect gra.s.sy hills. The cherubic fountain alternating colors spews its water in front of the cobblestone building and waiting valets. I drive past and down a hill, over a wooden bridge to the parking lot. It's about half full with BMWs, Lexuses, and the odd Ferrari scattered around. My Acura sticks out like a model's hipbones.

I started getting nervous when I left the town proper, the non-fun b.u.t.terflies multiplying as the miles pa.s.sed. Now as I re-apply my lipstick, my hands tremble. My confidence and determination have completely left the building. Or really, I just don't want to do this. It's a bad idea of epic proportions. I am well aware of this fact. Now. On the way over I realized this could all be a set-up to humiliate or kill me. If Erica is the one who wants me dead, she could have recruited Guy to lure me here. They could be lovers in cahoots. I don't have a shred of evidence, but that doesn't mean a d.a.m.n thing. Oh this is such a bad idea. I wish Adam was here. I was an idiot to make him stay behind. He was probably right that day in the store. Why the h.e.l.l would Guy all of a sudden be interested in me?

Okay, stop it. Just stop it. You'll be surrounded by people, you have all your protection charms and amulets, and you made a d.a.m.n commitment. You gave your word, and that is sacrosanct. Get out of the frigging car.

So I do. I walk over the wooden bridge above the creek and up the paved hill, my shawl wrapped around me, clutch bag in hand, and head back. Fake it till you make it. The valets nod as I pa.s.s and Jimmy, the doorman, smiles as I walk in. The decor is old money with white painted walls and burgundy carpet. Paintings of Confederate soldiers and huntsmen hang on each panel. The hallway opens onto the hexagonal reception area, where three middle-aged men dressed in business suits pace around and shout into their iPhones. I consider myself a feminist but d.a.m.ned if my self-image doesn't skyrocket as each of the men eyes me up and down like I'm prime rib.

The party is in the Jefferson Hall where Debbie's reception will be, but tonight it's spa.r.s.ely furnished for the c.o.c.ktail party before the auction. I give my name at the door so I don't have to pay the hundred-dollar cover charge. Lining the walls are vendors selling their jewelry and other items for the silent auction. More men in suits and women in ornate c.o.c.ktail dresses chat and swill champagne that waiters cart around on trays. d.a.m.n, those lamb chops look good. I scan the crowd for familiar faces, spotting Clay off to the side interviewing homecoming queen Naomi Ferguson. She looks spectacular in a sparkly pink dress a little too high in the skirt for my taste. My self-image gets knocked down a peg or nine.

" ... all about charity," Naomi says into Clay's recorder as I join them. "It's so important."

Clay turns off his recorder. "Thank you," he says to Naomi, who smiles and slinks off to mingle. He takes one look at me and his jaw almost drops. "Holy c.r.a.p. Mona?"

I grab a pa.s.sing champagne gla.s.s. "The one and only."

"You ... you look great!" We kiss cheeks. "I barely recognized you."

My eyes narrow. "Thanks, Clay," I say sarcastically.

"You know what I mean. Did you just get here? Erica was looking for you." But I'm only half paying attention as I check the crowd for my date. Clay notices. "He's here too."

"He is?" Oh thank the universe. "Where?"

Clay points to the other side of the room at one of the silent auction tables near the bachelorette stage. And there he is. He looks d.a.m.n fine in his dark suit and gla.s.ses, but my heart doesn't do the usual pitter-pat. Huh. Must be the nerves. Whatever, let's do this. I smooth my hair, lick any lipstick off my teeth, and force myself across the room. The few people who know me either seem shocked or confused when they see me. My cousin d.i.c.kie stops serving crab cakes to get a look. I nod. I definitely need to wear red more often.

Guy is scribbling a bid on a golf lesson with a tournament pro when I reach him. "Hi."

He looks up and, like the rest, cannot believe his eyes. Was I really such a troll before? "Mona? You-you look wonderful."

"Wanted you to get your money's worth," I quip with a chuckle.

"I, um ... wow." He's speechless. I've rendered another man speechless. I rule.

"You're sweet," I say with another chuckle.

"Mona?" Erica asks behind me. I spin around and find my scowling cousin dressed in a low-cut silver and black beaded dress. "There you are. You're late. You missed the orientation." She looks at Guy. "Please excuse us." He and I share a small smile as Erica ushers me out of the hall. "Did you have to wear all those amulets and charms? Honestly."

We end up in a smaller conference room with papers all over the desk. "There is still a demon on the loose," I say. "You're not wearing your wards?"

"I'm fairly sure a demon has better things to do than bother me," Erica says as she shuffles papers around. She finds the one she wants. "Here. I need you to sign these."

I read them over, just liability wavers and a contract. I know my way around them and see nothing wrong. "Here you go."

She stuffs them in a folder. "Thank you. We're going in alphabetical order, and you're number nine. I suggest you mingle and chat with the gentlemen. Let them get to know you. The auction starts in thirty minutes, then you and your date will be escorted to the patio for dinner. They're serving braised ham, salmon, or filet mignon prepared by celebrity chef Louis Nabrone from New York. Tell the men this, okay?"

"Got it."

She eyes me up and down. "And don't feel bad if you make the least amount. Every little bit helps," she says with a smile.

"I understand." You b.i.t.c.h from h.e.l.l. "Oh, before I forget, did you ever get around to phoning Lord Thomas or Alejandro? They haven't called me."

"I'm sorry, I totally forgot. I've been swamped."

"That's okay. I shouldn't have asked anyway. I know you and Thomas had a falling out after he started seeing that girl, but I thought since you and Alejandro were closer now you could go through him."

If it wasn't for the Botox, her forehead would crinkle as her eyes narrow. "Excuse me? Who said that?"

"Just something I heard. I wouldn't blame you. Revenge s.e.x is hot, or so I've been told."

"I did not have revenge s.e.x," Erica says. "It wasn't like that."

"What was it like?"

"It-" Her mouth snaps shut. "Why am I discussing this with you? It's none of your business. Get a life, Mona." She sets the folder down and stalks out of the room.

I think I hit a nerve. So she did sleep with Alejandro. Oh h.e.l.l. A horrible realization whammies me. Maybe it isn't Cheyenne. I mean, Erica's always been in the running, but I haven't seriously considered her a threat. She is better skilled to raise a demon, and she has a better motive, at least against Thomas. She could have wanted to control the coven to advance Alejandro's agenda, and now she wants me dead to avenge her lover. Have I let my prejudice against Cheyenne cloud my judgment? h.e.l.l's bells.

Clay is nervously interviewing Bethany Harmon, who looks radiant in her knee-length blue and black print dress, her blonde hair loose in curls around her round face. He's had a crush on her for years. I feel kind of guilty interrupting them but do anyway. "Bethany, mind if I borrow my handsome cousin for a minute?"

"What the h.e.l.l are you-" But I pull him away.

"Life or death, cuz."

I know Erica drives a silver Mercedes but have five to choose from when Clay and I reach the parking lot. I look in the first one but the interior is wrong. "And you need me for what exactly?" Clay asks.

"I need a lookout. I have to break into Erica's car." Not this one either.

"So you dragged me away from Bethany to commit a felony?"

"I think it's only a misdemeanor, if it makes you feel better." Ah. A luck amulet on the dash. Found it. "Plus, now you'll get to save the conversation for when you win her tonight."

"Yeah, forcing her to eat with me. Just how I envisioned our first date."

I close my eyes, call the magic, and the lock pops open. I am good. I slip into the car and start ransacking it. Nothing under the seats or the glove box. I pop the trunk before climbing into the back, but there isn't even a gum wrapper. I lock the doors again before moving to the trunk. Clay, who is about to jump out of his d.a.m.n skin judging from the jittering, scans the lot. Jackpot. Both her gym bag and purse are in the trunk. The gym bag is a dead end with nothing but clothes and shoes. Her purse proves more interesting. Not just because of the pearl-handled .22, but because of the smell of sulfur wafting from the charm bag at the bottom. Sulfur is used in a number of spells and wards, so it could be a coincidence. The muti bag in a hidden zipper sends my suspicions over the edge. This bag is hoodoo, a distant cousin of witchcraft, and very dangerous. There are human teeth, herbs, and charms in the deerskin pouch. Use of any human body part indicates black magic. Erica just became my prime suspect.

I take out my cell to get pictures of these items for use in her excommunication and possible arrest. Now I just have to find a link between her and the demon. I suppose tomorrow Adam and I can break into her house. That's always fun. She's gotta have- "Someone's coming!"

I shut the trunk and rush over to Clay just as Guy strolls over the wooden bridge. "Guy!" I squeak. "What are you doing down here?"

"Looking for you," he says suspiciously. "Someone saw you leave. Am I interrupting?"

"No, I was just ... I forgot my cell phone," I say, holding it up. "Clay offered to accompany me."

"Nice to see you again," Clay says with a guilty smile.

"So you're staying for the auction?" Guy asks.