Accidental Witch
Episode 1
By Luanna Stewart
Mary Reynolds clicked save and leaned back in her chair, a feeling of satisfaction at a job well done. The catering for the annual statehouse shindig had been handled by their number-one competitor for years, but thanks to her massive skillz, her employer would make the big bucks.
She glanced around the large open workspace. She’d not worked here very long, and she wasn’t exactly friends with any of the staff, but she felt accepted. Mostly. Her gaze went to the one cloud in her otherwise sunny sky. She had no clue what she’d done to piss off the pastry chef. But as her older brother always said, it is what it is.
Her office phone buzzed. The summons to the big boss’s presence. She grabbed the printout of the calendar for the next three months, nicely filled thanks to her hard work, and skipped into the lair.
“You’re fired.” He kept his gaze on the menswear catalogue he was flipping through.
“Wait, what?” Mary’s heart zipped into overdrive.
“You are fired.”
“I don’t understand.” Her boss had finally gone off the deep end. The pressure of doing dick all day had finally gotten to him.
“Which word is tripping you up?”
Bastard. Rubbing her lack of a college degree in her face as usual. She’d completed enough credits for three degrees. They just weren’t all in the same subject. Or at the same school. “Why am I fired?” Sweat trickled between her boobs.
“There’ve been too many complaints.”
Whoa. “This is the first I’ve heard of it.”
He flung a file across his high-tech glass and steel desk that probably cost as mush as her car. Probably more, given the sad excuse for a car she could afford. “It’s all documented, so don’t waste your time going after a wrongful dismissal suit.”
Mary snatched the folder and flicked through—shit—over a dozen incident reports. What the fuck? Inebriated? She hardly ever drank. Who could afford booze? Incomplete project? Bullshit. The only project she wasn’t happy with was when she was forced to work with that pastry bitch. Yeah, there was her signature.
“This is a witch hunt.” She shook the folder, wanting to smack him upside the head.
“And don’t try any discrimination nonsense. I believe in religious freedom as long as it doesn’t interfere with your work.” He circled a picture in the catalogue. Skinny jeans. Not in his lifetime.
“What the Hades are you talking about?”
He heaved himself from his custom leather chair, quite a feat, and circled the desk. He pulled a sheet from the stack in the folder and held it three inches from her face.
She squinted. Satanic ritual.
“Okay, this isn’t funny anymore.” She snatched the paper from his meaty hand and read further. “I lit a candle, a balsam scented candle, because it was freaking Christmas, and I wanted to create a festive atmosphere in this dungeon. It had nothing to do with summoning be-ell-za whats it.”
“Pack up your desk and leave within the hour, or I’ll call security.” He settled in his chair and sighed, done with his exercise for the day.
“We don’t have security.” Ass. What they had was a mom-and-pop catering business, located in the basement of a strip mall, operated by the spoiled brat of the mom and the pop. “You haven’t heard the last from me.”
“Threatening your boss now?”
“You’re not my boss anymore.” She left the office, slamming the door, and faced the assembled crowd. No pitchforks. But plenty of knives. Which made sense given the large space was basically a huge kitchen. She’d never felt threatened by a paring knife before, but in Johnny’s hand, dripping with the juice of strawberries he was slicing for the compote for that afternoon’s reception at the mayor’s house, the reception she’d put on their books, suddenly the atmosphere seemed menacing.
Head held high, she marched to her little corner and started emptying her desk drawers into her tote bag. A shadow fell across the desk. She knew who it was based on the smell. Waves of cloying camellia hit her nose, bringing on a sneeze.
“You got what you wanted. I have no idea why you hate me, but I take solace in that fact that karma will right this wrong.” Mary met the steely gaze of the pastry chef. “Or maybe I’ll put a curse on you.”
She smirked as the other woman turned pale, and then turned tail and scuttled back to her workstation. Bitch.
Lugging her tote and her purse, she climbed the stairs. Not to worry, she’d get another job. She was damn good at organizing other people, and she’d made valuable contacts amongst the local movers and shakers. She’d be employed in no time, certainly before her next mortgage payment was due.
She stepped outside just as the sky opened. So much for the weather forecast, which had called for another hot and sunny day. Within seconds she was soaked, and her car was at the far side of the parking lot. Bloody, bloody hell.
A sleek black foreign car pulled to a stop in front of her, and the passenger side window lowered. “Can I give you a lift?”
She leaned down to see who the idiot was blocking her path.
Episode Two
By Aubrey Wynne
“Gus, did you purchase my supplies?”
“Yes, sir,” the chauffeur said over his shoulder, weaving through traffic. “You will be pleased with the pendulum. It’s a brilliant clear amethyst. However, there were no white candles only red.”
“That’s fine. I only need the red for tonight.” Stirling Drake smiled at the fat raindrops now splattering against the windshield. He loved a good storm. “Did you find the sixth volume?”
“It’s on your desk, sir.” At the red light, Gus looked in the rear view mirror. “Will you be needing my assistance before the charity auction tonight?”
Stirling needed to take care of this hex before he left this evening. “No, I think can manage without assistance.” He let out a sigh. “The last thing I want to do is put on a tux tonight.”
“But it’s for a good cause, and she should be there. Speak of the…” He slowed the car. “Is that Miss Reynolds, sir?”
Through the tinted glass, he saw the stunning honey blonde march toward the curb, a tote bag slung over her shoulder. Her purse swung wildly from her wrist as she shook her fist at what appeared to be the heavens. A wicked smile curved Stirling’s lips, and the rain immediately turned into a downpour. The thin material of her dress now clung to her delicious curves.
“I believe the damsel is in distress.” He rolled down the window of the Mercedes. “Can I give you a lift?”
She leaned down, wiped the sodden gold tendrils from her face, and gave him a disgusted look. “If you can improve my day, I’ll go anywhere with you.”
He opened the door, stretched out his long legs, and took the tote from her. “Allow me.” Mary rewarded him with a dazzling smile. She left a trail of water across the dark leather seat as she slid across.
“Mr. Drake, how nice of you. It’s been one hell of a day, and I don’t think it’s noon yet.” Her voice cracked. “I’m not a vengeful person but if I could—”
“Why don’t you tell me what happened, Miss Reynolds?” The anger flashing in those green eyes sent heat through him. This woman had stirred his blood when he first met her last month. Drake Corporation raised funds each year for literacy, and she had catered the dinner. Asking her out, he had been politely informed that dating clients went against her moral business standard. Stirling vowed then to never hire that caterer in the future.
“So I told that spiteful pastry chef that I’d put a curse on her.” Her head slammed against the back of the soft leather.
“Can you put a curse on her?” he asked in a low voice as he slid closer. Stirling’s midnight eyes locked with Gus’ tawny stare in the rear view mirror.
Her laughter seemed incongruous to the previous rant. The sudden switch in mood made her even more attractive. Yes, there was something about this female; she awakened a longing deep inside him.
“Don’t be sil… You’re not serious.” Her full lips pursed slightly, and she gave him a wary look. “Are you?”
“Of course not, Miss Reynolds. However, your misfortune is my good fortune.” He gave her his most charming smile and slowly reached out his hand and brushed a dripping curl behind her ear.
“And how is that?”
“I can no longer be considered a client if you are no longer employed. Perhaps I could share some magic with you over dinner. Would you be my date for the charity auction tonight? I believe an event you were in charge of?”
A grin curved her mouth. “Please, call me Mary.”
Episode Three
By Kishan Paul
Mary stood in front of her bathroom mirror inspecting herself. The deep purple dress fit her body like second skin and flattered her in all the right places. She turned to check out her rear and smiled. Yup, in all the right places. She grabbed the curling iron and worked on her hair.
Her stomach fluttered as an image of the brown-haired, dark-eyed man popped into her head. She’d been drawn to Stirling Drake since they first met a month ago. So drawn to him, in fact, that she tripped over her shoes when their eyes locked. Fortunately, she was able to grab on to the back of a chair before she fell on her face. The rest of the night, she had tried to stay focused and work the event while keenly aware he watched her. It had only been a few weeks since she’d started her catering job, and they’d made it clear that flirting or dating customers was grounds for immediate dismissal. As attracted as she was to him, she needed the money, and so she made it her goal to avoid him at all cost. It worked beautifully until the end, when he cornered her in the kitchen and asked her out.
Mary closed her eyes and remembered the musky scent of his cologne and his warmth when he leaned in to speak. Stirling was one of the sexiest men she’d ever met, and for reasons she didn’t understand, he wanted her. It took every ounce of self-control to turn him down but she did. Every night since, she’d seen him in her dreams—as he did things to her she could never say out loud. Images of last night’s escapades filled her head. Never had she enjoyed bedtime as much as she had the past month.
The smell of something burning brought her back to the present. She pulled the curling iron out of her hair before it ruined her locks and then fixed her lipstick. Clearly, dreaming wasn’t in her best interest. Life had taught her that lesson years ago. If she wanted something, she worked her tail off to get it no matter how many times that tail got kicked in the process. It was like her Aunt Gwen used to say, “When life gives you lemons, throw them back at the sons-of-bitches.” That was exactly what she planned to do.
Saying yes to Stirling fulfilled a very selfish goal for Mary. By going to the charity auction catered by her former asshole employer as his date, she would be wined and dined by the very people who threw her out. The cherry on top was the fact that she hoped to find out if the living, breathing Stirling was even remotely as good in bed as he was in her dreams. The doorbell rang before she could think any deeper on the subject.
Mary scanned her small apartment as she headed to the door. The room was sparsely furnished with mismatched thrift store finds but it was hers. Well, until the first of the month when they would most likely kick her out for not paying rent—until then it was hers.
She sucked in a breath, opened the door, and then stopped breathing all together. Just like in one of her favourite dreams, Stirling stood before her in a dark tuxedo with a black tie. The things he did to her with that tie…
Her face, as well as other parts of her, heated. When she finally met his gaze, she noticed the hungry way he stared at her. “You are beautiful.”
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