by London Casey
I was glad he didn’t linger on the phone. I had a lot to do today, not the least of which was picking out a dress for tonight and finding someone who could do something with my rat’s nest of hair. I’d almost forgotten what a mess just-fucked hair could be. I really hoped it wasn’t as bad when I had come in that morning as it felt now.
I also knew I had to start apartment hunting, but I could put that off until tomorrow. I’d worked my ass off this week. I deserved a little bit of fun. I kept telling myself that as I treated myself to a trip to the salon. By the time Taylor’s text came in around four, I’d managed to get rid of all my previous guilt and was determined to make tonight perfect.
I arrived at the restaurant a few minutes after eight, but Taylor hadn’t yet arrived. The host showed me to a secluded table in the back, then left me to admire the expensive white linen tablecloth and romantic candlelight. I was impressed. I knew Taylor didn’t have much money. Getting a table like this in such a nice restaurant must’ve cost a fortune.
I took my phone out of my purse, figuring I might as well check my messages while I waited. That way, I’d be all caught up and could turn off my ringer, allowing Taylor and I an uninterrupted evening.
I had just finished replying to a text from Carrie telling me that she and Gavin were going to be planning a trip to LA soon when I caught movement across from me. I started to speak before I finished raising my head, “Hey, you’re late…”
My voice trailed off but my mouth hung open as I saw that the man sitting across from me wasn’t Taylor, but DeVon. I snapped my jaw shut, my brain scrambling for a moment before righting itself.
“What are you doing here?” I was aware that sounded rude, but to be fair, he was the one who’d just sat down, uninvited. I sat up straighter. I didn’t have any reason to be polite. We weren’t at work or a business dinner or anything like that. This was my personal time. “You have to go,” I said firmly. “I’m on a date.”
DeVon gave me an annoying smirk that made me want to slap him. I clenched my hands together on my lap to resist the impulse.
“I’m sorry, Krissy. I know I shouldn’t intrude, but I thought you might like to know that Taylor won’t be coming.”
“What?” I couldn’t have heard him correctly. How the hell did he know who I was meeting? And why was it any of his business?
“He, too, is familiar with the rule about no dating between clients and agents.”
I frowned at him. Was he seriously going to pull that bullshit again? “He’s not a client.”
DeVon’s smirk widened. “He is now. I just signed him.”
End of Vol. 1
Chasing Perfection continues in Vol. 2
Connect with me on Facebook:
http://Facebook.com/MsParkerAuthor
Newsletter:
Click here to get an email as soon as my next book is available.
FREE BOOK:
Check out my other book series, Club Prive, featuring Krissy from when she lived in New York City. Right now book 1 in the series is free most places.
New erotic romance coming soon: Sinful Desires.
Acknowledgments
First, I would like to thank all of my readers. Without you, my books would not exist. I truly appreciate each and every one of you.
A big “thanks” goes out to all my Facebook fans, beta readers, and advanced reviewers. You are a HUGE part of the success of this series.
I have to thank my PA, Shannon Hunt. Without you my life would be a complete and utter mess. Also a big thank you goes out to my editor Cindy at smashingedits.com and my wonderful cover designer Sinisa. You make my ideas and writing look so good.
About the Author
USA Today’s Bestselling author, M. S. Parker, is the author of the Erotic Romance series, Club Privé and Chasing Perfection. Look out for her upcoming series, Sinful Desires.
Living in Southern California, she enjoys sitting by the pool with her laptop, writing her next spicy romance.
Working On Wicked
Lilly Cain
Working On Wicked
Lilly Cain
Copyright 2012 by Lilly Cain
ISBN: 978-0-9880488-1-2
Published by Lilly Cain
Cover by Darlene Dixon
Discover other titles by Lilly Cain www.lillycain.com
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with others, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Sarah Pickman had never been a particularly good witch. But she’d never been this terrible. With her luck on a downswing, and her love life non-existent, she decides to use the power of Halloween to grant her a night of pleasure in a fantasy lover’s arms—just the pick-me-up she needs. Too bad she never did learn to mix potions the way her granny had.
Moving from New York to the small town feel of Salem had had its ups and downs but Barrett McAllister never expected to be greeted on the night of his move to his new home by a naked and willing witch. Not one to say no to the spirit of Halloween, Barrett gives his sensual neighbor a night filled with treats she’ll never forget. But when the morning comes and she realizes he’s really flesh and blood, it’s up to him to convince her that magic sometimes works in mysterious ways.
Dedication
To all my readers who enjoy a little magic in their lives…
Chapter One
Sarah Pickman cackled wildly and stirred her evil brew. Smoke curled from her bubbling cauldron and she tipped back her black pointed cap and waved her fingers over the potion so she could breathe in the fumes. Perfect. She flipped her purple cape over her shoulder and reached deep into the pot to retrieve a glowing, grinning skull.
A little girl screamed, then giggled. Sarah let out another evil laugh. Her audience had grown over the past five minutes, so it was time for her special magical effect. She waved her hand toward the mass of pumpkins on the right side of her door—heavily decorated with wild spider webs, glowing eyes and a very real, very large, black cat. With a flick of her fingers the candles ignited inside the pumpkins and as one the crowd gasped in amazement.
It was one of her best tricks, and one of the few real magic spells that ever worked for her consistently.
Sarah popped the top of the skull open and started to distribute the candy inside to the waiting kids. She always had a crowd on Halloween—who didn’t want to visit a real witch in Salem on All Hallows’ Eve? Not that anyone knew she was a real witch, and of those who did, her talents mostly served to disappoint.
Descended from a long line of Salem witches, Sarah should have been loaded with power. She should have been able to make things happen with a snap of her fingers, rather than the long drawn out spellcasting she faced when she did try to do magic. Only her ability to light fire kept her from being thrown out of the local coven. With her family history she should have been a leader. Instead, she avoided real magic because her spells often had disastrous results. So she played witch on Halloween to hundreds of children. At least she had that to look forward to; children were always overloaded with psychic energy and it gave her a little boost every year to make them giggle.
Now her older sister, Bella, she had power to spare. The witch. Power to spare and not a care in the world as to how she should use it. Bella didn’t care about the local circle; she’d escaped from Salem as soon as possible and caused as much trouble as she could in the process. Zapping from man to man and party to party were all she seemed to care about.
Sarah handed the last little boy a handful of chocolates. It was getting late and she’d probably treated nearly two hundred kids. The boy’s father gave her a careful smile and a thank you for the treat. He was cute, but a wedding ring glinted on his finger and he tu
rned away quickly. Ah, the side effects of the witchiest surname in Salem.
She set the skull back in its position in the cauldron, on a wire rack suspended over a cinnamon scented potion she’d realized long ago did nothing but smoke and smell nice. The kids and their parents were retreating, and from the look of the rising moon, they’d be the last ones she’d see tonight. She bit her lip. Halloween and she was alone again.
Wherever her sister was, you could bet she wasn’t alone. No, she’d have a hottie on a leash and be making the most of the extra zip All Hallows’ Eve presented to natural born witches. But here Sarah was, no date in four months, six days—not that anyone was counting—and no further ahead in her magical studies. No matter how hard she worked lately, nothing seemed to be going right.
Sarah walked over to Mitska, her black cat. Well, almost black. He had a white tip on his tail, much to his disgust. They were a pair, for sure.
“Well, Mitska, what are we going to do tonight, hmm? Watch a little TV?” She pulled off her hat and fluffed her long honey brown hair. It was warm tonight, almost as though a summer wind still blew in through the trees from Palmer Cove. Of course it should be too cold for that, but the weather had been unpredictable lately and a late Indian summer made for a beautiful autumn. The water was only about an acre behind her home. That was one of the main reasons she’d chosen this quiet subdivision. The peace, the woods, the water.
“Meow.” Mitska commented and turned his back on her. Right. Well, maybe TV was boring. She felt energized for the first time in weeks—the Halloween spirit flooded her. Maybe it was time to try a little magic.
She glanced up at the moon again and then down the street. No one was about, the last of the kids really had gone. She walked to the end of her drive and shut the gate so any stragglers would know she was done. Her house sat at the end of a cul-de-sac, the street dead-ended and she only had one neighbor close enough to be called that and mean it, and that house had been empty for months. She looked over at the Cape Cod house to her left that mimicked her own home in size and style, and was surprised to see a light in the window.
“About time someone moved in. Maybe they’ll have a kitty friend for you to play with.” She stroked the tomcat. “And maybe I need to get going before I really go crazy. I’m already talking to you all the time.”
A few steps took her to the doorway. She opened the door and smiled as she stepped inside. The one right thing in her life was this house. Hers for five years now, it glowed with positive energy. She pulled her cape off and dropped it and the hat on the bench near the door before unzipping her witch’s gown and letting it drop to the floor. She stepped out of the puddle of black and purple material and walked to the stillroom, not bothering to strip out of the corset, striped stockings and thick heels that made up the rest of her costume.
The power of the night tingled inside her, like it knew she was considering how to expend the bounty of Halloween magic. It felt good, an electric quiver that slipped along her skin, and made her want to rub at her nipples and the narrow lines of her thong. She’d almost forgotten how good Halloween could feel. It had been a few years since she’d spent the special night with a man. Her last few boyfriends had been duds, not men she’d wanted to share the erotic power of All Hallows’ magic with. Of course, Bella said that was exactly her problem. Now, she wished for someone that could help her burn off a little of the tingle that was heating her up.
She glanced around at the stillroom, the carefully prepared herbs and ingredients, some remaining from her grandmother’s cache that she’d brought with her from the family home; the clean counters and her tools, and her most cherished possession, the thick book her granny had given her. Filled with spells and recipes of potions that should help her be the kind of witch her granny had once been, she read and re-read it nearly every day. No way was her granny ever alone on Halloween. The lady had outlived four husbands.
Sarah sidled over to the book and randomly flipped the pages. Suddenly, she stopped. Maybe there were no real men she’d want to share the night with. But who said she had to wait for a real man? Who said she couldn’t call up one of her own? A fantasy lover, straight from her imagination. Surely, with all the power pulsing inside her, she could get this spell right and call a lover to her for the night. No way could it go wrong like last week’s charms. She had a broken car and a back lawn with a big hole in to show for those wacky spells.
Should she do it? The power pulsed again, throbbing over the tingling nub of her clit. She absently reached down and touched herself, bringing on a wave of shivers. Should she call a dream lover to her side and blow the nights’ magic on the silly wish for a single night of pleasure?
Yes.
Barrett McAllister leaned against the wall of his new home, tired and a little annoyed. He would have flopped over on his couch, if it had made it to the new house on time. He’d arrived early, only to discover that the moving van with nearly all his belongings had been forced off the road with engine failure. Still, he’d made it with the basics, and his new place, if more than a little bit dusty, was perfect. Near the end of a dead-end street in a small, sub-division that no one had even heard of outside of Salem, he could finally hear himself think. He’d spent the last hour cleaning the bathroom and bedroom enough that he could put down a sleeping bag while he waited for his stuff.
Of course his publisher thought he’d lost it, moving away from the hustle of New York. But the city was never, ever, quiet.
The doorbell rang, again. Okay, so this place wasn’t all that quiet tonight. He’d made a mistake arriving on Halloween. The number of trick-or-treaters was overwhelming, and he’d had to dash out and buy anything he could get his hands on so the place wouldn’t get egged. It had to be the lady at the end of the street bringing them in; her house looked like a Halloween explosion. Cool, but a bit over the top. He’d already given away a couple of cases of pop, all the gum the corner store had, and every bit of spare change from the big glass jar he normally kept in his bedroom. Damn good thing he’d brought that with him rather than sticking it on the moving van.
He opened the door and passed out his very last treat—a handful of caramels from his writing kit. Now he’d need more or Whispering Night, book three in his new series, was never going to get finished. A man couldn’t work without caramel. Giving them out was a matter of desperation. He waved to the little boy and his dad as they walked away and looked out onto the street. No more kids in sight. Thank God.
The night air tickled the back of his neck, its touch cool and refreshing. But what he really needed was a swim. When he’d checked the place out last month he’d been excited to see the cove out past the woods, an easy walk. The bright moon invited him for a walk, the water called him for a swim. He debated the idea. Even though the air was warm tonight, the waves would be cold. And there would be lots of shadows.
Barrett stretched. Hell with it. He wanted the ocean water. He walked back inside, flicked off the light and locked the door. Walking to the kitchen, he caught up a flashlight from the counter before stepping through the sliding glass doors in the back. It was a good thing he’d left his camping gear in the trunk or he’d have been spending the night in a hotel somewhere—if you could even get one in Salem on Halloween.
On the back deck he pocketed the flashlight and walked over to the hot tub. He flipped the cover up and smiled. Having an agency come and service the tub yesterday had been the best idea he’d had in a while. He checked the temperature—perfect.
The moon shone down, casting odd shadows. The backyard hadn’t been maintained as perfectly as the front and the overgrown bushes loomed over the corners. Damn, he had to get over his overactive imagination, a common problem for authors, especially ones like him, writing a mixture of horror and romance.
He flicked the flashlight on and almost immediately located the pathway at the corner of his lot. From what he remembered it led straight through the woods to the beach, an easy walk. The soft breeze spurre
d him on, its warmth dragging the wild scent of the ocean and the sharp scent of pine to his nose. All around him leaves rustled in the light gusts of wind. Slowly the woods enveloped him until the only open space that remained was the path he followed.
Suddenly the haunting sound of an owl broke the silence. He almost stopped and considered going home. Who in their right mind went for a swim in what would surely be a freezing ocean in the dark of Halloween night? But then he caught a glimpse of moonlight ahead of him. The path was shorter than he’d thought.
He stepped forward on the path again, but hesitated as he realized that the light ahead of him wasn’t only moonlight. The path widened and beyond the last few trees he spotted a small bonfire. He could do without walking in on some kids partying in the woods. He crept forward and looked through some branches.
“Holy shit.”
Lust, like a steadily gaining steam engine rushed straight for his cock. It swelled and ached in his jeans, begging to be set free. He swallowed hard.
Sarah rocked her hips back and forth to the seductive sound of the music rumbling through her iPod. It had been worth it to drag the docking speakers out here, even though she’d had to bring her picnic blanket, her fire kit and spell-casting cauldron, and her backpack of potion supplies, too. The instrumental music seemed to pulse in rhythm with the energy tingling through her, its beat steady and erotic like the deep thrust of a cock.
“Mmmmm,” she half moaned, half hummed along with the seductive tune. Thanks to the goddess, the weather had kept to its unusual warmth; some zany impulse had her still wearing her heels, stockings and thong, and the corset from her costume. She must look crazy—like some demented oversexed witch—but no one ever came to her clearing. Pickman property remained private.