Never Trust A Matchmaking Witch

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Excerpt

He's flirting with me again. Susan did a quick tap dance to the table. Now if I could only calm down and try for a little sophistication, she thought. I'm certainly dressed for the part. She fingered the soft sweater she wore and glanced back at the kitchen. Candlelight, a handsome man, an outfit that made her feel beautiful. It seemed too good to be true.

"How's it going?' Brad poked his head around the door.

"Oh." Susan jumped. "Sorry. I'm on it."

"I'll grab the rest," Brad said, moving to the table with a soft smile for her.

Susan's mouth opened, and to her consternation no words came out. She could feel the heat suffusing her face again, too. Hurriedly she backed through the door and into the kitchen, dropping the dishes on the counter with a clatter. Oh, yeah, sophistication at its finest. She had to get hold of herself. Maybe a glass of water. At least it would cool her face down.

She reached for a glass-fronted cabinet containing tumblers and opened it. An appreciative whistle erupted from the cabinet. She let out a short scream and jumped back, heart pounding.

"What's the matter?" Brad was standing in the doorway, a concerned look on his face.

"Did you hear that?"

"What?"

"The cabinet. It…it…wolf whistled at me."

"Well, can't say I blame it." Brad looked her up and down, one eyebrow raised.

"I'm serious."

Brad walked over and reached for the nearest cabinet.

"No, no. The one with the glasses." Susan knew she sounded hysterical, but didn't care.

Brad reached out and opened and closed the cabinet door several times. No sound emerged. He turned to look at her thoughtfully.

"I'm not crazy," Susan said, breath still coming quickly, although she was starting to feel more embarrassed than anything else.

"I know you're not." Brad came over and placed a reassuring arm around her shoulders. "The wind is really howling outside. Like I said, these old houses have more than their share of creaks and groans. It probably sounded like a whistle. Although," he teased, "the thought of whistling at you crossed my mind once or twice."

"The wind." Brow furrowed, Susan looked at the cabinet.

"Yeah. Nothing to worry about." Brad turned her to face him. "Next time I take you to dinner, it will be without an ice storm and a crowd."

Susan saw humor flickering in his eyes with something deeper and warmer underlying it. "You're right. I suppose the storm is making me jumpy. I've been working a lot lately. My mind must be playing tricks on me."

"Well, we'll have to fix the working-too-hard part. Did I mention I love it when you say my name? Brad, I mean. Until today, you always called me Dr. Conway. Made me feel about fifty." Brad's hands closed on her arms, and he pulled her toward him.

 "I was just being respectful, Dr. Conway," she murmured.

"Be less respectful," he said gruffly, grazing her brow with his lips.

"Aunt Susan!" The kitchen door slammed open, and Jen barreled through it, oblivious to Susan and Brad jerking apart. "You aren't going to believe this."

"I think I'll believe anything at this point," Susan said.

"Alicia has a broom that sweeps by itself."

"Hello." Susan halted in the doorway at the site of the large, white-haired woman in the center of the warm, cozy kitchen. The country feel was at odds with the modern stainless-steel appliances and huge expanse of granite countertop, just as the flowery dress covering the lady's girth was at odds with her businesslike manner as she presided over the many pots steaming on the six-burner stove.

"You must be Susan. I'm Frances."

"Hello. I was just wondering if I could help with dinner."

"How nice of you. I have everything under control just now. I'm trying a new recipe for Ostara. You can't have a proper Ostara celebration without chocolate, you know."

"Well, I don't really know about…"

"It wouldn't be like Ostara without plants or a feast."

"I suppose not." Totally confused, Susan backed to the door.

Frances stopped stirring the pot and started chopping vegetables. "Just go relax. From what Alicia tells me, you work much too hard at the hospital, caring for all those people. You and Brad need a good, hot meal on a night like this." Susan looked from Frances to the pots on the stove and noted the spoon stirring in the pot.

Susan stared. The spoon was still stirring, and Frances was five feet away.

"I'll have hors d'oeuvres ready in a bit." Frances chopped with enthusiasm. "We'll have to bring some in to Jen, as well. Although we'll hold the chocolate for a bit, eh?" Her warm blue eyes twinkled at Susan, whose gaze shot to Frances and back to the pot. The spoon now sat on a cloth on the side of the stove.

"I am losing it."

"I beg your pardon, dear?"

"Nothing. Thanks." Backing the rest of the way out the door, she bumped into Brad, whose arms came around her. "Whoa."

"Sorry." She turned hurriedly, all too aware of his strong hands holding her upper arms and that they were alone in the hallway.

"Very nice outfit." His eyes warmed while his hands slowly slid down and away.

"Thanks. Alicia is very generous."

"She is that." Brad leaned in closer to her. "I have to admit, I've never been so grateful for an ice storm."

"Why?" Susan took a step back and whacked her head on a silver-framed photo hanging on the wall.

"Steady there." Brad reached an arm up behind her head to straighten the frame. "What I meant is, this is the most time I've had to talk with you since you started working here." His face was close to hers, and she felt steam rise between them.

"Well, um, I've been working."

"So I've seen. You work too hard, here and at the hospital."

He'd noticed? "We're often understaffed on my floor. Besides, I like being busy."

"I'll have to talk you into transferring to Surgery. That way, I'd have an excuse to spend time with you." His eyes seemed to examine every inch of her face. He ran a finger up her arm and used it to tip her chin up. "How about dinner sometime?"

"Dinner? Well, maybe. I mean, sure."

"Fantastic. How about tomorrow? I'm on call, but if you don't mind the possibility of interruption, we could go out."

"No, interruption is fine."  She stopped, biting her lip. He seemed like a different person. The hot romantic interlude of her dreams was coming true. Could this be real?

"Well"—Brad leaned in farther toward her lips until she could feel his breath on her face—"let's hope we don't have any interruptions, hmmm?"

Susan's limbs softened with the liquid heat coursing through her. Was he going to kiss her now? Her body felt molten, leaning toward him of its own accord. The fear that his interest wasn't real and instead was part of some bizarre magical evening flitted at the edge of her consciousness. Then his lips touched hers, featherlight, and the fear disappeared. It was replaced by heat, sudden, intense, wonderful. Susan tilted toward him, and the pressure of the kiss increased. He made a sound deep in his throat and pulled her hard against him. She could feel his desire swelling against her. Her body fitted itself to his, and passion spiraled up between them, urging them on.

Frances's voice carried to them from the living room. "Everyone come and have some hors d'oeuvres."

Susan pulled back, her vision still cloudy with need. Sighing, Brad took his arm from the wall behind her head then brightened when Susan pulled on his arm to hold him in place.

"Brad." She stopped to clear her voice. 

"We'll talk later," he whispered, pulling her arm fully through his.

"It's not that." Susan heaved a breath through lips still swollen from his kisses. "I noticed some unusual things this evening."

"You mean like just now?"

.A laugh burst from her. "No, not that. I'm serious, Brad. There have been some odd occurrences tonight."

"I'm serious, too." Brad leaned down toward her again. "I'd say this is a wonderfully unusual night. What have you been noticing?"

"Well." I noticed Eamonn appearing and disappearing. I noticed a spoon stirring itself and owl statues winking at me. "Er...never mind. It's nothing. I just thought I heard something," she lied.

Hope you've enjoyed these excerpts!  Here's one more peek at Susan and Brad's story:

"Brad, you said as a child you thought they had real magical power." Susan stared up into his eyes and threw caution to the wind. "Do you ever still think so?"

"Of course not." Brad's hands ran up and down her arms in a warm, intimate gesture. "They do love a good prank though, especially Eamonn.  You may have been the victim of some very good illusions."

Susan stared at him. Could she trust him enough to tell him the truth? Or was his interest in her part of the strange happenings that had surrounded her all day? If it was, did she want the magic explained?

"Maybe," she murmured.

"Definitely. So, since we don't have to clean up, what would you like to do instead?" Brad's voice broke through her thoughts.

His arms were still holding her close. Susan looked up into his eyes. "We're moving awfully fast here."

"I don't suppose you ever heard the term 'strike while the iron is hot'?"

"What?"

"I've been looking for an opportunity to ask you out for months, but I was pretty sure you weren't interested."

"You're kidding," popped out of Susan's mouth.

"No, but that's not encouraging, Susan."

"What I meant was, I had no idea."

"I'll have to be less subtle in future," Brad bent and whispered in her ear, making her giggle.

They swayed together, mouths unerringly finding each other. Heat poured through Susan. She didn't care about anything in that moment except Brad. He was devouring her mouth, hands running over her back and hips as he pulled her suggestively against him. She could feel the hard length of his arousal, and thought she might go up in flames. Her hands found their way under the back of his sweater, thrilling at the touch of the taut muscle she explored. He returned the favor, his hands light as a butterfly's touch as they cruised over the softness of her back and around to tease her breasts, bringing her nipples to rock hard peaks.

Brad dragged his mouth from hers only to bury his face in her neck, exploring her ear with his tongue. Susan shuddered at the tickling, cool sensation of his tongue contrasting with the steam rising from the hard pressing of their bodies.

Brad's large frame trembled and he pulled back to look at her. "Clearer now on my level of interest?" His breath was coming short, and his eyes locked on hers with an expression that stopped her heart.

"Yes," was all she could murmur, and then his mouth was descending to hers again.

"By all that is holy, get off me, woman," came a bellow from the entrance.

"Now what?" Brad growled.

Susan pulled back, moving to check Jen, who was out of her chair and heading for the foyer.

"Jen, wait a minute." Susan ran to catch up to her.

Before she could do more than slow Jen, Brad was in front of them, blocking their path and their view. He stopped short and his body began to shake with laughter.

Susan peeked around Brad from one side and Jen the other.

Frances was sitting atop Eamonn, who was lying face down on the floor.

"The day is saved," she said cheerily, waving a brown paper bag and bouncing up and down in a way that caused Eamonn to emit several grunts.

"Er, Frances, perhaps you should let Eamonn up," Brad suggested as the others emerged from the study.

Frances stopped bouncing and Eamonn wheezed with the sound of a balloon losing the last of its air.