Page 704 of Love Bites

THE WITCH IN THE HR OFFICE

Math Draco slammed open an office door bearing the nameplate of Smedley O’Tentacle, Human Resources Manager.“Smedley!”

The thin man behind the desk waved his arms. “I’m in the middle of an interview, here.”

A woman sat opposite the HR manager. Math got a quick impression of a slender female, business suit, black hair, with her hands clasped in her lap. “I’m sorry, miss. I don’t mean to interrupt. There’s an emergency.”

Smedley protested, “Mr. Draco, you need to make an appointment through the intra-office system—”

“This is an insane situation, Smedley. I need to hire a service or a crew immediately.”

“Mr. Draco, there is a hiring freeze due to non-availability of funds. It’s been in effect for weeks.”

Math didn’t listen to what the HR guy was saying. It wasn’t important, anyway. “I need dozens of people in here, right away. Maybe hundreds. I didn’t realize the level of catastrophe this casino is facing.”

“We have instructions not to hire anyone.There is an official hiring freeze in effect.”

“Everything is at risk. If we don’t obtain this first round of outside funding, we’ll lose the entire initial investment, and this endeavor will be an utter failure. There is construction debris all over the casino. The rooms are in shambles. We need an army of housekeepers or those people who come in after a hurricane to shovel out the two feet of contaminated muck.”

A woman sitting over in the waiting area, ready to be interviewed, stood up. “I can clean it up.”

Math spun to look at her. She was slim, pretty, and oh-so-very young, but looks can be deceiving. She might be a fae and five centuries old. He asked, “You can? Do you have a cleaning company or a team of cleaners? Do you have a disaster recovery service?”

She jutted her chin into the air. “I’m a home and hearth witch, one of the best of my generation. I can conjure whatever I need to clean up any mess. With enough time, I could have cleaned up Los Angeles after Typhoon Esmeralda.”

Her confidence was as entrancing as her sharp chin and dark eyes, which seemed to illuminate from a golden glow within her. She wore a black, business trouser suit, which seemed smart and professional. Too many job applicants dragged themselves into the HR department as if appearances and orderliness didn’t matter. The only unconventional thing about her outfit were the sparkly, violet witch boots peeking from under the hems of her dark pants.

Also, he liked the way she discreetly plucked a tissue from her purse and ran it over the edge of Smedley’s desk, wiping off a trace of dust. Attention to detail was important, as was discretion.

Math raised one eyebrow. “Typhoon Esmeralda wasn’t a hurricane. A mage lost control of a mob of wind and water elementals, and they rioted.”

She grinned at him. “Yes, but the naturals don’t believe in magic, so they don’t believe what they see or hear. They’ll do anything to explain away what is obviously a magical occurrence, even pretending that a hurricane hit Los Angeles.”

Math knocked an ashtray off the desk, scattering ashes and half-burned bits onto the floor. No one smoked in the office area of the Dragon’s Den Casino, of course, but little fire accidents tended to happen around dragon shifters. “Let’s see you clean that up.”

The witch pulled a small whisk broom and dustpan out of her purse and flicked the ashes and charcoal into the pan. She tipped it into a wastebasket.

Math laughed. “I meant with magic. Your little whisk broom isn’t going to be able to clean up tons of construction debris or scrub that algae-crusted fountain clean.”

She pursed her lips. “Sometimes, the simplest way is the best, but if you want to see my magic, we can do that, too.” She kicked the wastebasket over.

The cold ashes spilled out. Shredded paper and old food wrappers tumbled on top.

Math stepped back from the ashy mess. He’d just had his shoes shined by his house staff that morning.

The witch pulled a large art notebook out of her purse, the kind with that thick ragstock paper for drawing or pastels. “Give me a minute. Incantations are kind of like making a shopping list. You know, you have to categorize each item, separate the sub-lists by where they are in the grocery store, and then alphabetize everything.”

That sounded very organized. Math should try that. Maybe he could sort his contacts list into folders and sub-folders, based on the committee or division that he knew the person from.

Using brushes dipped in pots of ink that floated beside her in the air, the witch drew a complicated pattern on the paper.

He moved around behind her to get a better look at the colorful swirls and decorations she drew. The pattern was kind of pretty, but the way her hand moved as she flipped and drew the design fascinated him. He shook his head, and a tendril of smoke escaped his nose.

Odd, his nose only smoked like that when his dragon was awakening, and his dragon hated business and spreadsheets. It slept through audits, though it awoke during confrontational meetings to add power to his voice and influence. His anger at the accounting department and Smedley the HR Guy had probably roused his beast.

The pretty little witch held her drawing at arm’s length, alternately peering and scowling. “Okay, I think it’s ready.”

She ripped the paper out of the notepad and held it up.

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