Page 17 of Sweetwater and the Witch

“Ten, but technically it’s a failure mode analysis and stress test date.”

“What the hell?”

“My matchmaker is going to assess my dating techniques and advise me on how to improve them. If I get through the evening, I will accompany her to a resort in the Silver Mountains to attend her grandparents’ anniversary celebration.”

Gabriel whistled. “Sounds complicated. Think date number ten is going to be any different than numbers one through nine?”

“Oh, yeah,” Ethan said. A frisson of anticipation aroused all of his senses. “This one is definitely going to be different.”

“What’s she like, this matchmaker?”

Ethan pictured Ravenna in his mind. He saw her sunset-red hair bound up in a strict knot; her petite, gently curved figure clad in a crisp, snug-fitting blue business suit; her lagoon-green eyes burning with intelligence, determination, and control. And then he thought about the indefinable aura of power that whispered in the atmosphere around her.

“Small but fierce,” he said.

Chapter Eight

The sweet scent of a flowery perfume slipped through the atmosphere, riding invisible currents of energy.

Garrett Willis was in his paneled office on the top floor of the gleaming tower that housed the Lucky Quartz casino and hotel. He was watching the array of computer screens on the wall. The displays covered the gaming floor, the bars, and the restaurants. There was another set of screens on the adjacent wall that captured the real-time images from the garage.

He had a crack security team on constant patrol twenty-four hours a day throughout the casino and the hotel, but he had been raised in the business. The importance of the owner keeping an eye on all aspects of the operations had been drilled into him while he was still in the cradle. The Lucky Quartz was a family business that had been handed down through three generations. He was in charge of protecting it for his as-yet-unborn heirs.

He tried to ignore the perfume, assuming it had somehow wafted in through the air-conditioning ducts. It was no longer alluring. Instead it wasbecoming cloying. It was also getting stronger. That should not be happening. The ventilation throughout the tower was state-of-the-art. He started to rez the button that would connect him with the head of maintenance.

Inexplicably, he fumbled, missing the button entirely. Irritated, he tried again. This time his arm was too heavy to lift. His vision was blurry. Bizarre visions formed in the atmosphere. Hallucinations. He wondered, vaguely, if he was having a stroke.

He was trying to rez the emergency number when the door opened. A woman in a tailored business suit and heels entered the room. There was something terribly wrong with her face.

“Who are you?” he managed, aware that his words were so slurred as to be almost unintelligible. “How the hell did you get past security?”

“I’m your new consultant,” the witch said.

He finally realized what was wrong with her face. She was wearing a gas mask. He remembered the mag-rez stored in his desk, but he fell into a dream before he could figure out how to open the drawer.

In his dreamscape the witch took off her mask.

•••

He came out of the darkness aware that he had dreamed but unable to remember the dream. Not that it mattered. He was surprised to realize he had dozed off at his desk, though. He never napped. He raised his head and sat back in the chair, moving cautiously because he was a little dizzy.

He blinked a few times to clear his vision and then got up to get a bottle of water out of the concealed refrigerator. A few sips helped.

The faint, lingering scent of perfume made him pause. There was something he had to do. Something important. It had to be done tonight. The woman was a threat to the family business. She would destroy it. He was the only one who could stop her. He had to protect the Lucky Quartz. It was the inheritance he was supposed to hand off to the next generation.

He went back to the desk, opened a drawer, and took out the mag-rez.

Chapter Nine

“What do you think, Harriet?” Ravenna surveyed the handful of potential cocktail-formal dresses suitable for a business reception that hung in the back of the walk-in closet. “Black is always a safe bet. You can never go wrong with a little black dress.”

She had five little black dresses, all styled in varying degrees of sexy. One was discreetly sprinkled with black crystals. She had cycled through all five numbers several times over the course of the thirty-six failed dates.

In addition to the LBDs there were two other dresses that qualified as sophisticated evening wear. One was the long, elegant blue gown she had bought for her grandparents’ anniversary ball. It was too formal for a cocktail reception.

The second option was the newest addition to her wardrobe, a knee-length green number. She loved it but it made her nervous. It was the sort of dress that demanded some attitude. She wasn’t sure she could carry it off. Thirty-six failed dates had a negative impact on a woman’s self-confidence.

But tonight was not intended to be a real date. She would be working on this date, conducting a failure mode analysis. Oh, right, and a stress test.

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