His Temporary Assistant

A witch who believed in fate and the universe as the cornerstones of my practice never actually put those things to the test.

I’d used it as a cloak. A sparkly one disguised as giving myself to my clients and my community through podcasting and social media. Dishing out advice and words of wisdom about doing the work to heal when in reality, I’d used them as a buffer.

I could dish it out, but I really sucked at doing my own work. I focused on external gratification instead of looking within to figure out exactly what I needed.

I’d never truly believed in anything until Preston.

I turned toward the wide window framed in glossy black paint. PMS was pacing the length of his office while speaking on the phone. He’d lost his suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves over his delicious forearms, leaving him in one of his vests that drove me crazy.

However, there was one distinct difference. He may have appeared a little harried, but excitement crackled around him. I didn’t have to hear the conversation to know he was drilling point after point into some poor person’s ear.

Fighting the good fight for a client he truly cared about.

He ripped at his tie, loosening the red silk as he hung up the phone but kept speaking as he flipped through papers on his desk. Speaker phone. Whomever was on the other end of that call was in serious trouble.

I was aware I drew a perverted pleasure from seeing PMS riled up. I was good with it.

Grinning, I ran up the three steps. I tapped on the tiny key and bells I’d hidden in the wreath on his st

eel-enforced red door for a little added protection and to dispel any negative energy hanging around. I’d also painted sigils into the doorways as well. Most people wouldn’t notice them since I painted black on black, but family law came with a lot of high emotion and I liked to give him as much of a leg up as possible.

It also let other witches know this was a safe space. A few friends from Luna Falls had already sent people his way who were in need of a sharp lawyer.

I slipped inside to see Preston with his knuckles planted on his desk as he loomed over his phone. “I don’t care if the judge is on the back nine talking to the President of the United freaking States. I want that child out of protective services and with his mother by tonight.”

The voice on the other side of the line sighed. “I’ll see what I can do.”

A little shiver skated down my spine at the power in his voice. I unzipped my jacket, but had to adjust it to cover my chest so he didn’t see the headlight action I had going on. Or the fact that I may have stolen one of his shirts again.

I couldn’t help myself. I was getting addicted to the finery, and filching clothes from his closet was becoming a habit. I also didn’t mind that he liked to steal them back—off my person.

He looked up from the desk, and his eyes had that far-off look like when he was in full-on lawyer mode. His brain was in overdrive as he tried to puzzle out whatever problem he was facing. But then his quick smile dispelled all that crackling energy.

Too bad.

“Miss Moon, did you come bearing gifts?” He came around his desk, those long legs eating up the hardwood floors so he could reach for my box of donuts.

“The romance is over—” I yelped as he dropped the box, as well as my other gift, on the U-shaped chairs we’d purchased from Kinleigh’s Attic. Before I had a second to react, he hauled me up on my toes for a hot kiss. When my brain came back online, I settled my hands on his chest. “Well, hello.”

“You are exactly what I needed this afternoon, Moonbeam.” He grinned down at me.

The whole tie askew thing was going to be the death of me. I stroked my hand down the red silk. “Hard day, dear?”

His eyes went all smoldery. “I was worried I wouldn’t have anything to do on my first day, but it’s been non-stop calls. I’m trying to find an assistant, but they’re all inadequate.”

“All of them?”

He slipped his hands under my jacket. “None of them are you, Miss Moon.” He frowned. “Wait, is that my shirt?”

“Maybe.”

“You know the rule when you wear my clothes.”

“I wear your clothes almost every morning,” I reminded him.

“And I usually take them off then too.” He pushed my jacket off and tossed it on the chair as well. Then he groaned when he got a better look. “Did you forget a few buttons?”

I glanced down at where his fingers were. “Will you look at that?” The charcoal shirt was open with a sheer black tank under it. And because it was so long, I’d added a thin black belt around my middle.