High Chairs and High Stakes By Jenna Leigh
Available at Midnight Showcase
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Fictionwise
What happens when you cross a single vamp dad with an aversion for witches with a nanny whose favorite form of travel is a broom? You get Spellfire!
“Excuse me, madam.” He began, but the baby had other ideas. She crawled over to him and held up her hands. He reached down and picked her up before continuing. “I am sorry to say I must ask you to leave my house and never return.”
“Why? You haven’t even done my interview yet.” Erin stood up, straightening her dress. Why she was worrying about this, when he apparently detested her on the merits of her way of life alone was beyond her. Nevertheless, she still fluffed the twins because you just never knew.
“I won’t have a witch in my home, attracting evil spirits and ill humors.” His upper lip curled into a sneer, showing off his fangs. However, his gaze did slide down to her breasts before coming back up to her face.
She snorted and shook her head. “You have room to talk, Fangolicious.”
His eyes narrowed and he took a step forward. He gave a low menacing growl. “What did you call me, witch?”
“Fangolicious? Don’t you like it?”
He shook his head.
“How about, Caped Wonder, Blood Stud, Too Sexy for Your Fangs– ”
“I’m not going to stand here and be insulted by the likes of you.” His roar interrupted her litany of nicknames. The baby whimpered and he immediately tried to comfort her. “Aurora, it’s all right. The witch won’t hurt you.”
“Well, I never!” Erin put her hands on her hips.
“I’m sure you have, many times.”
Was that an aspiration on her sorted and varied sex life? She thought about it for a minute. Yes, it was! She opened her mouth to give him what for and met the big eyes of her new charge only to smile instead.
Aurora gave her father a glare that made him visibly quail. “Dada.” She took a deep breath through her nose then smacked him on the cheek with her chubby and yes, slobbery fingers. “Eerie.”
He opened his mouth then shut it, looking like a guppy. Erin rethought that analogy when she spotted the fangs, ok, make that a shark.
***
He clenched his jaws together to keep from growling. This woman was irritating him and she’d only been here ten minutes. “I will not have my child exposed to the,” he waved his hand back and forth, “folderol that comes with your sort.”
“Mr. Gregory, just what sort of person did you expect to come out here? You did apply for a nanny at the Paranormal Tot’s Agency. Did you think some straightlaced schoolmarm? I’m good at my job. I know how they tick.”
“No witches, I believe I specified that.” He scowled down at her, trying to avoid looking at her neck. Spirals of dark red curls were cascading out of the fat braid hung over her shoulder drawing his attention to the pulse beating beneath soft creamy skin of her neck.
“Obviously not. I’m a witch, but I’m a good one.” She didn’t look like she would hurt a fly, but he’d learned different recently.
His thoughts skittered away from the recent happenings that resulted in the squirming bundle in his arms. Aurora held her arms out to Erin, who took her with ease. “Mr. Gregory, please give me a chance. You won’t be disappointed.”
He heaved a sigh and looked her over for a long moment. “Fine. I have to go and pick up my blood supply in any case. You can keep her until I get back. If nothing happens in that time, I will agree to take you on.”
She bounced on her toes with a grin. The baby giggled with each subsequent bounce.
“However,” he held up his hand. “I will agree for a trial basis only. Then, we shall see.”
“Yes, we shall.” With that they twirled away in one of those strange dances the people of this area liked to do. She wore boots, for heaven’s sakes. What sort of witch wore cowboy boots?
