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have my own business.”
    He brushed at the sawdust in his hair. “Oops, sorry,” he
apologized, when the shavings of wood drifted onto her clean floor.
    Saylym gave a careless wave, indicating it wasn’t a
problem. She couldn’t answer. She wasn’t sure she could keep the lust out of
her voice. Best to concentrate on the money, but she couldn’t resist eyeing his
rear with silent appreciation when he walked past her. Nice bum. Her gaze
followed his butt across the shop to the staircase. Tight buns. Bloody hell,
didn’t the man have any flaws?
    Well, of course he did. He thought he was a witch. He was
nuts! How could she forget that itty-bitty defect? She swallowed, forcing
moisture down her dry throat. It seemed to take forever for her tongue to come
unstuck from the roof of her mouth. She licked her lips. “Er—”
    “What?” His right boot rested on the bottom stair. He
paused and looked over his shoulder, lifting a silky brow.
    Saylym locked the cash register and grabbed her purse.
Sliding the strap onto her shoulder, she edged around the counter. “Uh…there’s
this old lady who lives next door to me…well she’s in front of senile. Delusional.
Very delusional. But harmless, unless you count the bright colors she wears
that practically blind one.”
    “Delusional?”
    “She
thinks she’s a witch.”
    “Thinks?” He arched both brows as he
turned to face her, giving her a glimpse of that cute dimple. A look of
incredulity spread across his face. “Thinks? Huh. Imagine that.”
    Saylym shrugged and hurried on with her speech.
“Tomorrow’s her birthday, and there’s a new pastry shop next door, Sugar-N-Spice.
I thought I’d stop there and buy Miss Eldora a cake. Maybe help her celebrate
her birthday tonight because I have to work on my accounts tomorrow night.” She
hesitated, starting again after clearing her throat. “I thought since you’re
new in town and…forget it…it’s a silly idea.”
    Talon nodded his head. “You’re inviting me to a party? I’d
love to come with you. I love delusional, senile, old witches, especially ones
who prefer bright colors to drab black.”
    “I’m not asking you for a date or…or anything like that,”
Saylym explained.
    Bloody hell! She should have just kept her mouth shut. She
didn’t want him getting any wrong ideas or thinking she was hot for him or something.
    “Perish the thought,” he replied, his lips twitching.
    She blinked. If she didn’t know better, and from the
roguish twinkle in his eyes, she’d think he just read her mind. “I don’t know
if you’d call it a party, exactly. Eldora doesn’t even know I planned this for
her at the last minute, but yes, I’m inviting you.”
    “Give me a minute to change clothes.” He whirled, raced up
the stairs, yelling over his shoulder, “Don’t leave without me.” The apartment
door slammed.
    He returned almost instantly.
    “You take your clothes off quick.” Saylym gasped, aghast
at what she’d blurted. “I-I mean…fast shower…er fast hands…quick change
artist.” Shut-up, Saylym!
    But the silent order didn’t stop the word ‘magic’ from
whispering through her head.
    “Er… waken .”
A curious expression flitted across his face as he eyed at her. “Remember?”
    “Of course,” she replied sweetly. “How remiss of me to
forget.” There’s no such thing as magic. She rolled her eyes and hummed
softly beneath her breath. Talon stepped in front of her, leading the way. Not
only did her next door neighbor have delusions of being a witch, but her tenant
believed he was a male witch, a waken, as he preferred to call himself.
    Were
they both psychotic? Yep. But who was she to judge when she heard a book talk
and saw a brush climb out of her toilet? What did that make her? Ah, well. With
her inherited streak of insanity, she fit right in with him.
    Saylym
linked her arm through Talon’s. “So, how many delusional, senile, old witches
have you known?”
    “None.”
He