Alchemic Love Read online

  Alchemic Love

  A Goode Witch Matchmaker Story

  Cate Lawley

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Bonus Content

  Also by Cate Lawley

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  Glenda had never had a particular talent for potions. Alchemy in general and potions in particular weren’t among her strengths, and that was just fine.

  Looking at the array of glass beakers lining the shelves of Bedivere’s lab, the glass containers filled with powders, liquids, and, in some cases, colorful gasses, she could see the appeal. There was so much variety in potion-craft, so many possibilities, but she didn’t have the patience to create great potions. Too much experimentation and fine-tuning. All of the unpredictability and repetition didn’t suit her personality.

  Math, however, had captured her heart, her soul, her everything when she’d been little more than a girl. The jumble of numbers, when tapped, jiggled, pushed, and prodded, lined themselves up neatly to tell a tale of future lives. At least, that was how magical math worked for her.

  She’d always loved numbers, but then she’d discovered that she could apply her particular talents to nudge along the romantic lives of mortals and there’d been no going back. Her focus had shifted from magical math in general to matchmaking in particular. Making matches with the help of those gorgeous, glowing numbers made her heart hum with pleasure. Nothing satisfied her more.

  Which was actually a sad state of affairs for a witch entering her middle years. For witches, the middle years reigned supreme. More power, little signs of aging, and—she arched her eyebrows—the pleasant advantage of a rather healthy libido. Thus far, she’d spent her time sorting the love lives of others and hadn’t focused with any great attention on her own romantic interests.

  A long time ago, she’d thought Bedivere and she…maybe… But no, that hadn’t quite worked out. Maybe he hadn’t been interested, or maybe it had been the timing. But in any event, they worked together now, so that wouldn’t do at all.

  She ran a finger along one of the shelves. Not even a speck of dust. Bedivere did like his workspace tidy, and those habits were particularly useful in a lab.

  Movement caught her eye, and she looked up two shelves higher. In between a flask filled with dull grey sludge and one filled with sparkly pinkish-mauve sand sat a beta’s bowl. The pretty bright blue fish swam round and round.

  She wasn’t sure why Bedivere had insisted on meeting in his lab if he wasn’t in the midst of working on a pressing project.

  “I think he stood us up, little fish.” She touched the glass of the fishbowl with the very tip of her finger, tracing the beta’s movements. “Trapped in a world so small that you can only swim tight little circles and hope for a glimpse of your master to entertain you.” What a sad existence, always waiting for a glimpse of the elusive Bedivere.

  “Talking to the fish, Glenda?” Bedivere’s deep voice echoed through the lab. “That’s new and rather fanciful.”

  Glenda jerked her hand away, knocking the fish’s bowl. With images of shattering glass and a soon-to-be-deceased fish in her mind’s eye, she muttered the first incantation that came to mind.

  It was meant to be a little push. Just a small one. Enough to prop the glass bowl back on the shelf, prevent it from falling, and keep the little fish safe in his watery home.

  Except that spells, much like potions, weren’t her stock in trade. Her greatest skill lay with the beautiful possibilities of magical math.

  So her little push was in fact a shove, and that shove tipped a beaker full of pink glitter from the shelf.

  Glenda flinched as the glass shattered on the concrete floor and released a shower of glitter. Unlike actual glitter, this sparkly pink stuff didn’t scatter on the floor and simply dust her pretty nude peep-toe shoes. No, this wasn’t glitter that had spilled but a glitter-like potion, and magic loved to behave in contrary, physics-defying ways.

  A sparkling pink cloud lifted into the air and, like so many shiny gnats, swirled around her face. She pressed her lips together, closed her eyes, and held her breath.

  A few seconds later, Bedivere’s dry tone pierced the panicky rush of blood in her ears. “You can look now.”

  She cracked one eye, then the other, to find that not only was she coated in the pink particles, but so was a tailored-suit-clad Bedivere. His dark blond hair sparkled, and he wasn’t looking very pleased about it.

  She glanced at the beta still swimming circles in his bowl and said, “At least the fish is fine.”

  Chapter 2

  Glenda started to brush the glitter from her dress, then stopped. Not glitter, she reminded herself, a potion. And as soon as the thought entered her head, she felt the tug and pull of the pink potion working its magic. There was magic afoot, but it was a subtle sort of enchantment.

  Bedivere said, “Good choice. Sending it into the air again won’t help.”

  Glenda narrowed her eyes. “You know, there are safeguards against this. Shatter-proof beakers, padded floors…” That man. Sometimes, she had a hard time remembering what she’d ever seen in him.

  But then a smile tugged at her lips as she looked at him. He was looking especially Bond-like this afternoon in his tailored suit. The Daniel Craig version, naturally. And that was what she’d seen in him. Her younger self had been more easily swayed by a handsome face and hard body. Also, he had a good heart (most of the time), was an exceptionally talented witch, and kissed well enough to make her heart flutter thinking about it years later.

  All of those thoughts were suspiciously charitable.

  When was the last time thoughts about hard bodies and Bedivere had shared space in her head? And he was being uncharacteristically silent while watching her with a keen eye. That wiped the last of her smile away. “Bedivere,” she said, “what exactly was that potion?”

  He took a breath, as if he was about to speak but then didn’t. Several seconds passed before he said, “Let me remove as much as I can first, and then we’ll discuss it.” He held up a finger and then made a beeline for the small closet next to the bathroom.

  Stand here and wait. That sounded like a bad plan. The potion covered her. She could feel it in her hair and on her face, and she could see it covering her new shoes. “I just bought these shoes. If your potion has ruined them, I have a mind to send you a bill for their replacement.”

  His muffled voice emerged from the depths of the closet. “Certainly. They’re very…” He muttered something, but she didn’t quite catch it. Then he said, “They’ll be fine. This isn’t that kind of potion.”

  Either its effects were short-lived, or whatever magical punch it packed was delivered and then the shiny stuff was inert. She tapped a toe on the ground, shedding a few pieces. They floated up briefly then reattached themselves to her ankles. At least they hadn’t stained the leather.

  When she looked up, she flushed. “I don’t think so.” Regardless, Bedivere continued to approach carrying the highly objectionable piece of equipment. Lifting her chin and straightening her spine, she said as calmly as she could, “You are not going to vacuum me.”

  He lifted the handheld vacuum and grinned. “It’s the best way. Keeps it contained.”

  Before she realized it, she was grinning right back at him. Yes, there was most certainly magic afoot.

  She closed her eyes and pushed away the magically induced buzz that was making every word spilling from the man’s sinfully sexy mouth sound like a wonderful idea. She peeked through her lashes and said, “Stop.” With a small sigh—because really, how bad would it be to be fussed over by Bedivere?—she said, “Not another step until you explai
n.” He really did look lovely in a suit. Her insides melted, and she couldn’t help adding, “But you can do the back where I can’t reach in a bit.”

  Lips twitching, he nodded. But then his usual, much more serious expression returned. “You know tomorrow is Valentine’s Day. I have a friend who’s been having some romantic difficulties with—”

  “Oh. My. Heavenly. Goddess.” Glenda lifted her pretty shoe and kicked him in the shin. It wasn’t exactly easy to do in these shoes, but he was desperately in need of a good kick. “A love potion? Really, Bedivere? How could you?”

  He started to speak, then changed his mind. With an amused twitch of his lips, he crossed his arms.

  “You should know better,” she said. Love potions, depending on how they were constructed, could impede free will. That was a magical no-no, depending on the circumstances and extent of the free-will fiddling.

  He quirked an eyebrow and stood in front of her looking debonair…also annoyed and entertained. Only Bedivere in a sinfully cut suit could manage to look debonair with a tiny vacuum cleaner tucked under his arm. And why was he annoyed? He’d left his lab unlocked, been late for their scheduled appointment in that same lab, and hadn’t taken typical precautions to keep his potions from exploding all over innocent—almost innocent—visitors. The man was maddening. Gorgeous, but maddening.

  “Well? What do you have to say for yourself?” She hadn’t been this snippy with him in ages. Fake, potion-induced love must not agree with her. Not a shocking revelation; she’d been a solo act for some time now. Matching others was so much more fulfilling.

  And that was depressing.

  Trying not to look like a huffy sore loser—because everything about the man was making her feel like her much younger self, with her emotions much closer to the surface than normal—she extended her hand.

  He uncrossed his arms and handed her the vacuum—reluctantly. “You’re sure you wouldn’t rather I…”

  The look on her face must have spoken volumes, because he allowed his thought to remain unspoken, and Bedivere hadn’t a shy or uncertain bone in his lovely, downright delicious body. It might be only indirectly his fault that she was having lust-filled thoughts, but that was enough to shift blame. Otherwise, she’d have to consider the idea that she’d been attracted to him in the past. So, so many years ago—but the attraction had been there, and not prompted by some magical mishap.

  With determination and an eye to efficiency, she started with her shoes. Her lovely Louboutins. She hadn’t exaggerated when she’d said they were new. She’d only bought them the day before yesterday.

  Peering up at him as she vacuumed, she frowned. But then the big lug held her elbow so she could take them off and tap out the bits of potion that had made their way inside.

  This time, when she tapped the potion loose, it drifted benignly to the lab’s stained concrete floor. Most of the magic had been expelled. Too bad she’d been the recipient of all that lovey-dovey, gooey magic. Which was odd. She wasn’t feeling particularly gooey toward Bedivere. Lust mingled with affection and exasperation and perhaps some slightly warmer feelings. But that wasn’t how a good love potion worked.

  “You’re slipping, Bedivere. Your potion isn’t up to snuff.”

  “Oh?”

  She looked up at him, but that was all he said, so she returned to her legs and skirt. Once she was done, she made a circular motion with her finger, and he obligingly turned around while she vacuumed the front of her dress, décolletage, and shoulders.

  “You can turn around.” As she handed him the little machine, she saw through the clear receptacle that the particles had lost both their color and shine. “Lovely. It looks like we needn’t have bothered. Your potion has done its dirty work. It seems to be completely inert now. I do assume that’s what the color change indicates?”

  Potions were personal. Each formulation worked differently. It wasn’t like cooking or baking. There were ingredients, certainly, but each potion also carried some quantity of the creator’s own magic. Maybe that was another reason she’d not been so keen on potions. They were so incredibly personal, and she’d always been a private person.

  Vacuum in hand, he inspected his suit and shrugged. “You’re right. No point to it now. You’ll just have to deal with me in all my sparkling glory.”

  She had to bite back a sigh. His words conjured images of him “in all his glory,” and that wasn’t where her mind needed to be right now. She pressed the back of her hands to her warm cheeks. “What kind of side effects does this concoction have?”

  He pressed his lips together, probably because he was trying not to laugh at her. Smart man. She was just fine with delivering another kick to the shin. “It does exactly what it’s supposed to. No side effects.”

  So he says. He never lacked confidence.

  “All right then, how long is it supposed to last?”

  With a twitch of his lips, he said, “Twelve hours.”

  This stupid potion was twisting her up in knots. No way was she willing to remain in this state for twelve hours. “That doesn’t work for me. How do we stop it?”

  “Not possible.”

  “What?” she yelled. Every idiot knew to put a loophole in any potion that fiddled with emotion. An out. A back door. Something!

  She was yelling, and he just shrugged. “There was no need.”

  “You’re making an antidote.” When he didn’t immediately jump to accommodate her, she said through gritted teeth, “Now.”

  And, finally, the laughter she’d been so certain was simmering under the surface broke free. His chuckle was deep and resonant, and she felt it in places she really, really shouldn’t.

  Chapter 3

  “Help me with my coat?” Bedivere asked after he’d stowed his mini-vacuum.

  That was the cost of beautiful, fitted tailoring, but as she pulled his suit jacket from his broad shoulders, she couldn’t complain. Because yum.

  But it only got better, because while Bedivere in a suit was one thing, Bedivere in a slim-fit button-down was, ah, nice. She wouldn’t let her mind move past nice. Nice worked just fine. Oh, so fine…

  Bedivere cleared his throat.

  At which point she realized she was still holding his jacket, and maybe, just possibly, smelling it. Because he smelled lovely, and his jacket, warm from his body, held traces of his scent. A clean, soapy smell with a hint of citrus and mint.

  She looked up with a guilty start. “Are you sure you didn’t make a mistake and create some kind of aphrodisiac instead?” And as soon as the words left her lips, she could feel the tinge of warmth on her cheeks.

  This time, his chuckle was low and intimate. “I most certainly did not.” He started to roll up his sleeves, exposing muscular forearms. He gestured to a clear area near a small sink and a Bunsen burner. “After you.”

  She perched on a stool nearby, because if he thought she was fetching and carrying for him while he worked, then he could think again. Although after what had happened with his love potion, maybe he wasn’t expecting that. She recalled being clumsy and awkward around him when they’d first met so many years ago, but she hadn’t been in a long time. This truly had been a twist of fate.

  “What has you frowning now?” He glanced down at the notes he’d started. “I’m working on an antidote. That is what you wanted.”

  She shook her head. “Yes, of course. I’m not frowning.”

  Except she had been and still was. Because she couldn’t stop thinking about all that initial awkwardness. How nervous she’d been around him. Bedivere was quite a bit older than her. He was that Bedivere, the knight, the hero, the legend. Not many knew his history, but Glenda had found out shortly after they’d begun a…flirtation. That was all it had been. Certainly. It couldn’t have been more, because he was the Bedivere.

  In retrospect, her awe had been unwarranted. Now she knew the man behind the legend. Kind-hearted, patient, annoyingly self-assured. And it wasn’t like he suited up in his knightly ar
mor and slew dragons these days. He’d adapted to modern life. Thrived, even. He worked with the witches’ council and ran at least one business that she knew of.

  That awkwardness, the clumsiness she’d felt around him, had faded eventually, and they’d been left as they were now. Comfortable. He was to some degree her boss, but only so far as the council was concerned, and that work was a small portion of her life. When they did work together, they did so with ease. They made quite a good team.

  “What are you thinking?” He’d retrieved several items from the shelves lining the lab as she’d wallowed in ancient history and lost possibilities.

  She sighed. “Nothing that needs to be brought out into the light of day, that’s for sure.”

  “Are you sure?” He didn’t look up as he measured out a sickly green liquid into a beaker.

  With much of his focus on creating the antidote, she felt no pressure from him. His blue eyes weren’t drilling into her as if he could peer into her very soul. Even though it hadn’t been exactly what she’d been thinking, on a whim, she asked, “Why haven’t you ever married?”

  He’d been gently swirling a vial of viscous purple fluid over the low flame of the burner. When he heard her question, his hand stilled, but he didn’t look up. After a brief hesitation, he started to swirl the thinning fluid again.

  She shouldn’t have asked. It was none of her business. She picked up a pair of tongs. “Shouldn’t you be using these?”

  He glanced at them but didn’t take them from her. “Probably, but it only needs to be slightly warmer than room temperature.”

  He added the now-thin purple stuff to the beaker of hideous green. As he stirred the resulting concoction with a long-handled iron spoon, he said, “I was. Twice. Both times to mortal women.”