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qualifications, Mr. Gardner—"
    "Call me Jag."
    What ? Logan sat straighten.
    Melody grinned, first at Gardner, then at Logan, and it was all he could do not to grin back. What was happening to him?
    Melody Seabright, that's what.
    "Well, Jag, there are any number of factors that contribute to the success of a TV
    show. I'm photogenic, for one." She gave him a full leg-out-of-the-slit pose to prove it. "And a certain charisma is key, which I believe I have. Showmanship, talent, sincerity, believability, and sex-appeal, are also essential, as is a gimmick . Since this is Salem, Massachusetts, I worked up an idea for a show called ."
    Stopping across the table from them, Melody bent over to tap her resume with a perfect lavender fingernail, her breasts teetering on the brink of a spillover—pulling out the big guns, so to speak. "As you can see," she practically purred, "I used to work for Bewitched and Bedeviled Tours, during which time, I was required to portray a witch."
    "On your own six o'clock news," she stressed, "your anchor reported that I did such a good job, one man swore I had actually bewitched him, and he sued the tour company." She placed her hands on her luscious little hips and gave them a slight quarter turn, just enough to raise the testosterone level in the room to dangerous proportions. "Is that talent, or what?"
    "It's a load of crap is what it is," Logan muttered.
    "What did you say, Kilgarven?" Gardner asked.
    Logan ignored the militant spark in Melody's eyes. She'd heard him clearly enough. "She should be able to cook, too."
    "Of course," Melody said, shocked that anyone could doubt her. "Or I could cast a spell." She zapped them with her smile and moved her hands and hips in a swami-like fashion, as she turned in a slow, seductive circle, wielding the wand she'd pulled from her purse.
    "Abracadabra Melody Bright
    Will do what it takes to spice the sauce right
    Rosemary, allspice, brandy, and wine,
    Do, Mr. Gardner, make the cooking show mine!"
    The wily witch ended in a flourishing bow, cleavage at half mast.
    Rattled, Logan ran a hand through his hair.

    Gardner gave her a standing ovation. "You'll make a great cooking show host."
    "But she can't cook," Logan said, certain that bringing in a noncooking witch to interview for a cooking show was going to come back and bite him in the butt.
    "I will?" Melody said, as Gardner's words registered. "I got the job?"
    Gardner chuckled. "Who could do it better?"
    "A cook!" Logan repeated, but who was listening to him?

Chapter Three
    "I thought about ways we might advertise," Melody said, throwing Logan a chiding look for his last-ditch effort at bringing her cooking skills, or lack thereof, to Gardner's attention. "And I think we could utilize any number of magical phrases, such as: "Culinary Saucery with… or Magic in the Kitchen with… The Kitchen Witch". "
    With dollar signs in his eyes, Gardner grinned and rubbed his hands together in agitated anticipation. "I can practically taste syndication. The Kitchen Witch out of Salem, Massachusetts." He turned on Logan. "Why didn't you come up with something like this, Kilgarven? Shame on you."
    Logan came out of shock with a jolt, as Gardner took Melody's hands, stepped back, and gave her a salivating once-over. "You certainly came well prepared," he said, shaking his head. "But suppose I'd had in mind to cast you as something other than a witch?"
    Melody gave him a feline smile, stepped back, pulled a few fan-like combs from her hair, and let the entire mass of black magic tumble in waves to her waist. "Jag,"
    she purred. "I can be anything you want me to be."
    Logan could practically see the boss's pupils dilating while the blood in his system took a U-turn.
    Ice Man in heat.
    After that performance, they'd be nuts to cast Melody as anything but a witch.
    "A witch, definitely," Gardner unknowingly echoed. "I'll have your contract drawn right up."
    "Before you do… Jag," Melody said, with another efficient