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But that hadn't been real, had it? It couldn't have been. In his dream, he'd blacked out at her store. How'd he get home? His BMW had been parked in front of his apartment building this morning, so who'd driven it? The events of last night were a fuzzy blur, and he couldn't see through the fog of intoxication that seemed to cover it all.

The only explanation that made sense was that after Crabapple, his cold-hearted bitch of a boss, had chewed him out yesterday, he'd gone to a bar to drink away his problems to nothingness. The whole thing about the witch and her love potion was merely a dream caused by an abundance of alcohol and his lack of luck with women. Right?

He thought about the woman in the elevator. Weird. If only he could remember what had really happened to him. He didn't like the idea of passing into an alcoholic fugue state and waking up in his bed the next day with no memory of the night before. He turned, trying to see if he could get a bearing on Crapabble, the last person he needed breathing down his neck at the moment. She was nowhere in sight, and Melvin made a break for it.

Olivia Crabapple was on him as soon as he stepped into the maze of cubicles that Melvin had to navigate to get to his office. She swooped out of the sky like a vulture setting its talons into fresh road kill, her eyes flaming, her lips curled back in a snarl. Olivia was insanely jealous of Melvin's talent although she'd never admit as much, at least not out loud, and she took pleasure in watching him squirm like a worm on a hook, dangling his work in front of the hungry fishes on the Board of Directors and claiming it as her own.

Did it really matter, anyway? Melvin had no sense for leadership, no business savvy, and that's really what being a partner in the firm was all about, wasn't it? Olivia figured she would be just that, a partner, before the year was up, thanks to stealing everything of Melvin's she could get her claws on.@@