The Witch Is Back Page 2

  “And what, pray tell, gave you that impression, if I may be so bold as to inquire?”

  “I … um.” I cleared my throat and forced myself to look him straight in the eyes. “I couldn’t figure out why else you’d be here with … with me tonight.”

  Sinjin took a deep breath, and it seemed to take him forever to exhale it. “I see.”

  “So, if you are … expecting that, you might as well take me home now … no harm done,” I finished and held his gaze for another three seconds before I picked up my ice water and began chugging it.

  “Very well,” he answered, and his voice was tender.

  I dropped the menu and reached for my purse, feeling something icy forming in my gut as I readied myself to leave. I wasn’t angry, no, but I was humiliated. Strangely enough, though, relief was beginning to suffuse me … relief at the fact that I could end this farce and lick my wounds in the comfort and serenity of my house. After collecting my things, I stood up and noticed that Sinjin hadn’t moved an inch.

  “What are you doing?” I demanded.

  “Perhaps I should ask the same of you?”

  I swallowed hard. “I thought we were leaving?”

  “Why would we be leaving? We have not even ordered yet.”

  “But I thought,” I started before my voice was swallowed up by the fact that I was at a complete loss.

  Sinjin smiled up at me and shook his head, pulling out my chair. “Please have a seat, love,” he said. “You misunderstood my intentions.”

  “But you said ‘very well,’ ” I started, even as I sat down and pulled myself to the table again.

  “I was simply agreeing with your assessment of the fact that you are quite opposed to ‘one-night stands,’ as you so fittingly termed them.” He smiled again, cocking his brow. “And while I find you to be quite a delectable package, poppet, I am afraid I quite agree with you regarding the more intimate side of our association … for the time being, at least.”

  So he wasn’t looking for a one-night stand? Or maybe he was so smooth, he was just faking it and he’d put his plan of attack into action once I was no longer suspicious. I took a deep breath and lifted my menu again, wishing I’d never agreed to this date in the first place. “Oh.”

  “Would you be averse to the notion of … starting over?” he asked and leaned back into his chair as he studied me.

  I felt an embarrassed smile pulling at my lips even though I still wasn’t sure what his intentions were. Well, either way, it took two to tango and my tango shoes were in a box in my closet, covered with dust. “No, that sounds good.”

  “Very well,” he said again and called the waiter over. “Ms. Wilkins,” he started.

  “Please, it’s Jolie.”

  He smiled languidly. “Jolie, what would you care to drink?”

  I faced the waiter and smiled. “Do you have any Riesling?”

  The waiter nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “A glass of that, then,” I finished.

  “And you, sir,” the waiter asked, turning to face Sinjin.

  “The same please,” he responded.

  “Are you ready to order?” the waiter asked us both, his pen poised above the pad of paper as if he were about to start a race or something.

  Sinjin glanced at me and I nodded, having already figured out what I wanted. “I’d like the sea bass, please.”

  The waiter scribbled down my order before facing Sinjin. “And you, sir?”

  Sinjin shook his head. “Nothing for me, thank you.”

  “Sinjin,” I started, shocked that he wasn’t ordering anything. “You aren’t going to make me eat alone, are you?”

  He smiled. “I apologize, love, but my stomach is a bit finicky at the moment. Would you mind terribly?”

  How was I going to say no to that? I shook my head and the waiter nodded, disappearing into the kitchen moments later.

  “We can go if you aren’t feeling well,” I offered.

  Sinjin waved away my concern with his long fingers. “I have a bit of a stomach condition, and it plagues me every now and again. Nothing to concern yourself with, love.” He studied me for a moment or two and smiled again. “Where were we?”

  “Um, I think we had agreed to start over.”

  He chuckled. “Ah, yes, starting over.” His voice trailed as he apparently searched for a new topic. “Tell me about your tarot-reading business.”

  I sighed and glanced down at my ice water. The ice had melted into tiny lumps, and I submerged each one with my straw as I thought about his question. “Well, as you know, I’m a psychic,” I said. Whether he even believed in that sort of thing was anyone’s guess—it wasn’t something we’d established the night before.

  “Have you always known this about yourself?” he asked, just as the waiter returned with our wine. Sinjin raised his glass. “Prost!” he said and brought his glass to his lips as I downed a swallow of my bitterly sweet wine. Before he took a swig, he set his glass back on the table and glanced over at me again. “Well?”

  I smiled. “Um, yeah, for as long as I can remember. I could always see things and I just seemed to know things about people. Stuff that I shouldn’t know.” I wondered if I’d said too much. Usually men didn’t react well to my day job—thinking I was either a charlatan or a nut job.

  But there was no sign of judgment on Sinjin’s handsome face. Instead, he just nodded. I couldn’t tell if he thought I was full of it or not.

  “I know the feeling.”

  I faced him, my eyes wide, as I wondered what he was admitting. “Are you psychic?”

  He shook his head. “No, but I have had my dealings with the otherworldly.”

  So he didn’t think I was a liar or a Looney Tune. I breathed out a sigh of relief. And as the relief washed over me, a feeling of disappointment surfaced. Sinjin might understand me, but it wasn’t like he was going to stick around. I mean, he was traveling here on business or vacation or something.

  “What about you,” I started. “You’re here for work?”

  His eyes were still fixed on mine and there was something in their depths. Something untold, something hidden. I could tell that this man had his own skeletons hanging in his closet. “Yes, quite so.”

  “What do you do?”

  He shrugged and finally averted his eyes, lifting his glass of wine as he trailed the rim of the glass with his finger. “I own my own company.”

  “Ah, what type of business?”

  “Finance,” he said quickly, somewhat dismissively, and then leaned forward, seemingly uncomfortable about discussing the specifics.

  “And you’re here for just a little while, then?” I hoped I didn’t sound apprehensive. Still, I was all too aware that this charade probably wouldn’t last longer than tonight. Not when he had a whole life waiting for him in Britain.

  God, what if he’s married?

  He didn’t respond right away, just continued looping his finger around the rim of his glass. “I am considering opening an American branch of my company. That is why I am currently here.” He stopped talking for a few seconds and then smiled at me. “Perhaps I will not return to Britain—for the foreseeable future, at any rate.”

  I felt something happy burst within me even though it made no sense. If Sinjin decided to stay, that didn’t mean we’d necessarily see each other again. And if we did see each other once, twice, or even multiple times, he’d still have to return to Britain eventually. And where would that leave me?

  I shook the feelings of elation right out of me. I was getting way ahead of myself. And truly, I was just being silly, setting myself up for disappointment.

  “Wow, so was he just as hot last night?” Christa asked as she leaned against the counter in my store and watched me sweep.

  “If you actually want to earn your keep, why don’t you grab a trash bin?” I asked her with a smile. God forbid if my business ever went under and Christa found herself in need of a real job.

  She made no motion to get the b
in, which didn’t surprise me. “Answer the question, Jules.”

  I paused from my sweeping and leaned against the broom as I considered it. Was Sinjin as hot as he’d been when Christa and I had first met him? Hmm … those ice-blue eyes, black hair, broad shoulders, and massive height? That devilish smile … “Hotter.”

  “Hotter?” she said with a huge smile as her eyebrows reached for the ceiling. “Hot damn!”

  Yes, Sinjin Sinclair was most definitely hotter than he’d been when I first met him, but what was more surprising was that he’d asked me for a second date. And he’d asked to see me for that second date tonight. Even though I was pretty dumbfounded, I’d agreed. I was still trying to figure why exactly I’d agreed because I was most definitely out of my comfort zone.

  “So this is the third time in three days that you’re going to see him?” Christa continued, that smile still plastered on her fuchsia-pink lips. I just nodded. “Wow, he’s pretty eager.”

  “He’s probably just bored,” I answered and shook my head as I tried to find the missing piece in the puzzle titled: Why in hell would such an amazing man want to go out again with Jolie Wilkins? It really didn’t make any sense at all. But then, do men ever make sense?

  “He’s not bored, Jules,” Christa said, the smile dropping from her lips. “When are you going to realize you have a ton to offer? You’re pretty and sweet and you’re the most generous person I know. And sometimes you can actually be pretty funny.”

  “Thanks, Chris,” I said, not really sure how to take that last bit—I thought I was decently funny all the time.

  “And the fact that he’s a ten out of ten should be reason enough to be excited,” she finished.

  I cleared my throat and shook my head. “That’s where the problem is. He’s too hot and it isn’t helping my nerves at all. Every time I see him, I feel like I’m about to have a heart attack or, at the very least, vomit.”

  Christa waved away my concerns with her perfectly manicured, flame-orange nails. “Puh-leeze. This is good for you, Jules.” She brought her nails to her mouth and narrowed her eyes as she studied me. “In fact, the arrival of Mr. Sexy Bitch is the best thing that’s happened to you in the last five years, at least.”

  I laughed; I couldn’t help it. “Mr. Sexy Bitch?”

  But Christa didn’t respond right away. Instead, she continued that narrowed-eye expression as a lascivious smile stole across her mouth. This meant only one thing—she was thinking about sex.

  “Don’t even go there,” I said, shaking my head. Conversations with Christa about sex were never fun.

  She pushed away from the counter and walked over to me, snatching the broom from my hand. She made no attempt to start sweeping, though, so she must have just done it for dramatic effect. “You realize you’re going to need to give it up eventually, right? I mean, it’s been like forever since the last time you had sex.”

  “Give what up?” I asked, even though I knew exactly what she was talking about. I was just trying to delay the inevitable.

  “The Jolie love flower,” she answered with a straight face.

  “Where the hell do you come up with this stuff?”

  She frowned. “Doesn’t matter. What does matter, though, is the fact that you’re about to get some action for the first time in I don’t even know how long.”

  It had been over a year since I’d had sex, but who was counting? “I’m not going there with him, Chris,” I said, reaffirming out loud what I’d been telling myself since our date last night. Sex with Sinjin Sinclair was most definitely a bad idea.

  “Yes, you are. If you get one thing out of that hot-ass man, it’s going to be a sexfest.”

  “Sexfest?” I sighed, long and hard, not even finding the energy to laugh. “I really don’t want to go there.” I folded my hands across my chest and tried to stop myself from squirming. Squirming was just so high school and I was twenty-eight years old, for God’s sake!

  “Why?”

  “Because I think that’s all he’s after.”

  She studied me for a second or two and then shrugged. “Who cares? I mean, when you get down to it, that’s what all men are after. The sooner you realize that and go with it, the more fun you’re going to have.”

  But I wasn’t like Christa. I couldn’t have sex without feelings getting in the way, and the last thing I wanted was that empty feeling when you liked someone more than they liked you. And sex with Sinjin would basically guarantee that I’d fall head over heels for him, probably at the same exact moment that he boarded a return flight to England. “I’m just not like you, Chris.”

  “With some training you could be,” she said with a knowing smile.

  But I wasn’t even sure I wanted to be like Christa. I enjoyed my life as it was—predictable but happy.

  “So you really like this guy then?” she asked, handing the broom back to me and starting to bite her cuticles.

  “I’ve only had one date with him,” I shot back, as much for myself as her. “How much could I possibly like him?”

  “Let me repeat myself … so you really like this guy then?”

  I ran a hand through my hair and exhaled a pent-up breath of frustration. “I had a nice time on our date.”

  And that was the truth. I’d lost track of time just as easily as I’d lost myself in Sinjin’s incredible eyes. We’d talked and laughed so much, it almost felt like we were long-lost friends—I was just so comfortable around him. It was a weird feeling, almost like we’d known each other in some other place and time. I never really put much stock into the idea of reincarnation, but now I found myself second-guessing it—I mean, who knew, maybe in another life Sinjin and I had been acquaintances. Stranger things have happened, right?

  Er, maybe not?

  I had to shake these thoughts right out of my head—I mean, this was ludicrous! I’d only met the man two days ago!

  “Jolie, whatever happens, there’s a reason Sinjin walked through our door.”

  I faced her, startled by her insight. I wouldn’t characterize Christa as an especially intuitive person, but there were moments when she surprised me. “You think?”

  “Yeah, and you know it as well as I do. If you ask me, the reason is getting you to put yourself back out there and start dating. You need to leave yourself open to the opportunity of falling in love.”

  I inhaled sharply. “Sometimes you say things that I just can’t argue with, Chris,” I admitted finally as a huge smile pasted itself on her face.

  “And when you finally admit I’m right, it surprises the crap out of me!”

  I’m not sure why I thought it would be a good idea, but I’d suggested to Sinjin that we see a movie for our second date. In general, I didn’t like going to the movies on a date because isn’t the whole purpose to get to know the other person? Well, in this case Sinjin asked what I wanted to do and “let’s go see a movie” just spurted from my mouth, seemingly of its own accord.

  So here we were, sitting in the twentieth row and waiting for the horror movie, Fear’s Door, to start. It’s not like it had been on my list of must-see movies, but it was the only one that was playing at the right time. As we sat in the theater, waiting for the atrocities to start on-screen, I found myself nervously stuffing my mouth with popcorn.

  “Had I known you were hungry, I certainly would have provided something better than that,” Sinjin said with a laugh and a raised brow as he observed my munching with distaste.

  I felt a kernel stick in my throat and after experiencing a coughing fit, in which Sinjin patted my back in mock aid, I wedged the popcorn container below the seat next to me.

  “Are you all right?” Sinjin asked.

  I took a few huge sips of Sprite and nodded, feeling the flush of embarrassment heat my cheeks. Guess I wasn’t the poster child for femininity. Yes, I probably could have used an etiquette lesson or two from Audrey Hepburn. As it was, my etiquette coach had been Christa, and consequently I was dressed up like a two-bit whore. While
I’d fought the metamorphosis into a prostitute the previous evening, this time I’d given in. Mainly because my nerves were on full-steam-ahead and I didn’t have the wherewithal to fight multiple battles.

  But now I was wondering if I should have been more selective with my chosen battles because Sinjin was eyeing me as if I were a freshly baked chocolate chip cookie and he was the Cookie Monster.

  “You appear quite … different than you did last night,” he said with a smile. “For my benefit, I hope?”

  I suddenly wished I had lots more in common with a turtle so I could suck my head and legs into the protection of my shell and not have to witness the amusement in Sinjin’s eyes. “Um, my best friend dressed me up like this.”

  He chuckled. “I did not imagine it was your idea, poppet.”

  I swallowed hard and looked at the movie screen, wishing I could actually focus my attention for long enough to read the words in what appeared to be a trivia question. As it was, I was so mortified that I’d actually allowed Christa to choose my clothes and, worse, that I’d willingly gone out in public, that I couldn’t even concentrate on the sentence long enough to read it.

  “Yeah, it wasn’t my idea,” I managed and reached for my Sprite again, sucking so hard on the straw that my entire mouth filled up with soda. Swallowing it, I started coughing again.

  “You look very lovely,” Sinjin said, but it was almost an afterthought—like he felt bad about the fact that I was dressed like a floozy and, consequently, was now choking on my soda.

  I glanced over at him and shook my head. “I never should have let her talk me into it.”

  I couldn’t help looking down at myself. And I immediately regretted it because Christa’s red mini skirt was barely covering my upper thighs and the black fishnets that were beneath it hardly helped. The five-inch stiletto heels on the black leather boots I was wearing made walking a near impossibility, but it was my top that was causing me the most chagrin. My bust is much larger than Christa’s, but she’d insisted on forcing me into a size small tube top that had fallen so far down, I could see the sides of both of my breasts.