The Witch Is Back (3 page)

The host, a rotund, short man, who was probably in his late forties, offered us our menus, placed our napkins on our laps, and left us to our own devices.

“A man should always choose his seat wisely,” Sinjin commented, glancing at me with a smirk.

“Why is that?” I asked, wondering what he was getting at.

He nodded as if he was about to divulge a long and interesting story. “In times long past, it could mean death if a man’s back was to his enemies.”

“And you’re still practicing that, I see?” I asked with a smile, suddenly feeling comfortable with him. It was strange because I wasn’t a person who was, in general, comfortable around anyone I didn’t know.

“It is my duty to ensure your safety, poppet.”

I wasn’t sure why, but the word
poppet
seemed so familiar to me, even though I was pretty sure I’d never heard it before. It was a sudden moment of déjà vu, of
that feeling that somewhere, sometime, I’d experienced this exact moment. It made no sense, but I couldn’t help but feel haunted by it all the same.

“Well, I’m sure things are safer in this day and age,” I said, trying to shake off the weird feeling. It wouldn’t budge. There was just something so … familiar about all this. I took a deep breath and started perusing the menu, hoping to banish my wayward thoughts. Feeling as if Sinjin was staring at me, I glanced up and found his eyes fastened on me. He didn’t even try to hide the fact, and when I caught him, he smiled.

This one was smooth.

“Have you selected your supper?” he asked, his mouth spreading into a wide smile as if he was in on some inside joke that I wasn’t privy to.

I swallowed hard, suddenly more than aware that this whole date might just be the setup for a one-night stand. That was when it struck me—that’s
exactly
what it was. Sinjin was traveling from Britain, and he probably wanted to taste everything the United States had to offer, including its women. Well, unluckily for him, I wasn’t on the menu. I felt my lips tightening into a line, and I tried to keep my cool. But inside I was fuming—mainly at my own idiocy. Had I really been out of the game so long that this hadn’t dawned on me from the get-go?

“I think so,” I muttered and concealed myself with my menu.

“What is on your mind?” Sinjin asked as he pushed my menu down with his index finger, forcing me to look at him. I could feel my cheeks coloring. He had nerve …

“Nothing,” I answered and dropped my eyes.

“Please, Jolie, do not insult my intelligence.”

I took a deep breath. If he wanted to know what was on my mind, he was about to get an earful. “I’m not into one-night stands,” I said stiffly.

Sinjin narrowed his eyes, but the smile on his lips revealed the fact that he was amused. “A wise policy.”

So he was still playing this game, was he? “Well, I think you should … be aware of that … in case you … in case you …”

“In case I what?”

I could feel sweat breaking out along the small of my back. He was forcing me into a corner, and that damn smile was still in full effect. “In case you … were, uh, looking for that … that sort of thing.”

He didn’t drop his attention from my face. If anything, his eyes were even more focused, challenging. “Is that what you imagined I was in search of?”

So he was going to make this tough on me, was he? He was going to make me spell it out for him and embarrass myself? Well, I might not be in his league, but I wouldn’t be made a fool of. I was way too smart for that. “Without a doubt.”

“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 bin, 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.”