Witchful Thinking (39 page)

There was a knock on my front door and I felt my heart lurch into my throat. I took another deep breath, glanced at my reflection in the mirror once more, trying not to focus on the fact that I was anything but sexy in my black amorphous skirt which ended just below my knees, black tights, and two-inch heels. Even though my breasts are decently large, you couldn’t really tell in my gray turtleneck and black peacoat.

Maybe I should have listened to Christa …

Another quick knock on the door signaled the fact that I was dawdling. I pulled myself away from my reflection and, wrapping my hand around the doorknob, exhaled and opened it, pasting a smile on my face.

“Hello,” I said, hoping my voice sounded level, even-keeled, because the sight of Sinjin standing there just about undid me. There was a tornado rampaging through me, tearing at my guts, and wreaking havoc with my nervous system.

If looks could kill, I would’ve been pronounced dead before my head even hit the floor.

“Good evening,” the deity before me spoke in his refined, baritone English accent. His eyes traveled from my eyes to my bust to my legs and back up again as a serpentine smile spread across his sumptuous lips.

“Um,” I managed, meaning to add a “how are you?” to the end of it, but somehow the words never emerged.

Sinjin arched a black brow and chuckled as I debated slamming the door shut and hiding out in my room for the next, oh, two years, at least.

“You look quite lovely,” he said, with that devilish
smile, as he pulled his arm forward and offered me a bouquet of red roses. “These pale in comparison.”

My hand was shaking and my brain was on vacation as I reached for the roses but, somehow, I did manage to smile and say, “Thank you, they are really beautiful.”

But the beauty of the roses didn’t even compute—my overwhelmed mind was still reeling from the presence of this man.
Man
didn’t even do him justice; he seemed so much more than that—either heaven-sent or hell’s emissary.

He was wearing black, just as he had been the night before. His black slacks weren’t fitted, but neither were they loose—in fact, they seemed tailored to his incredibly long legs. And his black sweater did a very poor job of covering his broad shoulders and narrow waist. Even though his body and intimidating height would have been worth writing home about, it was his face that was so completely enthralling and alluring.

Sinjin’s eyes should have been the eighth wonder of the world. They were the most peculiar color—an incredibly light blue, most similar to the blue-green icebergs you might find in Alaska or the Alpine waters of Germany. They almost seemed to glow. His skin wasn’t white, but neither was it tan—he must not spend much time outside because it was flawless, without the kiss of a freckle or mole.

His hair was midnight black, so dark that it almost appeared blue. Tonight, it looked longer than I remembered it being. The ends curled up over his collar, which was strange considering I’d only met him the day before and I could have sworn his hair was short. But the strangest thing about this amazing man was that I couldn’t see his aura …

I’ve been able to see people’s auras for as long as I can remember. The best way to describe an aura is that it’s a halo-type thing that surrounds someone—it billows out
of them in a foggy sort of haze. If someone is healthy, his or her aura is usually pink or violet. In those who aren’t healthy, yellow or orange predominates. I had never before met anyone who didn’t have an aura or whose aura I couldn’t see. And what surprised me even more was the fact that I hadn’t noticed his missing aura the first time I’d seen him … Of course I had been pretty overwhelmed by his mere presence—and that dazed feeling that didn’t seem like it was going to go away anytime soon.

“May I escort you?” he asked as he offered me another winning smile and turned his body to show me his proffered arm.

I gulped as I tentatively wrapped my hand around his arm, trying not to notice the fact that he was really … built. Good God …

“Thanks,” I said in a small voice as I allowed him to lead me outside.

“Are you forgetting something?” Sinjin asked as he glanced down at me.

“Um,” I started and dropped my attention to my feet, attempting to take stock of myself.

Shoes were on, purse was over my shoulder, nerves were present and accounted for …
the only thing I’d forgotten was my confidence, which was currently hiding underneath my bed.

Sinjin stopped walking and turned around. I followed suit and noticed the door to my modest little house was still open—gaping wide as though it was as shocked as I was that I’d forgotten to shut it. Not to mention the fact that my cat, Plum, could easily have snuck out, if she hadn’t already.

“Oh my God,” I started and felt my cheeks color with embarrassment. It had to be pretty obvious I’d completely forgotten how to function in his presence. I separated myself from him and hurried back up my walkway.
I glanced inside the apartment and noticed Plum sound asleep on the sofa. I breathed out a sigh of relief. “Good kitty,” I whispered and shook my head at my inattention, closing and locking the door behind me.

“Shall we try this again?”

I jumped as I heard his voice, shocked that he was suddenly right beside me. I shook the feeling off, figuring he must have been trailing me all along. But, still, there was something … uncanny about it, something that set off my “Spidey” senses. I blamed it on my already overwhelmed nerves.

“Yes,” I said with a nervous laugh as he offered his arm again and I, again, took it. This time, we made it to the curb where a black car awaited us. It was so angular it almost looked like a spaceship. It was the same vehicle he’d been driving the night before when he’d gotten a flat tire and had asked to use my phone. He opened the door for me and I offered him a smile of thanks as I seated myself, glancing over at the steering wheel where I recognized the Ferrari emblem.

A Ferrari … seriously?

I had to pinch myself. This just wasn’t real—it couldn’t be real! I mean, my life was composed of TV dinners and reruns of
The Office
. My only social outlet, really, was Christa. Men like Sinjin Sinclair with their fastidious attire and stunning good looks, driving their Ferraris, just didn’t figure into the Jolie Wilkins equation … Not at all!

“I hope you do not mind that I made reservations at Costa Mare?” he asked with a boyish grin.

Costa Mare was renowned for its Italian food and even more renowned for the fact that it took months to get a reservation. “You were able to make a reservation there?” I asked in awe, my mouth gaping in response.

Sinjin shrugged. “As a rule, I never take no for an answer.” Then he chuckled as if to say he was making a joke. But you know what people say about jokes—there’s
always an underlying element of truth to them. It would not have come as a surprise to me at all to learn that Sinjin Sinclair was accustomed to getting his way.

For the next fifteen minutes, we made small talk—discussing things like the weather, his flat tire, and the history of my friendship with Christa. Before I knew it, we’d pulled in front of Costa Mare and Sinjin was handing the keys to the valet. Sinjin shook his head at the doorman who attempted to open my door, insisting that he would do it himself. I couldn’t remember the last time a man had opened my door for me. The guys in LA weren’t exactly gentlemen.

I took Sinjin’s arm and allowed him to escort me into the restaurant, where the staff seemed to fuss over him like he was some great messiah. They led us through a weaving path of tables, polished marble flooring and dimly lit candles, finally designating us to a desolate table in the corner of the room that was surrounded by potted bamboos that acted as a screen from the rest of the restaurant.

“Where would you prefer to sit?” Sinjin asked me with a polished smile.

“I don’t care,” I answered as I waited for him to pull out my chair. He chose the seat with the best view of the restaurant, but I hadn’t been lying—I really didn’t care.

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

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

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

He nodded as if he had a long and interesting story he was about to divulge. “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 increasingly 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 sure I’d never before heard it. 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 fine 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 of this. I took a deep breath and started perusing the menu, hoping to change the course of my wayward thoughts. Feeling as if Sinjin were 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 maybe this whole date was just 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 U.S. 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 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 started 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 as stiffly as I could.

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 … well, 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 riveting, challenging. “Is that what you imagined I was looking for?”

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 much 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 … looking for 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. I glanced over at him with a question in my eyes.

“What are you doing?” I demanded.

“Perhaps I should ask the same of you?”

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

“Why are we 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 took the seat and pulled myself back up 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 sensual 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 masking the fact that he was looking for a quick hookup 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.”