Witchful Thinking (Jolie Wilkins #3)

by H. P. Mallory

  I felt my heart slow down. Christa was okay and had just been a space cadet, as usual. “What about the guy here? I thought you were all hot for him?”

  She was silent for a few seconds. “Well, really, what am I going to do? Ryan is already waiting for me.”

  “I’m glad to know you’re okay, but you could have waited for me instead of leaving me alone with this guy,” I grumbled.

  “Oh, sorry, Jules, I didn’t even think of that. Do you want me to come back until he leaves?”

  I sighed, thinking I probably sounded like a baby. “No, it’s fine. Have fun with Ryan.”

  “Okay, thanks, Jules,” she said and hung up.

  So it looked like it was just me, the broom, and the hottest man I’d ever seen in my life. Great, just great. Well, hopefully the rental agency people would arrive soon so Mr. Gorgeous Man could get on with doing whatever it was he was planning on doing.

  I strolled back into the store and offered him a quick smile.

  “Roadside assistance phoned and said they would be arriving in ten minutes. Thank you again for your hospitality.”

  I just nodded and glanced at the clock, noticing it was already eight p.m. When I looked away from the clock, I felt the man’s eyes on me and I made the mistake of looking at him. He was wearing the strangest expression—something like amusement and maybe admiration. I didn’t know why but I had the distinct feeling that he wanted to touch me. He looked like he was doing his damndest to stay seated.

  “What is your name?” he asked.

  “Um, Jolie, Jolie Wilkins.”

  He nodded with another smile that revealed perfectly straight, white teeth. “That is a very lovely name.”

  Realizing I was still holding on to the broom like I thought I was a witch who was about to take off on it, I started for the hall closet and stowed it away. When I turned around, the man was staring at me again. He made me uncomfortable—made me feel like he could almost see right through me. I moved behind the counter and took a seat on the stool, facing him.

  “What is it you do in this store?” he asked.

  I felt myself swallow down my embarrassment over the fact that I was going to admit I was a psychic to someone who probably didn’t believe in that sort of thing.

  “I, um, I read fortunes.”

  He nodded as if he wasn’t surprised, his gaze straying to the street as a car drove by. He seemed to home in on the store windows as a smile seized his lips. “I suppose I could have deduced that from your front windows.”

  I glanced at them and laughed. It said FORTUNE TELLER in bold white lettering right across the top of the door and the huge window beside it.

  “You said you were on vacation in the States?” I asked, feeling the need to participate, considering he was trying to make conversation.

  He paused for a second or two as if weighing his response. “Yes, on vacation. I am originally from Britain, as a matter of fact.”

  Just as I was about to ask him what part of Britain, the roadside assistance truck pulled up in front of my store, putting its blinkers on because, as usual, there wasn’t anywhere to park along the curb.

  “Looks like help just arrived,” I said and couldn’t deny the feeling of sadness that welled up within me. Which really made no sense. It wasn’t like I actually thought this stranger would have any interest in girl-next-door me.

  The man glanced over at the window, and recognizing the truck, stood up. “Thank you again,” he said.

  I just nodded and watched him walk up to the counter and hand me the phone. He paused a moment or two after I took it from him and offered me the sexiest smile I’d ever seen. His lips were so full, and they had a pinkish hue to them. I felt my stomach begin to fill with butterflies and quickly turned around as I placed the phone in its cradle. When I turned around again, the man had already walked out of my door. The little bells hanging from it dinged as he exited.

  And the most handsome man I’d ever seen walked out of my store and my life just like that.

  I continued fussing around the store, telling myself I’d wait until he drove away to make sure he was okay. I wasn’t really sure why I didn’t just pack my things and head out now—it wasn’t like the roadside assistance guy would leave him stranded—but I stayed anyway. Which was pretty stupid considering I couldn’t even see his car from my store window. He must have experienced his flat tire pretty far down the street.

  After a few minutes of standing around my perfectly clean and tidy store, I sighed and grabbed my purse as I started for the door, figuring I was being silly and should just go home. I definitely didn’t want this guy to think I was waiting for him. Talk about embarrassing the crap out of myself uselessly.

  I opened the front door and locked it behind myself.

  “Excuse me again?”

  I whirled around to find the handsome man seated in a black sports car. He’d pulled up just alongside me. It was a car I’d never seen before—maybe a Ferrari or something of the sort.

  “Wow, that was fast!” I said, legitimately shocked.

  He nodded but didn’t remark on the speedy work. “I know this is quite forward of me, especially considering we are not … acquainted with each other, but I wonder if I may take you to dinner tomorrow evening?”

  “Oh,” I started in surprise before a sinking feeling took hold of me. There was nothing about me that would hold this man’s interest. It would end up being an embarrassing, uneventful evening when we both realized he was completely out of my league and he really should have been with a much more beautiful and exciting woman.

  “Um, I …”

  “As I mentioned earlier, I am visiting and I do not know where to go or what to see.”

  He just seemed so nice, so lonely almost.

  And I found myself saying something that completely floored me. “Sure, I’d love to.”

  The man beamed as if I’d just given him exactly what he’d wanted for Christmas. “Wonderful. May I pick you up here tomorrow evening at seven, perhaps?”

  I nodded again. “Sure.”

  He smiled and his car started rolling forward but, seemingly remembering something, he hit the brakes.

  “I apologize profusely,” he began, shaking his head in apparent disbelief as another sexy and devilish grin took hold of his sumptuous lips. “Where are my manners? I have not even introduced myself.”

  I hadn’t realized he hadn’t introduced himself either. How bizarre.

  “I am Sinjin Sinclair. Very pleased to meet you.”

  I smiled again, thinking this was the most exciting night I’d had in a long, long time. And Christa was going to pee herself when she heard that Mr. Gorgeous Man had actually just asked me out on a date.

  “I’m very pleased to meet you too, Sinjin.”

  For my son, Finn

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  My extreme gratitude goes to the following people:

  My husband for your love and support

  My mother for all your valuable input

  My editor, Shauna Summers, for helping me make this book so much stronger

  My agent, Kimberly Whalen, for all your help

  Klaasje Helgren and Mercedes Berg who both won my “Become a character in my book” contest. I hope you enjoy your characters!

  And to all my readers, thank you! I would not have come this far without your support!

  Did the ending of Witchful Thinking

  leave you longing for more?

  Can’t wait another minute to find out

  what happens next?

  You won’t want to miss Jolie Wilkins’ return in

  in which all of your questions

  will be answered …

  On sale Summer 2012

  Read on for a special sneak peek!

  When the phone rang at ten minutes to seven, I wasn’t surprised. Nope, I figured that Sinjin Sinclair, the most handsome and charming man who had ever stepped into my life, had probably just come to his senses and realized he didn�
��t want to take me out for dinner after all. Maybe he’d suffered from a slight brain freeze the night before when he’d been awaiting roadside assistance at my tarot-card reading shop, and that was why he’d asked me out.

  So when he phoned to say he was lost, I was surprised—not so much that his navigational skills were lacking but that he actually wanted to go through with this. Okay, I know what you’re thinking—that I must look like a troll, or something equally heinous … Well, I’m not a troll by any stretch of the imagination, but I’m also not the girl who stands out in a crowd. I’m more the girl next door—well, at least, I live down the street from the girl next door.

  Okay, I’m probably being a little too hard on myself because I have been told I’m attractive and I know I’m smart and all that stuff, but, still, I’m nowhere near Sinjins Sinclair’s league.

  But back to the phone call. After Sinjin said he would be at my door shortly, I hung up and then stood in the center of my living room for a few minutes like a space cadet, gazing at the wall until I’m sure I looked like a complete and total moron.

  But while it might have appeared that nothing of much concern was going on in that gray matter between my ears, appearances can be deceiving. Thoughts ramrodded my brain, slamming into one another as new ones were born … What was I doing? What was I thinking? What would I possibly have to talk about with a man who was as cultured and refined as Sinjin Sinclair? Moreover, how was I going to eat in front of him? What if I choked on an ice cube? Or I sneezed after taking a mouthful of salad and sprayed carrot chunks all over his expensive clothes?

  Jolie Wilkins, calm down, I finally said to myself, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath. You are going to go on this date because if you don’t, you’re never going to forgive yourself. And, furthermore, Christa will most definitely murder you.

  I inhaled another deep breath and forced myself out of my self-inflicted brain coma, starting toward the mirror as I took stock of myself for the umpteenth time in the last hour. Christa, my best friend and self-acclaimed fashion advisor, had left twenty minutes ago after chastising me about my current getup. Yes, she’d tried to force me into what amounted to shrink-wrapping, complete with stiletto heels that were so narrow, they could double as weapons. Then, after that attempt had failed, she’d tried to get me to go with a flame-red corset dress that was so tight, I couldn’t walk and breathing was out of the question. So yes, I’d defeated the raunchy clothing demon but I couldn’t say I felt very good about my victory.

  I sighed as I took in my shoulder-length blond hair and the fact that the curl Christa had wrestled into it only minutes before was now long gone. It could be described as “limp” at best. My makeup was nice though—Christa had managed to talk me into smoky eyes, which accented my baby blues and she’d also covered the freckles that sprinkled the bridge of my nose while playing up my cheekbones with a shimmery apricot blush. She’d lined my decently plump lips in a light brown and filled them with bubble-gum-pink lipstick, finishing them with a pink gloss called “Baby Doll.”

  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 P
lum 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.