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.”
“Very well,” he said again and called the waiter over. “Ms. Wilkins …”
“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 like he was about to start a race or something.
&nb
sp; 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?”
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 said.
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 hadn’t been something we 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 the glass to his lips as I downed a swallow of the bitterly sweet wine. Before he took a swig, he set the 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 and 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 Toon. 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 asked. “You’re here for work?”
He never took his eyes from mine and there was something in their depths. Something untold, something hidden. It appeared that this man had his own skeletons hanging in his closet. I could tell just by reading his eyes.
“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 anticipative because I was all too well 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 glanced at me again and 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 even 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.
H. P. Mallory, Witchful Thinking: A Jolie Wilkins Novel
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