Chapter Seven

 

             

            I said she was a witch. A real witch. You know, one of those broom-riding kind? And her father’s a warlock.

            The sound of Lyle’s warning echoed in his head. Jonathan continued to stare at her as they held hands. The truth was plain on her face. It reflected in her pleading eyes.

            “You’re a witch?”

            She nodded. “Uh-huh.”

            “You cast spells,” he stated.

            “Actually, Daddy does. He’s the only one who’s powerful enough, but my sisters and I dabble.”

            “Dabble?”

            “Little things.”

            “Like…”

            She held up her free hand and snapped her fingers. The kitchen lights went out. Another snap, and they came back on. Jonathan grinned.

            “Not very convincing, Tam, when I can clap my hands and do the same thing at my uncle’s place.”

            “Okay. Then how about this?” She pulled her hand away from his and held both of them out in front of her, palms up. The plate and fork lifted from the table. With a nod of her head, the dirty dish floated over to settle in the sink.

            Jonathan stared at the kitchen counter for another second before looking back at her. Common sense told him he needed to get out of there, and to do it without any further delay. But something else was keeping him glued to the chair, and he was damned if he could figure out what it was.

            “Jonathan?”

            “I know I should be frightened out of my ever-lovin’ mind, but I’m not. In fact…” He grinned.  “I’m intrigued.”

            Her eyes widened. “Intrigued? In what way?”

            “How does one court a witch, err, a tempus witch? Which, by the way is…” He was as stunned to hear the word come out of his mouth as she was. Court? As in prepared to propose?

            At that same instant, his heart and mind gave him his answer. Yes. Propose, as in marriage. He and Tamberly, husband and wife.

            Everything inside him had told him this woman was different. Her revelation did nothing to stifle his interest. In fact, it increased it tenfold—a hundredfold!

            Tamberly’s answering smile was brighter than sunshine. “We’re actually half witch, since Momma was mortal. My sisters and I refer to ourselves as witchlets. But, really, we’re no different than ordinary people. We just can do things…differently.”

            “No spells? No potions? No turning me into a frog if we have a fight?” he teased, or rather, half-teased.

            When the woman shook her head, red highlights flashed underneath the overhead light like streaks of fire. “No. No spells or turning you into a frog. I’m not that strong. But I can concoct a mean brew for certain occasions.”

            Jonathan laughed at the vision in his mind of her bending over a pot of soup and sprinkling some God-awful additive to it like eye of newt or tongue of frog. Tamberly shushed him, her eyes watching the door leading to the living room.

            “Just to let you know, I have three other sisters on the other side of the house, besides Daddy, and they’re all dying to know more about you.”

            “You’ll probably be grilled once I leave,” he remarked.

            “Basted and broiled, too,” she quipped, which lead to them both softly laughing again at the bad joke.

            “You haven’t explained what a being a tempus witch means,” he reminded her.

            “Like I said, all of us were born at specific times of the year.  We…uhh…our powers are strongest at those times. It’s also when we’re most likely to find our one true love.”

            Jonathan raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment. Tamberly nodded slowly and continued. “I’m the eldest. Every year at this time I’ve been watching and waiting, hoping to find the man who will become the love of my life.” Adding a small smile, she said, “So far I haven’t been lucky. But I guess you already figured that out.”

            “How will you know when you’ve found the right man?”

            “Somehow I’ll know. There are signs. Portents I have to recognize.”

            “What kind of portents?”

            To his surprise, she wrinkled her nose at him and grinned. “Why do you want to know? Thinking of applying for the job?”

            “You never know,” he grinned, and they laughed softly again. Clearing his throat, Jonathan got to his feet, still holding her hand. The laughter had help to soothe the growing fire in his belly, as well as soften his erection enough to make him presentable.  “Listen, it’s obvious now that I can’t get you anything for your birthday or Christmas that you can already get for yourself,” he started to tell her as she also stood.

            “You don’t have to get me anything,” Tamberly objected, only to have a finger pressed to her lips for silence.

            For a moment Jonathan stared at the tip of his forefinger touching the velvet softness. He could feel her moist breath across his fingers. Before she could make another remark, he leaned over and kissed her.

            It took a few heady seconds for the feel of her lips on his to penetrate the fog in his brain. She smelled of warmed peppermint and cinnamon, and she tasted…

            Her tongue tentatively licked him. Instinctively he reached for her and pulled her tightly against him, tucking her against his chest. Her firm breasts jiggled upon contact when her arms came up to encircle his neck.

            His cock tried to dig into her belly. Her lips parted, and Jonathan probed her mouth with his tongue where he could taste apple pie and milk. If there was anything more delicious, his fogged brain couldn’t think of it.

            There was a sound. In the background something clinked. He couldn’t identify the source, but thankfully it reminded him of where he was. And what he didn’t need was for another one of her sisters, or worse, her father, to come in and discover them in a clutch. Reluctantly, he moved away from her and her delectable mouth, dropping one last kiss on the tip of her nose.

            He started to speak, but the taste of her was still on his tongue. Clearing his throat, he swallowed and tried again. “Listen, I think I have the perfect gift for you,” he whispered. He nuzzled her temple when she sighed. “Tomorrow night, I’m going to fix you the best damn meal you’ve ever tasted. That’ll be my birthday and Christmas present for you. How does that sound?” Jonathan looked down to see her smiling up at him.

            “It sounds perfect,” she replied.

            “Great! Umm, given the fact that I’ll be slaving over a hot stove, I won’t be able to come pick you up. Can you make it over to the market by seven?”

            “I’ll be there,” she promised.

            They stepped apart, and Jonathan checked himself to make sure he was presentable, in case Mr. Blakeney decided to see him off at the front door.

            Tamberly threaded her fingers through his, and they walked out of the kitchen and into the foyer. The father remained ensconced in the den, giving them the opportunity to sneak one final kiss before he left her on the porch.

            Jonathan practically skipped to the truck. As he pulled out of the driveway, he glanced at the rearview mirror. In the rainbow glow of the Christmas lights, he saw Tamberly standing at the door, watching his departure until he was out of sight.