Page 28 of Enchanted to Meet You

He nodded and reached for the wide hem of her trouser leg. “Now that you got that out of your system, let me look at that knee.”

“No!” The smile vanished, and she leaned forward to swat at his hand. “My knee is fine. There’s no need for you to—”

But it was too late. He’d peeled back the flowy material of her pant leg and seen what had been causing her pain: a red welt, already purpling around the sides.

“Jessica,” he said, his eyes snapping wide with concern. “Did one of those hailstones—?”

“It’s fine.” She tried to cover the welt by tugging down the hem of her pants. “I’ll just put some ice on it later.”

“It’snotfine. Jessica, let me help you.”

Before she could stop him, he laid his fingertips gently across the warm, tender skin of her knee.

Jessica

Plant marigold seeds in a sunny spot in the spring, and by fall thou wilst have golden blooms that will ward off pests and promote riches.

Goody Fletcher,Book of Useful Household Tips

I can’t say exactly what happened when Derrick laid his hands over my knee, but I can describe how it felt: like the sun coming out on a bitterly cold winter’s day, warming my skin and making me feel as if I’d suddenly stepped onto a white sand beach.

And just as if I’d suddenly stepped onto a white sand beach, the pain disappeared, leaving in its place only a sweet, summery sensation.

It was incredible... especially since I had no idea how he was doing it. And I’ve been around. I went to college in New York City. I’ve been on buying trips to Los Angeles. I even went back to France a couple of times after my semester abroad. The French might be known for their cooking, but do you know what else they’re really good at? That’s right: sex.

But with all my experience, I’d never met a guy who was as good with his hands as Derrick.

“How are you doing that?” I finally asked as he bent over my knee, one long strand of his sandy blond hair falling over to tickle my skin.

He wasn’t aware of it, however, because his eyes were closed.

“Could you be quiet, please?” he asked. “I’m concentrating.”

“Sorry,” I said. “But I’m really curious. You said it wasn’t a spell. Is it Reiki? Because I understand that the World Council of Witches forbids their members from practicing hands-on alternative medicine, due to the liability issues.”

“Yes, well, I’m not a member of the WCW, remember?” I noticed that he hadn’t shaved recently. He’d already had a few days’ growth of whiskers when I first met him. Now he had what basically amounted to a short beard. Coupled with the long hair, he had a little Robin Hood thing going on. This was a problem for me, since I kind of had a thing for Robin Hood, especially the fox in the Disney version. “That’s a ridiculous rule.”

“I agree,” I said, averting my gaze from his foxiness. “But why do you think so?”

“Because all witches are healers.”

“Uh, all witches arenothealers. May I remind you of what Rosalie just tried to do to us back there?”

“All witches have thecapacityto be healers,” he said, opening his eyes. This close, I was able to see that they weren’t actually silver, but pale blue with amber flecks in them. Oh, God. “I saw you make the mayor’s wife feel better about herself when you dressed her in the clothes you chose for her. The ability to manipulate the energy around us into a force that heals, spiritually or physically, is one that every witch possesses. You have it. I have it. Probably Rosalie Hopkins has it. But how she chooses to use it, according to you, is to harm instead of heal. Perhaps that’s why that love spell you gave her didn’t work.”

I bit my lower lip—not because I disagreed with anything he was saying, but because he was sitting so close, and he was so . . . well, hot. I meanliterallyhot. He’d lifted his hands from my knee, but I still felt the heat from his fingers there. The redness from the wound Rosalie’s hailstone had inflicted still lingered, but so did the glorious feeling of his touch. I’d given away my protective amethyst, and not five minutes later, I’d been hurt in a hailstorm caused by my mortal enemy....

But now my wounds were being healed by a gentle-fingered witch with silver eyes and a foxy beard. Maybe my amethyst’s protective properties hadn’t left me entirely yet.

“A love spell draws on positive energy,” Derrick was saying, “because it represents something new and hopeful. But if the witch casting it is more used to drawing from negativity—well, you can see how a spell like that might go astray.”

“Yeah.” I released my lip and then leaned forward to lower my pant leg. I wasn’t exactly naked in front of him, but it was starting to feel that way. Any second now he was going to notice my naked thirst for him. “I get what you’re saying. And I completely agree with you... in theory. But like I said, the thing between me and Rosalie is a little more complicated than that.”

I didn’t want to remember the panic I’d seen on Billy’s face in the cafeteria a little while ago as he’d tried to look everywhere but at me. I hadn’t exactly been happy about running into him, either—not to mention Rosalie, or their creepy solicitation for “Harvest Princess” volunteers—but at least I’d summoned up a smile and a bright “Hello” for them both as I’d tried to hurry past.

Unfortunately a waspish “What areyoudoing here?” from Rosalie stopped me before I got to the door.

“Meeting with my new mentee.” I’d known better than to mention the real reason I was there, especially in front of Billy,who—as far as I could tell—still wasn’t aware of the existence of witches in West Harbor. “You know, the program the school has that matches up kids with local business owners?”