Winter Magic

by T. M. Cromer

  “I’m checking the office Facebook page,” she lied with a straight face.

  “Uh, huh. Try to at least remember to answer the phones while I’m gone, okay? We need the business.”

  “Your family is richer than God, boss. You could only come in one hour a month and still afford to keep the doors open. You can also afford to give me a raise.”

  “You’ve been employed here all of two weeks. How about we save any raises until the ninety-day trial period is over?”

  “If you want to be that way about it…”

  Zane shook his head, grabbed his keys from his suit jacket, and headed toward the door. “Be sure to lock up when you go. And before you ask, you need to stay until at least three-thirty if you want to get paid for the full day.”

  Her laughter echoed around the tiny office space.

  Within five minutes, he was headed down the two-lane road toward his family’s home. On the West side of their property line was a heavily wooded area that divided the Thorne and Carlyle estates.

  A smile came unbidden.

  There had been many times when he’d snuck into those woods to watch the neighbor girls play. He’d never told his cousins. Those times had been for him alone. If no one knew where he was or who he was spying on, he didn’t have to take flack for his crush on the black-haired girl with the beautiful smile.

  Winnie.

  The girl whose laughter was like the warmest sun, and whose eyes were brighter than the mid-summer day sky. The girl who had grown into a stunning woman. A woman with a wealth of secrets. Secrets he intended to find out.

  The scent of wild orchids rose up along with the musky scent of sex. It teased a corner of his brain. As if his hand had a mind of its own, it reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and felt around.

  When his fingers closed around a scrap of material, Zane started to sweat. And as his hand pulled the sky-blue triangle from its hiding place, another image flashed through his mind. One of Winnie teasing him and shimmying out of her thong. Image after image slammed into his brain, jarring loose memories long forgotten. His mind whirled at the implication of his possession of her panties.

  The steering wheel jerked in his hand as he recalled their argument.

  Where the yellow lab in the road came from, he’d never know, but Zane yanked the wheel sharply to the left to avoid running over the pup. The crunch of metal as his BMW impacted the trunk of an enormous oak tree was the last sound he heard before his forehead broke through the windshield.

  4

  After lunch with Zane, Winnie had headed back to her workshop. Working with her lotions, balms, and healing oils went a long way to clear her head and soothe her nerves. And since Aunt GiGi wasn’t answering her texts, Winnie definitely needed a way to calm the worry that had invaded her peace of mind.

  She had pulled out the stopper to measure exactly three drops of peppermint oil to add to the batch of lotion she was whipping up when the door to her workshop flew back on its hinges. In her surprise, she dumped a quarter of the amber bottle into the mixture, ruining the entire lot.

  Frustrated, she counted to ten before facing her unwelcome guest. Serene once more, she said, “Uncle Alastair. Your enthusiastic entry surprised me. I mean, when have you been anything but reserved?”

  “My apologies, niece.” His tone was anything but apologetic. “Shall I extract the peppermint oil?”

  “No. What’s done is done. But you can tell me why you decided to pay me a visit in the middle of my workday.”

  “There’s been an incident with your young man. I thought you should know.”

  Winnie frowned her confusion. “I don’t have a young man.”

  “Zane Carlyle.”

  Her heartbeat ratcheted up a notch. “What about him?”

  “It seems he’s been in a terrible accident.”

  She grabbed a towel to wipe off the excess oils from her hands as she rushed for the door. “Is he okay? What happened?” If the volume and pitch of her voice hurt the ears of canines in a hundred mile radius, it couldn’t be helped. Her concern for Zane took precedence over making the dog population of Leiper’s Fork deaf.

  “No time for all of that. Grab your medical kit and come with me,” Alastair ordered.

  “He hasn’t been seen by a doctor yet?”

  “I just came upon him. Now, do you want to discuss this, or do you want to help the poor lad?” Alastair ground out.

  Freaked out, Winnie rotated her head back and forth in a search for the bag that held her healing supplies. Where the hell had she put it?

  “Here, child.” Her uncle held up her black leather case, and his tone was considerably warmer. “No need to panic. He’ll recover.”

  “How do you know?” she managed in a hoarse whisper, her voice deserting her in her fear. If something happened to Zane, her world would become a whole lot duller. Granted, she hadn’t seen him in years, but she’d known he was safe and happy in Nashville. If not happy, the knowledge had kept her content.

  “Because I have faith in the Goddess’s plan. Come.”

  On leaden feet, she followed him to the yard, convinced when she got to Zane that he would be beyond her ability to heal him. When she saw him sitting on the steps to Thorne Manor, a blood-soaked rag in his hand, she cried out.

  His head snapped up, and he winced. Both his eyes closed, and he rested his head back against the white column of the porch.

  Winnie rushed to his side, running her hands lightly over his pained features. “Tell me what happened. Where’s the pain?”

  “Who are you?” he rasped out.

  Frozen in shock, Winnie could only stare. She hadn’t expected to find his memory impaired. “What?”

  “Who are you? Are you a doctor?”

  “I…” Her throat seized. Horror stole her ability to speak. She cast a helpless glance Alastair’s way. The inscrutable expression on his face told her nothing of his concern, or if he even was concerned.

  “We need Aunt GiGi. I don’t know how to treat him.”

  A speculative look entered Alastair’s sapphire eyes. If Winnie had to guess, she’d almost say a grudging respect followed close behind. Whatever was running through her uncle’s mind, she doubted he would share it until he was good and ready. She focused her attention on Zane.

  Zane appeared cold and closed off.

  “Zane.” She said his name cautiously as she reached for the wound on his forehead. “My name is Winnie Thorne. I’m your neighbor. I’m not a doctor, but I specialize in healing.” She pulled back slightly as he flinched away from her touch. “I want to help you if you’ll let me.”

  Zane knew damned well who Winnie was. He also had a clear idea what she’d done to him. If his head wasn’t throbbing so freaking bad, he’d give her hell. But for now, a little payback was in order.

  When his memories had been unlocked, his abilities had come with them. Or what he assumed were his magical abilities. A surge of raw power flowed through him and fired up his cells—right before the moment of impact.

  Alastair had happened upon him at the exact second the crash had taken place. The older warlock had saved him from an accident that most probably would’ve taken Zane’s life.

  Their eyes connected across the distance. A flare of amusement lit Alastair’s dark-blue gaze. One brow lifted, and a smirk danced about his mouth.

  In all honesty, Zane couldn’t understand why Alastair didn’t reveal the truth—Zane’s memory hadn’t been affected by the accident. He could only surmise the other man had a secret agenda of his own.

  The gash on Zane’s forehead had been treated by Alastair on scene. An angry red mark and blood were all that was left of Zane’s contact with the windshield. Well, that and a stiff neck. Alastair had stated Winnie needed at least one injury to treat.

  “I don’t know you,” Zane rasped. “I don’t want you touching me.”

  Hurt darkened her eyes before she pasted on a false, reassuring smile. “I understand. Maybe we shou
ld get you to a hospital?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “No, you have a head wound—” Her dialogue ceased as she noticed the “wound” in question was now knitted together.

  “My neck is stiff. That’s all,” he countered.

  “Would you like me to take a look? I might be able to ease your pain.”

  Zane could see Winnie’s cool confidence had taken a beating. Good. Before he was finished with her, she’d be the one hoping to forget his existence. He studied her beautiful face, noted the worried gleam in her brilliant blue eyes. Oddly, he thought they’d been brighter once upon a time. In that, his memory must be faulty.

  He frowned. Maybe his memory was skewed in other areas as well? His gaze zeroed in on her lush, berry-red lips. No. He recalled her taste as if they’d kissed yesterday instead of eight years ago.

  “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

  Of its own volition, his hand snaked around her waist and drew her close.

  Her eyes widened but didn’t show alarm.

  He maintained eye contact until the last second when their mouths connected.

  Yes, the taste of her lips was as delicious as he remembered. Zane took his time exploring the recesses of her mouth, teasing a response with his tongue and little nips along her full bottom lip.

  She moaned into his mouth, and he was lost.

  The sound of a clearing throat penetrated Zane’s consciousness before he could take his impromptu seduction a step further. He drew back in small increments, unable or unwilling to release her.

  Wonder blazed from Winnie’s wide eyes, and her mouth—God, that delectable mouth—rounded in an O of surprise. Her tongue darted out to wet her swollen lips, and Zane nearly groaned.

  He needed the distraction of his anger—or hers. “What did you say your name was again? Willow?”

  Her skin lost its flush of desire and turned ashen. “Winnie,” she gasped. “My name is Winnie.”

  “Right.” He gave her a lopsided grin because he knew it would irritate the crap out of her. “Well, sweetheart, whatever your name is, you’ve got mad skills in the kissing department. I can tell you’ve had a lot of practice.”

  Her gasp of outrage forced him to bite the inside of his cheek to keep his laughter at bay. A rough cough came from Alastair’s direction.

  “Since you appear to be just fine, I’ll go back to work.” Winnie’s words would chill a normal person to the bone. But Zane’s blood was still fired up from rage and desire.

  “Thanks for the TLC, Wendy.”

  “Oh!”

  She stomped off in the direction of her workshop.

  Both men waited until she was out of earshot before either of them spoke.

  Alastair broke the silence. “Well played, son. Well played.”

  “She deserves that and more for her games.”

  “How far do you intend to take this little revenge of yours?” With warning evident in his tone, Alastair stepped forward.

  “Until she’s paid for erasing my memories.”

  “Well now, son, you know I can’t allow you to break her heart, don’t you?”

  “She has no heart. She’s a cold-blooded bit—”

  “Careful,” Alastair said. The frost coating the one word left Zane in little doubt the warlock would retaliate on his niece’s behalf if her honor was besmirched.

  “Eight years!” Zane snarled. “Eight years she cost me.”

  “What did she actually take from you, young man? One memory of a less-than-stellar tumble in the woods?” GiGi Thorne-Gillespie’s crisp voice asked from behind.

  Alastair winced and made a face. “Ouch. Did you need to be harsh, sister?”

  “Is it harsh when it’s the truth, brother?”

  The older man coughed into his hand in a poor attempt to hide his smirk.

  “So not only did she wipe my mind, she laughed about it with all of you,” Zane ground out as he rose to his feet with the help of the step railing. A sense of betrayal took hold and fueled the already burning rage within him. The wood ignited under his hand. “What the—?”

  From thin air, water doused the flames.

  “What was that?” Zane demanded.

  “That, dear boy, is a clear indication that you are a fire element. Welcome to the world of witchcraft.” Alastair laughed in the face of Zane’s shock. “Until you learn to control your powers, I’d say you should practice the art of Zen.” Alastair addressed GiGi. “Seems Autumn and Winnie have another pupil for their magic training sessions.”

  “Winnie?” Zane cast him a sharp glance. “Winnie trains witches?”

  A sly, knowing smile crept over Alastair’s countenance. “Is that a problem for you?”

  “Not at all.” No, indeed. An idea formed. Spending more time with Winnie in order to exact his revenge worked perfectly to Zane’s way of thinking.

  5

  “What do you mean I need to train him?” Winnie demanded in outrage. “How do I put this? Hell. No.”

  “Winnie, be reasonable.” Her sister, Summer, stepped forward and hugged her. “I understand you have a history—although, to be honest, I can’t understand why you won’t share the deets when the rest of us have spilled our guts—but he needs to be trained, and you need him for the trip to Egypt.”

  That had been yet another command that came down through Summer’s father, Alastair. Last month, Alastair made the declaration that Zane had extensive archaeology experience and he would therefore be useful when she set out to retrieve the Egyptian Uterine amulet her uncle needed in his attempt to resurrect her mother Aurora.

  “I can’t do it,” Winnie croaked out. “I can’t train him.”

  “Why? Other than GiGi and Autumn, you are one of the most knowledgeable witch alive.” Her youngest sister, Spring, positioned herself between her other two siblings. Her curiosity shone brightly on her beautiful face. “What happened?”

  Wild-eyed Winnie stared at her sisters. Their stances gave the distinct impression they were ganging up on her. Better to get her confession out of the way and deal with their anger now. Perhaps then they would understand why she couldn’t take on this part of the family quest for Alastair.

  Winnie groaned. “We did it.”

  “Oh!” Summer meeped.

  “I knew it!” Autumn laughed.

  “Did what?” Spring asked in confusion.

  Winnie lost what was left of her frayed temper. “It, Spring. It! The horizontal mamba. The bedsheet boogie. The—”

  Spring held up one elegant hand. “All right. I get it.” A wicked grin lit her face. “So how was it?”

  “That’s the problem,” Winnie said with a heavy sigh. “It was godawful.”

  The jaws of all three sisters hit the floor.

  Winnie almost giggled. She would have if the situation hadn’t been dire. They’d all heard the story of Winnie using their grandmother’s cloaking spell to spy on Zane in the locker room showers years before. She’d led them all to believe—quite truthfully—that he was hung like a horse. Now, to find out Zane hadn’t known the basics of satisfying a woman…well, if it had happened to anyone else, she probably would’ve found it humorous.

  “Now do you see the problem?” she asked, desperate for them to back off.

  Autumn laughed. A long, obnoxious, side-splitting guffaw. Her amusement triggered her other sisters. They resembled a pack of baying hyenas.

  “It’s not freaking funny, Tums! I’ll have to see him every single day, knowing we boinked, and he doesn’t remember a thing about it.”

  Their amusement choked off, and, as one, their eyes went round. If they were synchronized swimmers, they’d have their act down pat.

  “Why doesn’t he remember?” Summer asked with trepidation. “What did you do?”

  Her annoyance at the assumption flared to life, and Winnie jerked her chin up. “Why does it mean I did something? Maybe the whole day was just—”

  “Fess up, sister. What did you do?” Aut
umn demanded, her hard tone no-nonsense. Having been trained by their parents through a strict old-school regime, her sister took magic and consequences seriously.

  With a helpless glance into each face, Winnie looked for support. She got none. Each sister seemed convinced she’d done something dire. And hadn’t she? She’d effectively erased the man’s memories of their time together.

  “I may have cast a spell to erase the event from his mind,” she hedged.

  “Ohmygod!”

  “Goddess!”

  “Holy shit!”

  The last was followed by a forceful sneeze. A scurry of mice appeared in Winnie’s periphery. Such was the case whenever Summer swore. It took a lot to rattle her sister, but Winnie had managed it with one simple confession.

  Autumn ran a hand through her mass of auburn hair. “Let me get this straight. You slept with Zane, and because it sucked, you wiped his memory clean?”

  Winnie winced. “It’s a little more complicated, but yeah, that’s about right.”

  “Oh, Winnie!” Summer exclaimed. “Was all that talk of him being well-endowed a lie?”

  “No!” Winnie nearly shouted. She cleared her throat and struggled to control her blush. “No. He’s well equipped. He just didn’t know how to use his equipment in a satisfactory manner.”

  A snort, a giggle, and a coughing-gasp greeted her statement.

  “What happened?” Summer made a serious attempt to control her hilarity.

  “We went out a few times. On our last date, we went to the clearing between our properties.”

  “That damned clearing!” Autumn muttered with a dark frown. “I swear it’s cursed.”

  “You may be right,” Winnie agreed with a nod. “But except for a quick grab of my boobs and a finger in my hidey-hole to see if I was ready, he had no moves. He got on and got off in a matter of minutes.”

  Again, her sisters’ expressions reflected shocked wonder. Winnie almost took a picture in order to frame it for posterity.

  “That’s terrible!” Summer exclaimed.