Third Time's a Charm

“Repetition is a sign of distraction, you know.”



“Sit.” She pointed to the chair she’d brought in earlier.



He gave her a lazy smile, doing as she asked. “I’m ready for your tender ministrations.”



She grabbed the small jar, determined to approach him in a completely clinical manner. “Tristan—Dr. Reed gave me some clothes and a pair of shoes for you to change into. He said you could keep them.”



“Boyfriend?” His mouth flattened.



“Nice guy.” Rose stepped closer and applied the lightly scented ointment to his shoulders first, following the lines and contours of sinew. He was pure muscle, smooth skin over iron. She wanted to touch him everywhere he didn’t need the ointment. She traced the cross tattoo on his bicep. The broad planes of his back were next.



After applying more ointment, she gently kneaded it in, and he made small sounds of pleasure. She took her time, rubbing and kneading from left to right. Up, then down.



But she knew she’d eventually have to face him. She peeked over his shoulder. His hands were clenched into two fists and rested on his muscular thighs. Her eyes widened when she saw the outline of his very large erection under the towel.



Swallowing, she rubbed harder.



“Nails, love, watch your nails.” He bent over slightly and put his hands in his lap.



“Sorry.” Taking a deep breath, she walked around to the front of the chair. She expected a flip remark or even a smug grin, but he remained completely silent and wore a serious expression as she positioned herself between his legs.



The first pass over his chest had her blood racing through her veins. On the second, her knuckles skimmed one of his nipple rings and her blood turned to molasses. Nothing could stop her from touching him again. Her fingers lightly stroked his chest. A soft dusting of toffee-colored hair tickled her skin as she traced the ever-narrowing trail that disappeared under…Her hand froze. She looked away, willing herself to leave the room. Or even step away from him.



But she couldn’t move. The realization that his large hand had clamped around her wrist hit her and she almost dropped the jar. “Did my nails get you again?” she asked, her voice hoarse.



“No,” he said thickly, “I can manage from here.” He plucked the jar from her hand, and she ventured a glance at his face. His cheeks were flushed and his nostrils flared slightly. His talented tongue licked at his bottom lip.



She inched closer, wanting to kiss that full bottom lip. To take it between her teeth and tug.



“You can go now, Rose,” he said, breaking the spell she was under.



Somehow she managed to straighten and walk out of the bathroom without looking back.



Fifteen minutes later, she helped him down the stairs and to the back door.



“Be sure to thank your doctor friend for the clothes and shoes,” Sasha said as he held the door open for her. Dismissing her help with a shake of his head, he limped only slightly to the sidewalk.



Despite the grimace of pain he didn’t mask quickly enough from her view, Rose knew better than to feel sorry for him.



He cursed and leaned over, resting his hands on his thighs for a moment before standing and turning to face her. The lines around his mouth were white.



Well, maybe she felt a tiny bit sorry for him. “Here’s your phone.” She held it out and he grabbed it, sliding the cell into the back pocket of his borrowed jeans. “You left it in the bathroom.”



“Thank you.”



A black Mercedes idled at a discreet distance, but in the small town of Holland Springs an unfamiliar and expensive car at any distance warranted gossip.



He took her by the hand, his eyes mysterious and compelling. “I know this is a day too late, however, I want to apologize, Rose. You deserved better than the silent treatment I gave you. It was rude and uncalled for. I—”



“Just the silent treatment?” She tilted her head to one side.



His jaw worked for a moment. “No, I’m sorry for ending our date so abruptly. But I won’t apologize for what happened before then. I enjoyed spending time with you. It was…” His eyes shifted, looking behind her and becoming hard as peridot gemstones. “Anyway, you’re an extremely generous woman to help me.”



She might have helped him, but she wasn’t ready to forgive. Or forget. “I would have helped anyone in that situation.”



He gave her a wry smile, his thumb stroking the pulse of her wrist with a continuous lazy glide. “So, this is good-bye.”



“You won’t be coming back?”



“I think two holidays spent in Holland Springs is enough, don't you?” He winked.



“Have a safe trip.” Gently tugging her hand away, she left him standing there.



She walked inside her store, closing the door and leaning against it, her heart pounding in her chest. Blowing out a breath, she nodded once and sank to the floor, the dissipation of adrenaline leaving her body limp.



It really was for the best that he wouldn’t be back. No more surprise visits or using his siren’s voice to ensnare her like she was one of those sea-faring sailors of yore. No more spontaneous dates or kissing, or…She let out a heavy sigh.



Sasha Romanov was completely out of her life. For good.



Chapter Two



Three months later



There were very few days Rose wished she were an actual witch, but today was one of them.



Thursday had started out innocuous enough: delivering packages to Alden’s; emailing confirmations for new orders while feeding Ivy; shoving strawberry yogurt down her own throat; and then, opening Carolina Dreams for business at ten.



But today.



Today, she’d been busy dusting the inside of the store’s windows and had gotten a glimpse of a tall, lean form that made her palms sweat and her knees weak.



A flash of Sasha Romanov’s killer smile as he inspected Retro Dayz, the store for sale across the street, made her jaw tighten.



If she possessed the power to poof him back to jolly old England or some other exotic location, like the deepest depths of hell—she would. Gladly.



He’d lied to her.



Sasha had said he wasn’t coming back.



But there he was.



And here she was, staring at him through her store’s front window like an Old Navy mannequin.



She threw down the dust cloth and crossed her arms. But really, what could she expect from someone like him, someone allergic to honesty and decency?



The afternoon sun slanted through the autumn leaves of the ornamental trees lining the street, highlighting his head like a halo. As if he was an angel sent to her small town. All the single women (and quite a few of the married ones) would be completely thrilled he was back.



But only if one liked disheveled golden hair, sexy green eyes and bronze skin accentuating lean muscles wrapped up in the latest Tom Ford creation. And Rose, most certainly, did not.



Liar, a little voice inside her head whispered.



Rose rubbed the gold cross she always wore, stroking it between her thumb and forefinger. It had been in her family for generations. Local legend claimed that in 1795, Poppy Holland had bewitched a visiting preacher with her violet eyes and special brew of strawberry wine. Only a woman in league with the devil would be gifted with jewelry from a married man, making the first witch with the last name Holland thusly tagged.



That had been the start of the whispers, innuendos and flat out name-calling. Just last week, Maisy Perry had referred to Rose as a home-wrecking witch for looking at her fiancé and declared that she would never, ever step foot in Carolina Dreams again.



But just like always, Maisy had been forced to eat her words when she’d needed love advice. (And her monthly supply of cellulite vanishing cream.)



Rose hadn’t gloated. She never gloated. She never cried or yelled. She never insulted anyone back. But she wasn’t a damn saint. She did it privately, where no one could hear her. Where not even her sisters could hear her. Well, Skye anyway. Summer had taken off—again.



Rose’s family was falling apart. Whether by distance or death, everyone she’d grown up with was disappearing. Most likely the women here were thanking their lucky stars Summer was gone. Most of the upstanding citizens of Holland Springs viewed her family as a necessary evil. After all, the town was named for them and the legend of the springs was a draw for tourists. Not to mention that said spring was located on Holland land.



Sasha laughed, his white teeth flashing as Jemma Leigh Jackson preened and flirted. Tall and curvy with blonde chunks of hair framing her face, the bubbly real estate agent wore a plaid kilt and high heels that showcased her long legs to perfection. Jemma Leigh was beautiful, fashionable, and every other –able word that a man like Sasha would appreciate. Words that summed up a woman like Rose could never be. Her body was average everything, she didn’t care that much about fashion, and generally styled her hair to stay out of her face.



The tinkling of a bell snapped her out of her daze and Rose turned to see her baby sister, Skye, breeze through the front entrance, apparently finished with her morning visit to the retirement center. She stopped to prop their sunny yellow door open.



“Guess who bought Retro Dayz?” Skye asked, her hazel eyes shining. She smoothed the blue sweater she wore over the waistband of her flowery, ankle-length skirt.



Rose let her necklace fall back in place. “Zoe Ambrose?” The novelist was the clothing store’s biggest customer. Maybe its only one. But because of Zoe’s successful career and unflagging loyalty, the shop had stayed open far longer than anyone thought possible. Hippie chic wasn’t exactly all the rage here.



Skye laughed. “No. It’s someone you’d never guess. Not in a million years.” Her dark eyes slanted to the side and Rose followed her line of sight. Jemma Leigh placed a manicured paw on the sleeve on Sasha’s tailored button-down. Of course, he gazed at her like she was the only woman in the world.



Rose had the urge to throw something at them.



Suddenly, Jemma Leigh winced and rubbed the top of her head. Then Sasha did the same. They began dancing around as acorns started falling like rain from the tree. A little gray squirrel ran down the trunk, twitching its tail as a second, larger squirrel chased it.



Suppressing a satisfied smile, Rose cast a cool look at her sister. “Actually, I don’t care who buys it as long as it doesn’t interfere with our bottom line.”



“Then you won’t mind that Alexander Romanov bought it,” her sister said with a sly smile. “Rumor has it he’s going to open a bridal store.”



Rose’s tongue grew thick in her mouth and she had to swallow a few times before she could speak. “What?” she croaked.



“And guess who’s looking for a place to live around here, too?”



Rose grabbed her cross and rubbed it like her life was depending on it. “Why don’t you tell me since I suck at guessing.”



Skye’s brow wrinkled. “I hope you don’t mind, but I saw Alexander this morning at Daisy’s bakery and he happened to mention that he was looking for a place to rent. So, I told him—”



“Please say you didn’t—”



“We had a furnished room available at Strawberry Grove—and it included meals,” her sister finished with a satisfied smile. She recoiled at the look on Rose’s face. “What?”



“You—we don’t know him…well,” she replied lamely, schooling her features. Sasha tended to make her forget who she was and how she was supposed to act. And Skye didn’t know they’d been on a date. Heck, no one knew, and Rose intended to keep it that way.



“I’m sure you could get Christian Romanov to vouch for him.” Skye brushed a thick fall of auburn hair off her shoulder and lifted her brows a couple of times. “Besides, I would think you’d like a British invasion.”



Actually, she’d already been invaded by him. Almost. “Why would you?”



Skye grinned. “You’re not as discreet as you think you are.”



“You spied on me?” Rose couldn’t keep her cool façade from slipping.



“No, one of my roommates texted me a picture of the hottest guy she’d ever waited on in her life. Guess who was his date?”



“You didn’t think to mention that?” Rose pressed her fingers to her eyelids, then let her hands fall to her sides.



“I thought that if you wanted me to know, then you’d tell me.” Skye swatted at one of the wind chimes hanging from the ceiling.



A happy tune played, then abruptly stopped as Rose glared at it.



Skye frowned. “Sorry, I was only trying to help.”



Help her what—find a man, or pay the bills? Rose sighed, then smiled gently at her sister. “Don’t worry about it. Besides, I doubt it would meet his standards.” She silently prayed that she was right.



“On the contrary, I think your place would be absolutely perfect,” a low male voice drawled.



Sasha grinned at the back of Rose’s curly black head, watching as her spine stiffened and her shoulders squared. She turned and he braced for the impact.



Rose’s ocean-blue eyes stared right through him, her pretty face making him suck in a breath. He was at a loss as to what to say next. So, as to not look like a complete and utter fool, he stayed silent.



As did she.



“Okay…I’ll just be over here rearranging something.” Skye strolled over to an antique hutch and began to move the merchandise around.



Sasha blinked in surprise. He’d nearly forgotten the youngest Holland sister was in the room. Hell, he forgot everything when Rose was anywhere near him—especially when she was in his arms. She was…dangerous.



“Why don’t you go stay with your cousin,” Rose suggested, her stubborn jaw clenching.