Мишель Роуэн - Hot Spell

“The last part’s the best suggestion I’ve heard all evening.”

“Do you have a camera?”

“Yeah, right here.” He patted his pocket.

There was a stairway at the end of the hall. The lights were dim and not all of them worked but it was enough to see their way. Amanda wasn’t afraid. Some might be in a haunted house, but she’d already met the ghosts. Not the friendliest sort, but nothing overtly evil there.

She’d felt their love. She’d seen it in the vision. It hadn’t been only an affair, it had been deeper, truer. Not everyone found that sort of love in their life. But if it made one make dangerous and questionable decisions that led to getting shot, then she’d prefer to keep to the much more orderly emotions, thanks.

There was no chance that her relationship with David would end up with her pining away for his spirit. Not that she didn’t care for him; there was some strong affection there, but love?

Amanda’s life was unpredictable enough dealing with her psychic abilities without adding love to the equation.

“WHY DO we care about this clock, again?” Jacob asked as they ascended the staircase to the second floor of the dimly lit, musty-smelling house.

Amanda didn’t answer right away, which worried him a little. Was she in another trance? Was she communicating with the ghosts? He’d never worked with her before, but he’d worked with other mediums enough to know that dead people weren’t always friendly and cooperative. No, sometimes they were vicious and violent and intent on possession. A soft, sweet-smelling, warm human body like Amanda’s would be their first choice to thrust themselves into.

That wasn’t supposed to be a sexy thought , Jacob chastised himself as his cock stiffened at the mental image. Just when he’d thought he’d gotten himself under control again.

Damn.

He grabbed her arm and made her stop halfway up the stairs. “Hey. You okay?”

Her face was paler than it had been before. She blinked and seemed to focus on him. “Yeah, I’m fine. Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re worried.”

“Probably because I am.”

That made a small smile appear on those disconcertingly kissable lips of hers. “You’re worried about me?”

“Sure. There’s no reason for us still to be here prodding around. We need to go back to the office and file our report.”

“I never knew you were such a rule-follower.”

“I’m not.” He realized he was still touching her and he removed his hand, instead clenching it at his side. “But I don’t want anything bad to happen.”

“Nothing bad will happen. The ghosts aren’t evil.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“They were in love. They’re cursed now and can’t touch each other, can’t see each other except for an hour a day. It must be hell for them. If you could see them, Jacob—”

“But I can’t.”

“No.” She sighed with frustration. “You can’t. But I can. I can see that if the curse was broken, if they could be fully together again, then they’d likely find their peace and leave the house without any drastic measures.”

“Drastic measures like an exorcism.”

“Exactly.”

“Since when are you so against exorcisms? It’s kind of what you do, isn’t it?”

“Sure, if the situation calls for it. But if there’s another reason, or if there’s a story behind it…if we can do something to help—”

“They’re already dead.”

“Doesn’t mean that they’re not still in love.”

He eyed her for a long moment before he started to laugh. The dreamy look on her face immediately vanished and was replaced by a harder edge.

“What’s so damn funny?” she asked.

“You. You’re a romantic. I never would have guessed it in a million years.”

“I’m not a romantic.”

“You want the ghosts to find their happy ending.”

The look she gave him now was icy. She didn’t like having her harsh exterior prodded. He already knew that. And he was prodding. He liked prodding her a little too much. It could easily become a habit. Possibly an addiction.

“Finding the clock is not being romantic, it’s doing my job,” she explained evenly. “If the clock is cursed and dangerous it needs to be destroyed.”

He just smiled at her. “Sure.”

Her cheeks reddened. “I really think I hate you.”

“Harsh words, Miss LaGrange. Has your boyfriend seen this nasty side of you?”

“He doesn’t have to. I actually like him.”

“ Like? What a romantic word. I can see why you’re throwing your life away to be with such a Romeo.”

“Would you please shut up now?” She turned away from him and jogged the rest of the way up the stairs, succeeding in putting a bit of distance between them.

His amused buzz disappeared. What the hell was he doing, exactly? Why was he arguing about romance with this woman? Why was he filled with a sense of being alive just being in her presence? It made no sense. Zero . Even if there was a chance to explore something between them—something his body seemed ready for when Amanda was just in the same zip code as him—she was already taken. And she was moving away. Soon.

Stop it , he told himself sternly. Just stop it .

He needed a hobby. Maybe he’d start collecting stamps. Give his mind something to fixate on other than frustrating women who gladly ruined their lives for the wrong men.

They seriously needed to get out of here. It was only a few minutes before midnight, and with a two-hour drive ahead of them to get back to Mystic Ridge, he’d like to get started on that as soon as possible.

Five days, he reminded himself. Five days and she’d be gone. Forever.

The thought was supposed to make him feel better.

It didn’t.

AMANDA felt compelled to find that clock. It was not as if the house was a mansion. It was large with multiple rooms on the second floor, but it wasn’t as if something so large as a grandfather clock could hide from her for long.

If it weren’t for the clock, we wouldn’t be together , Nathan had said.

Amanda wished he’d been friendly enough to explain what that meant. Was the clock really the reason behind their curse? Why would Catherine’s aunt give her something so potentially dangerous as a wedding gift? It made no sense.

They needed to take pictures of the clock and write down details. Then she’d take that information back to headquarters and do in-depth research to find out more about it and, she hoped, how to reverse whatever magic it had worked in the past.

The fact that Jacob was still following her on her wild-goose chase around the house almost amused her considering he was right to a certain degree—their work here was done. They hadn’t been sent to investigate any inanimate objects, just the ghosts. And they’d finished. The ghosts refused to leave. They would be exorcised once all the paperwork was completed. A few days, tops. Then the owner of the house could be assured that her property was spirit-free.

It made sense, which was why Amanda’s insistence on exploring the dark house at going on midnight was a little…what was the word?

Strange .

Ah yes, that word again.

She refrained from rolling her eyes at herself. For somebody hell-bent on getting away from PARA, she sure was dedicated to her job.

She glanced over her shoulder at the gorgeous man behind her. “I know this is a bit freakish.”

“I wouldn’t say that exactly.”

Her eyebrows went up a fraction. “No?”

“You’re talking to the wrong person about what is and isn’t freakish. To me, this is kind of fun.”