Michelle Rowen - Hot Spell

And he was. Hot, that is. Darkly attractive with short, scruffy black hair and flashing green eyes framed with thick black lashes. He dressed casually—no tie for him. She could vividly recall his navy-blue shirt being unbuttoned at the neck that night to reveal a glimpse of his obviously chiseled torso. He was six feet tall with broad shoulders, lean hips…and an amazing ass.

At least, that had been her first impression.

Instant attraction.

Amanda’s mouth had literally watered at the sight of him despite the fact she wasn’t usually romantically drawn to fellow psychics. Then again, she’d been celibate for over a year after a bad break-up—another guy who’d freaked at the thought she could talk to ghosts—so she was certain that was to blame for her heightened sensitivity to such a fine specimen of male hotness.

From across the room, Jacob caught her staring and their eyes met. She was sure he’d be able to tell just from a glance that she wanted to climb onto his gorgeous body and do things to him she wouldn’t even trust to her diary.

He disengaged from the throng of cleavage-revealing women and came toward her with his hand extended.

“I’m Jacob,” he said without losing her gaze. “And you are?”

“Amanda.” She inhaled sharply as she felt the strength and warmth of his long fingers wrap around hers. An unbidden surge of desire curled inside her. His aftershave was a spicy musk with just a hint of cinnamon and a whole lot of man.

He frowned, but she had no idea why. Maybe it was because she was practically drooling on him.

Pull yourself together, she commanded herself.

“Something wrong?” she asked when his grip tightened.

“No…” But his frown deepened as he looked down at her hand. “It’s odd. It’s like you have a psychic wall up around yourself. I normally get a sense of someone when I touch them for the first time, but I’m getting nothing from you at all.”

“You can get something from me if you come over here!” Vicky called from their far left before laughing suggestively. Amanda repressed a smile and an eye-roll at her friend’s enthusiasm and returned her attention to the gorgeous man in front of her.

“No walls, I assure you,” she said. “Maybe I’m just special.”

His eyes snapped back up to hers. “Maybe you are.” The frown disappeared, replaced instead by a killer smile. “Amanda, you said?”

“That’s right.”

He nodded. “They already told me about you. You’re the one they call Amanda the Strange, right?”

She tensed. “It’s LaGrange. But yeah, that’s me. Strangeness incorporated.”

An ice-cold sensation immediately swept over her at the sound of the despised nickname that represented everything about her that she hated. Why would he say that to her? To get some sort of a reaction? And who’d told him that?

So much for letting down her guard and getting drunk on tequila with Vicky and the gang last week and sharing soul-crushing childhood stories. That wouldn’t happen again.

She finally yanked her hand back from Jacob’s. He looked at her oddly.

“Is there something wrong?” he asked.

“Wrong?” Her jaw felt tight. “No, of course not. I…uh, I have to go.”

Damn, she’d been having such a good night, too. How was it possible that three little words could ruin everything?

Jacob grabbed her wrist. “I thought we might be able to talk for a bit.”

So he could insult her more? Yeah. That sounded like a plan.

“I guess you thought wrong,” she said, the iciness in her voice matching the chill she felt inside. “There are lots of women here who will be happy to talk to you. Or more, if you like. Trust me, you won’t miss me.”

“Amanda, wait—”

She fixed a frozen smile on her face. She needed to get out of there. “Welcome to PARA, Jacob. I’m sure everyone will be as delighted to meet you as I’ve been.”

He raised a dark eyebrow. “Is that sarcasm I hear?”

“You’re very insightful. You must be psychic.”

He studied her closely. “I guess first impressions are misleading. I thought we might hit it off.”

Amanda had no idea why she wanted to cry. Why was she letting this guy affect her so strongly? It felt as though he could see right through to the vast and varied weaknesses she tried desperately to hide from everyone. Hell, maybe she did put up psychic walls around herself without even realizing it.

Just being near him suddenly made her very uncomfortable.

She gave him a practiced withering look that helped to hide when she was feeling more than a little vulnerable. “I guess you thought wrong.”

“Well, then, it was delightful meeting you, too, Amanda.” He turned away, but then glanced back over his shoulder, his green eyes narrowed. “By the way, that was also sarcasm.”

And then he returned to his waiting swarm of admirers and didn’t look back.

Vicky ran over to see how everything had gone during her conversation with the new hottie. Amanda had kept her answers vague and then excused herself from the party early. She’d had enough.

It was definitely true what they said—don’t judge a book by its cover. Jacob Caine had a mighty fine cover, but she wasn’t interested in reading any further.

But for a moment there, when their eyes first met…that rare instant attraction she’d felt…

Well, it didn’t really matter. Amanda was much too practical to believe in love at first sight.

She’d felt strongly enough about their unpleasant meeting that she’d asked Patrick not to pair her and Jacob for any assignments together and he’d agreed. PARA had over two dozen agents so it was an easy problem to avoid. If she saw Jacob in passing, she’d make polite small talk about the weather or traffic, but even then she tried to get away from him as quickly as possible.

From the tightness in Jacob’s jaw whenever they spoke, it was obvious that he wasn’t all that fond of her, either.

It was really unfortunate that, despite everything, she still found him as devastatingly attractive as she had the first time she’d seen him.

Annoying, really.

And now, after all this time, Patrick was going to make them work together.

Less than a week and she’d be saying good-bye to her friends at PARA—the ones who made life as a psychic almost bearable—and moving to New York City to work for her boyfriend, David K. Smith, in his advertising agency. Selling advertising was about as far removed from investigating paranormal phenomena as you could get…and that would be a huge relief for her. She was starting her life all over again at the ripe old age of twenty-seven.

While David knew she worked for PARA, he didn’t know in what capacity. She hadn’t told him she could talk to ghosts at all. Better safe than sorry.

And he didn’t have to know. When she left Mystic Ridge for good she’d put her past behind her and get the chance to be completely and totally normal.

Finally.

“Jacob will pick you up outside in ten minutes,” Patrick said. He’d finished answering his e-mails while she’d been lost in her thoughts.

He glanced up at her from his high-tech wheelchair. He’d had a run-in with a very unpleasant poltergeist six months ago that had sent him headfirst down a flight of stairs—a scary reminder of what had happened to her father. Patrick was still recovering from a near-fatal spinal cord injury. Since he was a friend, as well as a great boss, Amanda was just happy and relieved he’d lived to tell the tale.

“Are you doing this on purpose?” she asked.

He raised an eyebrow. “What are you talking about?”

“This assignment tonight with Jacob. You’re mad I’m leaving, aren’t you?”

Patrick put his BlackBerry down on his desk and spread his hands. “You have to do what you have to do, Amanda. As long as you think quitting PARA will make you happy, then I fully support your decision.”