“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.”
She shook her head. “You’re obviously crazier than I am.”
“No argument there.” A sexy smile appeared on his lips that did strange things to her insides. She tried to ignore it. “So does this mean you’ve changed your mind about hating me?”
“I wouldn’t think you’d care what I think of you one way or the other.”
He shrugged. “I don’t, of course. I’m just wondering.”
“Hate is such a strong word, really. Maybe loathing or distaste mixed with apathy fits better.”
“That sounds more like it.” The smile slipped away and was replaced with a less-friendly, more guarded expression. “Let’s find that clock.”
Good plan.
The truth was, the longer Amanda was in Jacob’s presence, the more she didn’t dislike him, which was disturbing, to say the least. Ever since they’d first met and she’d felt that initial spark—which had been quickly extinguished when he’d used her hated nickname—she’d held on to that distaste for him. It made things a lot simpler. Cleaner.
That was how she liked life to be: clean and simple.
She heard the clock then. Its ticking was loud and precise behind the closed door in front of her. She wasn’t entirely sure why the sound sent a chill of anticipation through her body.
“I think it might be in here,” she said after a moment of uncomfortable silence passed between them.
“Lead the way.” There was a pause, and then, “Hey, Amanda.”
“What?” She looked back at him. She jumped when a flash went off. When the spots left her eyes and the hallway darkened again she glared at him. “Why did you take my picture?”
“Just making sure everything’s in working order.” But he looked way too smug for that to be the only reason. Baiting her. Fantastic. Glad that she amused him. Really professional behavior there. He glanced down at the view screen. “You’re very photogenic, I’ll give you that.”
“Sure I am.” She didn’t want to see it. She probably looked like a pissed-off troll with the flash so close to her face. “Delete it, please.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She pushed open the door in front of her to find that it led into a large bedroom. Unlike the other rooms they’d been in, this one looked all ready for the open house since there was no plastic wrap covering the furniture and it smelled fresh and pleasant, like roses and freesia, rather than musty and dusty. A canopied queen-sized bed was to one side, draped in gauzy material that blended with the hand-woven, cream-colored carpeting. A window to their left looked down to the driveway and thatch of oak trees. A glance out showed Jacob’s car parked below.
Against the wall across from the door was the clock she’d seen in her vision. Eight feet tall, black, and it stood there like a monster silently lurking in the dark.
Or maybe she was projecting. It was possible. She refused to be afraid of a stupid inanimate object.
“That’s it?” Jacob asked.
She nodded.
He approached it with confidence and slid his hand up the smooth front of it. “Doesn’t look all that dangerous to me.”