“Twenty-seven,” she said immediately.
“Is that the truth?” He raised an eyebrow.
She shrugged. “It’s the truth, but it’s not really that important. I have a few years before I start lying about my age.”
He needed another question to test this theory. Something she wouldn’t be so open about. “Do you find me attractive?”
“Very,” she said and then her eyes widened. “Shit. Maybe we should stop right there.”
The previous concern about their bespellment had become amusement again. Wasn’t this a fine situation. Amanda LaGrange, unable to lie to him. What possibilities that presented.
He opened his mouth, but Amanda swiftly moved to clamp her hand down over it. He had to fight to keep the car going in a straight line.
“Be quiet.” Her eyes flashed with something that looked a lot like fear. “There’s no reason for us to play this game any longer. The clock cursed us last night at midnight and this is another manifestation of that. The ghosts were cursed, too, and you know what happened to them? They were shot to death and now they’re stuck in that house until we figure out a way to free them or we exorcise them. We can’t mess around with this sort of magic in case it triggers any other side effects.”
She is such a party pooper.
“If being responsible is being a party pooper then I guess that’s what I am.” She glared at him. “If I remove my hand do you promise to behave?”
He nodded.
She removed her hand.
He couldn’t resist one more. “Are you really in love with your boyfriend?”
“No,” she answered, then groaned at her lightning-fast reply and gave him a look cold enough to flash-freeze the soul of a lesser man. “Why would you even ask me something like that?”
“I was just curious.”
She swallowed hard. “Yeah, well, maybe I’m not one hundred percent in love, but I have deep affection for him. He’s everything I’ve ever dreamed of in a man.”
He tried not to feel pleased by her answer despite her flimsy attempt to explain it away. He’d known that a woman of passion like Amanda could never be in love with someone like David K. Smith.
What kind of guy said his middle initial when he introduced himself anyway?
CHAPTER 7
There was something seriously wrong with her.
Amanda had been at PARA headquarters for two hours. It was a skeleton crew on Saturdays, but someone was always on call 24/7 in case of emergency. She’d gone directly to her office, even though she really wanted to get in her slate-gray Honda Accord she’d left parked in the back lot and go straight home. She had to input her report. Really, she just wanted to stay busy so she wouldn’t have to think. Thinking was bad.
There was an e-mail waiting for her from Patrick.
“I need to speak to you,” it read. “See me first thing on Monday.”
She cringed, knowing that the angry client had already contacted him about finding her and Jacob sleeping in her bed.
She covered her face with her hands in embarrassment at the thought. It was like an X-rated version of Goldilocks.
She was mortified.
She wanted to forget everything as soon as humanly possible.
It was really a shame that she couldn’t think about anything else. And it wasn’t only the sex that she was focused on. It was Jacob himself.
She didn’t feel anything for him, she reminded herself.
Why was that so damned hard to remember?
She’d talk to Patrick on Monday. That gave her the rest of the weekend to process everything and try to make her peace with it. Besides, what was he going to do? Fire her? She’d already resigned. It was just a matter of a few more days before she’d be clearing out her desk and leaving her friends at PARA once and for all.
The thought should have been a relief; instead it just made her feel sad.
In the meantime, she had to find out as much as possible about the house, the ghosts and the clock. She wanted to do what she could to resolve the curse the spirits were under. She’d never been so opposed to an exorcism before.
It should have been simple. Ghosts refused to leave? Make them leave.
But it wasn’t.
Other than having a strange feeling of compassion for their situation, Amanda had to admit she was more than a bit nervous about herself. Whatever had happened to the ghosts had also happened to her and Jacob. Magic was at work—the magic from that damned enchanted clock—and she needed to make sure it wasn’t going to harm them any more than it already had. Or, for that matter, anyone else who might come in contact with it.
She logged on to the PARA database and started hunting for information about the clock, the location of the house and the ghosts themselves.
She found out that a Catherine Myles and her husband had owned the house a hundred years ago. There was no public record of a servant named Nathan that she could find, and the info on Catherine was flimsy at best. Nothing deeper than general facts about her life as a woman married to a rich, controlling businessman in upper New York state. Nothing about an aunt who practiced witchcraft.
After two hours, Amanda felt frustrated with the search. Then again, nothing was ever easy, was it? If she wanted to get the real story she’d have to do a bit more digging. Maybe Patrick would be able to help her. He was great at research. For that matter, so was her friend Vicky.
She sat in her chair and concentrated for a few minutes. At the moment, she felt completely in control of herself. No strange psychic flashes or mind-reading going on. No compulsion to throw anyone down and ravish them shamelessly.
It was very good.
Her cell phone rang and she pulled it out of her purse to answer it.
“Amanda,” David said in greeting.
Her eyes widened and she pressed back in her leather swivel chair. “Hi, David. How are you?” Her voice sounded a bit weak.
“Excellent. And you?”
“Wonderful. Really, really great.” She tried to put a tone of levity in her words but failed.
He never had to know. It was a spell. She shouldn’t feel guilty about it since she’d had no control over what had happened. She would start her new life with David, wonderful David, and everything would be fine.
There was a pause. “You sound upset. Is anything wrong?”
“No, no, I’m fine. It was a late night at work. I was sent on a last-minute assignment.”