“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.”
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.”
“Be careful.”
He shot her a droll look. “You do care about me, after all. Don’t worry, I’m sure the big bad clock isn’t going to hurt me.”
“Don’t be so sure about that. It might.”
He removed his hand, then began to snap a few pictures of the clock, long shots, close-ups. And of the face itself, still showing the broken glass from where a stray bullet had hit the white surface in her vision, that currently read two minutes to midnight. The pendulum swung evenly back and forth counting off the seconds.
Amanda attempted to ignore the muscles that flexed in Jacob’s arms, the way his back moved, the hard planes of his chest, how well those jeans fitted his muscled thighs and lean hips. Her attention moved to his green eyes and short dark hair and she absently wondered if it was as soft as it looked.
He eyed her. “Are you just going to gawk at me or are you going to write anything down in that notebook of yours?”
A flush came to her cheeks yet again. She wasn’t gawking. Much.
Suddenly Catherine appeared next to her in a pulse of soft light.
“You must leave.” The ghost cast a tense look at the clock. “It’s not safe for you here.”
“What are you talking about?”
“What?” Jacob asked absently.
“I’m speaking to the ghost. She’s next to me right now.”
“Oh…well, carry on.” He continued to take pictures.
Catherine looked very stressed for a ghost. “There’s no time left. It’s almost midnight. My aunt’s magic…the clock…you need to trust me. Go now.”
“I don’t understand,” Amanda said. “I’m trying to help you. I’m trying to determine exactly what the problem with the clock is and I need data to take back with me—”
“Then leave this room just for now. Come back in an hour. But you can’t be here when the clock strikes midnight!”
Which was less than a minute away.
“Why not?” Amanda’s eyes began to widen. “What happens at midnight? I know you and Nathan will disappear.”
“It’s more than that. The clock’s magic strips away one’s ability to think and act rationally, which is what happened to myself and Nathan. We lost control.”
“Lost control?” Amanda repeated.
Jacob stopped taking pictures for a moment. “Is there a problem?”
“The door to this room should have been locked.” Catherine wrung her transparent hands together. “That horrible woman, the one who wants us to leave, she must have unlocked it.” She swept a glance over the room and scrunched her nose with distaste. “And she’s replaced the bedding. The color palette she’s chosen is not attractive at all.”
“Forget the colors,” Amanda protested, feeling panic well inside her. “Let’s get back on the topic. You want us to leave but I need to know why. It might help with our investigation. It might help you.”
“Catherine,” Nathan appeared next to her. His face was much more serene than hers now. “Leave them be. It’s fate that they’re here.”
“Fate.” She spat the word like a curse. “Fate is what got us into this situation in the first place, isn’t it?”
His lips thinned and a momentary doubt crossed his gaze as he looked at Catherine. “Do you wish it had been different for us?”
Instead of snapping at him or getting angry, her features softened as their eyes met and held. “They don’t realize what this means.”
“They will,” Nathan whispered. “Besides, it’s already too late.”
“What the hell are you—?” Amanda began again, confused and deeply disturbed by the exchange she was witnessing.
The clock struck midnight.
5
CATHERINE looked upset, but Nathan looked smug as the chimes sounded out from the clock.
Amanda’s eyes widened. “What’s going to happen now?”
Jacob reacted to the tense tone in her voice by coming to her side, staring around at the otherwise empty room and the ghosts he couldn’t see.
Nathan smiled at her. “You and your friend are as doomed as we are.”
“What can we do?”
“Nothing.” He glanced at Catherine’s stern expression and his smile turned sadder. “Till tomorrow, my love.”
“Tomorrow,” she murmured as the last chime echoed through the room.
The ghosts disappeared in separate flashes of light.
Jacob and Amanda stood, frozen in place, staring at each other.
“What’s happening?” Jacob asked.
“The ghosts say we’re doomed,” she replied, glancing at the clock which now read exactly midnight. “Oh shit.”
“What?”
“The clock. It’s…it’s glowing…”
He looked at it to see it surrounded by a soft white light. The clock itself had frozen at the last stroke of midnight, its pendulum still. “Why the hell is it glowing?”
“Because it’s midnight.”
“What does that mean?”
The next moment, the glow turned into a blinding pulse of light that blanketed the entire bedroom fo
r a split second before disappearing. The door to the room slammed shut and a thunderbolt of pain ripped through Amanda’s head. She brought her hands up to her temples. Her knees buckled. Jacob caught her before she hit the ground. When she looked up into his face she found it looked as tense as she felt.
“What the hell?” he managed. “What was that?”
“I’m not exactly sure.”
But there was something wrong. She could feel it down deep in her bones. She didn’t have to be psychic to know that something had changed, shifted, with the clock striking midnight and the painful pulse of light. But what was it?
“Are you going to fill me in on everything Casper was saying to you or do I have to guess?” Jacob asked.
“I wish I knew.” He still had his arm around her and for some reason or another she didn’t immediately pull away. Better to stay this way for another moment just in case she lost her footing again. “They wanted us to clear out of this room before midnight but I guess it’s a little late for that.”
“Sounds ominous. There’s nothing worse than vague ghosts.”
She couldn’t help but laugh nervously at that. Maybe she was overreacting. Maybe the spirits had been playing with her. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d encountered otherworldly beings who got their fun messing with the minds of the living.
“We can leave now,” she said firmly. “We have all the research materials we need. There’s definitely something strange about that clock.”
“I totally agree.” He was close enough that she felt the warmth from his breath brush against her cheek. The pleasant sensation was enough to cause a small wave of dizziness and she braced herself against him. His arm tightened and his other arm slid around her other side, effectively holding her in a firm embrace. She rested her head against his chest and listened to his heartbeat. Then she moved her hands up over his chest to his face and looked into his green eyes for a moment before sliding her fingers into his hair.
“What are you doing?” he asked, his voice a bit raspy now.
“I wanted to see if I was right.” She bit her bottom lip. “And I am. Your hair is just as soft as it looks.”