Hot Spell

  When the thrusting of his hips ceased she stayed locked against him, her hands pressed to either side of his face, looking into his vivid green eyes. His hands remained low on her hips, half-cupping her buttocks.

  “I think we might be in serious trouble,” he said gruffly.

  The blaring screech of somebody lying on the horn as they zoomed past snapped her out of the daze she’d been in. Something must have changed in her eyes, from passion to clarity, because Jacob’s grip tightened.

  “No, Amanda, please—”

  She got off him and scrambled for her jeans, putting them on quickly. Unfortunately her underpants wouldn’t live to see another day since they were ripped in half. She stuffed the torn patch of silk into her pocket.

  And then she went very quiet. She was afraid to speak. She was afraid of what she might say. She might beg him to make love to her again. She hadn’t even tried to resist that time. Not even a little bit.

  Jacob was right. In the room he’d put up a valiant effort to stop what was going on and she hadn’t. She’d wanted it. She’d wanted him the way she’d wanted him from the first moment they met.

  Did the clock know that?

  “Amanda, we need to talk about this.”

  “No.” It came out a little louder than she’d meant it to. She took a deep breath. “We don’t need to talk about this. We need to go back home and then we need to never see each other again. Obviously there’s something wrong and we need to stay the hell away from each other until we figure out what it is.”

  She hates me so bad she can’t even look at me.

  “I don’t hate you,” she said.

  Jacob frowned. “What?”

  “I said I don’t hate you, even though maybe I should. And I can look at you, I just choose not to.” She cleared her throat nervously, ignoring the way her body still tingled all over.

  “Why do you think I think you hate me?”

  “Because you said it.”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  Is she okay? Maybe all that pain did something bad to her head. Maybe I should take her to the hospital.

  “I don’t need to go to the hospital,” she sighed. “I’m fine, I’m just…a bit disturbed. To say the least.”

  Jacob was silent for so long that she finally looked at him.

  He studied her with a stunned expression. “I didn’t say that out loud.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “The thing about the hospital. That wasn’t spoken, but I did think it.”

  She felt confused. “You must have said it. I heard you.”

  Can you hear this?

  “Yes,” she said. “I can.”

  Jacob’s brows drew together. Oh shit.

  She heard his voice that time also, even though his lips didn’t move.

  Her eyes widened. “I can hear your thoughts. Why can I hear your thoughts?”

  He shook his head. “I have no idea.”

  “Think something else.”

  Sorry about the panties. Were they expensive?

  She gasped. “I heard that!”

  Jacob stared at her for a very long time before a slow grin spread across his face. “That’s pretty cool.”

  “No, it is not cool!” Her mouth was dry. “Last night…right after the flash and the pain I could have sworn I could read your thoughts then just a little. But I ignored it. Now it’s much louder and clearer.” She put a hand over her mouth to stifle the shock of what she was saying. She could hear what Jacob was thinking. For real. “We need to get back to the office before whatever this is gets any worse.”

  “What else do you think is wrong with us?”

  “Other than my reading every thought that flits through your brain thanks to the grandfather clock from hell?”

  His mouth quirked. “Don’t forget about the fact that you can’t seem to keep your hands off of me. As proven a minute ago. Which, if it wasn’t obvious, was fairly mind-blowing.”

  How could he be so blasé about this?

  She gritted her teeth. “Drive.”

  He obliged her without further argument and pulled the car back onto the road. They weren’t that far outside Mystic Ridge. Another uncomfortable twenty minutes and they’d be back and ready to deal with this latest disturbing side effect.

  She tried to ignore the thoughts moving through Jacob’s mind that were mostly memories of her naked. She shot him a dirty look.

  “What?” he asked.

  “Please stop thinking about me like that. I can’t block you out anymore.”

  She’s so cute when she’s mad. I can’t imagine her boyfriend ever gets her this worked up. Maybe I’m special.

  “And stop thinking that, too!” She covered her face with her hands. “Don’t bring David into this.”

  “Consider the subject off-limits.”

  “Good.”

  Not long now. Almost back. And then she was going to run as far away from Jacob Caine as she could as fast as her legs could carry her.

  JACOB CLEARED his throat ten minutes later. He thought enough time had passed that it might be safe to speak again. “So, you can hear everything in my head?”

  “I think so.”

  That was disturbing. He had some thoughts—hell, he had a lot of thoughts—that it would be best that Amanda never listen in on.

  If she could really mind-read, thanks to that enchanted clock, then she would have been able to see that his bravado this morning after her swift dismissal of him had been put on and he was still pissed about being rejected like a piece of garbage.

  Shit, he thought. I can’t think that. She’ll hear me.

  He glanced at her. She gave no indication of listening in, in fact, she looked as if she wanted to be anywhere but in the car next to him despite what had happened between them just a short time ago. His body was still on fire from the uncontrollable need he felt for her, but his ego was definitely taking a beating.

  Maybe this wasn’t so bad. Maybe if they spent some time together to break whatever spell this was he could…

  What? What was he going to do? Convince her not to move away?

  Damn. I’m thinking too much. Have to stop that.

  “Yes, please do!” Amanda said. “The sooner the better.”

  Not good. And he didn’t seem to be able to read her mind in return to even the playing field.

  He’d thought it was amusing or even interesting for a moment, but this little side effect to their magically induced tryst wasn’t even slightly funny anymore. He forced himself not to think about anything except the highway ahead of him as he pressed down on the accelerator.

  “This actually brings to mind the conversation we had before we got to the house last night,” Jacob said, then gritted his teeth as he thought about it. “Shit. It’s like the clock heard us even before we got there.”

  “What conversation?”

  “The one where you told me you know exactly what I’m thinking.”

  “Did I say that?”

  “Yeah, you did.”

  “A coincidence.” But she didn’t look convinced.

  He gripped the steering wheel a bit tighter. He knew that some spells worked using the energy that the victims already had—passion, anger, fear, love, hate, you name it. If they’d argued about Amanda being able to read his mind and now she could do just that, then maybe it wasn’t simply a coincidence. Maybe the clock’s spell had latched on to the strong emotions they felt about each other, even before hitting the sheets.

  “It was the same conversation where you said I couldn’t lie to you,” Amanda said, using her unnerving new mind-reading ability to follow along with his thoughts.

  “I did say that.” He concentrated on the dashed line in the center of the road. If Amanda couldn’t lie to him, that would be very interesting. He couldn’t remember if he’d asked her any questions that morning. “You don’t think that—”

  “I don’t know.”

  “How old are you?” he asked with
a side glance at her.

  “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?

  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.”

  “You’re such a hard worker. What are they going to do without you?” There was a great deal of pride in his voice toward her dedication to her job, which only made her feel worse, if that was possible. “Listen, I wanted to tell you I got a reservation for us at Chez Nuit tonight.”

  “Okay, great.”

  “I’ll pick you up at seven?”

  “Sounds perfect.”

  And it did. Her wonderful boyfriend was attuned to her wants and needs. He owned his own thriving business. Not that having a boyfriend with money was important to her. She preferred to earn her own spending money instead of having to rely on any man. Her father running out on the family when she was a kid had taught her that at an early age.

  Plus, David was very attractive, well-dressed and impeccable in every way.

  And they’d never gotten into a single argument. Not one. Although, she figured keeping the true nature of her job at PARA away from him probably helped in this area.

  David was, in a word, perfect.

  Are you really in love with your boyfriend? Jacob’s nosy question from earlier poked at her.

  No, had been her immediate response, thanks to the clock’s spell that seemed to make her compelled to tell him the truth. A very dangerous thing indeed.

  However, it was true. She didn’t love David, but she had faith that she’d grow to love him. All of this love-at-first-sight stuff was highly overrated. There was no such thing as love at first sight. Lust at first sight, maybe. And lust faded quickly. A solid friendship, like tha
t she and David had, given enough time to grow and mature into love, would stand the test of time.

  She nodded to herself. Time was all she needed. Time away from Mystic Ridge and time away from Jacob Caine.

  As far as she was concerned, she never wanted to see him again.

  JACOB had decided to never see Amanda the Strange again.

  Ever.

  It was over.

  Completely and utterly over between them. Not that it had ever begun.

  He pointed at the shot glass in front of him and the bartender obliged him by filling it up with Jack Daniel’s for the…how many was it? He’d lost count. Good job O’Grady’s let him keep a tab. He was good for it. He’d never try to get out of any debts he owed for this wonderful, mind-numbing alcohol.

  Yes, he was drunk. Being drunk was good. He liked it. He wouldn’t like it tomorrow when he would have to deal with the unavoidable hangover, but hell if he gave a damn at the moment.

  He eyed his watch—nine o’clock. He still had a whole lot more Saturday night to get through. He was going to keep drinking until he could wipe Amanda’s face and body out of his memory forever.

  Goodbye, ghost girl.

  “Hey!” He motioned for the bartender. “I think I want to make a toast.”

  The bartender, whose name was Steve, eyed him wearily. “Yeah? What to?”

  “To women.”

  “That’s not much of a toast, man.”

  Jacob held up a finger. “I’m not finished. To women who have screwed me and then screwed me over. May they all rot in hell!”

  Steve’s lips quirked. “That I’ll definitely drink to.” He poured himself a shot, clinked glasses with Jacob, and they both sucked down the whisky.

  “Again,” Jacob pointed at the glass.

  “You’re not driving tonight, I hope?”

  “No way. Left my car at home. The walk’ll do me good.”

  “Fresh air, exercise and all that bullshit.”

  “That’s right.”

  Steve eyed him. “May I make a casual observation?”