Hot Spell

by Мишель Роуэн

  “Haven’t even had a beer yet. I was saving it up. Thought I’d get blitzed later and walk home. Hell, I still might.” In fact, he was a little sorry he was so acutely sober at the moment.

  She was obviously out of excuses. “Okay, then let’s go.”

  Amanda’s gaze moved around the general area, seemingly searching for something.

  “If you’re looking for your panties—” Jacob suppressed an evil grin “—I’m afraid that’ll be two pair I’ll need to write you an IOU for now. Whoops.”

  She glared at him, but didn’t reply to that. Instead, she got in the passenger side and arranged her skirt around her knees. “It’s probably a good idea if you try to keep your thoughts to yourself on the way up. It’s a long drive, after all.”

  Yeah, like that was going to happen. She didn’t want anything to do with him? She thought this was all one big bibbidi-bobbidi-boo? She would get to listen to every damn thing that went through his mind about her. And he might just throw in some of his personal fantasies involving handcuffs and whipped cream just to mix it up a bit.

  CHAPTER 13

  “That’s right,” Jacob said into his cell phone as they sped along the highway. “I’ll text you when we’re done. Don’t worry. We’ll be fine.”

  He’d placed a call to let Patrick know what they were planning on doing. Amanda felt bad about abandoning her going-away party, but it was too late to turn back now so she could suck down a couple of more martinis and finish hugging everyone in a three-mile radius.

  No, she’d definitely had enough one-on-one physical contact for the night. She crossed her legs and tried to forget about the fact that she was presently not wearing any underwear.

  This trip could have waited until tomorrow. It probably should have waited until tomorrow.

  She glanced at Jacob as he listened to whatever Patrick was telling him. He didn’t look at her, in fact, he hadn’t looked directly at her in the hour since she’d gotten in the car.

  He was pissed off. She honestly couldn’t say that she blamed him.

  She tried desperately not to pay attention to Jacob’s thoughts. Even though he tried to mask his true feelings with a montage of flashy, sexy images, she could see through to the raw emotion underneath.

  But seriously, how had he expected this to play out? That they’d end up together? That an enchanted clock had pointed both of them in the direction of true love?

  He was a relative newbie, but she’d been in the paranormal investigation business long enough to know the difference between reality and magic-enhanced reality. There were many different enchanted and cursed objects she’d uncovered over the years, and many spells of varying strengths had swept over her. They’d all faded sooner or later.

  Anything that felt as strong as what she felt for Jacob at the moment had to be fake.

  Sure, they’d known each other for two years, but they hadn’t spent very much time in each other’s company. After that first meeting—

  She recalled their gazes locking from across the floor. It had been at O’Grady’s as well, hadn’t it? She’d felt that sudden, irresistible, sexual attraction to him—what some people might call love at first sight. That hadn’t been real either because as soon as they’d spoken to each other it had faded.

  No, faded wasn’t the right word. It had been pushed out of the way by the wrong thing said at the wrong time. She’d convinced herself that she strongly disliked him, even hated him, based on that first meeting.

  She flicked another glance at his profile as he kept his attention on the road ahead of them. She’d definitely been aware of him in the office for two years. Painfully aware. The man was attractive and undeniably sexy, after all. She wasn’t blind.

  But they’d been forced to work one-on-one for the first time on Friday night. That was only—she counted in her head—four nights ago.

  It was as if a decade had gone by since then. She felt as if she knew Jacob better than anyone she’d ever known before in her life. Sure, it was mostly to do with her being able to wade through his thoughts, but it was more than that. There was a connection between them that went way beyond the physical.

  Although the physical was pretty nice, too.

  It was all just part of the spell.

  What if it isn’t? a little annoying voice poked at her. What if this is real?

  “Thinking about me?” he asked, his voice breaking the silence in the car.

  “Yes,” she replied immediately and then pressed her lips together. Reading minds was handy, but compelling someone to tell the truth was embarrassing.

  His attention left the road for a split second as he glanced at her. “Patrick thinks we’re being rash.”

  “He said that?”

  He nodded.

  “Does he want us to come back?”

  “No, but he warned us to be careful.”

  She crossed her arms. “The ghosts won’t be a problem. I actually think they’ll welcome the opportunity to leave their misery behind.”

  “How exactly do you exorcise them?”

  “Don’t you know these things already?”

  “If I did, I wouldn’t be asking you.” He flicked her a glance. “I’ve never been sent out on any exorcisms before. Since I’m an empath, ghost-busting isn’t exactly my specialty. Is it anything like in The Exorcist?”

  She couldn’t help but laugh. “No. That’s demonic possession. Ghosts are a bit different.”

  “How?”

  “Their ties to this world are less strong, so it takes less effort to remove them. Actually, every clairvoyant I know has a different method. Some stick to the books, but I’ve found that lighting three candles, surrounding the candles with a small circle of salt—well, that will draw the ghost to me. I have an incantation I’ve memorized—a Latin one. It cleanses the house and makes it completely inhabitable to the ghosts.”

  “What happens to the ghost then?”

  This was all common knowledge to her. “Most of the time it gives them the push they need to go on to the afterlife, kind of like scraping a splattered bug off your windshield. But if they’re very resistant to leaving, then an exorcism will decimate the spirit completely.”

  “Decimate?”

  “Yeah, obliterate. Make it as if it never existed.”

  “Sounds harsh.”

  She shrugged. “If the spirits are evil they can be dangerous. It’s the best way.”

  “But Catherine and Nathan aren’t evil.”

  “No, they aren’t. But bottom line, PARA is a business. We work for our clients. If we didn’t do what they wanted, within limits, then we wouldn’t be able to stay in business very long, would we?”

  “We?” he repeated. “Remember, you quit. You’re basically a freelancer now.”

  “Right.” She’d forgotten about that for a moment.

  “What’ll you do in New York?” he asked. “I assume you’re not going to take the job at David’s ad agency anymore, are you?”

  She shook her head. “I can do something else. I have some money saved up, a nest egg to last me long enough to figure things out.”

  “Very smart.”

  “My mother raised me to be practical.”

  “Practical is definitely a word I’d use to describe you, Amanda. And your mother, too, for that matter.”

  She cringed at the subtle insult, but then thought about it for a moment. “I know you probably think she’s a horrible person, keeping the truth about my father from me for all of those years, but she’s only been trying to protect me. She’s not a bad mother.”

  He was silent for a moment. “You know her better than I do.”

  “I’m not saying that it makes what she did right.”

  “No, it doesn’t.” The angry twist of his lips slowly changed to curl up with borderline amusement. “She really couldn’t stand me.”

  “Of course not. You’re one of the psychic freaks who have corrupted her daughter all of these years.”

  He raised a
n eyebrow. “Card-carrying psychic freak, and proud of it.”

  She smiled at that. “You really don’t look like a freak.”

  “I appreciate that.” He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. “And just for the record, neither do you.”

  She reached out to touch him, she couldn’t help herself. She slid her fingers through his dark hair. “I really think you mean that.”

  He captured her hand with his and brushed his lips against it. Then he blinked and looked at the road again. “Another hour and we’ll be there. I’m making good time.”

  “I feel like I’ve been apologizing all night long, but I want you to know how sorry I am, Jacob.”

  “Sorry? For what?”

  She swallowed past the lump in her throat. “That this couldn’t be real.”

  The softness that had grown in his gaze hardened and his jaw tightened. “Right. Can’t forget that for a second, can we?”

  She frowned. “I don’t want to fight with you.”

  “Me neither. So maybe it would be better if we just don’t say anything else for the rest of the ride.”

  She licked her dry lips. “Fine with me.”

  She’d already called the owner of the haunted house, Sheila Davis, to let her know that they’d be performing the cleansing ritual as requested. Ms. Davis had been curt and unfriendly, but she did seem pleased that everything was going according to plan and ahead of schedule.

  “The sooner I can sell this house, the better,” she’d told Amanda before ending the call.

  The cold way she looked at such a beautiful, historic property made Amanda flinch a little. Ms. Davis was going to take every penny she’d get from it and spend it on that shiny new condo in Chicago rather than attempting to live there, or even refurbish the place to give it the respect it deserved.

  She supposed she couldn’t fault the woman that much. It sounded a lot like what she was doing herself.

  But moving to New York would grant her everything she’d ever wanted. She’d settle in before too long, find a great apartment, meet new friends, get a new job—and eventually start dating.

  But she couldn’t even think about something like that right now.

  Finally, after what felt like an eternity—although Jacob had turned on the radio and blasted some loud music which helped distract her a little bit—they pulled up in front of the Davis house.

  “So what’s the game plan?” Jacob asked without enthusiasm.

  “We go in, I give Catherine and Nathan one more chance to leave of their own free will, explaining to them what will happen if they refuse. If they give us a hard time, I will exorcise them.”

  “Will it take long?”

  “A couple of minutes. I just have to light the candles, spread the salt and read the incantation. Easy.”

  “Can I read it if necessary?”

  She shook her head. “It has to be somebody like me. Otherwise it would take a really long time and more accessories would be required—like crucifixes and holy water—”

  “So you’re a real, honest to goodness, ghostbuster.”

  She shrugged. “It’s rare, I guess, to be able to do what I do.”

  “Which is what makes you so special.”

  She turned to look at him, but he’d already averted his gaze to open up the driver’s-side door.

  “So you do your ghostbusting,” he continued, “and then we’ll tear that clock apart. Hell, who knows? We might make it back to O’Grady’s for last call.”

  “You never know.”

  He pushed open the door and got out. “Come on, LaGrange. Let’s not wait another minute. Let’s get it done, get out and then we’ll both be free to go our separate ways.”

  He seemed to call her by her last name when he was either amused with her or annoyed. She didn’t have a hard time figuring out which he was at the moment.

  A glance at her bangle-style watch told her it was a few minutes after eleven o’clock. Perfect timing, actually. Since the ghosts were free to roam the house between eleven and twelve, there would be no need to exert herself in summoning them.

  No, I’ve exerted quite enough energy tonight, she thought, pushing away the immediate blast of desire at the memory of what had happened between her and Jacob outside the bar. She’d really been far gone to have sex with him somewhere anybody could have walked by and seen them in flagrante delicto.

  She chewed her bottom lip. Why did that sound so exciting to her?

  “You coming?” Jacob called to her.

  Considering she didn’t even accept Amanda’s strange abilities, her mother definitely would never approve of somebody like Jacob. Even if she and Jacob were a regular couple, her mother would hate him. He was way too opinionated and too unpredictable.

  She got out of the car and Jacob handed her a duffel bag with the candles and salt inside. He used the key provided by Ms. Davis to open the front door, and flicked on a light in the hallway.

  “Déjà vu,” Jacob said, glancing around at the familiar surroundings.

  “Hard to believe it was only four days ago we were here last.”

  “A lot has happened.”

  “To say the least.”

  His lips curled into a wry smile. “Don’t worry. It’s almost over.”

  Before she could say anything in reply to that—although she had no idea what—he said, “I’m going to find the bathroom. I didn’t drink any booze at O’Grady’s, but I did knock back about three sodas.”

  “Too much information. Go.”

  He grinned and took off down the hall.

  Amanda tried to compose herself, put everything out of her mind except the task at hand. She spent a minute or two moving through the hall and admiring the crown molding, the original flooring, the hand-stitched area rugs. The history of the place oozed out of every crevice and she could picture Catherine living here when she was alive, throwing dinner parties and entertaining her wealthy husband’s friends and business associates.

  She felt the sadness there, too, of a woman who was in an unhappy marriage and more than likely trapped financially. Women a hundred years ago rarely walked out on their husbands simply because of a loveless relationship.

  Women were much more practical back then. In a way she admired their fortitude. In another way, she saw the despair of not having many other choices.

  Except, perhaps, having a passionate affair with a handsome servant.

  “Hello again.”

  Amanda jumped and turned around slowly to see that Catherine stood behind her. The spirit glowed in the otherwise dark room with an inner light. At first glance she looked alive, unless you looked closely to see she was slightly transparent.

  “Hello,” Amanda replied.

  “You’ve returned?”

  Amanda nodded. “We have.”

  “We? Is your handsome gentleman with you again?”

  “He is. And where is yours?”

  “I don’t know where Nathan is right now.” Catherine suddenly became wary. “Why is it that you’ve returned here?”

  “A couple of reasons.”

  “The last I saw of you, you were in the room upstairs with the clock as it struck midnight.”

  “You remember correctly.”

  “Did anything…happen? Between you and your gentleman?”

  “You could say that.”

  “You felt an overwhelming passion for him?”

  “In a manner of speaking.” Amanda swallowed hard. Discussing her sex life with a dead woman wasn’t exactly how she’d expected to spend this evening.

  Catherine frowned. “I have seen others in the presence of the clock at the midnight hour, but very few have succumbed to its magic. I wonder why that is?”

  This grabbed Amanda’s attention immediately. “There were others?”

  “Yes. Only one other couple that I can remember were swept away by the enchantment. Others simply left and were not moved in the slightest. At those times I believed that it no longer worked, that my aun
t’s spell had worn off. But you and your gentleman—”

  “It hasn’t worn off yet,” Amanda finished. “That’s one of the reasons we’re back. We need to destroy the clock to break the spell.”

  Conflicting emotions washed over Catherine’s face. “I wonder if that will free me from my deep and unnatural need for Nathan.”

  “So you really, truly don’t believe you’re in love with him,” Amanda said.

  “I am a practical woman,” Catherine said. “I married not for love, but for a solid place in society. Obviously, emotion plays little part in how I lived my life. What I felt…what I feel…for Nathan goes beyond any fantasy I ever had about what love is. How could that possibly be real?”

  Amanda’s chest tightened. Was she looking in a mirror? This woman sounded exactly like her—denying the possibility that what she felt deep in her heart was the real thing. Instead of making her feel a true kinship with Catherine, it only served to make her angry. She could tell the other night when Catherine and Nathan looked at each other that what they felt was real. Catherine’s insistence that it wasn’t was more than a little annoying.

  Nathan believed it was love, but Catherine refused to accept it as anything but the result of a magic spell.

  Interesting.

  “Is there another reason that you’re here again?” Catherine asked. “Other than the destruction of my aunt’s clock?”

  Amanda nodded slowly. “The new owner of the house is concerned about your continued presence here. She is uncomfortable owning a haunted house.”

  “Unpleasant shrewish woman?” Catherine asked. “Red hair? Changed the linens in the upstairs bedrooms?”

  “That’s the one.”

  “You can let her know that we will strive to make our existence here as quiet as possible.”

  “You gave her a firm push out of the house a couple of times. Kind of freaked her out.”

  Catherine gave her a genuine smile that showed off her beauty. “Perhaps.”

  Amanda wasn’t smiling. “I’m afraid that keeping a low profile isn’t an option. And since your curse traps you here, you can’t leave of your own free will.” She swallowed. “I’m going to have to exorcise you.”

  She wondered if she’d have to explain what that meant to Catherine, but the ghost’s eyes widened with obvious knowledge and she began to shake her head.