Hot Spell

Then they’d gotten married four months later claiming that they were madly in love. Insult to injury. Definitely.

His plan for revenge? To drink a great deal of alcohol. Also to have sex with as many women as would let him. To his surprise, there were a whole lot of women who would, which was great for a while, fantastic even, at least until he realized that maybe he wanted a bit more than a series of empty one-night stands.

Then he’d met her—Amanda LaGrange—and for the briefest of moments when their eyes met across the room that night he felt his scarred heart start to pound a little faster. At least, until she dug her designer stiletto heel into it.

He took the hint.

Whatever. He was happy working for PARA and having an exciting and varied sex life. It worked for him and he hadn’t received any complaints yet.

He tensed as Amanda opened up the passenger-side door of the Mustang and got in. She had a fake, frozen smile plastered on her face. He recognized it. It was the same fake, frozen smile she always wore in his presence.

The smile that made him focus on her full red lips and wonder what they’d taste like.

No, he thought immediately. She has no effect on you anymore, remember? Be strong.

“Jacob,” she said simply.

“That’s my name,” he replied. “How’ve you been, Amanda?”

“Wonderful,” she said.

“Good to hear.” He shifted into first gear and pulled away from the curb. “I don’t think you’ve ever been in my car before.”

“No, I haven’t.”

And that was about the end of his reserve of small talk. With a two-hour drive ahead of them, that might pose a bit of a problem.

“Patrick briefed me on the assignment earlier and wanted me to fill you in.” She reached into the bag she’d brought with her to pull out a notebook filled with page after page of her neat, precise handwriting. “A woman named Sheila Davis recently inherited the property from a distant uncle. While doing a walk-through she heard strange noises and had a sense of being pushed out of the house. That’s when she contacted us for an immediate assessment.”

“She’s scared to live there?”

“No. Actually, she thinks a haunted house will reduce the property value. She wants to sell and turn a quick profit and is planning an open house next week. So we go in, determine if there needs to be an exorcism performed, and then we leave. I figure it won’t take more than twenty minutes.”

She was wearing that perfume he liked.

Dammit to hell, he thought angrily.

He shifted position in his seat trying to ignore her very warm, feminine presence so close to him. Was it the fact that he knew he couldn’t have her that made him feel this way?

But, no. He didn’t want her. He could have any woman he wanted, and Amanda the Strange was not even on the list anymore.

Vanilla, he thought then. Her perfume smelled like vanilla. Edible. Delicious.

His grip on the steering wheel was so tight by now he thought he might be able to yank it right out of the dashboard if he tried. He realized that taking on this assignment tonight had been a huge, regrettable mistake. But Patrick had practically begged him, and he didn’t want to let his boss down.

“Are you listening to me?” she asked after a moment.

“Yeah, sure. Haunted house. We’re checking it out. Routine stuff. In and out in twenty minutes. No problem.”

She eyed him skeptically. “Is everything all right? You seem a bit distracted.”

He pushed a reasonable facsimile of a smile onto his face. “I appreciate your concern.” He concentrated on the road ahead. “So is it true?”

“What?”

“You’re quitting PARA? Heading to the Big Apple?”

She closed her notebook and slid it back into her bag. “It’s true.”

“When are you through?”

“This is my last field assignment.” She gazed out of the passenger-side window. “Patrick says they’re throwing me a going-away party Tuesday, so I get to say goodbye to everyone. I’m going to miss them all so much. But other than that and packing, I should be out of here the day after.”

Less than a week. The thought that she was leaving soon should have given him a sense of relief, but it didn’t. Not even close. In fact, it made his stomach twist unpleasantly at the thought that he’d probably never see her again.

It made no sense to him at all. Why did he give a damn either way? The woman could barely stand to be in the same car as him.

Holding on to that thought should have made things much simpler.

No such luck.

2

“GREAT WEATHER we’re having, isn’t it?” Jacob said tightly an hour and a half into the drive. It was the first thing he’d said for over forty-five minutes.

Amanda smiled and nodded. “June is my favorite month.”

She stared out of the window but there was nothing to see in the darkness except the side of the highway racing past. A quick check of her watch told her it was nearly ten-thirty. She’d attempted to make notes in her notebook, but it was too dark, and having Jacob so close to her made it hard for her to concentrate.

He wore black jeans and a gray T-shirt that bared his strong forearms and muscled biceps, the thin material molding to his body so she could practically count his six-pack abs underneath.

Not that she was looking, of course.

She bit her bottom lip and studied the boring view out the window and thought about her boyfriend David. A wonderfully normal, respectable man with whom she’d never had one single argument.

It was his suggestion that she leave her job at PARA to work for him in the New York City office. He’d given her a choice, one that she’d never had before. She could continue living the life of Amanda the Strange—her words, not his—or she could have a chance to be Amanda the Normal.

Starting over in a fresh city with David never knowing about her psychic abilities meant she’d be consciously turning her back on her old life.

Which also, unfortunately but necessarily, included her friends, like Vicky, who didn’t understand why Amanda was so adamant about making this major change in her life.

When she moved to the city she would turn off the part of her brain that allowed her to communicate with ghosts and sense other supernatural presences. She wouldn’t use her abilities at all. She hoped that, over time, they’d fade away to nothing.

Her mother would be thrilled. Amanda had yet to share this news with Madeleine Harper—the last name taken from her new husband—who lived three hours south and rarely saw her daughter. She still blamed Amanda, even after all these years, for her first husband’s decision to abandon their family.

Which was understandable. Even after nearly twenty years, Amanda still blamed herself.

Moving is the right thing to do, she reminded herself for the millionth time. Even so, there was the smallest piece of herself, buried down very, very deep that wasn’t so sure this was the ultimate key to happiness. That piece was small enough to repress, so that’s what she did. In five little days she’d be leaving Mystic Ridge for good, and she wouldn’t look back.