Hot Spell. Michelle Rowen. Читать онлайн. Newlib. NEWLIB.NET

Автор: Michelle Rowen
Издательство: HarperCollins
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Жанр произведения: Современные любовные романы
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than sorry.

      And he didn’t have to know. When she left Mystic Ridge for good she’d put her past behind her and get the chance to be completely and totally normal.

      Finally.

      “Jacob will pick you up outside in ten minutes,” Patrick said. He’d finished answering his e-mails while she’d been lost in her thoughts.

      He glanced up at her from his high-tech wheelchair. He’d had a run-in with a very unpleasant poltergeist six months ago that had sent him headfirst down a flight of stairs—a scary reminder of what had happened to her father. Patrick was still recovering from a near-fatal spinal cord injury. Since he was a friend, as well as a great boss, Amanda was just happy and relieved he’d lived to tell the tale.

      “Are you doing this on purpose?” she asked.

      He raised an eyebrow. “What are you talking about?”

      “This assignment tonight with Jacob. You’re mad I’m leaving, aren’t you?”

      Patrick put his BlackBerry down on his desk and spread his hands. “You have to do what you have to do, Amanda. As long as you think quitting PARA will make you happy, then I fully support your decision.”

      She nodded stiffly, swallowing past a huge lump that had formed in her throat. Quitting PARA would make her happy—she knew it. The only thing that made it hard was knowing she wouldn’t be seeing Patrick, Vicky and the others on a daily basis anymore. “Well, good.”

      “However, we are throwing you a going-away party.” He grinned at her and his blue eyes twinkled with good humor. “And attendance is required. Tuesday night at O’Grady’s. Drinks are on me.”

      She couldn’t help but smile at that. Patrick would find any excuse for a party. “I’ll be there.”

      “I’m picking up the cake, too. Got a preference? Chocolate, vanilla…maybe rum?”

      “Rum,” she said as her smile widened. “Definitely rum.”

      She could use a little bit of the booze right now. It might make spending the rest of her evening with Jacob Caine remotely bearable.

      

      PATRICK WATCHED Amanda leave his office. She was uncomfortable at the prospect of being partnered with Jacob. It was obvious.

      But it had to be done.

      Maybe it was because he’d been stuck in the damn wheelchair for so long that he’d started interfering in people’s lives. Too much time to sit and think…and observe.

      Amanda was making a huge mistake by quitting PARA and leaving the friends who loved and accepted her to go off with a man she obviously, to Patrick at least, didn’t love. He saw it in her eyes, a growing dullness, an acceptance that life was not supposed to be extraordinary.

      Since his accident, Patrick knew firsthand that life was a gift—every damn day was—and if you didn’t accept it, sooner or later it might be snatched away right in front of you.

      He’d seen a spark of passion in Amanda’s eyes, though. Whenever the beautiful brunette saw Jacob she seemed to fill with life. She claimed to dislike him for reasons she’d never properly explained, but Patrick was far from convinced when that flush came to her cheeks as it had just now. And he’d seen the same intensity in Jacob’s gaze, as well.

      Patrick rubbed his temples. When exactly had he been appointed resident cupid? Hell if he knew, but it was the least he could do when the evidence presented itself so clearly that the two of them belonged together.

      One attempt. That’s all they got. Make them work together, make them spend time together before Amanda left for what she considered her shiny new life for good, and see what happened.

      Maybe they’d kill each other. That was possible. It might be better than the grudging acceptance both of them seemed to have of their current lackluster lives.

      If they were forced to spend a few hours in each other’s company, Patrick was fairly certain something would happen between them. The only question was…what?

      

      JACOB’S KNUCKLES had already turned white. He gripped the steering wheel of his ’68 black Mustang convertible parked at the curb in front of the PARA office and tried to breathe normally.

      Even if he had to be stuck with her on this assignment, why exactly had Patrick insisted that they drive to the location together? It was ridiculous. Not to mention stupid. Dumb. Pointless. Annoying. All of the above.

      His boss obviously had it in for him to pair him up with Amanda the Strange tonight. Did he want Jacob to quit?

      Honestly. If he didn’t love his job—the only damn thing in his life that gave him any sense of purpose anymore—then he’d quit in a heartbeat. He didn’t need this kind of trouble.

      And here she comes now, he thought with a sinking feeling. Miss Trouble, herself.

      The tall glass doors of the office building opened and Amanda slowly made her way toward his car. He could already feel the ice-blue gaze that seemed to penetrate right down to his very core. Her dark hair was pulled back from her gorgeous face in a sleek ponytail. Long bangs swept over her forehead. Today she wore a thin teal V-neck sweater over blue jeans. Casual for her, he thought absently. The sweater was tight enough for him to see clearly the generous swell of her breasts. His own jeans became tighter at the sight of her—but only in the front.

      His knuckles whitened even more on the steering wheel.

      He hated that she affected him like this. Other than lusting after her body for two years now, he honestly couldn’t stand the woman.

      Why should he? She obviously despised him.

      With one contemptuous look at the party where they first met, Amanda had stared a hole right through him to the other side as if her beautiful baby blues had laser beams hooked up to them. He’d felt naked and exposed, and not in a fun handcuffs-and-bedpost sort of way.

      What the hell happened? he wondered, and not for the first time since that night.

      He still didn’t know. One moment they were introducing themselves to each other and he was falling very quickly into those gorgeous eyes of hers, and the next moment she was giving him the freezing-cold shoulder. He just wished he’d been able to get an empathic read on her. It would have helped to pinpoint exactly what had turned her off about him. She’d said she didn’t have psychic walls up to block him, but he was less convinced.

      It would make things much easier if he’d been able to forget about her and not want her nearly every day since. What did they say about the unattainable? Made it that much more exciting?

      It wasn’t exciting. Torturous and uncomfortable, yes. Exciting, no.

      She was definitely his weakness. And he had to overcome his pointless attraction to her. Tonight would be a great chance—especially since he’d heard she was quitting PARA soon—to finally get the beautiful clairvoyant out of his system.

      Hell, two years ago he hadn’t believed in any of this psychic stuff. He’d been a regular guy with a regular job and a fiancée he planned to marry—that is, until he caught her in bed with his best friend. Sounded like the ultimate cliché, but it still stung like hell.

      At the time, PARA had been secretly checking out his background. They’d found out he had certain abilities, abilities that he’d always written off to intuition and luck, and they offered him a job at exactly the right time. He enthusiastically took the chance of leaving his old life to come to the small town of Mystic Ridge in upper New York state, where the PARA headquarters were located. But the scars had already formed over his heart. He’d trusted not one but two people, and they’d both screwed him over. Or, he supposed, they’d screwed each other and he’d simply been left out in the cold.

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