“Everything is going to be fixed,” Jacob snapped, turning his head. “I told you that.” He looked at Matt. “She has this ridiculous obsession about historical accuracy.”
“That’s great,” Matt said. “Alysia has an outstanding reputation in her field. I checked everything before you signed the lease—you’d be smart to listen to her.”
Jacob’s scowl accused his friend of treachery. “Maybe I don’t care about historical accuracy. That house has never been happy. Sometimes I think it’s cursed.”
Startled, Alysia’s jaw dropped. Though she’d heard joking rumors of a curse, she never expected to hear such a fantastic statement from Jacob Reynolds. And it wasn’t true. The Victorian was beautiful—lonely and neglected-but not cursed. Yet she couldn’t deny the bitterness in his voice, or the reality that he’d avoided his grandparents’ home since their deaths.
Houses did reflect the lives of the people who lived there—sorrows and joys, love and betrayal. That Jacob would sense a brooding atmosphere in the Victorian disturbed her. Still, what really disturbed her was the urge to hold him close and tell him it was all right. It didn’t make sense. Jacob was the last person she should feel sympathy for—or desire.
Oh God, Alysia moaned silently. She had to get control of herself. Matt Braeden was more her type—why wasn’t she thinking about him in that way?
Because you’re an idiot, with a talent for wanting the wrong man. She was sex starved, that was the answer. Kissing Jacob had been a big mistake, reminding her body it needed more than sleep, food and hard work. Unfortunately, sex implied commitment to Alysia. She couldn’t have a casual affair.
“Jacob,” she said quietly, still trying to control her thoughts. “It’s just a house.”
“I don’t want to talk about it. Let’s stick to business,” he snapped. “Matt, were you able to get a contract written?”
“Er, yes, I have it in draft form. I believe Alysia had some concerns…?”
Though distracted, Alysia smiled at the lawyer. “It’s very simple,” she said. “I won’t sign any contract affecting my tenant rights. If Jacob wants to suspend payment while he’s staying in the house, fine, but the lease stays.”
Jacob muttered something unintelligible.
Matt winked. “You’re completely protected.”
“For heaven’s sake, Matt told me you tried to break the lease before,” Jacob burst out. “Why do you want to stay now?”
“Of course I wanted to break the lease. You wouldn’t take care of the repairs or anything. But now that I have your attention.” she said with a smile, “I’ve changed my mind.”
“Just like a woman.” He snorted.
Alysia couldn’t decide if he hated all women, or just her. “I’m sorry you don’t like the situation,” she said. “But it isn’t my fault you signed the lease without reading it.”
“Damn it, I told you I was upset. My daughter—”
“Hey, stop it. Both of you,” Matt ordered. His lips twitched again and a moment later he burst into laughter. Jacob glared, which just made him roar louder.
“It isn’t funny, Matt,” he growled. “That’s my house, and you rented to a…a…”
“Woman?” Alysia supplied helpfully. “Let’s see, I think you said I was a disaster. A pushy woman with a dirty face and bare feet. You also mentioned my hair was a mess.”
Jacob shifted in embarrassment and glanced at his friend. “I, er, may have been a little tactless. Sorry.”
She shrugged. “You were partly right—I don’t like shoes and my face was dirty. As for my clothing—would you work under a sink in a cashmere suit?”
The subtle jibe made him flinch. Alysia was right. He’d made assumptions based on her appearance. It was neither fair nor rational. He supposed she had reason to resent him, as much as he resented her…probably more. Yet she’d been soft hearted enough to agree to them moving into the house.
“I think the contract will be acceptable,” Matt said. He went to the door, telling his secretary to print the final draft.
Alysia took her copy and read it front to back with an attention to detail that surprised Jacob. “It looks okay,” she said finally. “I’m ready to sign…in front of a notary public,” she added quickly.
Jacob stared at the printed page. He didn’t have a choice, he had to sign. Tracy was facing a long and difficult recovery and she wanted to live in the old mansion. More than that, she wanted to make friends with Alysia. He couldn’t remember the last time his daughter had taken so strongly to someone.
The sound of Matt deliberately clearing his throat brought Jacob’s head up. Humor still warmed his friend’s expression, but it also held a challenge. Alysia and the lawyer had never met before today, yet he knew Matt had formed a positive opinion of her. He’d told Jacob he approved of her determination to build and run a successful business. He also thought his friend was being irrational about the property.
There wasn’t any point in stalling. “Let’s get this over with.” Jacob sighed. “Where’s your notary public?”
Alysia held the classified section of the newspaper in front of her face, searching for listings of estate sales. It was rude, but no ruder than Jacob dragging her to a fancy, upscale restaurant without asking her preference. Every time she started to soften toward him, he did something to annoy her…which was a good thing. In Matt Braeden’s office she’d glimpsed another side to Jacob, a dark, hurting side. And it was tied to the house. Her house.
By the time their main course was delivered she had to ask. “Jacob, why do you think your grandparents’ home is cursed?”
Resigned, Jacob sat back in his chair and gave her a hard stare. She just looked back, her green eyes darkened by some undefined emotion. “No one has ever been happy in that house. Ever. If a place could be cursed, it would be there. I guess that’s what I meant. But I don’t believe in curses, or ghosts, or anything supernatural.”
“You’re very pragmatic,” she said. “From what I’ve heard, a lot of people believe in the curse and your ghost.”
“She isn’t my ghost. For God’s sake, we’re talking about rumor and superstition. I don’t want to discuss it.” But Alysia did—he could see it in her face.
Damn, he thought, she really was like a cat, curious and unpredictable. And she had their sensuality—stretching, gliding, licking the herb sauce from her lips. Jacob could almost feel her tongue, the rough velvet texture of it, tasting him. He shifted, trying to quell his swift, involuntary reaction. Even his wife had never affected him so much with a look or a gesture, and now he was lusting after an unkempt tomboy.
“Your grandparents weren’t happy?” she asked after a moment.
“My—” Jacob paused, trying to think of a way to describe the taciturn Marcus Reynolds. “My grandfather wasn’t an easy man to live with. He was stern, very quiet and kept to himself.”
She traced the pattern on the linen tablecloth with her finger. “I thought the house was built out of love,” she said, sounding oddly wistful.
Taking a deep breath, he tried to remember that Alysia knew little of the tragic affairs of his family. Her curiosity was natural under the circumstances. “Love doesn’t always mean happiness.”
No longer hungry, Jacob pushed his plate away. He recalled his father’s and grandfather’s lectures about not allowing the heart to rule the head and never letting a woman have control. He’d never completely understood their warnings until he met Alysia McKenna. She awakened something deep and