“Chiara.” His deep rumbling voice rolled over me. As usual, my knees went a little weak at the sound of my name on his lips: kee-ARH-uh, the ‘r’ sound barely there in his uppity aristocratic accent.
Jack held my gaze, his blue eyes peering into me. Like he could see deep into my soul and found it sadly lacking—a barren wasteland of fast food containers andBachelorettereruns. That the observation was marginally true only made it sting more.
His intense, too-seeing looks were decidedly unsettling.
This was the problem. I found myself unfortunately attracted to Jack, if a person could be attracted to a semi-ghost.
Hmmm, maybe I did have a few issues.
But who could blame me? Jack had this whole brooding, sexy British lord thing going on. Like me, he was opinionated and bossy which meant he could handle what I could dish. This was both a pro and a con.
Occasionally, Jack and I were peas in a pod and perfectly in sync. Most of the time, however, we were gasoline poured over a blow torch.
“ . . .Lord Knight was convinced the treasure actually existed . ..”
I stifled a groan. “Jack, this Siri thing has got tostop.”
Siri instantly shut up.
Hallelujah. At least someone listened to me.
“Is there a problem?” Jack raised a condescending eyebrow.
“Jack.” I popped a hand up to my hip. “Reading your own Wikipedia page over and over is emotionally unhealthy. Besides, it’s obnoxious for the rest of us to have to listen to.”
“Siri,” he said, not taking his eyes off me, “turn down volume.”
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. “That’s not precisely the problem here. I thought you were researching that archive on the afterlife. Why are you focused on your biographical history instead?”
“I like to remain informed as to what the world thinks of me.” Jack folded his arms across his chest.
Andthiswas the man who had said to me, ‘Can’t handle the thought of building a truly adult relationship?’
I wasn’t the one who needed lessons on adulting here.
“Jack, we’re all concerned about you,” I said the words carefully, keeping my tone flat and not screechy like I felt. “We’ve been concentrating on trying to find answers for your ghost-like state, but I think the constant focus is hurting more than it’s helping. It’s like picking at a scab over and over, never allowing it to heal. Maybe it’s time to take a step back from our research.”
Jack paused, giving me his best Lord Knight stare.
I had a love/hate relationship with that stare—I hated that I kinda loved it. It was snooty with an edge of dry sardonic humor, and it challenged every womanly impulse in my body to kiss it off his face.
Not that I would do that, of course, even if itwerepossible. But the urge was there.
“Would you prefer me to continue my exploration of modern names?” he asked.
I bit my lip, unsure how to reply. It was a decent threat.
Jack had gone through this whole phase where he mocked contemporary celebrity names.
Example: Brittany Spears.
It had been days of,‘Pardon Siri, but who are the Spears of Brittany?’and‘Are Brittany Spears similar to Celtic weaponry from northern France?’
“I have yet to understand why Ryan cares so much about goslings,” Jack continued. “Does he have a fetish for young poultry?”
See?!
Honestly.
