Jack bounded down the steps in a giant leap and tugged her into his arms, lifting her feet off the ground and hoisting her into the air. “Yes, you can help, you insane woman.”
His laughter was warm and rich, sending a thrill through her even as he twirled her in a circle. She giggled, bracing her hands on his shoulders as she gazed down at him. Who could have imagined this annoying man could ever envision such a fabulous and innovative project?
“You should probably put me down,” she said, a little breathless from the sudden wave of attraction that clobbered her.
“I probably should,” Jack said, and his wholesome grin turned a little heated as he slowly lowered her to the ground, their bodies in full contact all the way down.
He didn’t let go of her even after her feet landed back on the ground. His shoulders were well-muscled, and she let her hands roam over them, her gaze locked with his. He cupped her face in his hands and locked gazes with her, his nose almost touching hers.
“Do you still have a crush on that British guy?” he asked.
Sebastian Bell was on the other side of the world, and nowhere in her mind at the moment. “No,” she whispered. “He’s history.”
The air crackled with electricity, and Jack gave a slow, barely noticeable nod of his head. “Good.” He lowered his head and kissed her.
She wound her arms around his neck and returned the kiss. Jack was entirely wrong for her. He was a jock. He was too bold, too aggressive, too cocky, but he was also strong and visionary and fabulous. This was a kiss to get lost in and she did.
She smoothed her palms over his muscular biceps but their kiss remained unbroken, even though both of them began to smile. Her heart pounded by the time he lifted his head.
There couldn’t possibly be anything lasting with Jack, but his attraction to her was a balm to her wounded spirit.
After learning of Jack’s plan to transform the Roost into a first-class attraction, Alice was on fire to make progress on discovering the source of the Saint Helga legend.
The 1698 fire had destroyed most of Virginia’s earliest records, but as a colony of England at the time, the British Library held important Virginia records, too. Alice had mined those records earlier in the year, but she’d been looking in the wrong decade. Her best shot for finding something new about who built the Roost was to ask the archivist at the British Library to search all the way back to the 1660s.
Unfortunately, the archivist for early American records was Margo Davis, a woman who despised and resented Alice. Even after all this time, Alice had never been able to figure out why Margo resented her. Alice had been in a radiant good mood when she first arrived at the archives last February. At the time, she was madly in love with Sebastian, work on the film was going well, and Alice had two entire days of vacation time to browse through the archives. Margo returned Alice’s sunny smile with an eye roll and stark refusal to help, always claiming she was too busy with other patrons to help a pushy American.
First of all, Alice wasn’t pushy. She was polite and curious and excited to delve into the British archives. All she asked for was a little professional assistance, and that seemed to annoy Margo to no end.
All that was in the past. Today was a new day, and Alice would let bygones be bygones. Margo would be more likely to help if Alice caught her early in the day before other patrons competed for attention.
The five-hour time difference meant Alice needed to get up at three o’clock in the morning. She splashed cold water on her face, brewed a cup of coffee, and turned on every lamp in her townhouse to help wake herself up.
Before placing the call, she arranged the scanty details she knew about the Roost so she’d have them ready for Margo:
One: Tree ring data indicated that construction of the Roost began in 1661.
Two: In 1705, a sale was recorded in the newly built statehouse in Jamestown with a single line:Reid’s Roost, once owned by the late Widow Santos, had been sold at auction to Archibald Tucker.
Three: The archives at the British Library had a 1680 license from the Crown to “R. Santos” to operate a ferry on the James River.
Alice ran her finger along the paperwork. “R. Santos” was likely the husband of the Widow Santos. Was his full name Reid Santos? It was an unusual name for an English settler, but perhaps Margo would use her powers to hunt through the dusty archives in search of additional information to identify this person. It couldn’t hurt to ask, could it? Perhaps Margo was in a better frame of mind these days.
Still, Alice’s fingers trembled as she keyed in the numbers for the British Library. The call was connected and rang only a single time before a cheerful voice from three thousand miles away answered.
“Margo Davis, how can I help you?”
Well! Margo’s voice sounded remarkably bright and perky. Alice determined to be equally cheerful. “Hi, Margo! This is Alice Chadwick from Williamsburg, Virginia. I was in the archives last February looking at old records from Jamestown.”
Alice held her breath and waited, a long pause growing uncomfortable. Alice cleared her throat and continued. “I was looking at records about a piece of property named Reid’s Roost outside of Jamestown. Do you remember me?”
A muffled snort sounded on the other end of the connection. “I’m not likely to forget the only stalker I’ve ever met.”
Alice shot to her feet and began pacing. “You saw Sebastian and me together. Did it look like I needed to stalk him?”
“No, he was too busy hanging on to your every word and scattering rose petals in your path. Drug addicts so often show poor judgement.”
“Sebastian wasn’t on drugs when we were at the library.” Sebastian was clean and sober and wonderful during that golden time. It wasn’t until two months later that everything careened into disaster.
