away from him to approach Janson sheepishly. Sweet, sweet Rosa wrung her hands. “I am so sorry, Janson! Matt is the love of my life. I hope you find such a love.” Her hand brushed her dragonfly Molinero ring, and she slipped it off, folding his fingers over it. “You must give her this when you do. Such a pretty piece belongs on the finger of the one who adores you.”
Giggling out with pure joy and covering her mouth at the wonder of it, she twisted away and joined her jerk from Omaha. Her fingers slid into his like the missing pieces of a puzzle as they danced away. Rosa’s skirt swung around her elegant legs and they left together to enjoy the romantic night Janson had wanted to back out of.
He stared after them in shock. That was completely unexpected... and not exactly unwelcome.
Beside him, a chuckle of mirth interrupted the now-silent night. He glanced over and saw Mollie was enjoying a laugh... at his expense, this time. “Wow, that was... wow.” She shook her head, but when she saw Janson glowering at her, she had the good sense to hide her amusement. She attempted a sober expression that he immediately saw through. “So? Is that a wrap then?”
Seriously? She seriously thought she’d get off that easily? Annoyance trickled through his veins. Red wasn’t going to profit off this... odd twist of fate... or whatever this was, especially when she thought it was so hilarious. He made a snap decision. “No, I paid for this tour. Let’s finish this.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Oh dear. Mollie should’ve kept her big mouth shut. She had almost gotten rid of this infuriating man. She tried to work this in her favor. “I was just about to take you to the catacombs. That’s the end of the road, pal.”
A flicker of passion ran through Janson’s eyes. “Don’t you have anything on this tour that’s worthwhile?”
Irritation flamed through her body. She had bent over backwards to get through this tour without doing something she regretted, but his comment ruined her good intentions in an instant. She’d definitely make him pay for his entitled attitude. Yeah, she’d show him something worthwhile—something absolutely unforgettable if that’s what he really wanted. Forget his stupid bodyguards. She’d work around them too. She pretended to be deep in thought before she met his searing gaze. “I might have something, but I honestly think you’d be too scared.”
Just as she expected, his brow raised mockingly at the challenge. “Try me.”
She most certainly would, and hopefully she’d scare him pretty good too. “Remember those papers you signed in the beginning of this tour?” He nodded in response. “Well, you can’t sue me.”
“Is that supposed to scare me?” he asked.
His bodyguards certainly didn’t look comfortable with this talk, especially the tall one, but she wasn’t backing down now, especially since only Janson would get the brunt of it. Shrugging, she turned from the alleyway, gesturing him to follow her down Spring Street. “Stay close.”
“Wait.” The shorter of the bodyguards wasn’t as easily led. “What happened to the catacombs?” He tilted his head towards the ghost tour entrance situated in the middle of the stairs. The black canopy marked the doors. “How about we do those?”
“No, no, we’ll check out this mysterious attraction first,” Janson said, his eyes running lazily over her, his expression defiant. “It had better be good.”
Her cheeks burned with annoyance. “Just promise me you won’t run to me for protection when this is all through. Bock, bock, bock,” she made chicken noises and marched down the sidewalk, well aware that she felt like she was back in high school, which probably wasn’t too surprising, because Scooby’s unwelcome appearance had shot her maturity level back there like magic. Janson easily kept up with her. She only had to reach out and take his hand. Not that she’d do that...
They made their way back to Main Street, passing the Silver Stitch, Spokes Comedy Club, then Ever After’s Dress Ups. Janson caught sight of a huge, half-ton Humpty Dumpty sculpture, and he pointed at it. “Let me guess—that thing comes back to life at...” he checked his watch, “9:42 pm.”
Brilliant, she’d remember that for her next ghost tour. “Oh, you wish that was it,” she said. They’d almost reached the funnel cake shack built up against the bluff when she stopped at the Horn Section sculpture hanging over a murky pond. Cobbled stairways next to it led to a debilitated platform that had been a