it.” His eyes promised all sorts of ways he’d make that happen, and she hid a laugh. He definitely seemed to like her more than this Molinero ring. Such an odd feeling, all through her stomach actually, like a circus of fleas had gotten loose in there and was trying to escape. She just didn’t quite trust what was happening. “You take all the guys here?” he asked her.
“None who are alive,” she said.
A gleam of interest lit his eyes, and as if he was finally giving in to temptation, his hands went to her hair. Oh no, not her hair! She didn’t mind so much that it had developed into a stringy mess around her shoulders, only that she couldn’t resist anyone playing with her hair. Like Samson from the Bible, her hair was her one weakness. He pushed a strand of it back from her face. “You really need to let people into your heart, Eureka Springs.”
She tried to defend herself, but his hands were doing crazy things to her insides. “I do let people in.”
“No one you think might hurt you,” he corrected. “Tell me I’m not right.”
She couldn’t fight the accusation too much since her knees were becoming a wobbly mess under his touch. Darn that hair. She’d push him away, but she liked the feel of his fingers too much. Still, she marshalled together her self-preservation. “Well?” Her voice came out breathless. “Are you going to hurt me?”
“Never.” He let loose a laugh. “You actually like when I touch your hair, don’t you? Have I found the magic spell to your heart?”
She twisted her lips up at him, but there was no use denying it. “Don’t you dare use it for evil.”
“I can’t make any promises.” He dropped her hair to help her out of the pond. His jeans and wet hair looked so cute plastered against him, like he was one of those models in those ruin-the-suit photoshoots. He was so muscular. This pharmacy guy definitely spent a lot of his time away from his desk working out. As soon as her feet found the cobbled ground, he hugged her next to him again. She was cold and hot all at once, with the heat emanating from his chest winning out. Her insides felt like they were glowing. A smile shot to her mouth, so that she hardly needed his warm hands on her, not that she’d tell him that. Need and want were two different things. Oh boy, I’m in trouble! This guy moved from one girl to the next like a honeybee to flowers. She should pull away first.
The lights turned on at the pawnshop next to them, followed by the whine of a siren down the street. A gasp fell out of her mouth. “Old man Finn set up the motion detector lights to keep out trespassers. I think he called the cops on us.”
That would be Scooby’s father, and she wouldn’t put it past Sheriff Price to give them a hard time for getting caught. That jokester would then spread the gossip to half the town that she’d fallen into a pond with a player like Janson Styles, and while on the job. She’d never live it down.
“What are we waiting for?” Janson glanced back at his waiting bodyguards. “Let’s go!”
Exploding with laughter, they ran across the street to the building that held her mother’s ghost tour business. She’d explain to Finn later tonight she’d been the culprit before he started a manhunt. After all, the only one hunting this irresistible man should be her.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Janson slipped on a black T-shirt he’d found in the mini store held in the reception area of Mollie’s Ghost Tour business. It actually said, “Don’t talk to me, you’ll look like you’re crazy because I’m a ghost.” Horribly campy. Perfect for Halloween, he decided.
Mollie dried off her clothes with a hairdryer plugged into the wall near the desk. Black velvet curtains swallowed the back wall behind her. Janson’s bodyguards were outside, talking on their phones, their faces sober. Janson guessed falling into the pond was the end of their odd adventures, though if he could talk Mollie into showing him those catacombs, that would be the perfect ending to this night. No way would he ever go in, but he’d definitely find a way to get her back into his arms outside of those tunnels—she’d been all softness, exactly as he’d suspected—her hair smelled like strawberries, like his redhead should. She was his own