Page 23 of Ghost Walk
Jamie waited for her to see it was hopeless.
“I’ll give it three days.” She finally said in a tight voice. “For three days, I will try my very best to identify your eighteenth-century madman. But you leave on the 4thof July. Got it? When I show you that it’s impossible to locate a suspect who’s been dead for two hundred years, youacceptit and vanish out of my life. Agreed?”
Jamie nearly scoffed at that. He was a ghost with a mission and he’d see it fulfilled no matter how long it took. Three days or three decades, it meant nothing to him. And, either way, hecertainlydidn’t plan to leave Grace’s side. So long as he was trapped on Earth, he would be within five feet of this girl.
No way in hell would he go back to the solitude without her.
“Agreed.” Another lie, but she really should know better than to trust his word on the matter. After all, only gentleman had to honor their deals and, dead or alive, Captain James MacCleef Riordan was certainly no gentleman.
Chapter Five
June 22, 1789- I saw Agatha Northhandler punch a man for stealing twine from her shop today. I think it was quite common. Women need not resort to violence. We can get our own way by using subtler means. The only time a true lady should be around blood is when she’s thanking the Good Lord not to be pregnant.
From the Journal of Miss Lucinda Wentworth
“This is a total waste of time.” Grace had been repeating that all morning, but a certain jackass ghost wasn’t listening. “I’m telling you it won’t work.”
In an effort to not look like a crazy person when she talked to him in public, Grace wore a Bluetooth earpiece. Hopefully, it would seem like she was really pissed off at someone on the other end of the phone line… rather than being really pissed off at someone invisible to everyone else in the room. So far it seemed to be working, which made her feel kinda smug. Like she was accomplishing something.
Wait… was she actuallyproudof succeeding at craziness? This was seriously getting out of hand.
Jamie shrugged, looking gorgeous and inflexible. Did ghosts sleep? He certainly seemed well-rested, which just irritated her more. “I have nothingbuttime, so it matters not how much of it we waste. It’s one of the perks of being dead.”
“One of the perks of beingaliveis sleeping in on Saturdays. Or at least itshouldbe.” She slanted him a glare. “Yet here I am.”
“It’s Friday, lass.”
“Oh shut up.”
The two of them stood with a group of twenty tourists in the grand parlor of the Wentworth mansion. It had been meticulously restored to its Colonial era glory, complete with shiny antique furniture, plenty of status-symbol silver on display, and vivid floral-patterned wallpaper. It really was one of the nicest homes in Harrisonburg.
Jamie was quick to point out every inch of fabric and piece of flatware that the restoration got wrong, of course. The man was impossible to please. …And really,reallyhandsome. It was amazing how handsome he was. Even more amazing to her than his ghost-ness.
That didn’t mean he was her Partner, though.
“Just in case you need to know for our investigation, the room lookednothinglike this when the Wentworths were alive.” Jamie informed her, not shutting up. Henevershut up. “The mantle was different, the furniture was different, and the walls weren’t this god-awful powder blue.” He snorted. “And Lucinda would be shrieking her head off if she knew they’d chosenthatportrait to hang here for all eternity. She never did like it. Said Eugenia’s glower ruined the whole canvas.”
Grace glanced at the painting of the Wentworth daughters. Lucinda had a point. Her sisterwasglowering. Probably because poor, plain, pinch-lipped Eugenia was being completely upstaged completely by the beautiful debutant sitting next to her.
Lucinda had blonde hair and an aristocratic nose, her curvy figure cinched into a décolletage revealing period gown. In the modern world, she no doubt would have been president of her sorority, dedicated to keeping the Eugenias and Graces on campus away from all the football players. There was a knowing gleam in Lucinda’s blue eyes that told you she was secretly a bitch to all the other girls in town. A smug glint of malice, like she had a dirty little secret she wasn’t telling.
That secret was probably what Jamie looked like naked.
Just the idea of that pissed Grace off.
…Not that she would ever seriously consider dating a pirate, of course. Grace was only interested in seriousrelationships and James Riordan wasnota serious relationship kinda ghost. Hell, he could star in a PSA about why smart girls should stay far away fromanti-husband material men. Plus, he was dead. A woman would have to be nuts to get mixed up with him, no matter how gorgeous he was.
And he was really,reallygorgeous.
Grace glanced up at him, trying not to notice all the star-spangled angles of his American Hero profile. She wasn’t sure about Lucinda’s picture, but that portrait of Jamie in the history book did him no justice, at all. It missed the golden sheen to his hair and the perfect tan of his skin. Weren’t ghosts supposed to be more see-through?
It would be a lot easier to deal with him if he wasn’t so darn visible.
Her phone buzzed in the pocket of her sundress, indicating that Robert had sent her yet another text. Grace rolled her eyes. How was he not getting the hint? It wasover. She was actually relieved to be free of him, so the last thing she needed was the jackass stalking her, now. She had so many more important things to focus on than his whining.
“What was that?” Jamie asked.
“Nothing.” No way was she telling him about the twenty-eight unanswered messages on her phone. Jamie would seriously not appreciate Robert begging for another chance. His hatred of her ex was as clear as the Liberty Bell.
