Damn fool name for a
hound. I'm guessing you're not looking for him?” He stepped closer and banged
the hat gently against his thigh. Summer watched, transfixed, as a cloud of
dust drifted to the floor. This apparition looked real enough to touch. She
felt Alice and Becky shrinking back.
“Keep your hands
linked,” she whispered, her eyes never leaving his face. With those high,
Slavic cheekbones, he could have walked straight out of a Tolstoy novel, but
that accent…like molasses, she decided. “If you're not Arthur, who are you?”
Chapter 3 – Still beating
“The name’s
Jack. Jack McKane. Are you gonna tell me your name, Sugar?”
He pronounced it Shug-ah , and
Summer blinked. Not quite her name, but close enough. “I’m Summer Mead-” She
didn’t get a chance to finish; Alice interrupted.
“What kind of
trick is this? Who is this man? And how dare you let him into my house?” Her
voice rose, fear underpinning every word. The cowboy paused and frowned at her.
Now Becky joined
in. “Mum, I don’t like this.” She started to tug her hand free from Summer and,
just like that, the séance began to fall apart. Summer could feel his gaze upon
her – she wanted to talk to him – but she needed to calm the two frightened women
first. She started by squeezing their fingers.
“He’s a spirit,
Alice. I’m hoping he can find Arthur for you.”
“But…but…I can
see him.”
Well, duh! “Yes, we can all see him.”
“You didn’t say
anything about strange men coming in my house. I’m not happy about this,
Summer. I think I want my money back.”
The cowboy –
Jack – stood there, gently tapping his hat against his leg. “Do we have a
problem, ladies?”
God, that
voice. “We weren’t expecting to see you, Mr McKane.” Summer had a dilemma.
Keep this rather delicious guy talking a little longer or politely ask him to
leave and try again to call up Arthur? There was no contest. Yummy-Jack won by
a mile. Mentally waving her fees aside, she gave Alice an encouraging smile and
then looked back at him.
“No problem. Where
are you from, Mr McKane?”
His smile
widened, and Summer saw a flash of dimple in one sculpted cheek. “Please, call
me Jack. I’m from the Silver Creek Ranch, west of San Antonio.” He broke off
and gazed around the room, the dimple vanishing and his eyes narrowing. “Where
in the hell am I? This sure ain’t Texas.”
“It’s—ah—Manchester.
England.”
The stubbled jaw
tightened, and he cocked his head. “ England ?” She might as well have
said Mars. “I ain’t never been to England.” The drawl lengthened, making Summer
giddy with delight. She hurried to ask him another question—anything to keep
him talking.
“When did you die, Jack? What year was it?”
“Die?” His
eyebrows shot up and disappeared behind an enticing lock of hair. She longed to
sweep it back with her fingers, wondering if it felt as silky as it looked.
“What do you mean, die ?” One hand rose to slip inside his shirt. “Nope,
still beating. This is just a dream. I’ve eaten too many ribs for supper.” When
he pulled his hand free, his shirt lifted to show a flash of hard, golden
stomach. Summer licked her lips, her mouth unaccountably dry.
“It sure was
nice making your acquaintance, Sum-mah Meadows.” The dimple returned, and Jack
took another step forward, extending his hand towards her. Forgetting this was
a séance, forgetting that Jack was a spirit, she released Becky’s fingers and
held out her own hand.
Jack vanished.
Amidst startled
yelps from the two women, Summer groaned at her stupid mistake. Life sucked
sometimes. The first man to come along who made her forget about her ex, and he
was dead. Not only that, but Arthur finally decided to make an appearance, and
now the chance of calling her yummy-cowboy back bordered on nil.
Chapter 4 – Melting Chocolate
Rob snuck back
into her thoughts at bedtime. A year ago, they’d been engaged. Six months
hound. I'm guessing you're not looking for him?” He stepped closer and banged
the hat gently against his thigh. Summer watched, transfixed, as a cloud of
dust drifted to the floor. This apparition looked real enough to touch. She
felt Alice and Becky shrinking back.
“Keep your hands
linked,” she whispered, her eyes never leaving his face. With those high,
Slavic cheekbones, he could have walked straight out of a Tolstoy novel, but
that accent…like molasses, she decided. “If you're not Arthur, who are you?”
Chapter 3 – Still beating
“The name’s
Jack. Jack McKane. Are you gonna tell me your name, Sugar?”
He pronounced it Shug-ah , and
Summer blinked. Not quite her name, but close enough. “I’m Summer Mead-” She
didn’t get a chance to finish; Alice interrupted.
“What kind of
trick is this? Who is this man? And how dare you let him into my house?” Her
voice rose, fear underpinning every word. The cowboy paused and frowned at her.
Now Becky joined
in. “Mum, I don’t like this.” She started to tug her hand free from Summer and,
just like that, the séance began to fall apart. Summer could feel his gaze upon
her – she wanted to talk to him – but she needed to calm the two frightened women
first. She started by squeezing their fingers.
“He’s a spirit,
Alice. I’m hoping he can find Arthur for you.”
“But…but…I can
see him.”
Well, duh! “Yes, we can all see him.”
“You didn’t say
anything about strange men coming in my house. I’m not happy about this,
Summer. I think I want my money back.”
The cowboy –
Jack – stood there, gently tapping his hat against his leg. “Do we have a
problem, ladies?”
God, that
voice. “We weren’t expecting to see you, Mr McKane.” Summer had a dilemma.
Keep this rather delicious guy talking a little longer or politely ask him to
leave and try again to call up Arthur? There was no contest. Yummy-Jack won by
a mile. Mentally waving her fees aside, she gave Alice an encouraging smile and
then looked back at him.
“No problem. Where
are you from, Mr McKane?”
His smile
widened, and Summer saw a flash of dimple in one sculpted cheek. “Please, call
me Jack. I’m from the Silver Creek Ranch, west of San Antonio.” He broke off
and gazed around the room, the dimple vanishing and his eyes narrowing. “Where
in the hell am I? This sure ain’t Texas.”
“It’s—ah—Manchester.
England.”
The stubbled jaw
tightened, and he cocked his head. “ England ?” She might as well have
said Mars. “I ain’t never been to England.” The drawl lengthened, making Summer
giddy with delight. She hurried to ask him another question—anything to keep
him talking.
“When did you die, Jack? What year was it?”
“Die?” His
eyebrows shot up and disappeared behind an enticing lock of hair. She longed to
sweep it back with her fingers, wondering if it felt as silky as it looked.
“What do you mean, die ?” One hand rose to slip inside his shirt. “Nope,
still beating. This is just a dream. I’ve eaten too many ribs for supper.” When
he pulled his hand free, his shirt lifted to show a flash of hard, golden
stomach. Summer licked her lips, her mouth unaccountably dry.
“It sure was
nice making your acquaintance, Sum-mah Meadows.” The dimple returned, and Jack
took another step forward, extending his hand towards her. Forgetting this was
a séance, forgetting that Jack was a spirit, she released Becky’s fingers and
held out her own hand.
Jack vanished.
Amidst startled
yelps from the two women, Summer groaned at her stupid mistake. Life sucked
sometimes. The first man to come along who made her forget about her ex, and he
was dead. Not only that, but Arthur finally decided to make an appearance, and
now the chance of calling her yummy-cowboy back bordered on nil.
Chapter 4 – Melting Chocolate
Rob snuck back
into her thoughts at bedtime. A year ago, they’d been engaged. Six months
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