Insanity
Apparently, insanity was contagious and Wyatt had been exposed to a virulent strain. That was the only explanation for why he had lost his mind so completely in Jo’s office and attempted to devour her from the mouth down.
He couldn’t deny their chemistry was electric and Jo herself was surprisingly likable, for a crazy person, but Wyatt never acted on impulse. The spontaneous kiss had been impulsive and idiotic. And fan-fucking-tastic. He was still half hard as he paced in the waiting area outside Karma’s office.
The kiss may have been electric, but it wouldn’t happen again. He wouldn’t allow it. Wyatt Haines was scrupulously aware of how each woman he was seen with impacted his professional image. He would not allow his image, and by extension his business, to be negatively impacted by an association with a nutcase—no matter how enjoyable he found her company, or her body.
A relationship was ridiculously out of the question. Jo had to know that. They were oil and water, though judging by what had happened in her office, nitro and glycerin might be a better analogy.
Thank God Karma had walked in. Wyatt hadn’t been stopping and neither had Jo. Without that timely intervention, Wyatt would probably have bent Jo over her desk and fucked her right there. What if Karma had come in five minutes later? Wyatt flinched. God, what if she had sent her secretary instead? It would be all over the papers. His reputation would be ruined. His business destroyed. His life over.
It wouldn’t happen again. He wouldn’t be around Jo much longer anyway. Wyatt ruthlessly silenced the little voice that protested that he liked being around Jo. No matter how likable she was, she was toxic to his life.
There was a scientific explanation for his loss of control, just as there was a rational, scientific explanation for what was happening in the house and in his body.
The Episodes in the house were likely the work of some extremely creative, disgruntled employee. Or just a kid playing pranks. A living kid.
The SyFy Channel and Groucho Marx mask could be the result of post-hypnotic suggestion. Wyatt didn’t remember being hypnotized, but wasn’t that part of hypnosis? That you couldn’t remember it?
That was probably what Jo did, hypnotized people into believing she had solved their problems, which she had probably caused herself with wind-machines and holograms.
Wyatt frowned. No. That wasn’t Jo. She wasn’t malicious or dishonest. Nutty, yes. Dishonorable, no.
She believed her delusions wholeheartedly. So much so that the longer Wyatt was around her, the more plausible they seemed. There was a scientific explanation—he knew there was—but he was willing to say he believed in ghosts if she would fix things.
There was belief and then there was belief . Wyatt believed in Santa Claus, insofar as the Jolly Old Elf existed in the minds of children around the world and there was a perfectly rational explanation for the things he supposedly did on Christmas Eve. Jo believed in ghosts the way children believed in Santa Claus and, for a few seconds there back at the house, Wyatt had felt the belief of childlike wonder for himself. He’d actually thought he heard a ghost.
Which just went to show that she was infecting him with her insanity.
He must be channeling his attraction to her—apparently, the shortest route from his balls to his brain ran straight through a web of delusions. Once he got away from Jo, his world would go back to normal.
Karmic Consultants could give him another ghost exterminator to pretend to believe, or he could just pay their bill and walk away—though neither of those options solved the problem of the house or his post-hypnotic suggestion issues.
As soon as Jo stepped out of Karma’s office, Wyatt knew he wasn’t going to like the next words out of her mouth.
“Looks like you’re stuck with me, buddy.”
Of course, he’d been wrong before.
Wyatt knew he needed to get some
Apparently, insanity was contagious and Wyatt had been exposed to a virulent strain. That was the only explanation for why he had lost his mind so completely in Jo’s office and attempted to devour her from the mouth down.
He couldn’t deny their chemistry was electric and Jo herself was surprisingly likable, for a crazy person, but Wyatt never acted on impulse. The spontaneous kiss had been impulsive and idiotic. And fan-fucking-tastic. He was still half hard as he paced in the waiting area outside Karma’s office.
The kiss may have been electric, but it wouldn’t happen again. He wouldn’t allow it. Wyatt Haines was scrupulously aware of how each woman he was seen with impacted his professional image. He would not allow his image, and by extension his business, to be negatively impacted by an association with a nutcase—no matter how enjoyable he found her company, or her body.
A relationship was ridiculously out of the question. Jo had to know that. They were oil and water, though judging by what had happened in her office, nitro and glycerin might be a better analogy.
Thank God Karma had walked in. Wyatt hadn’t been stopping and neither had Jo. Without that timely intervention, Wyatt would probably have bent Jo over her desk and fucked her right there. What if Karma had come in five minutes later? Wyatt flinched. God, what if she had sent her secretary instead? It would be all over the papers. His reputation would be ruined. His business destroyed. His life over.
It wouldn’t happen again. He wouldn’t be around Jo much longer anyway. Wyatt ruthlessly silenced the little voice that protested that he liked being around Jo. No matter how likable she was, she was toxic to his life.
There was a scientific explanation for his loss of control, just as there was a rational, scientific explanation for what was happening in the house and in his body.
The Episodes in the house were likely the work of some extremely creative, disgruntled employee. Or just a kid playing pranks. A living kid.
The SyFy Channel and Groucho Marx mask could be the result of post-hypnotic suggestion. Wyatt didn’t remember being hypnotized, but wasn’t that part of hypnosis? That you couldn’t remember it?
That was probably what Jo did, hypnotized people into believing she had solved their problems, which she had probably caused herself with wind-machines and holograms.
Wyatt frowned. No. That wasn’t Jo. She wasn’t malicious or dishonest. Nutty, yes. Dishonorable, no.
She believed her delusions wholeheartedly. So much so that the longer Wyatt was around her, the more plausible they seemed. There was a scientific explanation—he knew there was—but he was willing to say he believed in ghosts if she would fix things.
There was belief and then there was belief . Wyatt believed in Santa Claus, insofar as the Jolly Old Elf existed in the minds of children around the world and there was a perfectly rational explanation for the things he supposedly did on Christmas Eve. Jo believed in ghosts the way children believed in Santa Claus and, for a few seconds there back at the house, Wyatt had felt the belief of childlike wonder for himself. He’d actually thought he heard a ghost.
Which just went to show that she was infecting him with her insanity.
He must be channeling his attraction to her—apparently, the shortest route from his balls to his brain ran straight through a web of delusions. Once he got away from Jo, his world would go back to normal.
Karmic Consultants could give him another ghost exterminator to pretend to believe, or he could just pay their bill and walk away—though neither of those options solved the problem of the house or his post-hypnotic suggestion issues.
As soon as Jo stepped out of Karma’s office, Wyatt knew he wasn’t going to like the next words out of her mouth.
“Looks like you’re stuck with me, buddy.”
Of course, he’d been wrong before.
Wyatt knew he needed to get some
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