Google search to remember where she’d tripped across the name Karmic Consultants before. Her ghost-fanatic brother Joe had left an article at her apartment about the newest Haines Hideaway Hotel, The Haunted Hideaway. Ghost hunters were eagerly reserving rooms for the grand opening at outrageous rates, but what caught Mia’s attention was not the gullibility of the masses, but the single-line mention of Karmic Consultants, the paranormal solutions firm which supplied ghost-wranglers for the Inn.
Gazillionaire hotel magnate Wyatt Haines didn’t seem the type to throw money at a bunch of charlatans. Of course, he hadn’t seemed like the type to open up a Ghost Inn either.
Then again, Mia wasn’t “the type”, but here she was. In the tasteful, upscale offices of a consulting firm unlike any other.
Desperate times and all that.
Just not quite that desperate. “If I were to move forward with this, I would be more comfortable with another consultant,” Mia said, matching Karma’s precision with her own.
Chase snorted out a laugh from behind her. “Don’t be shy, honey. Tell me how you really feel.”
Mia felt her face heat, but firmed her chin, holding her ground. “I don’t mean to offend, Mr. Hunter, but this is not a trivial matter to me, no matter how insignificant it may appear to you. I’m sure you’re quite capable, but I would feel more comfortable with someone a bit more…” Mature. Professional. Unattractive. Boring. Old. “ Experienced.”
She was rather pleased with herself for pulling that excuse out of her ass. Chase couldn’t be more than twenty-six or twenty-seven. He couldn’t have been doing this for long.
“Oh, I’m experienced, sugar.”
Mia felt herself blushing again. What was wrong with her? Flirtation and innuendo usually rolled right off her back.
Karma shot her finder a quelling look as he strolled past Mia’s chair and propped himself against the edge of his boss’s desk. A white stick thrust out between his lips and Mia realized he was rolling a lollipop around in his mouth. The man is a child.
“Dr. Corregianni,” Karma said in her low, soothing tones. “Appearance aside, Chase is excellent and quite experienced. If another finder is better suited to your case, I assure you I will assign one. Why don’t we start with a description of the lost item?”
Mia studied the surfer dude who was supposedly going to save her ass and keep her from being disowned by her entire family. He did not inspire confidence.
Chase sprawled against Karma’s massive desk—too boneless to actually be considered leaning on it—with a Tootsie Pop rolling around in his mouth and an I-know-exactly-how-hot-I-am twinkle in his eye.
She needed Hercule Poirot and here she was faced with Matthew McConaughey’s younger, buffer and even less-responsible brother. He had that I-can’t-even-hold-a-minimum-wage-job-when-the-waves-are-good look. Or maybe that was just the god-awful T-shirt talking.
Her future depended on this man-child?
Mia swallowed past the lump of desperation clogging her throat and forced herself to respond to Karma’s question. It was the first time she’d actually said aloud (and sober) that she’d lost it, but she ensured her voice betrayed none of her hesitation, keeping the words simple and precise. She valued precision. “It’s a pocket watch. Gold, about the size of a silver dollar and probably worth about as much.”
“Is there anything distinctive about it? Anything that will help our finders distinguish it from the millions of other small gold watches in the world? A mark of some kind?”
Other than the fact that my entire family thinks that stupid charm safeguards the romantic fate of five generations of Corregiannis?
Mia sealed her lips together. She may be sitting in Kooks and Charlatans Central, but that didn’t mean she had to join the insanity. She refused to tell them that the watch still ran and supposedly had never stopped ticking in the last
Gazillionaire hotel magnate Wyatt Haines didn’t seem the type to throw money at a bunch of charlatans. Of course, he hadn’t seemed like the type to open up a Ghost Inn either.
Then again, Mia wasn’t “the type”, but here she was. In the tasteful, upscale offices of a consulting firm unlike any other.
Desperate times and all that.
Just not quite that desperate. “If I were to move forward with this, I would be more comfortable with another consultant,” Mia said, matching Karma’s precision with her own.
Chase snorted out a laugh from behind her. “Don’t be shy, honey. Tell me how you really feel.”
Mia felt her face heat, but firmed her chin, holding her ground. “I don’t mean to offend, Mr. Hunter, but this is not a trivial matter to me, no matter how insignificant it may appear to you. I’m sure you’re quite capable, but I would feel more comfortable with someone a bit more…” Mature. Professional. Unattractive. Boring. Old. “ Experienced.”
She was rather pleased with herself for pulling that excuse out of her ass. Chase couldn’t be more than twenty-six or twenty-seven. He couldn’t have been doing this for long.
“Oh, I’m experienced, sugar.”
Mia felt herself blushing again. What was wrong with her? Flirtation and innuendo usually rolled right off her back.
Karma shot her finder a quelling look as he strolled past Mia’s chair and propped himself against the edge of his boss’s desk. A white stick thrust out between his lips and Mia realized he was rolling a lollipop around in his mouth. The man is a child.
“Dr. Corregianni,” Karma said in her low, soothing tones. “Appearance aside, Chase is excellent and quite experienced. If another finder is better suited to your case, I assure you I will assign one. Why don’t we start with a description of the lost item?”
Mia studied the surfer dude who was supposedly going to save her ass and keep her from being disowned by her entire family. He did not inspire confidence.
Chase sprawled against Karma’s massive desk—too boneless to actually be considered leaning on it—with a Tootsie Pop rolling around in his mouth and an I-know-exactly-how-hot-I-am twinkle in his eye.
She needed Hercule Poirot and here she was faced with Matthew McConaughey’s younger, buffer and even less-responsible brother. He had that I-can’t-even-hold-a-minimum-wage-job-when-the-waves-are-good look. Or maybe that was just the god-awful T-shirt talking.
Her future depended on this man-child?
Mia swallowed past the lump of desperation clogging her throat and forced herself to respond to Karma’s question. It was the first time she’d actually said aloud (and sober) that she’d lost it, but she ensured her voice betrayed none of her hesitation, keeping the words simple and precise. She valued precision. “It’s a pocket watch. Gold, about the size of a silver dollar and probably worth about as much.”
“Is there anything distinctive about it? Anything that will help our finders distinguish it from the millions of other small gold watches in the world? A mark of some kind?”
Other than the fact that my entire family thinks that stupid charm safeguards the romantic fate of five generations of Corregiannis?
Mia sealed her lips together. She may be sitting in Kooks and Charlatans Central, but that didn’t mean she had to join the insanity. She refused to tell them that the watch still ran and supposedly had never stopped ticking in the last
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