1
Voluntarily choosing to live in a haunted house took an extraordinary amount of desperation. Or perhapsdeterminationwas the better word. Either way, Lucky Hart possessed an ample supply of both.
“Next.” The receptionist—Gayle, according to her nameplate—signaled her forward. “I need to see your ID. Glasses off, please.”
“I have an appointment. Lucky Hart.” She removed her dark sunglasses as requested.
Gayle’s hair had been cut into a severely angled bob that framed her equally sharp jawline. She dressed as if she’d walked right off the page of a high fashion editorial spread with her glowing, sun-kissed skin and svelte figure. Her eyes and smile were kind, but unfortunately also betrayed precisely who she was. She lived with an insidious type of exhaustion that no amount of sleep could remedy. It burrowed into her bones, hollowed them out, until she had nothing left and yet somehow continued on.She relied heavily on ambition to keep from collapsing. No matter how many times she crossed that line of living to survive, her endless desire for more, for better, for everything, would never allow her to fail.
Interesting.
That was the thing about Lucky—she had an uncanny knack for first impressions. Looking at someone’s eyes told her nearly everything she needed to know about them.
After completing a visitor’s sheet, Gayle escorted Lucky to a back office and then excused herself.
“Ah, Miss Hart. Please have a seat.”
Three people sat around a table inside the room and, well, that was two too many new windows for Lucky’s liking. She couldn’t control her ability, so she swiftly slipped her dark sunglasses back on. They managed to block her first impression readings a solid ninety-five percent of the time.
“Thank you,” she said as she sat down.
“My name is Castor Paulson.” He was a white man with a round body and chubby cheeks, and he wore a suit that fit him like a dream. His most distinguishing feature was a walrus mustache—brown sprinkled with salt and pepper, same as his hair.
“Castor doubles as our casting director and HR manager. I’m Stephen. We spoke on the phone.” Also a white man, except he was bald with a muscular build and could double as Bruce Willis’sThe Fifth Elementtethered.
“That’s quite the face you have,” she joked.
“I’m aware.” His indulgent, welcoming smile made her like him instantly. She didn’t need to know anything else, which wassaying something considering what she could do. “And this is my business partner, Xander Hennessee.”
“Hello, Ms. Hart.” Even though he was sitting she knew he was a giant—long limbs, strong bone structure, and lean muscle. His hazel eyes warmed his pale skin, and he also wore a suit, deep cerulean in color with shining gold cuff links. “Is it too bright in here?”
“No.”
“Is there a particular reason why you’ve chosen to wear sunglasses indoors?”
“There is.”
“Do you plan to share that reason?”
Lucky considered her answer. Point-blank, her career hinged on this meeting being a success. She needed to keep a clear head and some readings were harder to shake than others.
A firm, undeniable feeling told her that grief clung to Xander like an old, tattered coat in a snowstorm—useless but better than nothing. He needed to eat something delicious, warm, and home-cooked, and get a good fortnight’s sleep…and there she was, channeling again. Delaying reading someone’s first impression, and choosing to stay near them, occasionally resulted in their surface feelings seeping through. As if her brain were impatient and needed a snack.
Those suspected grief-filled feelings might not be a part of his core personality, but if they were strong enough to punch throughherdefenses?Beforea reading? Odds were good they had begun to alter his being in a significant way, which rarely happened because people didn’t fundamentally change. Evolve and grow, yes. But change? Almost never. Over the years, she’d learnedthere was a very clear and very distinct difference between the two concepts.
Lucky tossed him her most playful grin. “Only if I get the job. Make me an offer and I’ll take them right off.” She leaned toward him, stage-whispering, “I promise it’ll be worth your while.”
Stephen laughed softly and Castor’s glorious whiskers twitched as he tried to hide his smile. Xander, however, remained unmoved. He checked his watch and said, “Why don’t we get started? I have another meeting in an hour.”
Tough crowd. Unfazed, she continued smiling at him, mentally vowing to find a way to win him over.
“All right,” Stephen began. “As you know, we’re looking for someone to star in our latest production, centered around a haunted house. If chosen, your role would be that of the caretaker. While acting experience isn’t necessary, we did hope to find someone with some retail or property management experience, which you also don’t have.”
Xander frowned. “According to your résumé, you don’t have any work experience.”
She grinned. “According to my résumé, that’s correct.”
“You’re twenty-five and you’ve never had a job?”
