Imogen felt like she’d just stepped into an oven as her cheeks flamed. “This was a terrible idea, Jur. I’m leaving.” She turned for the door.
“Wait.”
It was him—Imogen knew. Somehow, she’d guessed his voice would be deep and smoky.
Why she stopped, Imogen would never know. She looked back over her shoulder, past Jury’s pissed-off features, to the bearded man who had been staring at her.
“Why?”
“Because I know someone who’s got something for you.”
Chills skittered over Imogen’s arms, and the hairs stood on end.
“Excuse me?” Jury said as she turned to face him and crossed her arms. “Who? What?”
“I’ll be right back,” he said to the lady he was working on. He set his black thingy down, peeled off his gloves, and tossed them in the trash.
As he came toward them, Imogen’s feet were rooted to the floor. Even though she wanted to leave, she couldn’t move. It was like her shoes were encased in concrete.
The man was bigger than she’d realized. And broader too. He was tattooed beyond belief, all bright and colorful images, all the way up his chest and throat and even the sides of his head, where the ink disappeared under his hat.
Whoa.
She’d never seen anyone like him before. Hadn’t known a human couldlook like thatbefore.
His eyes were greenish-brown, and his arms stretched the sleeves of his T-shirt as he reached for a notepad and pen on the counter by the receptionist.
He scribbled down a phone number with elegant strokes of ink.
He truly must be an artist.
“Call this number. Tell him someone at Voodoo told you to call. Give him your name. He’ll take it from there.”
“Wait, what?” Jury said. “Who are you? Who do you want us to call? Why?”
Imogen couldn’t stop staring at his large, tattooed hands. He even had a mustache inked on the inside of one of his fingers.
He ignored Jury as he ripped the paper off the pad and held it out to Imogen. “Please, just call.”
She blinked, tearing her gaze away from his fascinating hand that held the piece of paper, and lifted her eyes to stare into his.
“Why?” she asked quietly.
He is beautiful. When have I ever thought a man was beautiful?
“I promise you want to make this call. He knew you’d come here.”
“Who?” Jury asked. “This was spur of the moment. No one else knew we were coming but our parents.”
Imogen’s hand seemed to move of its own accord as she took the sheet from him.
“Is this her reaching out from beyond the grave?” The words came out before she knew she would say them, and shivers rippled across her skin once more.
“What are you talking about, Im?”
Imogen ignored her sister and felt herself drowning in his hazel eyes.What is it about him? He is magnetic.
“Kinda like that.”