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chin. “Just take care of business on the mainland and let me do my stuff here.”
    Jacob made no move to leave.
    She stared at him intently.
    He groaned. “There’s no arguing with you when your chin tilts up that way.”
    She smiled. He was right.
    “I’ll be back in two hours or less,” he promised. He jogged down a few steps, then returned, removing a necklace from around his neck. “Wait. Wear this.”
    Alexa eyed the offering warily. She wasn’t sure she’d seen Jacob wear this particular trinket before—a gold triangle with a jagged corner, as if it were ripped off a larger design.
    “What’s this?”
    “A talisman,” he answered.
    She crossed her arms.
    He rolled his eyes. “Take the damned thing, Alexa. It’s for luck. I’m betting this charm kept us from falling out of the sky today on that helicopter.”
    She shook her head. “I don’t need a good-luck charm.”
    He thrust the necklace at her. “Take it or I’m not leaving.”
    Alexa knew how to assess an opponent. From across a boardroom table or on the landing of an ancient castle staircase, she could estimate with amazing accuracy when her adversaries would back down and when they would not. Jacob had correctly assessed her stubbornness a moment before. Now he was the one who wasn’t budging. Which meant the crisis at Crown Chandler would only snowball. Sunlight would slip away. Her chance to roam the castle halls would be lost.
    She yanked the necklace out of his hand and, while he watched, twisted the chain around her neck. “There,” she said. “Satisfied?”
    After a quick kiss on her cheek, Jacob told her to be careful and left.
    Instantly, Alexa turned to the painting. Fingering the triangle now dangling from her neck, she approached the portrait with soft, measured steps. The closer she got, the more intensely her body reacted. Her chest tightened. Sweat curled along the back of her neck. Her breathing shortened. His eyes seemed to rake over her. She jolted when her nipples hardened in response.
    Whoa.
    She stopped. “Just who are you?” she asked the painting.
    Touch me and find out .
    She staggered backward, then spun around. The door at the bottom of the stairs remained firmly closed. The voice had been a whisper in her ear, a hot breath along the nape of her neck…and yet, she was alone.
    Alexa swallowed hard and turned sharply. She hadn’t come this far to be afraid. She marched to the canvas and balanced her fists on her hips.
    “Say again?”
    She waited.
    Nothing.
    “Just when things were getting interesting, you turn shy?” she quipped.
    His expression remained stoic, unchanged, but his eyes brimmed with wild fury like thunderclouds rolling over white-capped waves. Even through the layers of grime coating the canvas, masking what she anticipated was a rich depth of color, he intrigued her at the same time that he unnerved her.
    She shrugged out of the silk shirt she’d worn over a lacy chemise and approached the canvas.
    Hung high, the painting remained mostly out of reach. She stretched on her tiptoes and flicked the shirt at the corners, removing most of the powdery dirt and spiderwebs that had accumulated on the surface and in the corners of the once-gilded frame. With a shiver, she tossed the ruined material to the floor, but admired her handiwork nonetheless.
    He was gorgeous. The fire of male strength and power had been captured in his eyes, in the set of his shoulders, in the broad width of his chest. The fabric and detail in the cut of his clothes reflected money. Perhaps influence. The time period eluded her, but she’d have experts tackle that question. She was more concerned with who he was—and if he was the man she’d seen in the window. Was he the type of man who would defy time, space and, perhaps, death?
    She closed her eyes and concentrated.
    Who are you?
    She ran her fingers over the frame. Once again, she felt a surge of warmth. Funny. Ghosts were supposed to announce their presence with cold,