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The first time Douglas had made a move on me we’d been searching for McEwen’s body. Then, I had rejected his advances. This time would be different. There were stars overhead and the sounds of a waltz drifted romantically from the hall. This was going to be perfect.

His lips were warm and full. They brushed mine, parted them, and then kissed me soft and deep. He knew exactly what he was doing, teasing my lips and tongue until my knees went weak and I was desperate to have him right here right now.

Well that’s what should have happened.

That’s what most women would have felt in the arms of a man who kissed like a finalist for Best Kisser in the United Kingdom.

But I felt nothing. Nothing! What was wrong with me? I kissed harder hoping that pretended enthusiasm would be transformed into the real thing. It wasn’t. I remained unenthusiastic, unhorny and utterly confused.

“What’s wrong?” asked Douglas.

“Nothing.”

I grabbed his face between my hands and kissed him again. This time his hands began working their way beneath my clothes. Oh he was good, real good. I should have been panting for it by now. I should have been running my hands up his thighs to find out exactly what he had on under that kilt. Except that I wasn’t.

What was wrong with me? Was I losing my sex drive? How could this happen?

Douglas murmured against my mouth, “Let’s go back to Mac’s.”

“No.” My voice was too hard, too definite. “What I mean is…this is going too fast. I’m in the middle of a case. The last thing I need is to become involved with the man who’s providing my bed and board.”

I was rambling. Probably I should have stopped right after no, but I was so confused by my lack of response that I hardly knew what I was saying. A part of me hoped that if we tried this on another occasion, when I wasn’t preoccupied with the investigation, my response would be different. I could only hope. If I had stopped responding to handsome men at the ripe old age of twenty-five I might as well have fallen to my death at Wilson’s Creag.

“I didn’t mean to lead you on, Douglas,” I said, feeling guiltier by the second.

“We dinnae get very far.” Douglas sounded disappointed. Very disappointed. “Why don’t we go back inside. I think we could both use a drink.”

We didn’t dance much after that. I encouraged Douglas to dance with other partners and he seemed happy to oblige.

It was almost midnight when I sneaked out of the hall and made my way to Furness Wharf. Earlier that day I had paid Jason to hire a rowing boat. It was tied up exactly where he’d said it would be. Bless him. I untied the boat and rowed toward the center of the loch.

The rhythmic movement of rowing felt good. I hadn’t worked out since arriving in Scotland and I missed the physical exertion that always seemed to sharpen my mind.

As I rowed I wondered what was moving around in the water beneath me. Was there a Loch Ness-type monster lurking only a few feet below my hull? A nervous flutter rippled through my stomach. I was out here unarmed—conventional weapons usually aren’t much use against the paranormal—and what was worse, I hadn’t seen Casper since yesterday.

I had half expected him to be waiting for me at the wharf. Even now I wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d appeared in the rowboat. Hang on, maybe he was here. He could be invisible, couldn’t he? I stopped rowing and swept my hand along the seat opposite. Nope. There was no warm muscular butt there.

Pushing Casper out of my mind, I took note of my surroundings. I had almost reached the middle of the loch. Tonight there was no choppy patch of water. The loch was black and eerily calm.

I drew in the oars. The boat might drift a little but out here I had been told it was pointless to drop an anchor. The loch was too deep. The thought of all that water sloshing away beneath me didn’t exactly fill me with confidence.

What was I doing out here in a stupid little rowboat? I should have taken Douglas’s advice and explored the loch