Apparently Luna had expected someone who looked like the seventeen-year-old in the picture she’d seen. But that gangly teenager had been replaced by an adult Were who took her breath away.

His features had matured into crisp, classic lines—strong nose, deep-set eyes, chiseled jaw. If pressed to name the color of his collar-length hair, she’d call it brown. But that wouldn’t give an accurate picture of the strands of gold, bronze, and caramel lovingly highlighted by the sunlight pouring through the front door.

He wore slacks, a dress shirt unbuttoned at the neck, and a sport coat. On anyone else, the clothes would be ordinary, but Colin, backlit as he was, looked like a god, or perhaps an angel. And not one of those gauzy, delicate angels, either. Colin radiated power.

She drew in a breath and the sweet scent of him filled her with a kind of hunger she’d never felt before. His scent was familiar, as if she’d known him from somewhere, and yet that was impossible.

Tucking his sunglasses into the breast pocket of his jacket, he released the handle of his rolling bag and stepped toward her. His smile was a ghost of the one she’d seen in his teenaged picture. Carefree innocence had been replaced with a polite gesture tinged by weariness. She wanted to wrap her arms around him and give whatever comfort she could.

“Hello.” He held out a large hand to her. “I’m Colin MacDowell, Geraldine’s nephew.” A slight accent that sounded almost British flavored his speech.

“I know.” Her words were more an expression of awe than a comment. That rich baritone of his would charm a female regardless of the accent. She took his very warm hand and held on as she gazed at him with rapture.

His eyebrows lifted in a subtle but unspoken question.

That silent signal brought her back to reality and her plan. She let go of his hand and cleared her throat. “We are so pleased to welcome y’all to Whittier House.”

‘Y’all?” He looked puzzled. “You’re not from the Trevelyan pack, are you?”

“No, I’m not connected to the Trevelyans, your…” Grace? Highness? Lairdness? She should have researched his title and figured out what to call him. She’d been so busy scrubbing and polishing that she hadn’t thought of it. “Your, um, sirness.” She winced. That wasn’t right, either. Behind her she heard a snort from someone, probably Janet.

Colin ducked his head, obviously hiding a smile. Great. Now he was laughing at her.

When he looked up again, his face was composed but some of the weariness had left his expression. “Colin’s fine. Where are you from?”

“New Orleans, Louisiana, sir.”

“Colin,” he prompted again.

“Colin.” Saying his name felt like a privilege. She’d have to get over this hero-worship, though, if she expected to convince him that he could leave Whittier House in her capable hands.

“I didn’t know any Weres lived that far south.”

She gave him the story she’d used with everyone. “My parents were loners, and after they died, I came up here to be with other Weres.” It was a partial truth, so she could say it without feeling too guilty.

“And your name is…?”

“Oh!” Her face grew hot. She couldn’t believe she hadn’t introduced herself. “I’m Luna Reynaud. I was your aunt’s personal assistant for about ten months, and I managed the household for her.”

“I’ll bet she also taught you to mix a very dry martini, shaken, not stirred.”

“As a matter of fact, she did.” She paused, thinking that might be a subtle hint that he could use a drink. “I can fix one in about two minutes if you’d like a—”

“I don’t need it yet. But her instructions for scattering her, uh,…ashes…” He looked down and swallowed. “Hers and Henry’s, that is. She wants me to toast the…the occasion with her favorite beverage.”

His barely disguised grief tugged at her heart. “On Happy Hour Beach.”

He raised his head and sorrow clouded his blue eyes. “Yes.”

“Bless your heart.” Luna’s throat tightened. She might have guessed that Geraldine would want her ashes scattered there along with her husband’s. The two urns sat waiting on the mantel of Geraldine’s sitting room fireplace, but as Luna wasn’t next of kin, the lawyer hadn’t revealed Geraldine’s instructions for those ashes.

Behind her someone sniffed. Luna suspected it was Sybil, the most tender-hearted of the staff. Another couple of seconds spent on this topic, and everyone would be crying, which wouldn’t help Colin get through this.

Luna injected brisk efficiency into her voice. “I’ll help with that, then.”

“The martini or the scattering?”

“Whatever y’all want.”

“Then I’d like help with both.”

“Absolutely.” The urge to wrap her arms around him swamped her again and she tamped it down. “Now let me introduce the rest of the staff.” She turned to discover that Janet, Dulcie, and Sybil had lined up as they’d originally practiced. Each of them seemed to be working hard to hold it together, which she appreciated.

A warm rush of loyalty made her more determined than ever to save everyone’s job. She gestured to each one in turn. “Janet is our cook, and she’s amazing. She can make most anything in the world.”

He stepped forward and shook Janet’s hand. “Can you make haggis, then?”

To the cook’s credit, she didn’t blink. “Maybe not on short notice, but given a little time to research, I can—”

“Not necessary. I think haggis is dreadful stuff. If you can make salmon the way I remember, then I’ll be overjoyed. I think there was a plank involved.”

“I know exactly what you mean, and I can do that.”

“Thank you. I’ll look forward to it.”

The soft burr in his voice nearly put Luna into a trance again. She forced herself to concentrate as she introduced Dulcie and Sybil. “These two are the housemaids, and you’ll never find more dedicated and professional workers. If you need anything, buzz them on the intercom.”

“I’ll come running,” Dulcie said as she shook his hand.

“And I’ll come walking,” Sybil said. “I don’t do that running thing, but I know all the hallway shortcuts, so I’m almost as speedy as Dulcie.”

Colin smiled at her. “Don’t rush on my account. All I need right now is a hot shower.”

Luna thought of him standing in that hot shower and was gripped by a yearning she’d worked to subdue ever since puberty. Normally whenever she felt desire for a male, she’d been able to block it. Giving in to her sexuality, when she had no idea how lovemaking affected Weres, would have been reckless.

But Colin’s potent appeal broke through every defense she’d constructed. Her body grew moist, and she ached in places she’d managed to ignore for years. She hadn’t counted on this complication, but she couldn’t allow it to distract her from her goal.

Hector’s voice boomed out from the doorway. “Are you going to keep the poor boy standing in the hall forever, or can I take him up to his room?”

Luna glanced back at the grizzled old Were holding Colin’s leather carryon bag. Impatience flattened his mouth into a thin line and his shock of white hair stood on end where he’d run his fingers through it. Logically he’d feel Geraldine’s loss more than anyone here because of his long association with her, so Luna cut him some slack. Perhaps grief made him more cantankerous than usual.

She hadn’t discussed her plan with him because she was afraid he’d be against it. He’d often told her he liked the peace and quiet of this isolated island. If her plan succeeded, it would bring a constant flood of guests.

“I thought Colin would want to meet everyone,” she said. “But perhaps that wasn’t—”

“I did want that.” Colin leveled his blue gaze on her again. “Thank you all for coming out to greet me. I wouldn’t have wanted to walk into an empty hallway.”

A hallway without Geraldine in it, Luna realized. “That wouldn’t have been right,” she said. Although she’d had more than a week to adjust to Geraldine being gone, Colin had never stayed in this house without his aunt being here, too. “But we’re done with the introductions, so Hector can take y’all upstairs.”

“If it’s the same room, I know the way.”

“It’s the same room,” Hector said. “I made sure of that. But I’ll go with you and see that everything’s the way you like it.”

Dulcie and Sybil both stiffened as if ready to take offense at the suggestion they hadn’t prepared Colin’s room well enough.

Luna sent them a warning glance, and they kept quiet. In Luna’s opinion, Hector had a right to be a little protective of Colin. They would have shared memories of Geraldine that the rest of them did not. “Thanks, Hector. Colin, let me know when to mix up that martini.”

He looked out the front door, which was still open. “It’s nearly happy hour, although I suppose if the sun doesn’t set until after nine these days, happy hour could be anytime from now until then.”

“Janet could fix us some food to take along if you’re getting hungry.” That would be a good idea, regardless. She didn’t want a tipsy Were on her hands.

“Food would be nice,” he said. “Just sandwiches, something simple.”

“I’ll pack a light dinner,” Janet said. “How soon do you want it to be ready?”

Colin glanced at his watch. “An hour?”

“That’s fine.” Janet nodded. “I’ll bring a basket to Geraldine’s sitting room. The wet bar’s there.”

“I remember.” A smile flitted across his face. Then he glanced at Luna. “Does that work for you?”

“Of course. I’ll be in Geraldine’s sitting room in an hour with a martini shaker and a basket of food.”

“Make sure to bring two glasses. I hate to drink alone.”

“All right.”

Colin turned to Hector. “Ready?”

“Been ready.” Hector started toward the curving marble staircase, and Colin followed.

Luna stayed in the hallway with Dulcie, Sybil, and Janet as Colin carried his suitcase up the stairs. He looked about as wonderful from the back as he did from the front.

After they disappeared down the corridor, Dulcie was the first to break the silence. “Oh, baby.” She packed a wealth of appreciation into those two words.

Luna couldn’t agree more, but she wasn’t about to say so. “Thanks for not responding to Hector’s remark about the condition of the room. Colin may be the closest thing to family he has left.”

“That’s true,” Janet said. “Whittier House has been Hector’s whole life.”

“He’s still a pain in the rear, but I’ll lay off for now.” Dulcie put her hand on her heart and sighed dramatically. “Because any friend of Colin’s is a friend of mine.”

“You might as well give up that project, Dulcie,” Sybil said. “He only has eyes for our Southern belle, here.”

Heat swept through Luna. “That’s not true!”

“Yeah, it is.” Janet gave her a knowing look.

“Don’t count me out, yet,” Dulcie said.

Janet slung an arm around Dulcie’s shoulders. “Sorry old girl. Luna has the inside track on this one. And it’s about time our little magnolia blossom had some romance in her life.”

Luna’s pulse skyrocketed at Janet’s implication, but she shook her head and adopted a businesslike tone. “Not happening. Too much at stake.”

“But sweetie,” Janet said. “That’s exactly why you should seduce that beautiful Were. The male of the species tends to mellow out after good sex. A roll in the hay might tip the scales in your favor.”

Both the subject and her lack of experience caused her face to flame. “I don’t think so. I’m not…great at that kind of thing.”

Dulcie grinned at her. “I wouldn’t worry about it, toots. Something tells me he is.”

Colin had dreaded walking into Whittier House now that Geraldine was gone, but it hadn’t been too bad thanks to Luna Reynaud. Yes, her wavy dark hair, fair skin, and wide green eyes would capture any male’s attention, but it wasn’t her beauty that had lifted his heavy heart. It was her endearing lack of sophistication.

He could see immediately why Geraldine had hired her. Earnest sincerity was a quality his aunt had prized, and Luna had that, plus a subtle vulnerability that inspired his protective instincts. He had no doubt Luna had taken excellent care of Geraldine, but Geraldine had probably mothered Luna more than a little bit.

It was obviously a happy household, even in grief. He’d felt better the minute he’d heard laughter coming from behind the closed door. He’d known from Hector’s scowl that the groundskeeper disapproved of laughter at a time like this.

But Colin had been pathetically grateful for that first glimpse of Luna’s smiling face when he’d opened the door. She’d banished the shadows he’d expected to find and had replaced them with sunshine.

Next time he saw her, he’d ask what they’d been laughing about. He liked knowing that Geraldine had continued to surround herself with cheerful people. The one exception was Hector, who had always been on the grumpy side, even fifteen years ago.

“So everyone’s new except you, then,” he said as they headed toward the room at the end of the corridor, the same one Colin had been given as a teenager.

“Luna’s new. The others have all been here about ten years, I guess.”

“And how long has Luna been around?” A pretty name for a pretty Were.

“Not quite a year.”

“She seems like a good sort.”

Hector didn’t respond.

Colin glanced at him. “You don’t like her?”

“It’s not a matter of like or don’t like. She’s hiding something. I’d take bets on it.”

“Such as?”

“Not sure.”

“Apparently my aunt trusted her.”

“Yeah.”

Colin had a sudden thought. Hector’s nose could be out of joint if he’d expected to be part of scattering the ashes. “Listen, if you’d like to go with me down to Happy Hour Beach instead of Luna, I’ll ask her to—”

“Hell, no. I’m glad to have you two take care of it. Not my thing. Anyway, we’re here.” He gestured for Colin to go ahead of him into the bedroom at the end of the hall. “Let’s get you settled.”

Tabling the subject of Luna for now, Colin walked into the room Geraldine had chosen for him on his first visit. In the far right corner, a spiral metal staircase led to a trap door that opened onto the crenellated tower above. No teenager could resist a feature like that, and somehow she’d known, despite having no children herself.

The room was achingly familiar, with tattered paperbacks in the bookshelf along with a stack of board games. Two sports pennants, one for the Seahawks and one for the Mariners, were tacked to the wall over the bookcase. Grief lodged in his throat as he was swept back to his first summer, the summer after he’d reached puberty.

He’d known puberty would bring the ability to shift. All Were children were carefully instructed in how to deal with that change. But being told what to expect was a far cry from actually experiencing it.

A few times over the years he’d heard humans complain about those miserable years when they were neither child nor adult. He’d had to laugh. Sure, human kids had hormonal issues and zits, but they didn’t periodically shift into a creature with fangs and fur. Try dealing with that on a first date.

Until he’d learned to control that ability, he couldn’t go to a movie or an arcade frequented by human teens without worrying that the urge would suddenly come upon him. All a teenage boy had to fear was an unexpected erection. Weres risked an unexpected transformation that could get them killed.

Now he wouldn’t trade his Were status for anything, but those teenage years had been hell. His Aunt Geraldine and Uncle Henry had offered this island as a refuge while he was learning to adapt to a confusing new reality. Colin had liked Henry okay, but he’d adored Geraldine, who had seemed to understand his youthful insecurities.

Damn it, he should have come to see her when Henry had died several years ago. He should have flown over to offer whatever comfort he could. But he hadn’t, and that failure would haunt him for a long time.

“Far as I know, nothing’s been changed in here,” Hector said. “Aired and cleaned, of course, but not changed.”

“I’m glad it hasn’t changed.” That first summer, his aunt had been anxious about whether he’d like the drapes and bed linens she’d chosen for him, which depicted the night sky in silver against a dark blue background.

He’d thought the pattern was beautiful, and it had sparked an interest he still had. When she’d realized the astronomy décor suited him, she’d bought him a telescope. Winters were rainy here, but summers were generally clear, and he’d spent hours on the flat roof of the tower studying the heavens.

Colin set down his suitcase and turned to Hector. “Do you know if the telescope’s still around?”

“Probably in the closet. She wouldn’t have gotten rid of it.”

No, she wouldn’t have, because she’d probably thought he might come back and use it again. Walking over to the closet, he opened the door. The telescope box sat on a shelf over the clothes rod. All the wooden hangers were empty except one.

He turned on the light and his heart squeezed. She’d kept the Seattle Space Needle hooded sweatshirt he’d bought and left here to wear on cool summer nights. Taking off his sport coat, he hung it up, unzipped the sweatshirt, and slipped it from the hanger.

Maybe it smelled a little musty, but he didn’t care. Maybe it was a little tight through the shoulders. Didn’t matter. He tugged it on and zipped it partway up.

Then he glanced toward the doorway where Hector stood. “I miss her like the devil, Hector.”

The groundskeeper nodded.

For a moment the two gazed at each other in perfect agreement. Death sucked.