Thoroughly put out with herself, Luna concentrated on getting their food organized. She was still holding Colin’s sweatshirt, and she draped it carefully over a branch of the giant piece of driftwood. Then she began randomly pulling out the food that Janet had packed for them.

Using every available flat place on the wood, she laid out plates, napkins, forks, and wrapped sandwiches. All the while she silently cursed her gigantic stupidity. Her stupidity was so big it would reach to the moon and back, with stupidity left over.

Apparently cotton was stuffed in her skull where her brains were supposed to be. Otherwise she had no explanation for why she’d stood there like a complete idiot and let Colin kiss her. Even a clueless virgin could guess what he’d had in mind when he’d leaned toward her with that soft expression in his dreamy blue eyes.

But had she ducked away? No, she had not! She’d let it happen, and then had been so amazed at the gentle contact with his mouth that she’d reacted like…well, she hadn’t reacted at all, had she? When he’d pressed forward, she could have pressed back and pretended to know what she was doing. She’d seen it a million times in movies.

“I think we should finish up the martinis,” Colin said as he came up beside her. “Would you like some more?”

“No, thank you.” Getting drunk would put the finishing touch on her imbecilic image. Instead of dazzling him with her business savvy, she’d paraded her lack of sexual experience in front of him.

From what she’d observed, males tended to fixate on that kind of information. Instead of thinking of her as a competent person in charge of a business venture, he’d think of her as a virgin waiting for Prince Charming to show up.

Way to go, Luna!

“Mind if I have one of those sandwiches?” He crouched beside her, his martini in one hand.

The tantalizing scent of him stalled her thought process for a second. Then she realized she was blocking access to the food she’d piled on the driftwood.

She stood, careful not to bump into him, and moved away. “Please, help yourself. As you can see, everything’s there. There’s a container of potato salad still in the basket, and a spoon.” She should have fixed him a plate, but her hands were shaking so much that she might have dumped his meal in the sand.

Worst of all, no matter how foolish she’d been, she wanted him to kiss her again. His warmth called to her, blotting out her usually excellent sense of self-preservation. His kiss was so very different from her first one, and she couldn’t stop thinking about the velvet press of his lips, the sweet scent of his breath, the careful restraint she sensed in that light, butterfly touch.

Setting his glass in the sand, he loaded a plate, stood, and offered it to her. “Take this one. I can fix another for myself.”

“Y’all take that, please. You’re the guest. I’ll fix one for myself.”

“All right, if you say so.” Carrying his food and martini, he returned to the level spot on the driftwood where he’d sat originally.

Luna grabbed a plate, plopped a sandwich on it, and ignored the potato salad. All the food would taste like sawdust, anyway, as she contemplated her self-imposed downfall. Reclaiming her spot on the driftwood, she unwrapped her sandwich and took a bite.

“This plan you have to turn Whittier House into an inn. Have you mentioned it to the rest of the staff?”

She finished chewing her bite of sandwich and swallowed before answering, which gave her time to develop extreme paranoia about why he was asking. “Everyone knows except Hector.”

“And what do they think of it?”

She gazed at him and could sense nothing but a sincere desire to explore the subject. Maybe she hadn’t ruined her chances, after all, which would be a miracle. “They liked the idea, but I would expect y’all to interview each of them about it. That’s only right.”

“An inn would be more work than providing for one eccentric older woman.”

Luna nodded. “We’ve talked about that. There would be more work, but Dulcie and Sybil would make tips over and above their normal salary, and Janet could hire some help in the kitchen, which would give her more time to create signature dishes.” And watch her flat-screen TV, but Luna wasn’t going to mention that.

“Mm.” Colin took a forkful of potato salad. When he’d eaten that, he laid down his fork. “I can see how Janet would be a draw. This food is very good, and it’s only picnic fare.”

“Janet takes pride in her work.” Luna warmed to her subject. She happened to think the staff at Whittier House was top-notch. “It doesn’t matter to her if she’s fixing a sandwich or a seven-course dinner, she always makes everything special.”

“I admire that.” He dug his fork into the potato salad again and paused. “Why haven’t you told Hector about your plan?”

“I’m afraid he would hate it. He loves the seclusion of this island. Creating an inn for Weres would change that. And…” She hesitated to say the rest, but surely Colin would pick up on it eventually, if he hadn’t already. “I don’t think Hector likes me very much.”

“He’s wary of you.”

She blinked in surprise. “Excuse me?”

“He thinks you’re hiding something.”

A shiver of alarm traveled up her spine. “Does he?”

“That’s what he told me this afternoon. Is he right?”

She could deny it, but if they had even the slightest chance of being business partners, telling flat-out lies wasn’t a great idea. “Is there any of the martini mix left in the shaker?”

The corners of his mouth tilted up. “A wee bit.”

She picked up her glass from the sand and held it out. “Fill me up, Scottie.”

Colin groaned. “Do you have any idea how long my countrymen have had to deal with jokes about Star Trek Scottie?”

“A long time?”

“An eternity.”

“Then I promise never to make another beam me up joke in your presence, your…how am I supposed to refer to you, anyway?”

“I told you.” He emptied the martini shaker into her glass. “Colin is fine.”

“Yes, but if we’re going to capitalize on your Scottish heritage and the obvious Scottish ambiance of Whittier House, then I will be billing this place as the exclusive vacation spot owned by His Supreme High Lairdness, or something to that effect.”

The corners of his eyes crinkled with amusement. “That’s not quite correct.”

“Then what is correct?”

“Colin MacDowell, Laird of Glenbarra.”

“That’s it? No more flourishes?” She liked this change of subject, which directed the conversation away from her secrets and put the focus on Colin and his title.

“You could add The Most Honoured in front of my name, although I shudder every time I hear that. Too stuffy.”

“But it would suggest elegance, which is what I’d be going for.”

“Then be sure to spell honour with a “u,” which is how we do it in Scotland.”

“That’s a great idea.” She shouldn’t start counting her chickens about this inn project, but she couldn’t seem to help it. “I should adopt Scottish spellings for anything printed in connection with the inn. It helps set the tone I was mentioning to you earlier.”

“Right.” He tackled his food again. “The tone that keeps guests from breaking up the furniture.”

“They won’t do that, I promise. I’m very protective of the beautiful things in that house. They meant a lot to Geraldine, and I would want to preserve them for her sake. And for yours, of course.”

“I believe you.” He put down his fork. “I also believe in Hector’s instincts. What aren’t you telling me, Luna?”

Anxiety turned her stomach into a rock tumbler. He’d circled back to the topic, after all. “Everyone has secrets.”

“I suppose so. Apart from me, that is. My life is an open book. I could probably do with a few more secrets. Maybe I should borrow some of yours.”

“I doubt my secrets would work for y’all.” No one would look at Colin and peg him for a virgin.

“I can’t help thinking your secrets have something to do with you being celibate all these years.”

There was no help for it. She’d have to give him another piece of the puzzle and hope it didn’t cause more problems for her. “It does, in a way. When I said I’d been on my own a long time, that’s because I literally had no home.”

“There were no packs to take you in?”

She drank more of her martini, seeking courage. “My father, Byron Reynaud, was connected to the Trevelyan pack, but my parents split up before I was born.”

“Split up?” He frowned. “I don’t understand how that could happen if your mother was pregnant with you.”

“She didn’t want to stay here with my father. Pregnancy doesn’t mean you have to be chained to someone for life.” Now she wished fervently that her mother hadn’t bolted. Maybe both her mother and father would be alive today if Sophie had stayed in Seattle.

“But a Were male can’t impregnate a female unless she’s pledged to be his mate for life.”

“Really? Are you sure about that?”

“Of course I’m sure. We’re all taught that when we go through puberty. It’s one of the basic pieces of information that we—” He paused to gaze at her. “You weren’t taught anything, were you?”

“Not exactly.”

“Don’t tell me you went through your first change alone.”

She nodded. “I thought I was dying.”

“That’s terrible! No Were should have to go through that by themselves. Where was your mother?”

“She died when I was eight.”

“Oh, Luna.” His blue eyes filled with compassion.

Luna couldn’t decide whether this new information about being mated was good news or bad. On the one hand, it meant her parents were destined for each other, which made her feel special as the child of that union. On the other hand, it meant her mother had abandoned her mate.

“So your mother left Seattle.”

Luna took a deep breath. “That’s right. She caught a train. My father raced to the train station to try and stop her from leaving, but he had a car accident on the way…and died.”

“God.”

“I didn’t find out about that until I came up here and asked if anyone knew Byron Reynaud.”

He groaned in dismay. “I’m sorry, Luna.”

“So am I. I never knew him, but I’d counted on finding him more than I’d realized.” She stared out toward the water. “I’m sure my mother never heard what happened to him. She didn’t give any indication that he was dead, only that she’d loved him, but she didn’t belong here.” Luna hadn’t understood that as a child, but she got it now.

“What about her pack?”

She didn’t have one. She was human. And that was the one secret Luna planned to keep forever. She’d never heard of anyone being half Were. What if they treated her like a freak? Being exposed as half Were might destroy any chance she had of being accepted anywhere.

“Never mind,” Colin said. “I can imagine what happened. She’d gone against the natural order by leaving her mate, so she wasn’t welcome in her own pack, either.” He shook his head. “What a tragedy. For her, for your father, and mostly for you.”

Luna said nothing. By not contradicting him, she was guilty of a lie of omission, but considering the stakes, she felt justified. If Colin could leave it at that, she’d be extremely relieved.

“But you’re using the name Reynaud,” he said. “Hasn’t anyone suspected that you’re Byron Reynaud’s daughter?”

“In the first place, I don’t think anyone knew my mother was pregnant except maybe my father. In the second place, when I first arrived in Seattle and contacted pack members, I told them that I was a second cousin of Byron’s and I’d been told to look him up if I came to town.”

“Turns out you were right to be cautious.” He set his plate aside. “But what about Byron’s parents? You could have grandparents in the area.”

“I do.” She’d made a few more discreet inquiries about Byron’s family and had discovered that Edwina and Jacques Reynaud, who lived in a wealthy neighborhood in Seattle, were her father’s parents.

He cradled his martini glass between his large hands. “I’m not the one to say, but it’s possible they would welcome you. It’s not your fault that your mother left and caused so much pain. You’re the child of their lost son, their only tie to him.”

“They also could shun me as the daughter of the one who caused his death.” And if they knew that their son had been involved with a human, they would know that Luna was a half-blood Were. She couldn’t risk that getting out.

“It’s true they might reject you.” His blue gaze remained steady. “As I said, it’s not my place to advise you on that. But if it were me, I’d want to know I had a granddaughter.”

“I can’t assume they’re as kind-hearted and trustworthy as y’all.”

He smiled. “Was that a compliment?”

“Yes, Colin MacDowell, Laird of Glenbarra, it was.”

“I’m not sure I deserve it.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’ve been sitting here wanting to kiss you again.”

Heat flashed through her, the kind of moist, insistent heat that she now recognized as sexual longing. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Probably not, but I’m peshed enough not to care. You don’t have to worry that I’ll go beyond a simple kiss. The martinis and jet lag are catching up with me, and I doubt I could make a proper job of seducing you.”

Which was exactly what she wanted him to do. She’d never thought she’d take such a chance, but she trusted Colin as she hadn’t trusted any male before. Surrendering would be so easy because she wanted him in a way she hadn’t allowed herself to want anyone.

If he was willing, and she thought he might be, he could teach her about Were sexuality. She could finally ask the questions that had simmered in her subconscious for years. Did Weres have sex in human form, wolf form, or both? Was there a mating ritual? Did wolves bite each other when they had sex? She knew nothing, and she hadn’t worked up the courage to ask anyone.

But expecting Colin to be her tutor had a big problem attached. She also wanted him to be her boss, and having sex with a prospective boss, no matter how much Janet had encouraged her to do that and gain leverage, seemed unethical.

Colin set down his empty martini glass and stood. “I suppose you’re worried about being unprofessional.”

She glanced up at him. The setting sun surrounded him with a golden aura and cast his face in shadow, making him look mysterious and virile. Her heart raced in anticipation, even as she opened her mouth to refuse his request. “I really don’t—”

“One kiss.” He walked over and crouched in front of her, his arms balanced on his knees. “I promise that it will have no effect one way or the other on your proposal. That’s a separate matter, one I will give consideration to tomorrow, when I’ve had sleep and a chance to think about it.”

This close, she could see small golden flecks in the intense blue of his eyes. “Do I have your word on that?”

His voice grew endearingly solemn. “You have the word of a MacDowell.”

“Oh, well, then, if I have the word of a MacDowell, what could go wrong?”

“Nothing, lass.” Putting one hand on her knee, he cupped the back of her head with the other and leaned toward her. “It’s only a wee kiss, and the previous one could use some improvement, don’t you think?” His eyes drifted closed.

“I wouldn’t know. Counting yours, I’ve only had two in my entire life.”

His eyes snapped open and he nearly toppled over as he drew back. “Two?” He regained his balance.

“That’s all.”

He frowned. “Who was the other chap?”

“A stranger. He was staying at the hotel where I worked and caught me in the hallway. It was disgusting, and I got away from him as quick as I could.”

“Kneed him in the privates, then?” Colin sounded hopeful.

“No. I squirmed and fought until he let me go.”

“Pity. That sort could use a well-placed knee.”

“I’ll remember that.”

“Just so we’re clear, lass. I’m not that sort.” He leaned toward her again.

“Never thought y’all were.”

“You can close your eyes, now.”

“Oh.” She’d been so fascinated by his mouth descending on hers that she hadn’t wanted to miss a thing. But she’d seen screen kisses and knew eyes were usually closed. Dutifully she closed hers.

“Better.” His breath touched her face.

She breathed in, relishing the heady scent of him—a combination of musk, martini, and an intoxicating aroma that she suspected was exclusive to Colin MacDowell, Laird of Glenbarra.

“When I kiss you, give me some resistance.”

“You want me to resist?” That made no sense.

“No, don’t resist me.” His lips brushed hers once, twice. “But when I apply pressure, you apply some, too.”

Her heart was pounding so fast with excitement that she wondered if she’d pass out. He wouldn’t get any resistance, then, so she’d have to remain conscious. She gulped for air.

“Don’t be nervous.”

“Easy for y’all to say. You’ve done this thousands of times.”

He chuckled. “Hardly.” He nibbled at her lower lip. “You have such a wonderful mouth.”

“Thank you kindly.”

“No, I must thank you for indulging me. Here comes the kiss.”

She held her breath. “Ready.”

“Don’t hold your breath. You’ll faint.”

“This is more complicated than I realized.” She let out her breath. “It looks so easy in the movies.”

“It is easy, once you get the hang of it. Just relax, and when I make contact, give me something back.” His mouth settled over hers.

At first she froze, unable to think, unable to respond at all.

His warm lips moved gently against hers. Tentatively she matched his movements.

“Yes,” he murmured against her mouth. “Like that.”

Made bolder by his praise, she put more energy into making contact. And then, as if ancient wisdom had finally bubbled up within her, she knew what to do. Grasping his head in both hands, she angled her head and took full possession of his mouth.

His low moan of delight told her that she’d figured out this kissing business. His fingers tightened against her scalp and his breathing quickened. She’d succeeded in exciting him, and triumph bloomed in her heart.

Then, when she was congratulating herself on the success of this kiss, he lifted his head just enough to end it.

Her pride plummeted. “Did I do something wrong?”

“Nay. You’re doing everything right. But if you would open your mouth a wee bit…”

“Y’all want to put your tongue in my—”

“Desperately.”

“Okay.” When he resumed kissing her, she slackened her jaw. Surely this would be gross, but she would endure it because Colin wanted to…oh, my. Oh, my.

Now the moan belonged to her as she gave herself up to the decadent sensation of Colin’s tongue stroking the inside of her mouth. Innocent though she was, she understood that this was what sex with him would be like, and she wanted it. The wanting came in a tidal wave that swept aside every thought except one.

Wrenching her mouth from his, she cupped his face, gripping him tightly as her gaze bored into his. “Have sex with me, Colin. Right now.”

“That’s not wise.”

“I don’t care what’s wise! I want to know what it’s—”

“Not now.” He gasped for breath. “Not yet.” As his breathing steadied, he massaged her scalp in a slow, easy motion.

“But I want to!” She’d lost all shame. He’d reduced her to raw, primitive need.

“Give yourself time, lass. If it is to happen between us, and I’m not saying it will, I want to be rested. You deserve more than I’m prepared to give you tonight.”

She threw back her head and groaned in frustration. “Y’all had to go and kiss me!”

“Yes.” He drew her head forward until she was forced to look at him. “I couldn’t let you think that what happened down by the water was a true kiss. I wanted you to know what a real kiss is all about.”

“And as a result, I’m hot and frustrated. Happy, now?”

“Aye. We all need to go through these stages, and you have some catching up to do.” He brushed his mouth over hers one last time and stood. “It’s getting dark. And I need to go to bed before I collapse.”

She drew a long, trembling breath. “Right.” She’d conveniently forgotten that he must be exhausted. But that was partly his fault. He’d started it by wanting to kiss her again.

He held out his hand to help her up. “Let’s go back. We both could use a breather.”

“I guess so.” But she knew what would happen once her rational brain took over. She’d chicken out. If he gave her a chance to think things over, as he was determined to do, she’d never go through with it.

If they’d had sex tonight, she could have blamed her behavior on the charged atmosphere of the occasion. By tomorrow, she’d remember all the reasons why having sex with him was a really bad idea, beginning with the most important one—their potential business relationship.

Tonight could have been her initiation into the wonders of carnal knowledge by someone who seemed to know his way around the subject. Apparently he thought postponing the event would make it better. She wasn’t going to tell him now, but postponing it meant that it wasn’t going to happen at all.