Dragging his gaze from the wall, he noticed a young, dark-haired woman in a sexy red dress seated alone at a table. She looked even glummer than he felt, if that was possible. She was staring at a blue drink with a little umbrella in it, her fingers stroking up and down the slender stem. Misery likes company, aye?

He paid the bartender the exorbitant price, grabbed his whiskey, and sauntered over to the table. “Want some company, lass?”

She glanced up at him and stared with wide, dark-brown eyes. Just stared. As if she knew he was a wolf under the guise of being human. That he had easily had dispatched many men in his youth. He wasn’t planning on picking her up, but he might look a little menacing, he belatedly thought.

She gave a soft little snort, looked around the joint, saw all the empty tables, looked back at him, still without smiling, and motioned to the seat opposite. “Feel free to have a seat.”

Another American, he thought, only she was human.

She looked back down at the table, and he realized she was reading a text message on a cell phone. She took a deep breath and tucked the phone away in her purse.

He sat, accidentally bumped his knees against hers because the table was so small, and quickly apologized. He definitely wasn’t planning to bed the appealing wench. When he looked at her, he thought of Shelley, the way she’d eyed him with surprise, smiled at him, laughed—and yet measured him also—for his family’s role in the crofters’ fates.

But Shelley was a wolf. So they already had a connection of sorts. That’s who he craved bedding, damn it.

“No need to apologize about bumping into me,” the woman said, sounding resigned. “You’re big and the table’s small.”

Big. Maybe that was what had bothered her about him as he’d towered over her at first.

“Trouble?” he asked, not intending to burden her with his own problems.

He figured he’d sleep in the car and try to get a plane back to Scotland early the next night, assuming they had a flight leaving then, if he couldn’t find a place to stay. He could at least spend the day searching for a way to get to Silverman before then. With any luck, more than he was already having, he’d arrange a meeting and make him pay. Then what Duncan wanted to do was drop Silverman in the middle of the ocean to swim with the real sharks and see how much fun that was. But he didn’t figure he’d get that lucky.

If he could have the week to wring the money out of Silverman, Duncan figured he’d have a chance. He just had to find some accommodations.

“You might say that I’m having a time of it,” she said. “But…” She shrugged. “You know the old saying—when it seems too good to be true, it probably is?”

“Aye, I can relate to that.” He leaned back in his seat and figured he’d tell her some of his own troubles. Maybe she knew of a place he could stay off the beaten path. “My brother rented a room for me, and when I arrived, I found the place booked. Solid. For two months.”

Her dark brown eyes widened a bit. “How awful.”

“Aye. I’ve checked at the different hotels, but I keep getting the same response. ’Tis the season, you know.”

“Oh. What will you do?”

“Get a return flight tomorrow if I can’t find a place to stay.”

“Oh.” She took a sip of her drink. “What are you doing here? Just here for a vacation?”

“Aye, a vacation. And you?”

“I was meeting my boyfriend. Now he’s not able to come. At least he’s got a rich boss, and my boyfriend can afford to pay for my trips here from Miami and the hotel where I’m staying. Three times I’ve made this trip to the islands and every time he can’t make it.”

Sounded like a brush-off to Duncan.

“It’s that bigwig Silverman he works for that’s all the trouble,” she added, her eyes narrowed and lips pursed in irritation. “He had another job for him in the States, and so Kenneth is delayed again.”

“Silverman?” Duncan tried to keep his tone of voice light, but she looked harder at him when she heard the telltale sound of anger.

“You’re not a cop, are you? Feds or something?” But then she quickly amended what she’d said as if she’d spoken about something she shouldn’t have. “Not that Silverton’s done anything wrong. You just… well…” She didn’t say anything more, looked a little red in the face, and began studying her drink as if she wished she could crawl into it.

Duncan made a disgruntled sound. “Hardly.” He took a swig of his whiskey, cursing himself for his reaction to the name “Silverman” and tried his damnedest to sound unconcerned. “I just wondered what your boyfriend did for his boss that he couldn’t make it here to see you. Seems to me that he’s a fool to stand up a bonny lass like you. Especially since he’s done it more than once.”

He knew he was reaching, but he’d hoped she’d buy his line. He noticed she’d changed Salisbury Silverman’s name quickly to Silverton, trying to cover up that mistake also. Was that the name he was using on the island, or some other, and “Silverton” had been the quickest one she could pull out of the air? He assumed Silverman wouldn’t use a name that similar to his real name.

Continuing to look wary, she stood. “Have a nice flight back.”

The one lead he might have had to learn more about Silverman, and Duncan had already blown it. Yeah, “subtle” was not his middle name.

He waited until she left the dark bar. The windows were amber glass, so he couldn’t see her through them to observe where she was going. When he thought she’d had sufficient time to get into a car, he headed outside, hoping to follow her and find where she ended up for the night. If she did make contact with the boyfriend, Duncan could then follow him and see if this Kenneth might be a way to learn anything more about Silverman himself.

But as soon as Duncan walked outside, he found the woman standing under the red-and-white striped awning, taking a smoke.

He did not want to appear to be interested in her, but he needed to learn more about her boyfriend and Silverman. He nodded to her and walked down the street. He didn’t want her to know about his rental car, in case she intended to tell her boyfriend that Duncan might be looking for Silverman and to keep an eye out for his vehicle.

Seeing a gift shop full of swimwear, sunglasses, floral dresses, shirts, and island-crafted jewelry, Duncan pushed aside the door and entered. He felt like a warrior in a floral shop. Then he noticed a rack of men’s swimsuits that weren’t covered in gaudy tropical flowers, making him feel not quite so out of place.

Nearly blending in with the merchandise, a college-age clerk was wearing a flowery blouse and seated behind a white laminate counter. She gave him an appreciative smile.

“Anything in particular you’re looking for?” she asked, her voice hopeful, and he figured she assumed he was searching for something for his ladylove. Certainly, she couldn’t believe he was shopping for anything for himself in here.

He shook his head and looked over the jewelry. Or at least pretended to. He suspected the woman smoking at the bar would be watching to see him exit the shop and where he went next.

He really didn’t have time for this. Then he had an idea. “I had reservations at a hotel, but when I arrived, they weren’t any good. Do you have any idea about someplace I might be able to stay that isn’t as well advertised? I don’t need to stay on the beach.”

She looked him over as if she thought she might ask him to stay with her, then sighed and shook her head, most likely coming to her senses. “Sorry. All I can say is just keep checking the resorts.”

“Thanks.” But no thanks. Maybe if he bought a bunch of merchandise, she might change her tune.

He could see trying to explain to Ian why he had spent a fortune on jewelry, floral garments, and perfumes just so he could get a free place to stay. It would be cheaper than paying for a week of lodging. On the other hand, he could see himself buying all that junk and the clerk not offering to take him in.

He stalked back out of the store and saw the woman from the bar still smoking her cigarette, watching the shop just like he thought she might. He wasn’t waiting all night to see where she might go or to conceal that the rental car sitting in the lot was his. He headed for the car, got in, and tried again to locate a place to stay. After a good long while, he glanced at his watch, swore when he saw it was 8:30—an hour and a half past when he was supposed to pick up Shelley and have a drink—and headed back to her villa.

He was already in a foul mood over the reservation mix-up, losing the only lead he had for Silverman that might have given him some inside knowledge, finding no other place to stay, and now standing up Shelley. He hoped she wouldn’t be too sore, and he hoped he could curb the annoyance he was feeling enough to enjoy a drink with her.

When he finally arrived at Shelley’s villa, he found the place dark—not a good sign. Knocking at the door and ringing the bell didn’t get any response.

He cursed aloud this time. He still had it in mind to ask if he might stay the night, just the night, on the couch if she would allow it. She couldn’t have gone to bed this early. At least, he didn’t think she would have. She didn’t have a car, so he didn’t think she’d gone out.

He didn’t smell any sign of any other wolves or strictly humans having arrived, so he was sure she hadn’t had any recent company.

He called out, “Shelley, it’s me. Duncan MacNeill. Are you all right?”

He didn’t believe for one moment that she intended to ignore his arrival just because he was an hour and a half late. Not after he’d gone out of his way to be chivalrous to her earlier, and not without learning why he was so late in arriving.

Able to see with his wolf’s night vision, he sniffed the air for anything that would warn him she’d been in trouble, trying to sense another wolf, female or male, or another male visitor. Nothing. But she wouldn’t, couldn’t be ignoring him.