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  “Ambrose isn’t a monkey,” Eloise said out of habit, holding up a second finger. “He didn’t want us to go up there.”

  “Because he didn’t think it was safe.”

  A third finger went up. “You said he knows about bombs from being a soldier.”

  Miranda reached over and mashed the fingers down. “I said I thought he might know about them. I don’t know if he does or not. I saw him up there. He didn’t have any evidence on him.”

  She refused to admit she’d had a cozy conversation with him. The more she thought about it, the more uncomfortable she felt. It was dark. He’d snuck up on her as if he had cat feet and was swathed in yards of wool. He could have hid any manner of things in the folds of that kilt.

  “No. It doesn’t make sense.”

  “What’s your main basis for that belief?” Eloise asked, using Miranda’s own form of questioning against her.

  “The main basis being that he was here during the fire. He was locked in with us. And when you started crying about Ambrose, he immediately ran into the flames to try to save him.”

  Eloise squeezed her eyes shut and made a pained noise. “Maybe he flubbed the door lock when he broke in and as soon as he realized he was trapped with us, he ran back to try and do damage control. He might have taken off that way even if I hadn’t mentioned Ambrose. And we know he didn’t get sent by Dr. Deenan.”

  “We don’t know that at all,” Miranda argued. She knew she shouldn’t be so vehemently defending the Highlander. Her sister had some good points. “And I just don’t see why. What would be his reason?”

  Eloise shrugged. “That’s for the police to figure out after he gets caught.”

  “We’ve gone over this already,” Miranda said, tired of going in circles about Toren’s innocence. The uncomfortable fact was that she didn’t have enough facts to make a rational decision either way. But the signs she saw pointed to him being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Just trying to get to an interview to make a few hundred dollars and then nearly roasted alive. “And he got electrocuted trying to get to Ambrose’s cage,” she said triumphantly. “I shouldn’t have to remind you of that. He wasn’t in the lab doing damage control or trying to hide evidence, he was very clearly trying to open that cage.” She was relieved to finally have something she’d seen with her own eyes to back up her gut feeling that Toren wasn’t an arsonist. It felt too awful to even dance around the idea she might be so wrong.

  “I guess so,” Eloise sighed. She looked more calm, but still shaken.

  Finding out they were victims of arson didn’t settle well with Miranda either. “Once we get out of here, it’ll all get figured out. Maybe the police will let you tag along and film them.”

  That put a gleam in Eloise’s eyes. “I really hope you’re right, since we’re stuck in here with him.”

  “He’s an applicant like the dozens we’ve already seen this week. Nothing more.” Miranda didn’t sound as convince as she wanted. Not because she believed he had anything to do with the fire, not really, but because she didn’t think he was like the dozens of other applicants. Far from it. “Why hasn’t Bergen come back yet?” she wondered aloud, forcing her thoughts away from Toren.

  “He’s not coming back.” Eloise got up and searched around in the mini fridge, pulling out a protein shake and popping it open. It was a good sign that she was no longer fearing for her life.

  “I’m sure he is,” Miranda said, fresh worry growing in her chest. Surely they wouldn’t be trapped here all weekend, would they? “He was just going out to get food. He knows how busy we are.”

  Eloise shook her head. “No, he’s going to a yoga retreat up in Wisconsin somewhere. On the lake. It looked nice on the brochure.”

  “What?” Miranda yelped. “What brochure? Retreat? He can’t do that now, there’s no time.”

  “I think he was feeling a little down about his ex-wife getting remarried. I saw the brochure on his desk and asked him about it. And I heard him arguing with his ex on the phone.”

  “You eavesdropped on his conversation?”

  Eloise shrugged one shoulder. “You know me. What’s really the worst is she’s marrying his college rival. I guess this guy out-published him or something and got the job Dr. Harrold really wanted back in the day.”

  “You know all this from an argument with his ex-wife?” Miranda saw everything come crashing down. How could she set up the trial on her own, even if she found a qualified applicant by Monday?

  “Dr. Harrold said his name and I searched him on the internet,” she said. “He’s got some real accomplishments and, based on the ex-wife’s Facebook page, he might have been at least one of the reasons they got divorced. Anyway, the fact she’s marrying him now is a real blow to Dr. Harrold.”

  “God, Eloise.” Miranda shook her head at the level of her sister’s snooping. “How do you find the time?”

  Eloise didn’t look at all ashamed. “Maybe if you gave me more responsibility around here I wouldn’t have so much time on my hands. He’s your partner. Don’t you feel bad that he’s been keeping so much pain to himself?”

  Miranda jerked back from the accusation. In fact, her first thought had been for the testing. She knew how important it was to her to get recognition and acclaim for her work. How awful would it feel if someone had done what she’d been trying to do, both better and first? And for that person to also steal away the love of her life? She did know from her few personal conversations with Bergen that the divorce was clearly something he hadn’t wanted. It would hurt to see his ex-wife get remarried to a total stranger. To see her marry his rival must really sting, plus put a major dent in his ego.

  Ever since she’d first come up with her theories on how people interacted, she’d forced herself to use logic and calculations to make decisions. Never her gut. Certainly not her heart. Had she become such a monster she didn’t recognize the pain of those around her? The way her sister was looking at her made her feel that way.

  “Of course I feel bad about it,” she said. “We’ve been so busy… he never…” She trailed off. “I guess if he’s not coming back and we have no way of calling out, we better hope someone from one of the other businesses works on Saturday.”

  “Ugh, how can we spend the night here?” Eloise looked at the door leading to Miranda’s office and the lab as if it were a portal to hell. “Should I risk yelling out the window some more?”

  “Are you still worried about Toren? He didn’t do anything when we were yelling before. He called for help, too, remember?”

  “Yeah, but how loud was he really yelling?” Her tone said she was mostly joking but a hint of worry still remained in her face. Before Miranda could start another round of reassurances, Toren opened the door.

  “Sorry, lass. I couldna find hide nor hair of yer beast, nor any sign of a way out,” he said. His hair and kilt were rumpled and sweat stained the collar of his girl power shirt. “If ye have any more fruit, perhaps we can set it at one of the openings.”

  Eloise cast a look toward Miranda, who shrugged. “It’s okay,” Eloise finally said. “Thanks for trying. I suppose he’ll come out when he’s good and ready.”

  A silence descended on the room as he stood expectantly in the doorway. Miranda stood up, brushing off the remaining dust and cobwebs.

  “Shall we resume the interview?”

  Chapter 10

  “Certainly, lass,” he said, as he let her precede him to the lab. “Er, I mean Dr. Clark.” It took him a moment to recall her last name. He’d been improperly thinking of her by Miranda all this time. It was a beautiful name, perfectly suited to her. Strong and admirable. She was a bit quirky, aye, but he could tell somehow she had a good heart.

  “Oh, just call me Miranda,” she sighed, looking around her at the tattered office and the remains of their sad little feast. “I think we’re past formalities by now.”

  “Thank ye, Miranda,” he said, feeling the name warm his throat.

  He wanted t
o say it again, but knew she’d consider him foolish if he did. As it was a tempting rose colored blush rose from the top of her low-cut shirt. He watched the heat rise to her still damp hairline. Her hair had been tucked up the first time he saw her, only a few curls around her ears and forehead. Now almost all of it had escaped the tie and it fell in a riotous mass around her shoulders. He reached to brush a strand from her cheek and stopped himself. Why was she blushing so furiously?

  “The interview,” she said, yanking out the hair tie and scraping all her hair back behind her head again. Could she read his thoughts and know how much he wanted to run his fingers through those shining strands?

  “Aye, the interview,” he said, clasping and unclasping his hands. He was as nervous as he’d been as a lad, working up the nerve to invite a neighbor lass to supper after church. He couldn’t remember her name or her face after all these years. It could never have held a candle to the rare beauty that sat before him. Scowling at him again. Och, what had he done now? “What’s this interview about then?” he asked, hoping to erase the scowl.

  “Didn’t you get the brief from Dr. Deenan’s office?” she asked, only scowling harder. She made a few notes on her paper, shaking her head the whole time.

  What to do now? Lie? How could he? A half-truth would have to do. “I, ah, did,” he said. “It’s only that I didna read it. I didna have time,” he finished when her nostrils flared with outrage. “They said I must get here with all haste, before ye closed for the night.” There. She couldn’t be angry about that.

  She gave him another long, world-weary sigh. “I’ll just give you a quick run-through. Were you being treated for relationship issues at Dr. Deenan’s? Trouble with intimacy or something like that?”

  His first instinct was to vehemently deny such a thing, but it seemed a leading question. What sort of job needed that kind of information? Did she think he might have trouble working alongside her? The exact opposite was true. He knew beyond a shadow of a doubt he’d have no intimacy troubles where she was concerned. As much as he thought he was supposed to answer yes, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He gritted his teeth and shook his head. She frowned some more and made a few more notes.

  “The basis of my study is to get people, through both counseling and medication, to not base their romantic relationships on their feelings but—”

  “Not base their romantic relationships on their feelings?” he interrupted. He couldn’t help himself. He must have heard her wrong. “Whatever else should they base them on?”

  She blinked at him several times. “On certain predetermined criteria—”

  “Who determines it?” he demanded. He was beginning to think this beautiful woman had some very daft ideas.

  “The test subject. With the help of our surveys and psychological tests. See, I strongly believe that—”

  “Surveys? Tests? How do ye expect someone to fall in love in such a way. That doesna sound conducive to romance at all.” He could see she was getting agitated, but he couldn’t believe this was something real. He knew the world had changed a great deal since his time, but this was beyond reasoning.

  “We’re trying to change people’s perception of what falling in love means. Ever since the end of arranged marriages and the dawn of romance, people have been making poor choices in their life mates, not really certain of what they want or compromising what they want based on biological reactions that just don’t stand the test of time. It’s a matter of fact that people fall out of love, I mean, let’s be frank here. They fall out of lust after a few years and if they don’t have the same goals and values, they won’t be able to stick together.”

  He thought of his parents, who’d been happy together all his twenty-three years. He imagined they’d been as much in love at the very end as well, and it pained him to think he didn’t get to see them grow old together. The anguish they must have suffered at losing him. Bloody war, bloody Charles Stuart, bloody English. He shook off his past and faced her. “That’s ridiculous,” he said, thoroughly riled up.

  Color rose in her cheeks again, but this time it was accompanied by angrily furrowed brows and pursed lips. “Ridiculous?” she sputtered. “I’m ridiculous?”

  This settled his ire a bit and he rushed to right her confusion. “Certainly not, lass. Only the idea that one can twist love in such a way is.”

  Her eyes widened furiously. “I’m not twisting anything, I’m trying to fix it. Have you read the most recent divorce statistics lately? People take love so lightly these days that they get married on game shows. That’s because they don’t have any real hope of a solid, lasting relationship. How many people rush into relationships only to find out they’re not compatible? How many people rely on their physical attraction and then stray if one of them gains a little weight or loses some hair? People need to be able to ignore all those hormonal rushes they feel and choose a mate based on shared goals and beliefs. It shouldn’t matter if they want to kiss them or not!”

  She gasped for air at the end of her impassioned speech and he could now see that calling her ideas ridiculous was exactly the same as calling her that. It was clear how strongly she believed what she said and he felt a surge of respect for her. Also a strange sense of pride over how she wanted to make the world a better place. What a stupid thing to feel, pride. As if she were his to be proud of. And he still didn’t agree with her.

  “Aye, weel, I’m sorry I called your theory ridiculous,” he said. “But I should like to want to kiss the woman I decide to spend the rest of my life with. I should also like her to believe as I do. But, what about making accommodations, making sacrifices and compromises? If I was given over completely in love with someone I wouldna care if we didna agree on everything. In fact I think that would be quite boring. Nay, I believe ye must be a verra fine doctor, but I canna imagine what sort of person would do such a thing.”

  A silence stole over the room, save for the drip of water off the windowsill across the lab and the scratching of her pen on the paper. She finally stopped writing and looked up at him, a stiff little smile on her face.

  “Then I suppose you won’t want to be part of the medical testing. I could have used a skeptic like yourself if you’d been the least bit open to it. And barring any allergies or contraindications, of course.”

  The disappointed look on her face made him want to take it all back. Then something she said sunk in. “Medical testing? I am no’ here to do some sort of job for ye?” He offered a silent plea to Soni to right whatever wrong had happened in transporting him here. He was clearly to be of no help to this woman. Unless her medical testing took only another day, he was useless here.

  She stared at him blankly for a moment. The anger was gone but something else had replaced it. Something deeper, darker. He didn’t understand it and didn’t like it one bit.

  Chapter 11

  Tears stung Miranda’s eyes but she willed them away, refusing to let them fall. She stared at her notes, mostly gibberish she’d scribbled to try and keep herself from being distracted by his mesmerizing eyes. That thing he’d said was so lovely she kept repeating it to herself, even wrote a bit of it down, then stopped writing, wanting to savor his words as he said them.

  What about making accommodations, making sacrifices and compromises? If I was given over completely in love with someone I wouldna care if we didna agree on everything.

  It sounded even sweeter accented by his rich Scottish brogue. How idealistic it was. Everything she was against, the very naivety that made people trick themselves into thinking they were in love. It was so beautiful. Like basking on a sunny beach, it felt delightful. It would give you skin cancer, though. She knew she was overworked and exhausted. That had to be the reason the tears sprang to her eyes. Not at all because she wanted someone to love her so much he’d make sacrifices and compromises for her. Definitely not because she longed to love someone so completely she’d be willing to give things up for him. That was utterly ridiculous. If people did things t
he right way, none of that would be necessary. There would always be perfect alignment.

  God, it did sound boring.

  Her head jerked up when he admitted he didn’t know he was there to interview for medical testing. She knew Dr. Deenan and her P.A. were very clear on that fact. Miranda herself had coached them on how to explain it. Even if someone were a bit confused, they would know beyond a shadow of a doubt that they were there to test a new medication. She looked him over, more than a shadow of a doubt about his innocence darkening her thoughts. What if everything Eloise had said made more sense than she’d allowed herself to accept? Taking in his broad shoulders, wavy hair, handsome face, and those eyes, she could see how easy it would be to want to believe he was as angelic as he looked.

  A layperson who hadn’t been practicing the tenets of her scientific research for years, that is. Not her. Now she questioned everything she felt since he first charmed her with those blue, blue eyes and disarming smile. Charm and disarm. And she’d made it so easy for him. She was disgusted with herself. And still wanted to believe in him. Dr. Deenan was the one variable she had no way of proving either way. Not as long as she had no contact with the outside world.

  “Who sent you here?” she asked sharply. “We know it wasn’t Dr. Deenan or anyone from her office.” She hoped he’d believe her bluff.

  He pinched the bridge of his nose and groaned. Not encouraging. “It wasna Dr. Deenan, that’s true.” He gave her a pained look. “’Twas a lass named Soncerae, who I’ve known since she was a wee babe. I’ll tell ye now, if ye’ll only believe me, that I had no choice in coming here.”

  “How did you get in?”

  “That ye surely wouldna believe.” He laughed without any humor and held out his hand beseechingly. “I didna break in. That I swear to ye.”

  She jammed her pen into the paper pad, tearing through several sheets. “So you appeared out of thin air? This building may not be in the best neighborhood but our floor is secure. Someone either gave you the code or you found a way to break in.” She thought of the crawl space where someone— Toren?— had been to place the incendiary devices. “Was it through the ceiling?” Mild panic started to rise as she wondered if he’d lied about there not being a way out from up there. There had obviously been a way in somehow.