them leave.â
Allie met his stare, unhindered by its intensity. Instead of frowning, or telling him to stick it where the sun donât shine, she gave him a wide, friendly smile. âIâll keep that in mind.â
He stared a moment longer, scowled, then turned and headed up the narrow staircase, the old wood creaking with each of his heavy steps.
Allie followed, thinking things could be a lot worse than walking behind Gabe MacGowanâs grumpy ole self as he climbed a set of stairs. She wondered why such a gorgeous guy had such a somber, unfriendly personality.
Sheâd tell him later that the one thing to remember when dealing with the unliving is you canât make them do anything they donât want to. Especially leave.
Allie turned and glanced over her shoulder. The ghosts from before stood at the bottom of the steps. Grinning.
The sea captain, a tall, swarthy guy with sun-streaked brown hair pulled into a queue, and a swashbuckling goatee, gave her a roguish smile and tipped his tricorn hat.
Throwing him a grin, she turned and hurried after Gabe. Allie decided right then and there that the decision to cross the Atlantic to oust a handful of mischievous spirits from their old haunt had been the smartest one sheâd ever made.
Getting to know the ghosts of Odinâs Thumb would be exciting. But deciphering just what made stuffy ole Gabe MacGowan tick would be something else altogether . . .
Chapter 2
â T his place is fantastic. Did you grow up here?â Gabe didnât turn around. âAye.â
âGreat. Then you should have plenty of experiences with the souls residing here. Have they been here long, as well? Ohâbetter yet, did you grow up with them? I canât wait to hear all about it.â
No doubt . Giving little more than a grunt of acknowledgment, Gabe continued to the end of the hallway and stopped at the last door. He fished the key from his pocket, stuck it in the lock, turned the knob, and pushed open the door. âYour room, Ms. Morgan.â
âThank you,â she said. âYou can call me Allie.â
Gabe simply inclined his head toward the open door.
As she started to pass, she paused and stared up at him a moment, head cocked and with the sort of mischievous light in her eyes that suggested a thorough feminine once-over, and then turned and stepped into the room.
Gabe followed and set her belongings in the corner. âThe toiletâs across the hall.â
âOkay.â Walking over to the window facing the loch, Allie Morgan parted the curtain and peered out. She stared a moment, and just as Gabe was about to speak, she said, âThis place is truly breathtaking. Why on earth do you want to leave, Mr. MacGowan?â Turning, she leaned against the windowpane and crossed her arms over her chest.
Gabe stuffed his hands into his pockets and studied her. A ridiculous amount of untamed blond hair spilled over her shoulders, and her wide blue eyes didnât show the least bit of intimidation. Elegantly slender, she certainly didnât look like a paranormal investigator.
The photo on her Web site had caught his eye. Pleasant enough, aye. But there was something else, something in her eyes, maybe.
She looked far more fetching in person.
That made him scowl.
He cleared his throat. âNo offense, Ms. Morgan, but thatâs none of your business.â He gave a nod. âSupperâs at seven. Weâll talk then.â
Just as he turned to go, he noticed one corner of her mouth tip upward in an amused grin. Or a smirk.
Closing the door behind him, Gabe stormed down the corridor, stopped, and turned back. Heâd forgotten to give her the bloody key. He reached the door and without much thought, opened it.
Just as Allison Morgan had her sweater pulled over the top of her head.
She froze, arms up, sweater covering her face, a black bra with pink dots her only covering. With each breath, her chest rose and