1 Off Kilter by Hannah Reed

criminal aspects of my trip and added a little scolding about her pushiness. “You,” I wrote back, “are so transparent! Please read my virtual lips: I. Am. Not. Looking. For. A. Romantic relationship! Now I’m off to write.” And I signed off by reassuring Ami that “I might go off-line here and there but only to devote time to the novel. Don’t worry about me. Everything is peachy!”
    Right. Just peachy.
    With that, I closed my e-mail and turned my attention to my work in progress,
Falling for You
.
    My heroine, Gillian Fraser, returns to her hometown in Rosehearty, Scotland, after having her heart broken and is working for her brother’s dive shop, taking divers out into the North Sea to explore shipwrecks and view sea life. (I’d done some fascinating research on diving but knew I’d have to get out there to experience it firsthand as well sometime.) She encounters rugged, sexy Jack Ross, wealthy owner of a local distillery who doesn’t believe in love at first sight until he meets Gillian, and then . . .
    Well, this was where I was a bit stuck. Could Gillian and Jack discover a love strong enough to last?
    I certainly hadn’t.
    But this was fiction. Anything could happen, and I had every intention of making their relationship work.
    So, with renewed commitment, I lost myself in the story, adding some of the Highlands’ amazing scenery into the first chapters. My best friend might have been correct when she told me I had to experience its beauty to make it come alive on the page. I wrote, or rather revised, until around midnight, when I’d finished reworking several chapters. Writing always transports me to a place far removed from the real world, but now my blurring vision told me it was time for bed.
    I changed into my standard nightwear, a well-worn oversized T-shirt, and climbed into bed. I’d kept busy all day, surrounded by people and activities, so I hadn’t had time to think much about the murder victim, or the protruding sheep shears, or all the blood on the floor. Until now. Those disturbing images would be with me for a long time, maybe forever.
    Unlike last night, tonight sleep eluded me. I tried counting sheep, which seemed apropos, considering my current location. I’d never counted sheep before, but it must have worked, because the next thing I knew, the clock on the nightstand had fast-forwarded several hours and someone was shouting in the hallway.
    “Where’s it coming from?” I heard a man yell. He sounded close, right outside my door. “We have to find the source!”
    Right then, I smelled smoke, the feeling of it raw in my lungs, leeching precious oxygen from the room. I slung the covers aside and leapt from bed. At the same time I heard banging on my door.
    “In here!” More banging. “This way. Break it down if you have to.”
    I quickly unlocked and flung the door open before whoever was out there started smashing it in. A wave of bodies rushed in, almost trampling me in their haste. Something in the air was seriously irritating my eyes.
    Glancing into the hallway, I could see that the other guests were awake and making their way toward the exit.
    Voices continued to shout.
    “Wait outside!”
    “Go on, hurry!”
    “Fire!”
    Someone opened my bathroom door. Thick smoke billowed out. I began to cough.
    “Everybody get outside!”
    It finally registered with my confused, oxygen-deprived mind: The inn was on fire! I had to get outside before I inhaled any more smoke. My throat contracted, and I found myself coughing uncontrollably. How long had I been sleeping while smoke was wafting into my room? It didn’t matter. I was alive, and if I wanted to stay that way, I had to get out.
    My mind was a jumble. Should I take my things with me? Money? Passport? I couldn’t think straight with all the commotion. Someone decided for me. A man gave me a shove. “Get going if you want to see the light of day.”
    My gaze fell upon my laptop. I grabbed it and ran out into the