And what was with the white dress?
If Andrei never saw another white dress, he’d be happy. To him, white meant death.
She rose to her feet, her posture straight as a pole, the sometimes gale-force winds twisting the ghostly pale skirt around her body, plastering it against her. Her blouse flapped, exposing the creamy fair skin of her hips and back. As though caught in a trance, she stared out toward the waves. Then she bent at the knees, her arms rising above her in the position of someone about to dive over the edge of a cliff.
Andrei’s breath lodged in his throat for a brief second, then all the air in his lungs burst out on one word. “No!”
With the length of a football field between them, he knew he couldn’t stop her if she chose to dive onto the rocks below, but he had to try. Another woman couldn’t die on his watch. He owed that much to Sofia and the people of Raven’s Cliff.
The wind caught his words and whipped them away. Lifting his elbows and knees, he pumped harder, working his muscles to a screaming point. He’d never run so fast, nor felt so frustrated that he couldn’t run faster.
The woman bent lower, tucking her head between her arms.
“Stop! Don’t do it!” Andrei yelled again.
This time, she heard him and turned in his direction, her eyes wide, her mouth opened in an O. Her feet shifted and she stumbled on the gravel, tilting toward the edge of the cliff. The one-hundred-foot drop to the rocky shore below would be the death of her.
Desperation spurred Andrei on. “Don’t jump! Please.”
She righted herself, her brows knitting over her eyes. “Jump?”
Andrei ground to a stop in front of her, grasping her arms in a viselike grip. “Don’t.” He gasped, dragging air into his lungs before he could go on.
“Don’t jump?” She stared at him, her smoky-green eyes troubled.
All Andrei could do was glance at the edge of the cliff as he hauled more air into his starving lungs.
Her brows lifted and the hint of a smile tilted the corners of her lips. “Oh, I get it. You think I was about to jump.” She brought her hands up between his wrists, attempting to knock his fingers loose from her arms. When he didn’t let go, her frown reappeared. “I assure you, I have no intention of jumping from this cliff or any other. You can let go of me, now.”
He stared at her long and hard before he reluctantly released her. “Then why the hell did you look like you were about to dive?”
“Ah, the Utkatasana.” She laughed, the sound like the tinkling bells of a wind chime.
“Utka-what?”
Her laughter disappeared, whipped away by the wind, but her sparkling green eyes continued to reflect her amusement. “Relax, cowboy. I wasn’t about to dive, I was relaxing with one of my yoga positions. Utkatasana.” Her knees bent and she raised her arms, her hands pressed together as if in prayer. “It’s called the chair position. It’s good for the arms, legs, diaphragm and heart.”
Anger washed away any last trace of fear he might have felt and exploded in words. “Are you crazy?”
She winced, her full, luscious lips tightening into a thin line. “Excuse me?”
“For all I knew, you were about to throw yourself over the edge. And if you weren’t out to kill yourself, you are definitely an easy target for the Seaside Strangler.” He stepped closer, standing toe-to-toe with the fiery-haired woman. “Lady, go home. Go home and lock your doors.” As soon as the words left his mouth, he knew he’d made a mistake.
Her eyes narrowed and she glared at him. “First of all, I don’t take orders from you or anyone else. Second, I’m not crazy and I’ll go wherever I want. Who do you think you are, telling me or anyone else what they can or can’t do?”
“I’m a cop with the Raven’s Cliff Police Department.” Even to his own ears, his response was a lame excuse to be bossing the woman around.
“So?” She crossed her arms over her chest, a coppery brow rising high on her pale forehead. The stiff breeze lifted the ends of the filmy white skirt she wore, plastering it to her long, slender legs.
The dress reminded him of the dress his sister wore when she’d been found. A white wedding dress, not unlike what this woman wore. All the starch and anger drained from him. “Look, it’s not safe for a lone woman to be out here.”
“I can take care of myself.” Her hand smoothed the dress down over her belly. “I’m not suicidal, and I know what to look out for. I just wanted a little peace and quiet away from the inn.”
So she was a tourist. A twinge of disappointment nudged at him. She wouldn’t stay long at Raven’s Cliff. But with a killer loose, leaving seemed the best idea.
Her determined stance and ability to stand up for herself had intrigued him more than he cared to admit. The way the filmy dress wrapped around her trim calves probably had something to do with the attraction as well.
He straightened, hardening his jaw. “Take a friend with you next time. We don’t know who the strangler is and I’d hate to see you washed up on the rocks.” Like my sister. He didn’t say it, but he felt it with the pain in his chest.
“I’ve walked this path since I was a tiny girl. I know where all the hiding places are and believe me, there aren’t many out here. And if I wanted to jump over the edge, I’d have done it already, and you couldn’t have stopped me.” She eased toward the edge.
His hand shot out automatically, grasping her arm.
“All right, already. I’m not going to jump. I was just going to show you that there is a path down the side of the cliff. If I wanted to go down, I’d walk.”
Together they leaned over the edge and stared at the thin path that surely only a goat could traverse.
“I used to take it down to the water to find shells and starfish among the—” Her face paled to gray and she stumbled back against him. “Holy mother.”
Andrei clasped her shoulders and set her behind him before peering over the edge to the rocks below.
Lifted by the waves and pushed into the rocks was the body of a woman dressed in white, facedown in the surf.
Chapter Two
Of all the stupid times to pass out, Jocelyne couldn’t have picked a worse. But to wake up in the arms of this stranger… Shivers rippled over her entire body. And darn it all, they weren’t shivers of fear.
A woman was dead at the bottom of the cliffs, for heaven’s sake. Why should she be so concerned about being crushed against a man’s brawny chest and carried away? They were headed toward town. How dangerous could that be?
She could smell the man’s sweat and it was having an entirely unwarranted effect on her, driving her blood to pump faster, her heart to race and her skin to flush.
“Put me down.” Jocelyne kicked her feet and pushed with her free hand against the man’s well-muscled chest. The other hand wrapped around his neck to keep him from dropping her on the rocks. “We have to notify the police about that girl.”
“That’s where I’m headed.” His feet ate the distance between the cliff and town in long easy strides.
“Look, for all I know you could be the Seaside Strangler.” Her breath caught in her throat as his hand shifted, brushing against the underside of her breast. “Why else would you be out there?”
“I was jogging.”
Okay, calm down. No need in upsetting the baby. On the other hand, what did she really know about the muscle-bound man with the soulful dark eyes? So he was wearing a T-shirt, shorts and running shoes. The strangler could dress the same.
She renewed her struggles.