Evan stared at the blonde’s suddenly animated face in disbelief. Here he was, undressing her in his mind, and she wanted to compose an interview? The only thing worse than a marriage-minded female was anosymarriage-minded female. “I take it back. I hereby reserve the right to shoot you at will.”
Her pink lips rounded. “But you promised—”
“Or nibble you.” He flashed his hallmark can’t-trust-me smile. “Whichever I prefer.”
Her hands balled into fists. “I would never allow—Oh!”
A chunk of the sandy path dislodged beneath her feet, sending her arms flailing. She fell backward, still scrabbling for purchase on the crumbling slope. Instead of stabilizing, she slid down the side of the cliff on her rear, bringing most of the path with her.
“Christ,” Evan muttered.
There went his shortcut. And here came his blonde.
Despite the torrent of sand raining into his eyes, he rushed forward, arms outstretched, and managed to intercept his erstwhile pursuer’s rapid descent and swing her clear from the falling debris. He shook the sand from his hair. She clung to his neck, eyes squeezed shut. And she definitely smelled of jasmine.
“Next time,” he murmured, “don’t follow me.”
Her eyes snapped open. Blue fire burned behind the spectacles.
Still holding her soft body tight in his arms, Evan backed up a few paces to scrutinize the beach. Empty. Thank God. He wouldn’t want to be caught dead with a virginal London miss in his arms, regardless of the circumstances.
Even one who smelled like jasmine.
He glanced down at her. “At least you didn’t scream.”
“Why bother?” She relaxed her death grip. Slightly. “It never helps.”
“Very true,” he agreed. But why did Ms. Jasmine know it? When had screaming not helped a Society miss like her? This time, he gazed into her blue eyes looking for answers.
She wiggled in his arms. “You can put me down.”
“I could,” he agreed, irritated to realize hewasstill holding her. He was definitely going to put her down. Any second now. “But you’ve just gotten interesting.”
“Oh,nowI’m interesting? Arriving in the dead of night, secretly following you, sliding down a cliff on my sure-to-be-bruised derrière—all that is perfectly normal in your world? What the hell did I do in the past thirty seconds that’s so bloody interesting?”
A mouth like that and the face of an angel. Evan held her a little closer. “This keeps getting better.”
“Worse, you mean.” She thrashed to break free from his hold. “Let me go.”
His arms gripped her tighter. Woman had a death wish. “Flail around like that and you’ll fall on your bruised arse again,” he informed her. “You don’t want that.”
“You don’t know what I want,” she returned hotly, her entire body trembling.
He arched his brows and let his gaze travel down to her mouth. His body tightened. He should walk away. He shouldrunaway. He should at least stop staring at her lips. “I always know what women want.”
She started thrashing again.
He let her fall.
“Ow!” She stared up at him, mouth agape.
“See?” He shoved his hands in his pockets so he wouldn’t be tempted to pick her back up. “I knew you wanted down.”
“You—you—cretin.”
“And worse.”
He turned and headed down the beach. He needed to get his mind off the softness of her body and back onto solving his brother’s murder. The unbidden reminder of Timothy’s vacant eyes caused a hitch in Evan’s step. Fingers clenched, he strode faster. Despite their differences, his brother had always been his best friend. Evan would find whoever did this. And exact revenge.
