wanted to talk to or see her again?
Sasha had never been so angry as she’d been the last time she’d seen Nadine, had never held a grudge the way she had these past five years. Now guilt and grief replaced the anger, threatening more tears. She blinked hard. She couldn’t cry now, not in front of anyone. She’d suffered that humiliation when she’d been left at the altar five years ago; she wouldn’t do it again.
And as for the sheriff, she’d get him to tell her everything about her sister. If she could handle surly teenagers, she could handle a resentful sheriff.
What had Nadine been to him? Lover? If he were half as attractive as he’d sounded on the phone, Nadine would have gone after him.
Sasha wanted to flat-out ask the deputy how involved his boss had been with her sister, but for her answer she’d only get a deeper blush out of him. So she would save that question for the sheriff along with all her others. And she wouldn’t stop asking until she got her answers about Nadine’s life and…death.
The ferry neared the island, where a large dock jutted out of a rocky shore. From that area, a hill rose up, dotted with houses. Small cottages were squeezed in between large, elaborate homes. Here, so far north, the leaves were little more than buds on the trees, and the early-spring gloom hung in low clouds over the island. A chill raced over her skin, the sense of foreboding returning with more force. She shouldn’t have come here. But she’d had to…for Annie. And the chill—it was probably just the cold spring wind.
Late April. She’d had over a month left of the school year, but after the sheriff had called her, she’d called the principal and arranged for a leave.
“We’re lucky the weather’s been so warm,” the deputy remarked with a sigh, probably with relief that he had found a safe subject and that the island…and the sheriff…were near.
“Warm?” she asked, as she huddled inside her winter jacket. Having visited the Upper Peninsula in the spring before, she’d known to wear heavier clothes. With the jacket she wore thick corduroy jeans and a sweater.
“Oh, yeah, we had major snowstorms this time last year. It’s so nice this year. The sheriff, along with some other sheriffs in the surrounding areas, even had their golf outing already.”
“Before or after my sister died?” she asked, frustration sharpening her tone. She wanted answers. The long ferry ride had given her mind time to formulate more questions, the first being why had Nadine chosen to live in such isolation?
The deputy’s cheeks colored again. “It was actually the day your sister—look, we’re here now.”
The ferry pulled to the dock. Sasha’s breath caught over the enormity of the situation. This was where Nadine had lived and where, Sasha assumed, she’d died. This was where Sasha would meet her niece for the first time, where she would pick up the child who was now her responsibility. This poor little motherless girl. Would she be terrified of her aunt, of this woman she’d never met but who looked eerily like her mother?
The deputy hovered at her side as she walked down the gangplank toward the dock. The wind whipped up, tangling her hair around her face. She nearly stumbled, then stopped and turned her attention to the waiting people. The small crowd shifted as she joined them, people staring, some gasping as the deputy had, a general sense of fear emanating from them. She ignored their reactions as best she could but was thankful for the deputy standing beside her as she looked for the sheriff.
“There he is.” The deputy gestured toward a dark-haired man. He didn’t wear a uniform, but he didn’t need it.
His height separated him from everyone else, giving him an air of authority. He had to be well over six feet with shoulders so broad she was tempted to lay her weary head on one and weep the tears burning inside her for her sister’s loss. The temptation surprised her, as did the quick flare of attraction she felt for him. For five years she hadn’t allowed herself either weakness.
Then she saw the child in his arms, the little girl pressed close to his chest. She looked exactly the way Sasha and Nadine had looked as curly-haired toddlers.
Crystal-blue eyes widened as Annie stared at her, then a soft voice called out, “Mommy!”
Little arms reached for her, but Sasha froze, her reaction having nothing to do with the chill wind whipping around the open dock. Fear paralyzed her, holding her feet to the planks. She hadn’t been able to save Nadine from the life she’d chosen, a life that had led to her death. How could she accept the responsibility of raising Nadine’s child? What if she let them both down?
The sheriff walked toward her. His long, jeans-clad legs carrying him to her in a couple of strides. Despite the cold, he wore only a denim shirt with his faded jeans, the cuffs rolled to his elbows. His forearms, thick with muscle, cradled the little girl with no effort. His jaw, lightly stubbled with hair as dark as that brushing the collar of his shirt, was hard and clenched as he stared down at her. The gloom of the dark clouds shadowed his eyes, but the green gleamed vividly.
She shivered, not from the cold but from the awareness tingling across her skin. Last night his voice had rasped along her nerves, but today his stare was so intense, so intimate, it weakened her knees.
Despite the howl of the wind whipping up and the resumed conversation of the small, milling crowd, she caught the emotional rumble of his deep voice as he whispered, “Nadine?”
Chills chased away the nerves. Nadine? Although he stared at her, she wasn’t the woman he very obviously wanted to see.
Nadine.
He must have loved her sister.
She had come to Sunset Island to collect Annie, to serve as her niece’s substitute mother. And that was the only substitute she would ever serve for her sister. As much as she lacked confidence in her parenting abilities, she lacked even more in the bedroom. She knew she could never replace her sister there.
Chapter Two
He had known she was dead even before the crime-scene techs had verified that nobody could live with that much blood loss, which could have only been caused by the severing of a main artery. With DNA testing they had also verified that the blood was Nadine’s.
The woman standing before him now didn’t bear a single scratch that he could see, but he was tempted to pull back her collar to check. She was pale, her eyes the same vivid crystal blue of Annie’s, the only color in her face. The wind tousled her long, black hair, swirling it in an ebony cloud around the shoulders of her blue jacket.
God, she was beautiful. He sucked in a quick breath of crisp air.
And she wasn’t just a sister. She was Nadine’s identical twin. “Sasha Michaelson.”
She nodded. “Yes, and you’re Sheriff Blakeslee? And this is Annie?”
The little girl reached for her, again calling out, “Mommy.”
The woman didn’t extend her arms to the child. Didn’t she have any compassion? How could a woman this cold nurture a baby? “You look exactly like your sister.” Beautiful and unapproachable. “She’s confused.”
“Annie, I’m your aunt. Your Aunt Sasha,” she said to the child, her voice soft as she tried to explain.
Annie snuggled
