After drinking her coffee, Mandy retired to her own room to prepare for the next day when she would join an expedition up the mountains, led by professional climber, Pierre Foule. She was looking forward to it, knowing herself to be physically well equipped with a strong, young body, slim and lithe. Her black hair was cut short in a neat crop.

Efficient, she thought. Just what’s needed.

What she didn’t take into account was her deep green eyes. To her they were just eyes, useful for their perfect vision, but not special, so she entirely missed their beauty and the effect they could have on other people.

The shower felt unbelievably good, and when she’d finished and put on a towel robe, she felt invigorated and ready for the climb she would start tomorrow.

The thought filled her with the desire for one last look at the mountains, and she slipped out onto the wrought iron balcony to stand enraptured. She was about to go back inside when a commotion reached her from two windows along. A man was cursing in French, a woman was screaming.

The window was at an angle and she had a clear view as the curtains parted and a man rushed out onto the balcony.

It somehow came as no surprise to discover that he was the same man she’d been studying downstairs. Before her startled gaze, he climbed onto the wrought iron railings, took a deep breath and launched himself towards the balcony of the next window, landing easily.

But there his luck ran out. There was only darkness inside and his tapping on the window produced no response. The noise from the place he’d just left was growing louder and Mandy saw him eye her own balcony with intent.

He was mad, she thought. The leap he’d just made was across a corner angle and relatively easy, if you were into that kind of thing. But the balcony where he stood now was straight across from hers, a good six-foot jump and a forty-foot drop if he missed it.