She recognized she was defenseless, but felt strangely powerful in the knowledge. She dropped her hands to her sides in an unfamiliar submissive gesture (Sherona was not known for being docile). Her naked body was nothing to be ashamed of. She knew from the thick ridge of the shaft of his cock riding along his left thigh that she was, in fact, beautiful to him.
It didn’t surprise her in the slightest when he bent again to peer through the camera lens. She stood transfixed, a gentle breeze causing goose bumps to rise along her skin and her nipples to stiffen. The subtle movement of his fingers as he took her picture over and over struck her as highly erotic. She imagined what it would be like to feel those fingers on her skin, detailing her form using the sense of touch instead of sight. Liquid heat rushed through her, the strength of her response taking her off guard. Without really thinking, she pressed her fingers to the damp slit of her sex. Pleasure spiked through her, delicious and forbidden. Her nipples tightened painfully. She sensed him pause in his photo taking. He lifted his head slightly, spearing her with a narrow-eyed stare.
Good God. She was an exhibitionist, and she hadn’t known it until that moment.
She blinked, disbelief and horror jolting through her at the realization. She lunged for the neatly folded sundress she’d placed at the edge of the meadow grass before she entered the water. Anxiety pressed down on her chest as she hurriedly donned it, covering her nakedness, and slid her feet into a pair of flip-flops. She glanced up as she tossed her panties into her canvas tote—she didn’t want to make herself more vulnerable by pulling them over her legs in front of him—but the man still stood behind his tripod, unmoving. Sherona straightened, her heartbeat now pounding in her ears.
The forest preserve path that led to the parking lot was fifty feet to the right of her and perhaps seventy feet from the man. She had the advantage as far as distance. Besides, she somehow doubted he’d leave that expensive-looking camera behind to chase after her. Her heart was beating so fast, it felt as if it had swollen and was pressing against her breastbone.
She watched him warily as she walked quickly toward the path, her chin tilted defiantly, ready to break into a run at his slightest move. His mouth opened, and for a few tense seconds, she thought he was going to call out to her. He didn’t, though, and Sherona gained entrance to the path. She plunged into the forest, the thick foliage blocking her view of him. She hadn’t wanted him to see her run, but now she raced toward her car. By the time she reached the paved parking lot, she was breathing erratically and a fine sheen of sweat covered her skin.
She gave one backward glance toward the forest and opened her car door. Not until she sat in the driver’s seat with the doors locked did she allow herself a moment to catch her breath. As her wild heartbeat slowed, she glanced to her left. The only other car in the parking lot was parked perpendicularly to her Ford Focus; a sleek, silver Jaguar coupe convertible. She noticed the rental plates.
It had to have been his car. Nobody in the vicinity of Vulture’s Canyon, save Katie Pierce, drove such a luxurious, sporty vehicle.
Now that she was safe, she pressed her hand on her chest as if to calm her racing heart. Rationally, she knew she should have approached the man and demanded he destroy the photos he’d taken of her.
But something had happened out there in those woods. Something that Sherona couldn’t see or touch, but could measure by its effect on her body and spirit. For some inexplicable reason, knowing that stranger had seen something in her that Sherona herself had n
ever glimpsed caused the confining walls of her small, comfortable life to explode.
Her world suddenly seemed like a much bigger, breathtaking place.
* * *
Two days later, Chance strolled into the pleasantly cool, extremely clean interior of the Legion Diner. The good-looking, husky young man who stood behind the counter with a half apron tied around his blue jeans wasn’t the person he’d been hoping to see. The only other people in the diner were a gray-haired man in his late fifties who gave him a suspicious, grouchy-looking once-over before he returned to his newspaper and a thin man wearing a cap, his jug ears sticking out from beneath it. The skinny man was eating his meatloaf single-mindedly, never glancing up once at Chance’s entrance.
The kid behind the counter gave him a friendly nod.
“Sit anywhere you like.”
“Thanks,” Chance said, sliding into one of the booths that lined the front windows. He looked out onto the deserted Main Street of Vulture’s Canyon. Better to call it Only Street. As far as Chance could make out, the desolate street lined with ancient, crumbling storefronts was the only paved thoroughfare in the back-hills town set in the midst of the Shawnee National Forest. The Legion Diner along with the Trading Company and the Last Stop Saloon appeared to be the only viable businesses in Vulture’s Canyon.
He glanced around when the boy set a glass of ice water in front of him.
“I was looking for the owner? Sherona?” Chance said.
The young man’s amiable countenance faded slightly.
“She’s taking some bread and pies over to the Trading Company. She’ll be right back. Are you English or something?” the kid asked.
“Australian. Ever visited the land down under?”
The young man threw him a dry glance. “The farthest south I’ve ever been is Nashville. What can I get you?”
“What’s good?” Chance asked, peering at the blackboard menu behind the counter.
“Everything. My sister is the best cook in the county.”
Chance did a double take. “You’re Sherona’s brother?”
“Derek Legion,” the kid said unsmilingly.
Chance hid a grin. Derek had seemed perfectly friendly until he’d mentioned wanting to see his sister. Well, it didn’t particularly surprise him that the little brother of a woman as beautiful as Sherona might be a little protective.
He stuck out his hand. “Chance Hathoway. I’m here at Rill Pierce’s request to do some photographs for the Food for Body and Soul brochure,” he explained as he shared a quick handshake with Derek. He’d known Rill since they’d met at UCLA during their undergraduate years, both of them students in the visual arts department, and both of them expats—Rill from Ireland and Chance from Australia. Rill had gone on to become a renowned movie director, and Chance had made his career in photography, but they’d remained friends over the years. When Rill had recently mentioned to him the charitable work he did for Food for Body and Soul, a cooperative farm that provided nutritious, healthy food for poverty-stricken and needy families in the Midwest and Appalachian region, Chance had been interested. It’d sounded like a worthy enough cause for him to take a quick vacation at Rill’s house and help in any way he could. It’d been Rill who’d suggested how his expertise might best help out the organization.
“So that’s why you want to talk to Sherona? Because of Body and Soul?” Derek asked.