She made a cup of coffee and stepped out onto the porch. Night was slowly turning to day, but the sun wouldn’t appear for hours. She was anxious to begin questioning people about Aunt Mac’s disappearance, but breakfast wasn’t served until seven, and she couldn’t just stand here staring into the woods until then. She’d be stark-raving mad by the time the others woke up.
She needed exercise. The retreat had a gym and several pools, but she didn’t think her persona would survive being discovered in spandex gym shorts or a bikini.
She could do sit-ups and push-ups in her living room, but the air was crisp and smelled of pine needles, and she hated the thought of going inside again. The day was growing lighter, even though the surrounding trees kept her cabin in shadows. But higher up…An energetic climb would work.
And she was sure no one would see her. Everyone else was still sleeping. Andy had heard them carousing late into the night, but had no inclination to join them. She’d finally had to stuff her pillow over her head to get to sleep and overcome the desire to see if Dillon was among the partiers.
She drank off the last of her coffee and went inside. A few minutes later, she was dressed in running shoes and sweats. She jumped off the porch, bypassing the two steps, and started up the path toward the mountains.
She’d just passed the last few cabins, when the path narrowed and underbrush began to encroach on the gravel. A hundred feet later, she came to the stone wall she’d seen from the bus.
So much for her hike; she wasn’t even breathing hard.
A metal gate, as high and as solid as the wall, blocked her way. A lichen-covered sign warned, NO ADMITTANCE BEYOND
THIS POINT.
She rattled the padlock and chain, but the gate didn’t budge. Why lock it? Why was there a wall at all? To keep wildlife out? Or to keep the trainees in.
Andy couldn’t shake the memory of the newspaper article about Imogene Southwaite falling to her death. She supposed people did stranger things than accidentally walking off a third-story balcony. But she had also appeared in too many thrillers not to think the obvious. Had Imogene Southwaite been killed for her legacy?
That would mean that someone in the Goddess organization was a murderer. It couldn’t be. They were all too busy running around in nightgowns, trying to flirt their way to success. Murder didn’t seem like a viable flirtation technique.
Nonetheless, Andy had a sudden urge to see what was on the other side of the wall. Not that she thought she would find the abandoned body of her favorite aunt, but she had to look. Just in case. Even though it was ridiculous. She hoped. She began looking for a place to scale the wall.
There were several trees growing nearby, but their branches had been pruned so that she couldn’t reach even the lowest one. She began searching along the wall and found something better. A fallen oak tree had wedged itself at an angle between the wall and a solid spruce. She’d be able to walk right to the top.
She placed one foot on the trunk. Several slivers of wood crumbled beneath her feet. She kicked them away until she found a solid core.
Hands out to her sides for balance, she tightroped her way up the tree and was soon standing on the top of the wall.
On the other side was a steep incline of trees. No problem getting down, but first, she needed to find a way to get back up. Always plan your escape before your entrance: a motto that had saved many stunt actors from serious injury or worse. And besides, she didn’t want to find herself locked out of the retreat. It could take days for her to trek her way back to the front gate. And living on mushrooms and wood grubs was not her idea of a vacation.
She found a tree with several sturdy branches within reach of the wall. Its lowest branch came within six feet of the ground. She could jump high enough to get a handhold.
Gauging the distance to the nearest branch, she sprang from the wall. She caught the branch with both hands. It swayed as it took her weight, and she hung there until it came to rest, and she could steady her feet on the limb below. Shifting her weight from her arms to her legs, she let go and dropped straight down. She grabbed the limb on either side of her feet, then slid her feet from the branch. She dropped to the ground and landed in a deep-knee bend.
The earth between the trees was spongy, covered in moldy leaves and pine straw. Tangled bushes erupted like witches’ brooms from the ground. She wiped bark and sticky resin off her hands and looked around. A few yards away, a smaller path continued up the mountain.
Andy began to climb, winding in and out of patches of early morning light, finding footholds in rocky outgrowths and slipping over patches of moss. She heard rumbling in the distance and thought it must be the highway. But as she climbed steadily higher and it became louder, she realized it was the sound of rushing water.
She scrambled over detritus and fallen logs and came to a swollen stream. Its banks churned with foam as water coursed downhill toward a section of agitated rapids.
She followed it upward to where the steam disappeared into a crevice between two jagged boulders. She had no equipment to climb the face of the rock, so she skirted around it, back into the deep woods, until she finally glimpsed water again. Breathing heavily, as much from the altitude as exertion, she stepped out of the forest and into sunlight.
She was standing on a flat boulder. A crystal-clear lake stretched before her, forming an hourglass of blue in the surrounding woods. Across the lake, a waterfall rushed over a palisade of rock and tumbled into a cloud of mist. But here, the water was calm and serene. Trees grew right to the water’s edge and reflected on its surface. Clumps of yellow flowers dipped into the water, and in the patches of grass, tiny slips of wildflowers were waiting for their petals to be opened by the sun.
She sat down so that the sun beamed down on her face and shoulders. It was peaceful here. A perfect place for swimming and sunbathing, for solitude or romance. If she were going to run a goddess retreat, she’d have made this a part of it.
Two days of inactivity had been too much. And the lake was tempting. She pulled the sweatshirt over her head, kicked off her shoes and socks, and inched over to the edge of the boulder. She stuck her toes in the water, let out a gasp, and snatched her foot back.
It was freezing. But exhilarating. A polar bear’s dream pool.
She stripped off her clothes. The water was deep, but so clear she could see the bottom. She bent her knees and dove in. She surfaced with the air wrenched from her lungs. She let out a “brrr” that echoed across the water and began to swim.
She could feel her muscles come to life as her arms sliced through the water and her legs kicked beneath the surface. Within minutes, she was back in form, her body sleek and powerful. She dove in and resurfaced, arched her back, and lifted her face toward the sky. She kicked once and curved backward into a somersault, then rose again and floated on her back. Her nipples grew hard from the cold. The water caressed her sides, her arms as she waved them back and forth to stay afloat. She turned and swam, first on her stomach and then on her back, rolling in the glassy lake like a dolphin.
And her mind conjured a playmate, muscular and sleek, as handsome as—Hell, he looked just like Dillon Cross.
Well, why not, she thought. When in Rome, only perhaps she should think, When in Greece. It didn’t matter. Her fantasy was in full swing as she imagined their bodies coming together, slick to the touch as they passed within inches of each other—darting in and out of reach. Then they would float, side by side, while desire rose, and their dolphin flirtation would begin again. This time, more intimate. Her breasts skimming his chest as their legs entwined in the water, his fingers gliding between her legs, his dick sliding between her closed fingers. Finally their lips would touch and their tongues would lock in a kiss.
Andy sighed as her own hands slid down her thighs to touch herself, before once again paddling the water to stay afloat.
It would be lovely. And when they tired of swimming, they’d climb out of the lake, holding hands