The truck had been climbing for a while now, but the landscape suddenly grew considerably steeper. Violet-colored mountain peaks towered all around, studded with evergreen trees and sheared red rocks. Candace had told her about the orangey clay that passed as soil in most of Georgia. It made for majestic contrast in the landscape, a photojournalist’s dream.
Alicia had hoped the temperature would be cooler at this elevation, but instead it felt as if she was getting closer to the sun. She was absolutely miserable. Her makeup had melted off long ago, as had her deodorant. Her clothes were soaked through with perspiration, and her feet and legs were sticky and dirty from the spilled beer. She could smell herself.
She’d planned to arrive a little dressed down from her normal appearance, but this was ridiculous. If her appearance offended people, there’d be little chance of anyone talking to her. Undercover was one thing—repellent was something else altogether. Besides, she was supposed to be looking for a man, not sending them running in the opposite direction.
A sign on the right announced, Sweetness, Georgia, 3 miles. She slowed to take in the landscape on either side of the recently paved road. The expanse of green underbrush had been cut back…someone was taking care to ensure visitors got a good first impression. To the left ran a postcard-pretty creek—Timber Creek, according to the flip map. The water looked clear and gentle, especially since her throat ached with thirst.
She spotted a metal bridge that spanned the creek. A sign next to it read Sweetness Recycling Plant, although no structure was visible, just unending trees and a prolific vine that she assumed was the “kudzu” she’d read about.
In her research, she’d also stumbled onto a factoid that raised the hair on her arms—apparently, the North Georgia mountains were host to numerous rattlesnakes and scorpions.
Scorpions, for God’s sake.
Because the relentless heat, humidity and remoteness of this place wasn’t off-putting enough.
Ahead in a bend she saw a red covered wooden bridge, obviously the landmark her mother had read about in the newspaper. From the website she recalled the original bridge had been destroyed by the tornado that had devastated the rest of the town.
The structure was magnificent, she conceded, and so perfectly situated in its surroundings, it looked as if it had been there a hundred years. It tugged at her.
She slowed to pull onto the side of the road to get a better look and to stretch her legs. Even though the sun was high overhead in a cloudless sky, it was a relief to escape the stifling cab of the truck. But when she climbed down, the full impact of her grubby condition hit her. Her clothes were plastered to her wet, gritty skin, and her feet were nearly black. She cursed her mother’s boyfriend, wishing she’d thought to bring moist wipes or something. She did have a couple of washcloths in her toiletry bag, if only she had some water—
Alicia stopped and glanced down at the creek flowing by, the water crystal clear and inviting. If she could make it to the water’s edge, she could wash her feet, she mused, laughing to herself. But when she spied a path down to the water and didn’t see anyone around, she started thinking it wasn’t a half-bad idea. It certainly beat showing up at a hotel looking like a vagrant, or asking for a key to use a gas station bathroom.
From her suitcase she retrieved her toiletry kit and a clean T-shirt, then on impulse grabbed a bra, too, reasoning she could change underneath the shirt. At least she’d look presentable and smell respectable when she rolled into town.
Her mind made up, she locked the truck and made her way gingerly down the rocky path. She wasn’t much of an outdoorswoman, but Pilates had given her good coordination and balance. She nervously eyed the weeds and rocks along the path, certain they were riddled with snakes and scorpions. When she reached the edge of the water, she was relieved to find herself unscathed, and to see she was hidden from the road. The opposite bank was equally as tall and rocky, so she felt safe to remove her sandals. After scrutinizing the clear depths for water snakes, she waded in up to her ankles.
Alicia sighed in pure pleasure at the rush of cool liquid over her feet. Instantly her body temperature started to fall. She enjoyed the sensation for several minutes before crouching to wash her feet with one of the cloths. When she finished, she wiggled her clean toes, then felt compelled to dip her hands in the running water and splash her face—heavenly. She laughed ruefully, thinking if only her boss Nina could see her now, bathing like a hedonist. She wrung out the cloths and held them against her neck, groaning in relief.
She was crouched on a smooth rock, obscured by an outcropping. She glanced all around and, feeling confident she was alone, lifted her T-shirt over her head, then hurriedly ran the wet cloth over her exposed skin. The sun was so hot, the water evaporated almost instantly. Feeling braver now, Alicia looked right, then left, then reached around to unhook her bra.
Marcus almost dropped his fishing pole. When the dark-haired woman had first appeared on the opposite creek bank, he’d been irritated. He hadn’t expected to catch anything at this shallow spot in Timber Creek—the scorching sun had driven the fish to deeper, cooler waters. But he’d expected to be alone with his thoughts for ten damn minutes.
He was sure she would spot him, but from the way she’d panned the area with no reaction, he guessed he blended into the foliage where he sat a little ways downstream holding his pole. He’d assumed she was another tourist stopping to take pictures of the bridge. If he was the neighborly type, he might’ve waved…but no one had ever accused him of being neighborly.
When she’d slipped off her shoes and waded into the creek, he’d been amused by the look of sheer pleasure on her face. When she’d crouched to splash her face, he’d presumed she was travel-weary. But when she’d pulled her T-shirt over her head to reveal a lacy pink bra, he’d gotten nervous.
He should’ve divulged his presence, but at that point he was afraid he’d embarrass her. So he’d tried to look away while she dabbed a wet cloth over her skin.
Tried to. It was no big deal, he’d told himself. She wasn’t revealing more of her long, lithe body than she would in a bathing suit…maybe less. She was, after all, still wearing a skirt.
But when the bra had come off, he knew he was in trouble.
He sat there, frozen. Well…most of him. His lower half reacted rather fiercely. He felt like a schoolboy, thrilled by his first sight of female breasts.
It wasn’t his first sight, but it had been a long… long…long time. And hers were spectacular.
Sitting high and full, her breasts were perfectly tilted upward, like an offering. Judging from the pale hue of her skin, she didn’t make a habit of undressing in the wild. But the tattoo he couldn’t make out at this distance suggested she wasn’t modest.
She was a vision, kneeling on the rock, splashing water on her bare chest. Her nipples tightened to a point, coinciding with his own body tightening in places he’d disciplined himself to forget about. He knew he should try to disappear before she realized he’d seen her, but he was afraid he’d only attract her attention and make matters worse.
And besides, he was mesmerized. He found himself hoping she’d slip off her skirt and the matching pink panties she was probably wearing to skinny-dip for a while. He held his breath when she stood—her body was silhouetted in the golden sun, her hands at her narrow waist as if she were contemplating exactly what he was thinking. But then she leaned over to fish another bra from the pile she’d made on a dry rock, and quickly put it on, followed by a different T-shirt.
Marcus exhaled slowly, still afraid to move. He watched her while she put on her shoes and made her way back up the rocky footpath until she disappeared onto the bank. The loud rumble of an engine turning over reverberated down to him—the lady needed a muffler. He waited until the vehicle pulled away before he dared to stir. He didn’t realize how tense he’d been until he stood and his muscles protested.
She’d driven in the direction of town, he mused, wondering what