Yet somehow her feet wouldn't move, and she found she was clutching on to her basket full of blackberries, her fingers itching with the unfamiliar need to touch him, to trace the lines of all those intriguing muscles just to make sure he was real, because surely someone that beautiful couldn't be. She'd certainly never seen a man like this one, still less met anyone who looked the way he did, not in the cafe where she worked in the village, or indeed anywhere in the village, full stop.
She watched as he bent over the small pile of clothes lying on the gravelly beach. He picked up a dark blue T-shirt then, as he straightened, Anna's heart beat even faster as he began to towel himself roughly off.
She should definitely not be looking at him, she reminded herself again. What she should be doing was getting back to the cottage she lived in with her father, because she didn't like to leave him for too long. He'd had a stroke nine years ago that had left him extremely physically limited and very much dependent on her. Which he hated. But there was nothing either of them could do about that since there was no one else to look after him. She was his sole caregiver and it was a duty she took extremely seriously.
So she needed to stop staring and move on.
"You know, it's very rude to stare," the man said suddenly, casually.
Anna froze. He couldn't be talking to her, surely? She was hidden by the bushes and there was no way he could have spotted her. He hadn't even looked in her direction.
Perhaps he was talking to someone else. Someone she hadn't seen. Or maybe he was talking on his phone. But no, that was stupid. He'd just come out of the lake and, given his current level of nakedness, it was very obvious he wasn't carrying a phone.
"It was your hair, by the way," he went on, unhurriedly bending once again to the small pile of clothes and picking up a pair of plain black boxer shorts. "If you were wondering what gave you away. It's very bright. I would suggest covering it with a scarf or hat next time you want to hide in the bushes and spy on someone."
Oh, dear. He was talking to her. A tide of intense embarrassment washed over her, heating her entire body in a way she hadn't felt for years. It made her feel as if she were a kid again, helpless shame filling her as her father spoke to her in that cold, quiet voice. The voice he only used when she'd done something wrong.
You have done something wrong. You intruded on this man's privacy.
A quick, bright anger at herself flickered inside her, and she caught her breath at the unexpected heat of it. But no. She wasn't going to get angry. That wouldn't help. Her emotions were dangerous things and she needed to keep her distance from them. What she had to do now was own up to her indiscretion, give him an apology, then promise that it would never happen again.
Anna took a silent breath, forcing down the hot tangle of unwanted emotion that sat in her gut, then stepped out from behind the bush.
The man straightened, still naked, T-shirt in one hand, his underwear in the other. He didn't seem at all embarrassed or self-conscious. Then again, he had nothing to be self-conscious or embarrassed about. He was quite simply the most magnificent thing Anna had ever seen in her entire life. His eyes were dark brown and the instant his gaze met hers she felt an almost physical impact, like a short, sharp electric shock. All the air left her lungs and her mind went utterly blank.
Then he smiled and she forgot where she was. She forgot who she was. Because that smile was warm and wicked and sensual all at the same time, and it made her feel hot and oddly feverish, though she had no idea why. She had no idea why a simple smile could do all those things to her.
He's dangerous.
The thought came out of nowhere, instinctive, though it didn't make any sense. Because he wasn't being threatening and she wasn't getting any strange vibes off him. He was simply standing there, smiling at her.
"Would you like to keep on looking?" he asked her, amusement glittered in his deep brown eyes. "Or shall I dress?"
Anna struggled to get her brain working, her thought processes sluggish, as if they were mired in melted toffee. "I apologize," she said in a scratchy voice. "I heard the sounds of splashing and came to see what was happening." Then, because, after all, he shouldn't be here, she added, "You are aware that this is private property, right?"
The amusement in the man's eyes seemed to deepen. "Oh, yes, I'm aware. That is the whole point of trespassing, isn't it?"
So…this was deliberate? That didn't make any sense. Why would he deliberately break the law? Wasn't he worried that she would report him? But he didn't look worried. He didn't look worried about anything at all, which didn't seem fair. Especially when she felt as if she'd been struck by lightning. She drew herself up to her not inconsiderable height, aware in that same moment that he was very much taller than she was, which didn't help her irritation. It didn't help either that he made not the slightest effort to cover himself or even dress.
"Well," she said coolly, "I suggest that you stop trespassing, get dressed, and leave the property. The groundskeeper here isn't very welcoming and he might decide to call the police."
"Noted," the man said, dry as dust. "Are you the owner perhaps?"
"No. I'm the neighbor. I have permission." Which was true. Her father and the previous owner of Haerton-the late Duke of Springbrook-used to be friends before the Duke had become a recluse, and they'd had an understanding about Anna's childhood rambles. It had suited her father to have her out of the house, because he found her a disruption.
"I see." The man tilted his head, his eyes gleaming with an oddly wicked light. "So have you finished looking?"