Chris, the videographer, was in his late twenties and lived fulltime in Manhattan. Lauren had dubbed him – to his face – “a hipster doofus”. No matter the weather or climate he nearly always wore a knit cap of some type, his oddly mismatched clothes hanging loosely on his skinny frame. And, as Lauren teased him about on a regular basis, he couldn’t hold his liquor worth shit, and had the most appalling taste in women she’d ever seen.

Stefan was the crew’s producer, the person who worked with the magazine staff to make travel arrangements, obtain any necessary travel visas, procured film permits when required, and acted as liaison with the local tourist bureaus and adventure outfitters. He hailed from Sweden, spoke half a dozen languages, and thought everything Lauren said and did was both hilarious and rather shocking. She, in turn, loved to shake up the rather prim, reserved Swede as often as possible.

But as different as all of them might be, they jelled together very, very well, and it was rare when they totally disagreed on how to approach a feature. Lauren considered all of them to be good friends as well as co-workers, and trusted that none of them would ever make a serious pass at her – Karl because of his long-term but complicated relationship with his girlfriend Tamsyn; Stefan because he was more than half-afraid of her; and Chris – well, he’d got the message loud and clear during their first assignment that Lauren was not interested. Since then the videographer had treated her solely as a co-worker, drinking buddy, and fellow adventure seeker.

Lauren loved her job, thanked her lucky stars every single day that she’d been fortunate enough to win the photography contest, and therefore been able to realize her dreams so quickly. She thrived on the challenges the job presented, loved the ability of being able to combine her chosen profession with her love of adventure and physical activity. Thus far, the assignments had called for her to go scuba diving and snorkeling, white water rafting in Class IV rapids, hang gliding, horseback riding, ascend and rappel steep cliffs on fixed ropes, and ride dune buggies in the desert.

No job was perfect, however, and there were two major downsides that she had to deal with on a regular basis. One of those was the fact that her presence was required in New York City for a couple of weeks after each assignment had been finished. The crew would spend that time putting the finishing touches on their article before handing it over to the production staff, and then they would review plans for their next assignment. Once everything had been wrapped up, Lauren would head back to Big Sur for two to three weeks until it was time to embark on the next adventure.

She was no stranger to New York, having spent quite a bit of time there over the years. Her maternal grandparents had emigrated to the city from their native Montreal when Lauren’s mother and aunt had been just eight years old. Along with her parents and sister, Lauren had visited her grandparents and Aunt Maddy every summer and spent each Thanksgiving with them as well. And while Julia had always loved New York – the museums and theaters and restaurants, not to mention all of the fashion boutiques and high-end department stores – Lauren hadn’t shared her twin’s sentiments. She found Manhattan noisy, crowded, and claustrophobic, and couldn’t wait to leave each time she finished up with an assignment, was always eager to return to her beloved cabin in wild, rugged Big Sur.

Her grandparents had died within a year of each other a couple of years back, and their brownstone on the Upper East Side had been sold. Julia lived in Manhattan now, apprenticing at an interior design firm, but her tiny apartment was barely big enough to accommodate her and her extensive wardrobe. So whenever Lauren had to be in town, she stayed with Aunt Maddy, who owned a spacious apartment conveniently located near her job as the head buyer at Bergdorf Goodman, Manhattan’s most exclusive department store. And as much as Lauren adored spending time with both her sister and their beloved aunt, it was always with a sense of relief that she boarded a flight out of New York, whether it was to return home or to head out on a new assignment.

And that was the second issue she had with an otherwise dream job – the travel arrangements. Nadine, the staff member who was responsible for making flight and hotel reservations for the crews, stuck to the budget she’d been given like a hawk. She prided herself on not just staying within budget but saving the magazine as much money as possible. That was why the crew rarely got direct flights anywhere, being forced to make connections and endure long layovers. Each time Lauren had to fly to New York from the West Coast it was on a red-eye. Checking baggage was frowned upon since it incurred extra charges. And their accommodations were often on the borderline between three stars and dicey. Lauren certainly didn’t expect to sleep on five hundred thread count Egyptian cotton sheets, or have a top of the line flat panel TV with a hundred cable channels in her room. But she drew the line at mildew on the shower walls, or air conditioning that didn’t work, and she would often nag and complain to the front desk staff until she got moved to a better room.

Yet another of Nadine’s cost-cutting tricks was to book their trips during the off season. That was why they’d traveled to Mozambique at the height of rainy season, and why the drive from the airport out to the guest lodge had been made through a torrential downpour and over nearly washed out roads. When Lauren had seen the nasty weather upon landing a few days ago, she’d overridden Nadine’s strict instructions and rented a vehicle with four wheel drive and tires that wouldn’t get them stuck in the mud. A stern lecture on staying within the budget would be awaiting her upon their return to New York, but it certainly wouldn’t be the first time she’d pissed Nadine off and it definitely wouldn’t be the last.

Fortunately, the rain had eased up enough yesterday for their diving excursion to go off successfully. And while the forecast called for more rain this afternoon – bucket loads of the stuff – Stefan was fairly confident they could get their morning shoot finished in time.

They were due to fly home tomorrow, with connecting flights in both Johannesburg and Frankfurt, before returning to a cold, snowy New York winter. And by the end of her time there, she’d be nearly climbing the walls, anxious to be back in California and her much loved sanctuary. Even if that sanctuary continued to brim over with memories that were almost unbearable at times.

Even now, a year and a half after Ben had broken her heart, she still reached for him in the night or found herself taking two coffee mugs out of the cabinet. And no other man had ever come close to helping her forget about Ben the Bastard – the not so flattering nickname she’d bestowed on him after he’d left her without so much as a “have a nice day”.

Oh, she’d tried like hell to forget the sonovabitch, to date other guys and move on. As soon as she’d returned to college, she had agreed to a date with the first guy who’d asked her, even though he had been way too clean cut and straitlaced for her taste. At least he’d been a decent kisser, and their make-out session had almost progressed as far as third base. But then Lauren had gotten cold feet, had felt more than mildly repulsed at the touch of hands and lips that hadn’t been Ben’s, and she’d abruptly called a halt to the action.

It had taken six months and more than half a bottle of tequila before she’d actually had sex with a guy, and it had been such an unsatisfactory experience that she’d sworn off men for the foreseeable future. A vow she hadn’t broken – well, except for a whole lot of relatively harmless flirting – until last night’s unfortunate hook-up.