It was the oddest sensation – not precisely déjà vu – but he couldn’t help feeling as though he’d finally arrived home after a very long time away. He’d never considered any of the houses he’d lived in while growing up in Ohio as his home. His parents had divorced when he was seven, and from that point on he’d been shuttled back and forth between their new homes – both of them having quickly remarried and started new families. It had been difficult, if not downright impossible, to ever truly feel comfortable or like he belonged anywhere.

During college he’d lived in dorm rooms, studio apartments, houses he’d shared with several roommates. Since then he’d drifted from one place to the next, mostly living in cheap rented rooms, never calling one place home for very long.

But now, as he walked slowly across the redwood deck that offered up its own spectacular views, Ben felt an instant affinity with the house – more of a cabin, really, he noted now – as though the structure of wood and glass was speaking to him, recognizing him, welcoming him home. He knew a sense of peace, of belonging, that he had never felt before.

He ran a hand over the door jamb as he followed Lauren inside the cabin. “This place. It’s – incredible is the only word that comes to mind. I haven’t even been inside yet but I can already sense how special it is.”

Lauren turned and smiled, her green eyes glowing. “You feel it, do you? I’ve always thought this place was magical, was convinced when I was a little girl that fairies or elves lived here. And even though we haven’t lived here full time since my sister and I were five years old, I’ve always considered this place my real home.”

Ben walked inside the main room of the cabin, which at first glance appeared to be a combination living/dining space. The floors were of a sturdy, distressed oak, the beamed ceiling high and sloped. The furniture looked comfy and well lived-in, everything chosen to blend in with the earthy, almost rustic feel of the place.

As Lauren nimbly clambered up a spiral staircase to what he assumed was a loft, Ben quickly took in as many other details as possible. In addition to the spacious, high-ceilinged great room, there was a kitchen, bathroom, and bedroom. The cabin would definitely be on the small side for a family, but there was certainly plenty of room for one – or two – people here.

His gaze fell on a particularly arresting seascape that hung above the rock fireplace. He knew less about art than he did about photography, but even his untrained eye could recognize the quality of the piece. There were other, smaller, but equally magnificent works hung at strategically placed spots around the room, and Ben knew without being told that they had all been rendered by the same artist.

The slight creaking of a floorboard alerted him to Lauren’s presence, and he felt the same sort of thunderstruck reaction as he faced her again. Jesus, but she was beautiful, he thought wildly, and wondered briefly if all of her lush little body was tanned the same deep shade of apricot as the considerable amount of bared flesh was. The scowl on her face told him that she was well aware of the perverted direction his thoughts must be taking, and he felt his cheeks flush as though he were an adolescent boy caught with a pornographic magazine in his grasp.

“Did you, uh, paint these?” he mumbled, trying to cover up the fact that he’d been rather blatantly ogling her cleavage.

Lauren snorted, no doubt very well aware of his hasty cover-up attempt. “The few times I’ve attempted to paint I wound up with more of the stuff on my face and hands and clothes than on the canvas. I don’t have the patience to mix the colors or work on all those little details. No, my mother did all of these. She’s an amazing artist, very well renowned in the art world.”

Ben stepped closer to one of the paintings, squinting as he read aloud, “Natalie Benoit.”

“She uses her maiden name to sign her art.”

He nodded. “She’s of French descent?”

“French Canadian, to be exact. My grandparents are from Montreal. My sister and I are both fluent in French, learned it from the time we could speak. Arrêter de regarder mes seins et prenons votre photo de stupide.”

“Huh?” He lifted a brow at her flawless French, not understanding a single word.

Lauren scowled. “I said stop looking at my breasts and let’s take your stupid photo.”

Once again feeling like a fourteen year old boy with more hormones than brains, Ben obediently followed her back outside, the dogs eagerly trotting along in their wake.

She adjusted the lens and flicked a variety of switches and buttons on the camera before handing him the obviously high tech and very expensive piece of equipment.

“Here. Now this is a camera,” she announced bluntly. “Don’t touch a thing, it’s all focused and ready. All you have to do now is take the shot.”

Ben was more than a little intimidated to actually take the shot under Lauren’s eagle eyed regard, but was pleasantly surprised at the results of his efforts when he studied them in the view finder.

“Hmm. Not bad,” acknowledged Lauren. “Mind if I have a go at it?”

Ben spread his hands wide. “Be my guest. After all, it’s your camera. And your beach.”

She winked at him again, a flirty little gesture that made his heart rate accelerate and his cock perk up at the same time. “Now you’ve got it, sweetie.”

And then he could only watch in silent awe as she snapped what had to be dozens of shots in rapid succession. In his chosen – and poorly paid profession – he’d had occasion to work with photographers, and it was very obvious from what he could see here that Lauren was already a pro, despite her youth. She couldn’t be much older than twenty two, twenty three tops – if that – he figured, despite the air of supreme self-confidence she gave off.

And, upon closer observation of her fresh-faced, makeup-free complexion, and the way her long, thick caramel colored hair had begun to curl up beguilingly as it dried, Ben was beginning to think she was even younger. She couldn’t possibly be a teenager, he assured himself. It wasn’t something he even wanted to consider, given the very strong physical reactions he was experiencing in her presence. It had been a long time, longer than he could accurately pinpoint at this moment, since he’d been with a woman. His restless, nomadic existence definitely didn’t lend itself to having anything resembling a relationship, and he’d always been a real loner during high school and college.

But even if he was the biggest manwhore on the face of the earth, the kind of guy who picked up women at random whenever the urge struck, Ben knew that he still would have felt this overpowering attraction towards Lauren. It wasn’t just her face and hair and body – though God knew that was more than enough to attract any red-blooded, heterosexual man – and maybe even some who weren’t. It was also her sassy, fearless attitude, the way she didn’t seem to care a whit about her appearance, and how she seemed perfectly at home in this wild, somewhat rugged environment. Put together into one tempting, irresistible package, it was small wonder that he’d been hard and ready from the first moment he’d laid eyes on her, and was having a very difficult time thinking about anything else but having her beneath him, his cock buried as deep inside of her lithe body as he could reach, fucking her harder than he’d ever come close to taking a woman before. And then he couldn’t help but smile as it occurred to him that he’d likely be the one beneath Lauren. Something told him that she would prefer to be on top whenever possible, and as much as he wanted her right now he’d let her do whatever the hell she wanted to him.

Lauren finally lowered the camera, flipping through the shots she’d taken with a casual expertise. “Not bad,” she acknowledged. “Come on, we’ll go download these and pick the best shot. You got a flash drive with you to copy the files to?”