He had the most beautiful face I'd ever seen, though I couldn't see his eyes with the sun glaring on his eyeglasses.
"Thank you," I said. "I'm Mara Severins."
Still holding my hand, the man stared at me. Not in an unsettling way, like the cab driver had. He stared like he couldn't believe what he was seeing.
Did I have lint on my dress? Or---oh God, please say no---did I have toilet paper stuck to my shoe? I had stopped at the restroom before leaving the airport.
"Is something wrong?" I asked. "Is this the wrong day? Sometimes I do that, I get the dates messed up and show up at the wrong time."
His lips worked for a second before he stammered, "I---whuh---"
A tag pinned to his shirt told me his first name.
I met his concealed gaze. "It's nice to meet you, Oliver.
He blinked several times, then glanced down at his shirt. Rolling his shoulders back, he let go of my hand. "Yes, I'm Oliver Jackson, the assistant manager. You can call me Ollie if you want. Let me get your bags for you."
"Thank you, Oliver." I liked the way his name slid off my tongue as smoothly as warm chocolate sauce.
He gestured to the cab driver. "Open the trunk."
The lid popped up, and Oliver hurried to get my bags. His brows shot up when he looked inside the trunk.
I winced. Yeah, I'd brought too much luggage. Four big suitcases and two smaller ones that held all my makeup and hair stuff, not to mention moisturizer and other necessities.
Oliver hoisted my bags out of the trunk and set them down alongside the driveway. He shut the trunk and the back door of the cab. "Thanks, man. See you next time."
The driver backed the cab up and turned it around, waving as he drove away.
Oliver waved back.
I eyed my luggage. My Prada luggage. Did nature lovers usually arrive with designer bags? Probably not. I also doubted they showed up wearing a designer, body-hugging dress and stilettos.
Such an idiot, Mara.
Oliver picked up two of my large bags, half stifling a grunt. He grimaced, but bravely soldiered on with my overstuffed bags. "Follow me."
I tried to navigate the gravel drive, but my heels kept tripping me up.
"Might be easier if you take off your shoes," Oliver said, slowing down so I could catch up.
"Right." I smiled sheepishly as I tugged my shoes off and held one in each hand. "I'm not used to the outdoors since I live in Philadelphia, but that's why I came here. To commune with nature or whatever."
"You can definitely do that here."
We were aiming for the two-story building, so I hurried ahead of him to open the door.
"Sorry, that's supposed to be my job," he said, lugging the suitcases across the threshold.
"My fault. I overpacked. Always do."
The door swung shut behind us.
Dragging in a deep breath, I let my eyelids ease half closed. The aroma of succulent foods wafted past me. Was that hamburgers? God, I'd kill for red meat. And did I smell fries? Maybe even sweet potato fries? Please, yes, let it be.
I blew out the breath I'd held. "Mm, I smell food. Haven't eaten since I left Philly early this morning."
"The other guests are having lunch," Oliver said. "Why don't you join them while I take your things upstairs? They're nice people, and they love meeting new guests."
"You don't mind? I mean, I'm leaving you to carry my bags. I know they're heavy."
"It's my job." He nodded toward the door a dozen feet down the hall. "Dining hall's in there. Go on, have fun."
A real smile stretched my lips. "Thank you, Oliver."
I trotted toward the doorway to food heaven, inhaling more delicious aromas, my eyes drifting partway closed again. My tummy grumbled. Oh lord, I was starving. At the doorway, I paused and opened my eyes all the way to survey the dining hall.
Men and women sat at tables, chatting, smiling, and stuffing fries in their mouths.
Naked men. Naked women. Not a scrap of anything resembling clothing on any of them.
A wave of ice cold flooded through me. I couldn't breathe. Couldn't budge even one-thousandth of a step.
Totally naked people.
Suddenly, the gaze of every single person in the dining hall veered to me.
And I screamed.
God, had I turned into the dumb chick in a B horror movie? Screaming? For heaven's sake, I was a grown woman. But I couldn't shake the ice-cold shock. What kind of birdwatchers ate lunch in the nude?
Pretty sure my jaw dropped. My eyes bulged too.
Something thumped behind me.
Everyone stared at me. They looked confused.
I stammered but couldn't piece together whole words, much less sentences.
Oliver appeared beside me, touching my arm. "What's wrong? Are you having an epileptic seizure or something? I can take you to the hospital if---"
"No, I'm not having a seizure." Why did my voice sound breathy? I squeezed my eyes shut and turned toward him, praying I could get a grip soon. "Why is everyone naked?"
"Oh. Yeah, that. I know at some naturist resorts the guests dress for meals, but here we have a less formal way of doing things. Are you sure you're okay?"
"Fine. Yes." The syllables were clipped. I pried my lids apart to look at Oliver. "Why would birdwatchers eat in the nude?"
"Birdwatchers? Some of our guests enjoy doing that, but what's clothing got to do with it?"
"Everyone is naked." Why did he not see how horribly wrong this all was?
"Uh, yeah, that's kind of the point." He laughed, sounding and looking a bit uncomfortable. "This is a naturist resort."
I threw my hands up, huffing. "Like that explains it?"
"Well, sure it does."
Seriously? He thought that explained the naked people scarfing down burgers and fries.
I stalked out into the hallway where I couldn't see into the dining hall anymore. Were my eyes on fire from what I'd seen? No, they were dry and
