Camera Shy Read Free Page B

camera lens pointed in her direction, stopped listening for that telltale click of a shutter, and focused on enjoying the scenery. The landscape in and around Tofino was dramatically different than that of Los Angeles. Towering evergreens dominated the mountainous terrain, a thick blanket of green velvet extending almost to the edge of the ocean. Simone strolled out of town along the shore, which alternated between vast expanses of sandy beach and rocky shoreline. The wind tugged at her skirt and toyed with her hair. She breathed the cool sea air, inhaling the crisp saltiness without a trace of smog.
    Tofino was tucked into a small inlet, sheltered from the open ocean, so the water was relatively calm, its surface as smooth as glass in places. Every once in a while, a salmon burst through the surface and splashed back into the water again. The first couple of times, the fish startled her, but eventually she caught herself scanning the water's surface, trying to figure out where the next one would leap through. She drank in the silence. This place was perfect. Absolutely perfect. Anne-Marie was right. I needed this. It had been years since she'd spent any time alone, and most of that time had been spent deep in a bottle. The solitude here calmed and refreshed the soul, and the quiet little village eased the knots of worry out of her bunched shoulders. It even soothed the lingering pain of her hangover, quieting the fierce pounding into a dull ache.

    Already, Simone felt ready to face the world again. Part of her was ready to go charging back into Hollywood to claim the reputation she knew she deserved. But Hollywood was hardly forgiving; it would probably be years before she could shake the stigma of her affairs and the dismal movies she never should have starred in. SNAP .
    The all-too-familiar sound stopped Simone in her tracks. Her blood froze. Was it? No, it couldn't be. She was alone. Wasn't she?
    She heard the sound again, and she knew: a camera shutter. Her heart pounded. No, no they couldn't have followed her. Not here . No one knew she was here. Did they?
    A sick feeling rose in her gut.
    She looked around.
    The camera and its owner were behind her, maybe ten yards away. To her surprise, the lens was not pointed at her. In fact, it was pointed at the ground. The photographer knelt behind it, oblivious to her. For a moment, she just stared, dumbstruck that he wasn't trying to photograph her. She couldn't remember the last time she had looked at a camera and not stared down the lens. She looked from the camera to the long fingers that held it, and up the chiseled forearm to the well-defined, tattooed bicep that peeked out from beneath a ragged Tshirt sleeve. Her gaze kept moving, taking in the broad shoulders. Between his collar and the black and yellow camera strap, a tantalizing sliver of another tattoo showed. His fingers turned the lens slowly, carefully, and a subtle ripple worked its way up his arm, making Simone's mouth water.
    He must have felt her stare, because he looked up just then. Seeing his face without the camera in front of it took Simone's breath away.
    His face was full of perfect contradictions: Prominent and graceful cheekbones sat above coarse stubble, suggesting he hadn't shaved in a few days. His hair—brown and spiky—was tousled and wild, but gave the impression of deliberate unruliness. His eyebrows arched with perfection that would bring a makeup artist to tears, and below their perfect curve, his vivid brown eyes looked out at the world with both intensity

    and innocence. Boyish, but rugged. A tattooed bad boy who still called his mother and helped old ladies across the street.
    Amidst the stubble, a thin goatee framed his mouth. The corners of his lip curled up into a smile that suggested both shyness and confidence. "Can I help you?" She realized she was staring. Her cheeks burned. "I'm . . . I'm sorry." He laughed, flashing perfect teeth and a dimpled smile. His cheekbones were