...Anastasia Hunter knew this “morning ritual,” as she had deemed it, had taken over her life. With a wry chuckle, she wondered if a support group existed for her particular obsession, then dismissed the comic notion. After all, what young, hot-blooded female—straight female, she amended—could resist the temptation she faced every day, and who would want to stop the habit anyway?

With that thought in mind, she stepped to the window. From a nearby table, she snatched her lightweight, yet efficient, Takami 3000 with the telescopic lens—her best and dearest companion. She took her usual position facing the neighboring house, drew a deep breath, and waited…

Seconds later—a span of time that seemed an eternity—a smile twisted her lips.

“Good morning, Sundance. You’re right on time,” she whispered against the window, her breath momentarily fogging the glass. As always, the tempo of her heart accelerated as her nearest neighbor appeared on his second-story deck—in all his naked glory. “Oh, Lordy, you never disappoint, do you, hot stuff?”

Per usual, she raised the camera to her eye and adjusted the focus. That’s it, perfect, she decided, when his facial features came into crisp view. As the thirtyish man studied the ocean and greeted the day, he ran both hands through his sleep-mussed hair, the russet-brown locks straggling nearly down to his broad shoulders and undulating in the balmy breeze. The rising sun painted an opalescent blaze in his lambent, almond-shaped eyes, while his generous lips curved upward, revealing a devastating, pearly white smile that said “it’s great to be alive.”

With its intelligent brow, strong jaw and chin, and perfectly proportioned nose, his face compelled Ana like that of a movie star’s. Indeed, on the morning following her arrival, the day she first glimpsed her naked neighbor through her camera, she looked at the handsome face and bushy mustache and immediately likened him to a darker-haired Robert Redford, similar to his appearance in the movie, Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. Ana instantly christened her neighbor “Sundance,” and from that moment, her obsession began.

Click, click…click, click…click, click…

Never in all her years as a photographer—or even as a woman—had Ana viewed a man who looked so perfectly comfortable in his skin. Without any hint of modesty, the man flaunted his nudity to the world, as if thanking Mother Nature for her generosity. And why shouldn’t he? Never had Ana photographed a creature with such an extraordinary physique, a body that seemed magnificently designed for sex, nor had she had such a creature share her bed. As she expected, fire started in her loins when she imagined what she would do if she could just lay her hands, her mouth, her tongue, on a man like that…

Click, click…click, click…click, click…