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wasn't the first time she'd communed with nature above ground. Nodding off in the process was a new twist, but then, she was a newlywed.
    How long she'd been dozing when she heard them, she had no idea. But she couldn't have been snoring loudly, or they never would have chosen the location they'd chosen. And they most certainly wouldn't be doing what they sounded like they were doing.
    She twisted her head ever so slightly downward, wincing sheepishly as she cast one eye in the direction of the noises. Moans, groans, giggles, and heavy breathing—they were all there. It sounded like two people were a few yards away from her, doing some communing of their own. If she was lucky, there would be enough cover of foliage between her and them that she could get away unnoticed. If not, she at least hoped they were early in the process.
    It only took one eye to remind her she wasn't the lucky type. The couple were lying on a large blanket by the base of the tree, and their clothes were not.
    She shut her eye tight, wondering briefly if Canada had such a charge as involuntary voyeurism. The situation might be considered amusing— if it were happening to someone else. But all she could feel was mortification, and her options were limited. She couldn't get down without being seen. And if there was one thing worse than spying on two people making love, it had to be explaining why afterward.
    The sounds from below escalated, and she grit her teeth. What she really wanted to do was stick her fingers in her ears and hum, but movement was too risky. She wasn't directly above the couple, but any little shift could catch their eyes, which could be staring contentedly upward any moment now.
    Finally, the sounds ceased, and Leigh breathed a quiet sigh. For the sake of both her increasingly aching back and her sanity, she could only hope that the twosome had someplace to go—and soon.
    "You know, Roger," came a young woman's voice, "I'm not sure it'll be as much fun when we don't have to sneak around."
    A man's voice, which sounded at least a decade older, responded sleepily. "Sure it will."
    Leigh groaned inwardly. Pillow talk, too?
    "Today's the day!" the woman continued, her voice bobbing as if she was up and getting dressed. "You're sure everything's all set?"
    The man merely grunted.
    "Roger!" the woman chastised, her tone turning sharp. "Don't even think of doing a half-assed job of this. We're not talking about another loaded Nikon here. The consequences—"
    "I'm aware of the damned consequences," the man replied peevishly. His voice had also started to jiggle in space, which Leigh hoped meant they were both getting decent again. She allowed both eyes to open.
    The man was facing away from her, pulling a pair of khaki shorts over neon-orange boxers. His back and legs were generously covered with dark brown hair, which would have given him a rugged, animalistic look if it weren't for the large bald spot visible on the top of his head. And though he was far from obese, a hefty ring of blubber had settled around his middle, evidently sometime after he had purchased the khaki shorts. "The thing's been planned for months, Ash," he continued, struggling to zip up. "It's set. Now quit harping on it."
    "Ash" was quiet for a moment, looking at him. Her generously proportioned body was now covered with a pink halter top and short-shorts that would have been more appropriate on a giddy teen than the savvy twenty-something she appeared to be. "You mean you've been dragging your feet for months," she said accusingly. "And now they're getting cold."
    The man groaned. "Don't start that again! If you don't believe me, just wait and watch the papers. Or better yet, get a police scanner. It'll be over by midnight. Make nice entertainment for tomorrow's Maid of the Mist passengers."
    "God, you're cold," the woman said playfully, leaning down to fold the blanket.
    The man laughed. " Me , cold!  Who wanted to make sure she wasn't wearing anything valuable