The man loomed over her. He pushed a hand through brown hair tipped with gold, his sky-blue eyes wide in disbelief which slowly turned to disdain as he peered down the length of his perfectly placed nose at her. His full lips pursed, exaggerating a cupid’s bow. Five o’clock shadow dusted his cheeks, and his black coat and silk tie were impeccable. The dark colors complimented his golden skin. She couldn’t help staring.

Who was he?

No one dressed like this in Itirangi. Even the businessmen wore casual clothes. Jeans and shirts. This man came from another world. A god among mere mortals, gorgeous enough to drive god-fearing women to sin.

Elijah wasn’t sure whether to be angry at having his peaceful night interrupted or intrigued by the woman at his feet. She had been standing tall at the end of the paddock, like a queen surveying her domain. Except, up close, she was less of a queen and more… Well, odd. Wearing an absurdly fluffy pink jersey with purple leggings, she’d presented her well-formed behind to him as he’d approached unnoticed. Now, she was sitting in the dirt with her hair falling over her face, peering up at him. How bizarre.

He felt a brief flash of sympathy, but it was tempered by annoyance. It had been a long day, and he’d had enough. Not a people-person at the best of times, when he was tired, he preferred to be alone.

Reluctantly, he reached down to help her up. She laid a small, warm hand in his. “Are you okay?” he asked.

“Fine,” she replied, her cheeks flushing a delicate shade of pink. “Thanks.”

She flicked her long dark hair as she straightened, the curls corkscrewing over her shoulders. Several inches shorter than he, she squinted up into his face, wrinkling her small, upturned nose. Her eyes were brown with flecks of green that flared as she held his gaze. The woman was prettier than he had imagined based on the outlandish outfit.

“What were you doing?” he asked.

“Taking photos.” She gestured helplessly at the camera that was still on the ground where she’d fallen. She knelt to pick it up, her leggings tightening over her butt.

“There are better viewpoints of the lake,” he told her. This was a nice spot, to be sure. That was why he’d bought it. But there were plenty of nice lookouts much easier to access near the lakefront.

“I know that,” she replied indignantly. “I’m a local.”

Eli raised an eyebrow. She looked vaguely familiar. “Then, why the camera?”

She glanced away. “I’m doing some research for an article. I work for the paper.”

“Look at me.”

She started at his sudden command, and her eyes went to his. He jolted in recognition. She was the journalist who’d written that blasphemous article, without a doubt. What the hell was she doing here?