Born in Shame by Nora Roberts

to see the sights.” Competently Brianna patted the dough into a ball and turned it into a large bowl. “The keys are on that hook there. You take them whenever you’ve a mind to ramble. Did you have a good night?”
    â€œActually, I—” She broke off, surprised she’d been about to tell Brianna about her dreams. “Yes, the room’s very comfortable.” Restless again, she took another sip of coffee. “Is there a gym anywhere around?”
    Brianna covered her dough with a cloth, then went to the sink to wash off her hands. “A Jim? Several of them. Are you looking for anyone in particular?”
    Shannon opened her mouth, then closed it again on a laugh. “No, a gym—a health club. I work out three or four times a week. You know, treadmills, stair climbers, free weights.”
    â€œOh.” Brianna set a cast iron skillet on the stove as she thought it through. “No, we’ve none of that just here. A treadmill, that’s for walking?”
    â€œYeah.”
    â€œWe’ve fields for that. You can have a fine walk across the fields. And the fresh air’s good for exercising. It’s a lovely morning for being out, though we’ll have rain this afternoon. You’ll want a jacket,” she continued, nodding toward a light denim jacket hanging on a peg by the back door.
    â€œA jacket?”
    â€œIt’s a bit cool out.” Brianna set bacon to sizzling in the pan. “The exercise will give you an appetite. You’ll have breakfast when you get back.”
    Frowning, Shannon studied Brianna’s back. It looked as if she was going for a walk. A little bemused, she set down her cup and picked up the jacket. “I don’t guess I’ll be long.”
    â€œTake your time,” Brianna said cheerfully.
    Amused at each other, they parted company.
    Shannon had never considered herself the outdoor type. She wasn’t a fan of hiking. She much preferred the civilized atmosphere of a well-equipped health club—bottled water, the morning news on the television set, machines that told you your progress. She put in fifty minutes three times a week and was pleased to consider herself strong, healthy, and well toned.
    But she’d never understood people who strapped on heavy boots and backpacks and hiked trails or climbed mountains.
    Still, her discipline was too ingrained to allow her toforfeit all forms of exercise. And one day at Blackthorn had shown her that Brianna’s cooking could be a problem.
    So she’d walk. Shannon tucked her hands into the pockets of her borrowed jacket, for the air was chilly. There was a nice little bite in the morning that shook away any lingering dregs of jet lag.
    She passed the garden where primroses were still drenched with dew, and the greenhouse that tempted her to cup her hands and peer in through the treated glass. What she saw had her mouth falling open. She’d visited professional nurseries with her mother that were less organized and less well stocked.
    Impressed, she turned away, then stopped. It was all so big, she thought as she stared out over the roll of land. So empty. Without being aware she hunched her shoulders defensively in the jacket. She thought nothing of walking down a New York sidewalk, dodging pedestrians, guarding her own personal space. The blare of traffic, blasting horns, raised voices were familiar, not strange like this shimmering silence.
    â€œNot exactly like jogging in Central Park,” she muttered, comforted by the sound of her own voice. Because it was less daunting to go on than to return to the kitchen, she began to walk.
    There were sounds, she realized. Birds, the distant hum of some machine, the echoing bark of a dog. Still, it seemed eerie to be so alone. Rather than focus on that, she quickened her pace. Strolling didn’t tone the muscles.
    When she came to the first stone wall, she debated her choices. She could walk along it, or