“I take it you come here often.”
“It’s close to home.”
Her attention drifted to the bar, casually noting the majority of the seats occupied by attractive women.
She lifted the glass to her lips and took a sip of the dark ruby liquid. Their eyes connected over the rim. Sizzling awareness coursed through her veins.
“Perfect establishment for a serial dater.”
The amused gleam twinkling in his eyes was breathtaking.
“The chef is remarkable and as you can see it has an unparalleled level of hospitality.”
“Umm hmm.”
Digressing from the subject, he asked, “So, what made you want to be a yoga instructor?”
“Oh, gosh. Yoga’s something that’s been engrained in my life since I was a little girl. My mom owns a studio and I pretty much grew up there, so the transition to teaching came naturally.” She mused for a moment, fiddling with the white napkin under her drink, reminiscing childhood memories. “I used to dream of owning my own coastal retreat like the advertisements in the back of the magazines laying around my mom’s studio. A secluded sanctuary where you could come to unplug, reconnect with the body, and fill the spirit.”
“Unplugging is unfamiliar to me.”
“Then you probably need it the most.”
“Touché.” He captured her hand, giving a little jiggle to her fingers.
“Growing up, my mother encouraged me to try everything. She would say, ‘Life is full of good and bad experiences, you simply need to pick the good things in life to linger on.’ I think you’d enjoy it more than you think.”
“I think that wine is getting to you,” he teased, burying a wide smile behind the rim of his wine glass. “So, your mom’s a yoga instructor as well?”
“Yes.” Ember wavered. Not everyone in western society was comfortable with or understood her mother’s profession. “She works with couples.”
“Couples? Like a yoga therapist?”
“I’m sure some consider it therapy, but she specializes in tantric yoga.”
His brow perked with interest. “Sex?”
Ember’s eyes rolled toward the ceiling at the typical misinterpretation. Taking another sip of wine, she confirmed, “No, not sex. Tantric yoga is extremely sensual, but it’s much more than that.”
“When you tap into it correctly?” Playful mischief blazed in his eyes.
She laughed out loud at the pun, nearly spewing wine across the table. A full-blown teasing smile encompassed his gorgeous face sending a rush of heat all the way to her toes.
“Look at you, making jokes and all.”
“I have a great sense of humor. Occasionally.”
Warm silence swirled around them.
Ember couldn’t help but feel like she’d just chipped away a small section of the barrier guarding his self-preservation. One thing she knew for certain was that Nash Harris bore a stern inflexibility that made most people run for cover in his presence and that his smiles didn’t come easily. Of the two brothers, jokes and laughter were traits gifted to Sam.
“Tantric yoga expands the connection and mindfulness between a couple, spiritually and physically. It helps deepen their bond with each other and the universe.”
“So, basically sex for tree huggers.”
“Sure, okay. I guess if you have no concept of yoga then it might seem like just sex.” Sweet laughter bounced in her chest. “It’s more about learning how to breathe as one, focusing on the flow and rhythm. Two souls simply being in the moment, together, with no distractions, being mindful of each other’s needs.”
Their eyes connected across the table. The busy world around them began to fade into white noise, her focus drawn to him like gravity. The sea of blue staring back at her reached deep inside her heart and swallowed her whole.
A cautionary tickle tapped at her subconscious.
She opened her mouth to continue, but her tongue felt as if it’d been wrung out and tied in a double knot.
Ember cleared her throat. “Have…have you ever tried yoga? It’s great for relaxation, plus helps to get in touch with your inner spirit.”
“Relaxation is foreign to me and I don’t need to dig up my inner spirit. It took me a long time to bury her.”
Humor coated his tone, but Ember saw right through the façade. She studied him with solemn eyes. Inner turmoil and sadness hid in the shadows of his features. Nash dropped his gaze to the basket of bread on the table, ripping a chunk from the warm narrow loaf. Searching for more insight, she followed the movement, greedily wanting another peek into the window of his soul.
The air around him thickened.
Making a joke was one thing, but he wasn’t the kind of man to share his feelings. The longer she observed him, the deeper the groove creased between his brows.
Nash could tell she was studying him, and he didn’t like it.
He didn’t like it one bit.
Ember didn’t know the story hidden within the sea of blue, there was definitely something there, but she respected his space.
Holstering her curiosity, Ember lifted her glass. “Cheers.”
“What are we celebrating?” he asked, clinking his glass to hers.
Raising the glass to his lips, tension began to slip from his eyes turning them soft and pliant.
Sexy.
“To an hour of good wine and great company.”
“I’m on board with that.”
One hour turned into four. Throughout dinner she caught him staring, drinking her in, causing her to shift in her seat as a slow burn flourished inside. They’d polished off nearly two bottles of wine, a five-course meal, a chocolate tart topped with toasted peanut crumble, and endless conversation.
They barely scratched the surface, but each managed to avoid the subject of cattle and oil.
It was after midnight when they left the restaurant. Streetlamps cast an amber glow on the empty sidewalk and the sound of her heels clicked along the concrete. Nash took hold of her hand tangling his fingers in hers. Neither spoke, but a giddy grin filled the apples of her cheeks and a heavy dose of happiness radiated from every pore.
Entering the high-rise, Nash acknowledged the security guard with a quick nod before ducking into the elevator. Ember leaned her back against the cold obscured mirrored wall preparing for the ticklish free-fall in her tummy. Nash mimicked her move, resting a hip on a thin aluminum handrail.
He dragged his fingers over the perfectly trimmed stubble on his face. The scruff added a ruggedness to the façade of civilized apparel. The complete opposite impression he’d left in the darkness of her bedroom the night before.
His gaze coasted over her from head to toe, searing deep beneath her skin, looking as if he wanted to eat her alive.
“Come here, you.” His raspy whisper curled through the confined space. Clasping hold of her wrist, he tugged until the front of her body pressed tightly to his.
A twinge of timidity twisted with feelings of sureness.
Nash had many layers hidden within, but there was no denying that this man was in total control. He was calm, collected, and confident, exuding a type of power and dominance she’d never tasted.
And she liked it.
She liked it a lot.
Her pulse hammered wildly beneath the pressure of his fingertips. The rush of each inflated breath expanded her lungs with a painful burn. Ember couldn’t force herself to look up at him. She’d never experienced such an intense reaction to a man. There was nowhere else she’d rather be, yet she was terrified that if she looked deep into his eyes, his soul, that she’d either want to run like hell or never want to leave. Both conclusions were equally frightening.