A Sweet Life-kindle

by Andre, Bella

  The mirror on the far wall of her studio reflected an image of a man to be trusted. His curly, dark hair and warm brown eyes drew women toward him, and his friendly smile helped build him a solid base of clients. His five foot six inch frame bubbled over with energy, and she always had trouble trying to get him to relax and focus on the task at hand. She enjoyed Harry’s company, and relaxed in his presence. With Harry she never worried about any hidden intentions.

  Chandler led him toward her back office and watched him sink into the worn cushions of the tattered, mauve sofa. “Maybe I should go to dinner with you and Grant.” Harry opened his briefcase with a frown. “What if he tries to put one over on you?”

  She leaned against the edge of the desk and sighed. “No, I’ll be okay. This dinner meeting is a way for him to learn my weaknesses. It’s a familiar tactic I learned in the corporate world.”

  Harry chuckled. “I almost feel sorry for him if he thinks he can intimidate you. Beneath your gentle image lies a mighty core. Hell, you walked away from your father, the corporation, and your fiancé without asking for a penny. You’ve got guts.”

  She smiled. Harry understood what it took for her to walk away from everything she thought she wanted. Her disciplines of yoga and meditation helped, strengthening both her body and mind. But late at night, she still heard her father’s taunting words the day she walked into his office and found her entire life had changed.

  She shook off her disturbing thoughts and poured a cup of herbal tea. The hot liquid slid down her throat with ease. “Logan will help me keep my business. I guarantee him his investment, then we both get what we want.”

  “The escape clause was a mistake. You never discussed the option with me.”

  “You know I’m desperate. Logan behaved oddly, too. After I offered him a full reimbursement, he acted angry. Almost as if he cared about what happened to my studio.”

  Harry gave a snort. “Grant doesn’t care about people. He cares about money.”

  “Yeah, you’re right. His lawyer seemed nice, though. His name is Richard Thorne, and he actually studies yoga.”

  Harry lifted one brow. “An attorney of Grant’s doing yoga? That’s a new one.” He studied her face thoughtfully. “What did you think of him?”

  “He’s nice. Not like Logan at all. He seemed more…well, light-hearted. Non-threatening.”

  “Hmmm. Just your type.”

  She crossed her arms in front of her chest. “Are you trying to tell me something?”

  “Yeah, you need a date.”

  “Harry, you’re so subtle.”

  “It’s been too long since you had a man in your life. A lawyer who’s interested in yoga is a rarity these days. Go for it.”

  “Thanks for the advice, but I’m not jumping into anything. I’m content with my life, and men make things complicated. Besides, he works for Logan. He wanted to draw up the contracts, but I told them I’d use my own lawyer.”

  “Good move. I’ll add a clause so you can break the arrangement within six months if you think the program won’t work. I want you both on equal footing.” He grimaced as he took a sip of the herbal tea she handed him. “Damn, don’t you have any coffee in this place?”

  “Too much caffeine isn’t good for you. Besides, this tea contains antioxidants.”

  “I’d rather die happy. This stuff tastes terrible.” He put the mug back down. “How will you manage the extra workload?”

  “Olivia will handle the bulk, but I’ll have to cut back on some classes temporarily. If this deal works out, I can hire new instructors and expand without a deficit. This contract is the start of a whole new future. Can you imagine how many new students I could teach? I can renovate the building, and get that soft lighting we talked about, and new mats and—”

  “What if the deal falls through?”

  She raised her chin. “The deal will go through. I’ll prove to Logan this is the best program he’s ever invested in.”

  Harry shook his head. “No offense, but I can’t believe he agreed. Can you picture the man of steel trying to relax and clear his mind?”

  “I know. I bet half of his work force suffers from ulcers.”

  Harry chuckled. “Those finance boys won’t know what hit them. I bet after a month of your classes they’ll watch what they eat and breathe deeply in stressful situations.”

  Chandler laughed. “I hope you’re right. But the first executive I need to impress is the man picking me up in a couple of hours.” She glanced at her watch. “I have to get home and change. I’m sure at exactly seven he’ll show up at the door in his usual suit and tie.”

  Harry went over a few details he’d added to the contract. “Are you wearing the itchy suit?” he asked.

  Chandler made a face at his teasing remark. “No, I’m donating that to charity. I have a different outfit in mind for Mr. Grant. Maybe the white chiffon.”

  He whistled. “The one with the headdress? Your father almost dropped on the floor when you showed up at dinner and caused his client to spill champagne in his lap.”

  Her laughter floated through the room as she shut the door behind her.

  The situation was not what she’d expected.

  Chandler watched the man from across the table as she bit into a slice of crusty French bread slathered in butter. From the moment he’d picked her up in his low-slung Italian sports car he’d thrown her curve balls. Instead of the usual suit and tie, he lounged before her in a casual sport jacket, black button down and indecent jeans that clung to his muscular thighs and cupped his ass. Low leather boots completed the outfit. He looked way more approachable, yet an aura of power still clung to his body like a mist of smoke.

  What was probably worse, she thought as she stabbed her fork into her Caesar salad, was his reaction when he’d seen her outfit. She’d prepared for a shocked response, but the purely masculine satisfaction mirrored in his eyes made her nervous.

  Chandler had passed on wearing her white chiffon, and instead wore a black lace bodysuit that peaked out from under a sheer blouse in the finest silk. Her black silk skirt flowed down to her ankles, but when she moved, the material parted to reveal a dozen slits cut to her thigh. A wide silver belt completed the outfit. The fabric moved with her every movement and skimmed her body with lightness.

  She gave up on hair clips and pins and let her hair fall loose, allowing her dark honey and sun-bleached tawny strands to curl wildly about her shoulders and down her back. She wore no jewelry, having always preferred bare skin to the overdone-in-gold look. Many arguments ensued with her father based on her tendency to dislike clothes suitable in the business world. She’d hoped to elicit the same disapproval in Logan, but he didn’t seem to mind. In fact, she almost blushed under his direct gaze.

  She sipped her Pinot Grigio and watched him carry on a lively conversation with the waiter about the Giants and their chance to win the Super Bowl. The man actually knew how to talk football. This hardly seemed fair given the amount of time he spent in the office.

  “Food seems to be another one of life’s pleasures. Don’t you agree?” She paused in the act of reaching for another shrimp cocktail as the waiter left.

  “I try to be vegetarian and eat tofu and yogurt, but my heart just isn’t in it.” She smiled. “I feel guilty when I lecture my students on nutrition. I’ve already made note of the dessert menu.”

  He laughed. “A woman whose heart is controlled by her stomach. I respect that.” He watched her bite into the shrimp and close her eyes in delight. “I hope your profession can support your appetite.”

  “If I wanted a fortune, I would have worked as a business executive.”

  “So you said before. What else do you hate besides money, Chandler?”

  She blinked. “Power. Controlling people. Lies hidden behind smiles. The usual things most people hate.”

  “It’s not so simple,” he said softly. “Most grab at an opportunity with both hands. People raised in poverty see money as their only way ou
t of hell.”

  She shook her head. “It’s a trap. They’re really giving up the self, and what they get in return is a lie. Money and power are illusions and only soothe for a temporary period. Then they wake up one morning needing more, and sacrificing more to get it. In the end they lose everything important and find themselves alone. Money can’t help loneliness.”

  “That sounds like a conclusion drawn by one who followed the path and got burned. You talk from experience. What made you change?”

  She looked up from her plate, startled. She’d never meant to get involved in this type of conversation. She refused to tread in such dangerous territory. Chandler forced a bright smile. “Why, my therapist, of course. Doesn’t everyone in New York have one?”

  She held her breath and waited to see if he'd follow her lead. She relaxed when he smiled back. If he’d wanted answers, she had a sinking feeling she’d have no choice in the matter. She made a mental note to be more careful of the information she leaked.

  He focused his attention back to his dinner. “I’ll have Richard look over the contract, and you can start the workshops on Monday.” His voice was cool and brisk. “I know your lawyer is inexperienced, but an escape clause shouldn’t have been offered. It puts you at risk.”

  “Harry didn’t know until it was too late,” she said. “I came up with the idea myself. He gave me hell when I told him.”

  One black brow shot up. “Do you usually do impulsive things without telling anyone?”

  She shrugged. “I only have myself to answer to, so I take responsibility for my actions.”

  “Your Harry doesn’t take offense?”

  Chandler frowned. “He has no say in my decisions.”

  Logan watched her for a moment, then shook his head. “You haven’t met the man who’ll set a couple of rules for you.” He cut into his prime rib. “You’re too impulsive, so you need to be watched. I bet most men in your life don’t know how to handle you. You need someone with enough strength to tell you ‘no’ once in a while.”

  Her mouth dropped open. She took a quick grab at her temper. “I do not need, nor will I ever need, a man telling me what to do with my life,” she said firmly. “I am a capable, rational woman who knows exactly what will make me happy. No wonder I swore off business executives. Too many of your kind think they know what’s good for a woman and refuse to converse in a normal manner. They dictate, threaten, and bully their wives into doing what they want, forgetting the bedroom is not the boardroom. I refuse to be put through that experience again.”

  “Again?”

  She ignored his question and forged on. “Furthermore, I’m looking for a man who listens to what I have to say and supports my goals. A man willing to compromise when he disagrees with me.”

  “You’d be bored out of your mind. You need someone who will yell back in the living room, and make up in the bedroom.”

  She gasped. “That is the most ridiculous, chauvinistic remark I’ve ever heard! I want a partner, not a caveman. I’m quite satisfied with my life and refuse to change for any man. Besides, you don’t know the men I date. They certainly don’t bore me.”

  “You haven’t met the right man yet,” he repeated.

  Her fingers tightened on the stem of her glass. Her belly dropped into free fall, and suddenly the raw image slammed into her vision full force. Logan standing over her, a slight smile tugging those full lips. Her on the bed, naked, waiting for instruction as he told her everything he was going to do to her, for her, with her, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

  Oh. My. God.

  Not in this lifetime. Not with Logan Grant. Not till hell froze over.

  Logan studied her face as a range of emotions flickered across it. Arrogance. Lust. Fear. She was so expressive, so open to a man’s study, as if she’d never played any dirty games and walked through life being exactly who she claimed.

  But that was impossible. Wasn’t it?

  He clamped down on the wave of irritation that flowed through him at the idea of her dating a wide variety of men. His free spirited yoga teacher intended to show him she refused to cater to a man’s whims. Unfortunately, he became more determined to put an end to her experiments. What was going on with him? He’d never been a possessive man where women were concerned. Possessiveness indicated a messy emotion, which he normally stayed away from. Maybe this woman called to his sense of challenge. Obviously she’d been burned by a corporate executive, and chose to stay far away from a man who wore a three-piece suit. The conversation with his attorney was a sign of big trouble ahead. Was sex really worth it, even with her?

  His pants tightened and screamed the answer. When was the last time a woman had excited him? He dated many, slept with a few, and woke up every morning with one thought: work. Would she be different? Would that first kiss and first slide into her wet heat dampen his desire? Or once he claimed her would he constantly want more?

  His lips tightened. Chandler probably dated men she could safely control, but she was about to discover he wouldn’t stay meekly on the sidelines once he decided he wanted her.

  She stuck her chin high in the air, practically daring him to challenge her. A dab of red cocktail sauce clung to her lower lip. Almost as if she knew, her tongue snaked out and licked off the drop, unconscious of how damn sexy she appeared. He waited a beat. Then made his decision.

  He wanted Chandler Santell.

  Her hand trembled as she placed her glass back on the table. Ah, yes, she was off balance with him. Her pupils dilated, and he knew his words hit the target directly. She may not want to admit it, but she was attracted to him. Good. It would make his job to seduce her easier. She seemed determined to treat his statement as a joke, and let out a half strangled laugh. “You’re impossible. Is this how you wear down your enemies?”

  He deepened his voice. “Words won’t convince you. Action will.”

  She tore her gaze away and concentrated on her plate. Logan hid a smile, and lured her back into conversation. He enjoyed her sharp mind and was surprised at her dry sense of humor. Odd, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d relaxed on a date. Usually it was hard for him to keep his fingers off his iPhone and check in with the office. He paid the bill, escorted her to the car, and pulled up to her apartment building. Time to gather more information.

  “Why don’t we finish celebrating our deal over brandy?” he asked.

  She hesitated. “Sure, come on up.” They walked up the flight of stairs and Chandler slid the key in the lock. She flipped on the lights and waved toward the sofa. “Make yourself comfortable, I’ll only be a moment.” She walked into the kitchen and kicked off her shoes. Her sigh of relief drifted to his ears.

  He turned his attention to the room around him. He wandered around, pausing now and then to finger an object or study a painting. The cream walls, pale yellow carpet and off-white furniture helped set off a whirling array of colors and sights that attacked the senses. Cheerful, bright watercolors hung on the walls in a blinding intensity; they practically jumped out of their frames at him. They were so full of life.

  Lush, green plants dangled above him as he checked the view out the window. A large ficus tree dominated one corner and half a dozen smaller plants he didn’t immediately recognize surrounded it. Some sort of Christmas-looking pine tree and bunches of flowers claimed the other corner plus an entire wall. Chandler obviously had a green thumb—he was curious to see how green she would make his bottom line.

  Sitting among the foliage were three large marble sculptures struggling for attention. Each figure stretched in a different yoga position. He made a safe assumption they were not high art, but more of an emotional attachment. Books and magazines were tossed over the floor and furniture, and Logan caught the faint smell of incense that still hung in the air. He studied the sculptures in curiosity.

  “One of my teachers gave me those.” She placed two snifters on the coffee table and sat down on the sofa. Logan sat next to her. “They were supposed
to represent the new commitment I made to my life.”

  “What commitment?”

  Chandler smiled. “Truth in speech. Simplicity in manner. Firmness of mind. Three things to constantly strive for.”

  “Have you succeeded?”

  She took a sip of brandy. “I don’t think many people end up succeeding,” she said. “Peace is a constant journey. I know I’m happier and more satisfied than I’ve been in the past. Giving up the drive for wealth and power wasn’t as hard as I thought. I’ve gotten back so much.”

  “Why does it have to be all or nothing? A person can still have money and reach spiritual height without giving up his dream.”

  She shook her head. “I think the path sounds easier than it really is. Most people think they can have both, which may work for a while. But someone who is truly reaching for spiritual height will eventually have to choose between truth and lies. Truth must be chosen. When money’s involved, the decision becomes harder.”

  Logan reached for his brandy and studied the amber liquid. “I disagree. If a person knows himself, he knows what path must be chosen. Money doesn’t corrupt, Chandler. People do.”

  “Perhaps.” She settled back on the couch. “I think we’ve been talking too much about me. I want to know how the ‘man of steel’ received his nickname.”

  He groaned. “If I ever get my hands on the journalist who wrote that article, he will sorely regret it. I feel like I should wear a damn cape. ”

  Chandler laughed. “Oh, your reputation can’t be that bad,” she teased. “Your last coup with Larson Securities was very successful. Investors knock down your door to get a hint of your next target.” She swished the liquid around in her glass. “Now, I know you started off as a stockbroker and cultivated some high number of accounts, but you’ve expanded since then. You’re buying corporations outright now.”