A Sweet Life-kindle

by Andre, Bella

  She wondered why knowing that about him hurt. Her new feelings were dangerous. She’d been prepared to withstand the aggressive actions of a man who wanted her in his bed. What she hadn’t expected was the tender emotions flowering inside of her in response to the onslaught of a warm, summer rain rather than a crashing thunderstorm. But perhaps he knew how she felt. Perhaps it was all part of his game of seduction. Perhaps—

  “I think I’m extremely jealous of the men in your classes.”

  Chandler jerked upward and spun around to face a pair of wicked gray eyes. He towered in the doorway, looking powerful and at ease in his black, conservative, custom tailored suit. He’d taken off the jacket and hooked it over his shoulder. His white starched shirtsleeves were rolled up to his elbows, and a pair of red suspenders molded the fabric to his frame. Black wing tip shoes peeked from underneath his slacks. He cut an intimidating figure. She tried to gather her scattered thoughts. “What do you mean?”

  Logan walked toward her. “If that’s the view students get during class, sign me up.”

  She blushed at his pointed gaze, and realized her hips and backside had been raised in the air. “That is not very gentlemanly of you to notice, or comment on, Mr. Grant.”

  He put his hands to his heart. “I was only trying to protect a lady from future embarrassment. What if I had been an old evil lecher bent on ravishing your body?”

  “Aren’t you?”

  “Aren’t I what?”

  “Bent on ravishing my body?”

  His eyes darkened. One lid dropped in a naughty wink. “Yes, but I draw the line at being called ‘old’ and ‘evil.’” He reached out and brushed at a stray tendril of her golden brown hair. “How do I know you didn’t strike this pose to drive me insane?”

  She fought a smile. “Mr. Grant, I would never deliberately provoke you.”

  She knew by the look on his face he remembered that night. His voice dropped. “You’re doing it right now.”

  “Doing what?”

  “Provoking me.”

  “I’m not doing anything.”

  “Each time you call me ‘Mr. Grant’ in such a proper tone, you challenge me to make you say my first name. I have many pleasurable ideas in mind. Want to hear them?”

  “No.”

  He smiled and tossed his jacket on the coat rack. “Too bad. Anyway, I’m sure you’ll be happy to know I’ve come on business.”

  Chandler blinked and grabbed for composure. Too many delicious ideas lingered in her mind. “What kind of business?”

  “I’m having dinner with an important client tonight. I gave him some information about your seminar, and he seems interested. I’d like you to come with me.”

  She hesitated. Having dinner with him could be dangerous. But if she declined she’d miss an important opportunity. After a few moments, she nodded. “Okay. Thank you for speaking with him about the program.”

  “You’re welcome.” He glanced around with interest. “This is a beautiful studio.” He walked toward the oversized bay windows. “Very peaceful. You have to actually strain to hear the sounds of the taxis and people.”

  She laughed. “I fell in love with this location the moment I saw it. A fire gutted the building years ago, and it remained vacant. I think the structure was too far off the beaten path for investors to make a profit.” A gleam of pride shone in her eyes as she spoke. “I renovated the place and bought it outright.”

  “You did a wonderful job.” He surveyed the bare wood floors and large, airy space. One wall was covered with mirrors, and at the far end the windows were flung open, allowing the late summer breeze to whisper in. Black and white photographs displayed a figure posed in a series of different postures called Sun Salutation. Near the front of the room, small vases filled with fresh daisies and wild flowers graced an elaborate rock garden. Toward the back, a pottery bowl filled with softly bubbling water flanked a small Buddha statue. The plump, smiling figure radiated peace.

  He motioned toward the display. “What’s that for?”

  “When students first come into the studio they take off their shoes and bow before starting their practice. It’s a way of leaving your ego at the door. There’s no competition in a yoga class, so we try to come to the practice with humility. Buddha represents enlightenment. Flowers and water represent new life. Rocks represent the earth. We pay our respect to all of these elements.”

  He seemed to ponder her words with a thoughtfulness that surprised her. An odd longing flickered over her face, then disappeared so quickly she knew she’d imagined it. He strolled across the floor and peeked through the open door of her office. The room held a worn pink sofa, one battered desk, and a variety of papers scattered across the floor. Purple mats and meditation cushions were stacked neatly in the corners. The faint scent of incense hung in the air. Chandler noted once again how different their worlds were, even by their respective workspaces. “Did you have a difficult time finding students? Your location is away from the mainstream where business thrives.”

  “The first year was a struggle,” she said. “I invested in some advertising and sponsored workshops for the community, so it helped with new clients and referrals.” She shook her head, remembering those months of hard work as she struggled to make a profit on a business she believed in, but others mocked. “I’ve reached a point where there seems to be enough demand to increase classes and hire more help. There’s so much more I want to do here. When I first decided to develop the Yoga and Arts Center, I knew I wanted a place where people could escape from the hustle and bustle of everyday life. I stumbled upon this building when I visited a meditation retreat close by. I knew immediately this was what I had been looking for.”

  He watched her from across the room with curiosity. “This was an enormous undertaking for anyone. Did you have help?”

  The shutter dropped over her face and closed off all emotion. “No,” she said softly. “I did this by myself.”

  “But now you need me.”

  Her gaze cut to his. She ignored the weeping need in her core to surrender, and concentrated on her anger. “I needed an opportunity to show how my program could work. If you declined my proposal, I would’ve found someone else.”

  Three long strides brought him too close. Her head tilted back. “But you didn’t.” Logan ran his finger along the side of her jaw. “You found me. And now you’re mine.”

  Raw, sexual energy sizzled in the air. His arrogance stole her breath, yet her nipples pushed against her t-shirt, and dampness seeped between her legs. What was wrong with her? He was everything she hated and fought against and stayed far away from. Yet...

  She wanted him. Wanted his mouth on hers, his hands on her body, his taste against her tongue. All the weeks of abstinence had only increased her hunger. Logan growled something under his breath, either a curse or a prayer, and his head lowered toward hers. His arms reached out to snag her and draw her closer and—

  “Chandler!”

  Her name echoed through the room. He eased his grip but never released his gaze. Chandler shook herself out of the sensual spell and turned, torn between relief and regret at the interruption.

  Harry rushed through the entrance in his usual manner and stopped short when he spotted them. “Oh!” He hesitated. “Sorry, I didn’t know you were busy.”

  She waved him in and took a deliberate step back. “It’s okay, we were just finishing up.” She made the introductions and watched them shake hands. Logan acted as if he was measuring up a business rival. Poor Harry looked confused. “Logan was just leaving. He doesn’t like to be away from the office for too long.”

  “Oh, I have plenty of time,” Logan drawled. “My schedule is clear for the afternoon. So, you’re Chandler’s lawyer?”

  Harry beamed with pride. “Yes, Chandler’s my first official client. She was one of the only people who supported me through school. Even after I failed the bar she always believed in me.”

  “I gather you two are close friends.”


  Harry nodded. “We’ve known each other for years. Whenever I’m under pressure she helps me relax. I knew when she decided to open the Yoga and Arts Center she’d become a success. You were lucky to snatch her up before she’s in demand.”

  “She helps you relax with yoga?”

  “Sure. She also gives a great massage. Knows all the pressure points.”

  Chandler almost groaned. A thunderous frown creased Logan’s brows. What a mess. “Harry, is there something you needed?” she interrupted.

  “Want to have dinner tomorrow night? I need to talk to you about some things happening at work. Anyway, I’ve been craving Italian lately.”

  The room fell silent but tension crackled loud enough to warn of the approaching storm. Chandler dared a look at Logan’s face and was sorry she did. He looked ready to strike. His lean, muscled length coiled tight, as if to hold him back. His jaw clenched and unclenched. She watched with fascination as his gaze came to rest upon her with clear warning.

  A thrill shot through her at his obvious jealousy. It seemed his control over the last week was finally at an end. He thought something was going on between her and Harry, and wanted to put an end to it. He had the same look he always gave Richard when he caught them together.

  Chandler bit back the explanations on the tip of her tongue meant to soothe his worries. Logan Grant had started this game the moment he’d kissed her. Surely it wouldn’t hurt to put him in his place by making him think she could be involved with Harry. It was time she taught him a lesson.

  Her lips curved in a smile. “Sounds good. Why don’t I meet you at seven?”

  “Great. We’ll talk then. Nice to meet you, Logan.” He turned and left. The clock ticked, and she stood her ground as she waited for Logan to finally speak.

  “You will not go to dinner with him.”

  She blinked. “You’re joking.”

  His face set like hard stone. He stalked her with a predatory grace. “Consider your affair with him over. If something was meant to happen between the two of you, it would have occurred years ago.”

  She took one step backward for each one of his. “You have no right to tell me what to do. You know nothing about the relationship I have with Harry.”

  “I know you’re not in love with him.” Arrogance pulsed through his tone. “I know you don’t respond to him the way you do to me. I also know he’s not right for you. Just like Richard Thorne isn’t for you.”

  “And you are?”

  His jaw tightened. “I won’t let you go running to your ex-lover because you’re scared to death of the way I make you feel. You do the same thing with Thorne. You’re with him because he makes you feel safe.”

  “Safe is good.”

  “Safe is cowardly.”

  He advanced a step. She retreated. “Harry is sweet. You’re overbearing and insufferable. I won’t let you walk all over me.”

  “I won’t let you hide behind illusions of control.”

  “Harry listens to my ideas and supports me. You’re domineering and a pigheaded.”

  “I won’t let you do things that’ll get you in trouble.”

  Chandler continued backing up from his looming figure. “Harry’s patient and understanding. He'd never rush me into bed without being my friend first.”

  “I won’t wait on the sidelines while you try to compare me to men in your past.”

  “Harry would never demand something I’m not ready to give.”

  “I won’t let you lie about your feelings.”

  She caught the gleam of triumph in his eyes too late. Her back slammed against the wall and trapped her from further retreat. She tilted her chin in defiance. He was so close she could see the heat in his eyes, smell the musk of his cologne. She rallied her crumbling forces and battled for control over her treacherous body. “Harry would never use forceful tactics to get what he wanted.”

  “Harry will never make love to you the way I will, Chandler.”

  Her knees went weak and her gasp of outrage was smothered by his mouth over hers. He plundered her lips in a sensual invasion that drove the breath from her lungs. Heat exploded through her as his tongue thrust against hers, diving in and out of her mouth as if to plummet every dark secret, demanding her response, until she grasped his shoulders for balance and hung on. Her nails dug into the hard muscles as the searing kiss went on.

  Raw sexual energy crackled between them as Logan slid his hands up her back to rip at the pins holding her hair. He dragged the strands through his fingers and murmured in pleasure as the heavy waves tumbled down to cloak them in a world of mindless abandonment.

  She pressed her body against his, luxuriating in the feel of his hips cradling hers, the lean strength of his thighs, the bold evidence of his arousal. He pulled back, heard her strangled cry of protest, and re-slanted his mouth to kiss her more deeply. He used his lips and teeth and tongue to push her to the limits of control, until she became helpless beneath the onslaught and surrendered completely.

  When he withdrew, it took a few moments to register the loss. She blinked in confusion and stared up at him. Like gooey caramel, her muscles barely held her, completely devastated from that one kiss. Suddenly, she didn’t want to fight anymore. Didn’t want to deny him…or herself. Those eyes gleamed like pure smoke. She opened her mouth to tell him he won, but his words fell like icy drops of water and made her stiffen in shock.

  “Cancel your dinner with him. If you insist on starting this game, I’ll insist on finishing it.”

  When she finally recovered enough to hurl some choice words at him, she was too late.

  He was already gone.

  Richard slipped his hand into hers as they walked down the street. The evening was mild, and crowds flowed out of the movie theater in search of a trendy wine bar or gourmet bakery. “Did you enjoy the movie?” he asked.

  “Yes. I love foreign films but rarely have anyone to go with.” She made a face. “Not many men are too interested in reading subtitles.”

  “Good thing we found each other. I have the same problem.” The words echoed in the air as her black boots clicked on the sidewalk. A shiver of warning trickled down her spine. Damn it, what was wrong with her? They’d enjoyed a perfect date so far, and his interests coincided with hers. He brought her daisies for God’s sakes—her favorite flower. As if he’d read her mind on every secret wish for her mate, Richard Thorne appeared to save the day. And did she fall to her knees in gratitude? Nope. Not her. Instead, she questioned every motive and secretly wished he were Logan.

  “Wanna stop at the juice bar before I take you home? They make everything organic.”

  “Sure.” She stomped down on her urge for unhealthy chocolate and followed him into the juice bar. They ordered and settled in the corner. Chandler studied him from under her lashes and wondered what was making her uncomfortable. Maybe it was time to dig deeper. “So, how’d you begin working for Logan?”

  He raised a brow. “Hmmm, not my favorite topic for a date, but I’m sure you’re curious. After law school, I knew I wanted to study business law and a friend of mine recommended Logan’s firm. I began at the bottom and worked my way up to be his primary advisor.”

  She smiled. “You must’ve worked very hard. Funny, I picture you more as the environmental sort or fighting for lost causes.”

  He laughed. “Well, I admit I grew up struggling for money and want to lead a comfortable life. Business law is steady with normal hours. But I do offer my time pro bono at various charities.”

  Another perfect answer.

  “How about your family? Are you close?”

  He took another sip of his blueberry concoction and tilted his head. “Normal stuff. Sister moved out to California, got married and had two boys. My parents are retired—both teachers. I have dinner with them every Sunday.”

  Why did he seem as if he was reciting from a report rather than sharing? “What did they teach?”

  “Mom taught elementary and Dad was a history
professor.”

  “Did something happen?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You mentioned money problems.”

  His face tightened, then smoothed out. “Oh, we had the normal struggles a family has in this economy. We always had enough to get by, but I wanted a bit more for my own future. And my own children.” As if he’d reached the end of his patience with the inquisition, he reached again for her hand and pressed his thumb into her palm. “I’d like to concentrate on the future. And you. It’s not often I meet a beautiful woman with the same goals in life.”

  She forced a smile. “Thank you. I feel the same way about you.”

  “Good. Because once I see something I want, I don’t give up.”

  She cleared her throat at the subtle warning that somehow sounded so different from Logan’s declarations. Logan pissed her off with his macho demands, but truth shimmered beneath every vow. With Richard, once again she felt like something was off. “Well, it’s getting late, and I have class in the morning.”

  “I’ll take you home.”

  When he pulled up in front of her apartment, she reached for her purse and turned. “No need to walk me up—it’s hell getting a space. Thank you for the wonderful evening, Richard.”

  She expected a polite good-bye, so when he reached for her with deliberate motions, she stiffened in his arms. He studied her face for a while, stroking back her hair. “Chandler, is something bothering you? Aren’t you attracted to me?”

  Guilt speared her gut. “Umm, yes, of course. I’m just—taking my time.”

  A slight smile curved his lips. “Then let’s take our time.” He lowered his head and his lips closed over hers.

  Chandler decided to give herself over to the kiss. Pushing away the disturbing image of his boss, she tentatively wrapped her arms around his shoulders and opened her mouth. His tongue surged and stroked, as his hands caressed her shoulders and moved down to gently cup her breasts. She tried desperately to concentrate on the sensations of her body; of the logical knowledge they were perfect together, and of the pleasant taste of berries on his tongue. But nothing helped.