As she began lowering herself to her mat, she was horrified to hear the separation of stitches somewhere along her front. Then she felt a quick rush of air in a private place and realized with horror that her leggings had split somewhere south of her belly button.
Thump! She hit the floor abruptly and sat up, yanking her mat up to cover herself.
“Excellent,” Prashant was saying. “Only next time do not come down so quickly. You could get dizzy that way.”
“Oooh, Karma, did you rip your new leggings?” Mandi said in a loud voice.
“Oooh, Karma, that’s too bad,” echoed Jennifer.
“I—I think I’d better go change clothes,” Karma said, running the words all together and hoping she wasn’t wearing the panties with the lace panel in front. They would reveal too, too much.
She scrambled to her feet, clutching her mat in front of her as she sidled sideways toward the door. Slade was staring at her, his eyes wide, a devilish grin on his face. Without a single word to him, she turned and darted inside the building.
“Unfortunate,” she heard Prashant murmuring. “Shall we try the backbend one more time and then rest for a few moments in Child’s Pose before our final relaxation?”
Karma slammed the door behind her and looked down. Sure enough, more of her was exposed than Slade Braddock needed to see. She owned one pair of lace panties, only one pair, and guess what?
She was wearing them tonight.
Unexpectedly she burst into tears. Prashant was right—backbends promoted the release of emotion. Too bad that in her case, backbends made her blubber.
SLADE DRAGGED HIS ACHING carcass along to the Blue Moon’s lobby after the class. He was still reeling from his meeting with someone who had claimed that she was his Friday night date, a woman who had introduced herself as Jennifer Something and looked so artificial that she terrified him. He couldn’t believe that Karma would set him up with someone completely wrong for him, someone that he would never in a million years take home to introduce to his parents. He’d fled as fast as it was possible to flee without being downright rude.
Goldy hunched in her chair behind the desk, knitting. She blinked at him over the top of her half-glasses when he entered the lobby.
“How was the yoga class?” she asked brightly.
“I think,” he said slowly, “that I’m feeling freer all the time.” This was not necessarily untrue, though what he was feeling freer about was pursuing Karma. She might not be the sort of woman he had hoped to find in Miami Beach, but she had certain—attributes, all of which had been more in evidence tonight than at any previous time.
“I received a lot of energy in the class,” he offered helpfully. And a novel view of Karma, he thought to himself.
“That’s good,” Goldy said, and she beamed.
“There are a few things I’d like to discuss about it. About the expression of this energy, I mean. But Karma won’t answer my knock.”
“Maybe she’s not in her apartment.”
“She left class early. Did you see her go out?”
“No, I didn’t see Karma leave. Not that I would, necessarily. Not if she went out the back. She often slips out that way to walk on the beach, especially when she’s feeling all mellow from yoga class. The door’s down that hall.” Goldy inclined her head toward her left.
“Thanks, Goldy,” Slade said. He grinned at her, and she grinned back.
“You know, Slade, I seem to recall that you live on a boat.”
“At the moment, that’s so,” he said.
“Karma has need of a boat. She wants to scatter her aunt Sophie’s ashes at sea.”
Goldy’s intent was not lost on Slade. She was giving him another boost, a clue as to what he could do to capture Karma’s attention, possibly even her undying gratitude.
“Like I said, Goldy, thanks. I owe you.”
“Remember, you can’t escape your Karma.” She winked.
He winked back before loping off down the hall.
The door at the Blue Moon led to a narrow alleyway that culminated at a boardwalk leading down to the sand. The beach at this hour was deserted except for a lone figure walking along the high tide line about a hundred yards south. Karma.
He jogged to catch up with her. As he approached, she wheeled around, startled. Her eyes were wide, her lips parted. Her hair stood out around her face and seemed to snap and crackle with energy. He thought he had never seen anyone more beautiful in his life.
The breakers were rolling in at a fast pace, giving rhythm to the night. This part of Miami Beach seemed far away from the hoopla of South Beach night life.
“What are you doing here?” she demanded, stopping dead in her tracks.
He thought he saw the tracks of tears dried on her face, but perhaps he was mistaken. “I came to offer my services,” he said.
Karma started to shake her head, but on the off chance that she wouldn’t object, he captured her face between his hands. “Or rather,” he added, captivated by the confusion this brought to her eyes, “the services of my boat.”
“I don’t need—” but she stopped talking in midsentence, all the better for him to explain.
“So you can scatter your aunt Sophie’s ashes,” he said gently, moving his head closer and tilting it into kissing position.
“How did you know about that?” she breathed, and her breath was sweet and soft upon his lips. Her eyes were deep and unfathomable, and she didn’t pull away.
“When a person opens himself up and begins to receive energy, all sorts of things happen,” he murmured, and then he kissed her.
As soon as his mouth touched hers, he wanted her. He wanted her with all the passion and depth of a man in full pursuit even though he warned himself again that she wasn’t his type. Yet the image of her nipples straining against the fabric of that brief top she’d worn to yoga class was burned into the part of his brain that governed reason and good sense; he wanted her. Perhaps this lustful feeling was the ultimate expression of the energy he was experiencing?
Slowly his lips explored hers, and before he knew it his tongue was seeking new territory and his hands were tangled in her hair. She was a full participant, her tongue meeting his, her teeth nibbling at his lower lip, her hands pressing against his back to draw him closer.
When she pushed him away it was with less conviction than he had expected.
“You’re a client,” she said, the words approximating a gasp of passion. “I shouldn’t be doing this.”
“If you’d like, I’ll resign as a client,” he said. “I could be just plain Slade Braddock, man on the loose.”
She braced her hands against his chest and shoved, forcing him to take a step backward.
“More like Slade Braddock, man on the make,” she said.
“Anything wrong with that?” he asked amiably.
“You’re supposed to go out with Jennifer on Friday night.”
“She told me. What if I don’t want to go?”
“That will get me in trouble with Jennifer, not to mention Goldy, who is her aunt. Don’t do that to me, Slade.”