Wedding For One. Dawn AtkinsЧитать онлайн книгу.
a Wall-Street-Journal-with-breakfast-martini-after-work guy.”
“He’s different now. He wants to discover himself. It’s kind of cute, really.” She explained Nathan’s desire to search for meaning in his life. “He kind of reminds me of me.”
Her friend paused. “Jeez Louise, Mariah. You’re still hot for the guy, aren’t you?”
“No more than any woman would be. He’s still a babe, and I’m only human.”
“So, sleep with him. That’ll clear the cobwebs from his psyche. Talk about finding himself. Whoo, baby.”
“That would be manipulative. Besides, I doubt he wants to sleep with me.” Not true. She’d definitely felt vibes. That was gratifying, but unsettling, too. “It would just complicate things.”
“For who? Two months and out, remember? How deep can it get in two months?”
That was the rebel girls’ philosophy on relationships. In two months, the sex was still fresh, both of you were on your best behavior, solicitous and eager to see each other. After two months, you started taking each other for granted, stopped doing the dishes at each other’s place. Soon, the guy was scratching his belly and belching in front of you, and you stopped wearing makeup and lace teddies.
On the other hand, Mariah had begun to weary of the constant change. That’s why she’d taken a timeout on dating. That way she didn’t have to be on guard against leading someone on. It was lonely, but at least no one got hurt.
“He might get too attached,” she said.
“Right,” Nikki said. “He might.”
“There’s no point to it, Nikki. If I convince him to stick around here, which is where he belongs, I certainly won’t be staying. The best thing I ever did for Nathan Goodman was to climb in your car and drive away from that stupid wedding.”
“Take a breath, girlfriend. I’m not the one who needs convincing.”
“Anyway, what I have to do is get him through this career crisis, so he can realize he’s happy where he is. I’ve got two months.”
“Two months, huh?”
“Yeah, until he goes on some kind of self-discovery retreat in California.”
“Nathan Goodman at a retreat? You’re kidding!”
“Crazy, huh? Hell, I could probably teach the thing. If you can take a class in it, join a club about it or buy a self-help book for it, I’ve taken it, joined it or bought it.”
Nikki paused. “You could, you know.”
“What?”
“Teach him. Give him his own private retreat. The Mariah Monroe Institute of Self-Discovery.”
“Hmm. Not bad…” Actually, it was a great idea. And it could be a shortcut to keeping him at Copper Corners. “I could. I could teach him to meditate, do yoga. I could even do a little Gestalt therapy with him.”
“Absolutely.”
“And you know the best part?”
“What?”
“He’ll hate it. Left-brain guys like Nathan hate meditation and energy flow, exploring their emotions, any of that stuff. The yoga postures will make him feel silly.”
“And when you ask him to get in touch with his inner child?”
“He’ll run screaming from the room, forget all about that stupid retreat and realize the grass is greener right here in Copper Corners.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
“It couldn’t be better.” She gave Nikki a list of self-help books, manuals and materials to send to her, and hung up.
It would work out great. In a few weeks, her father could safely retire, leaving his factory in the hands of the newly contented Nathan, and Mariah would be back on track to whatever the future brought. Whatever it was, it had to be better than Copper Corners and the church choir.
3
TWO DAYS LATER, Mariah rang Nathan’s doorbell. He opened the door, then stared at her, blinking sleepily. “What the…?”
“Help me,” she said, tilting some books and the yoga mats from her arms into his.
He backed up under the load. “It’s six-thirty in the morning. What are you doing here?”
“The early bird catches the self-awareness worm,” she said, pushing past him and loping into the living room, where she dropped her folded easel, collection of CDs, candles and more books on the cocktail table. The truth was, she hadn’t been able to sleep for planning her approach, so she’d rushed over.
“What are you talking about?” He followed her, looking dazed.
“It’s simple. I’m going to give you your own personal retreat,” she said. “You don’t need to spend a fortune to sit around and whine with a bunch of corporate clods in California. I can get you straightened out right here—a customized self-awareness experience in your own home.”
“What?” He looked completely stunned. Maybe she should have given him a few minutes to wake up.
“Sure. I’ve got all the experience you need,” she said patiently. She proceeded to recite her self-actualization curriculum vitae while he stood blinking at her, holding the books and yoga mats.
As she talked, she noticed how great he looked right out of bed. There was a charming pillow crease on his cheek and dark, sexy stubble that made him look born-to-raise-hell-ish—an effect completely ruined by the monogram on his robe and the crisp seams at the shoulders and sides. The thing had been steam-pressed. Sheesh. This guy was so far from free-to-be she couldn’t imagine where he got the idea that was what he wanted. It should be a cakewalk making him long for his uptight way of life.
“So what do you say?” she asked when she finished with her credentials.
Nathan blinked. “I need coffee.” He dropped the armload of stuff beside hers on the table and turned toward the kitchen.
“Oh, no coffee,” she said, rushing to stand in front of him. “Caffeine is a stimulant. It confuses the body’s natural wake-up mechanism.”
“The body’s what?”
“Look, Nathan. I’m going to save you a ton of money and wasted time. We should get started right. No coffee.”
He looked at her for a long moment. “I need a shower,” he said.
“Dress comfortably,” she called to him as he dazedly lumbered off, mumbling to himself. “We’ll start with meditation and yoga.”
While he was gone, Mariah decided to create the ambience she needed. She closed the wooden shutters so the room’s light dimmed and laid out the yoga mats so they would face each other. She lit a cluster of scented candles and two cones of patchouli-vanilla incense. Considering the size of the room and the high ceiling, she lit three more for good measure.
Then she put on a soothing CD that featured bird songs, wood flutes and soft percussion. Perfectly serene. The light filtered in through the cracks in the shutter slats, cozy and dim. She sat for a moment and took a few calming breaths. She had to be very convincing, so he would trust her to help him.
Hearing footsteps, she opened her eyes. Nathan stood a foot away. He was naked to the waist, wearing only black jersey shorts. Short shorts that showed legs that definitely got regular workouts. His hair gleamed with water and his pectoral muscles were perfect. A light dusting of dark hair filled the middle of his chest and arrowed to his waistband. He looked like he’d stepped out of an ad for Calvin Klein underwear.
“Aren’t you a little chilled?” she asked,