The South Beach Search. Sharon HartleyЧитать онлайн книгу.
she could to find the bowl.
But she needed to avoid Reese while she did so. She didn’t want to be reminded of her scheming father’s miserable world of excess, a place she’d vowed to never live again.
* * *
TAKI SMILED AT Benny in his usual front row space as she spread her mat for her Thursday evening class at SoBe Spa.
“How is your shoulder tonight, Ben?” Before starting her classes, he’d had a frozen shoulder that he could barely move, the result of an old injury.
Benny slowly rotated his arm and grinned. “Look at that. You’re a miracle worker, Taki.”
“No, you did the work,” she told him, pleased by his improvement.
She taught her most serious students in private sessions, the way yoga was meant to be learned, but she always found good energy with the friendly spa members. She enjoyed teaching here, and hoped she wouldn’t have to move again too soon.
To think she’d actually been thinking maybe she could stay in Miami. She should have known better. Getting attached always led to suffering.
For everyone, but especially for her.
After three sun salutations to warm up, she settled into half lotus and surveyed the room on the lookout for curious aerobic or step class students who ventured into her class. They tended to overdo the poses, sometimes harming themselves. Once a personal trainer had almost blown out a knee. She’d warned him to be careful, but he wouldn’t listen, and had to wear an elastic brace for a month.
Nobody new tonight, though, except— Recognition sent a startled thrill into her belly. Balancing on his buttocks, his arms wrapped around his knees, Reese sat in the back row, staring at her.
She inhaled deeply to calm herself, surprised by her reaction. She’d been teaching yoga since she was eighteen years old, and never had such a disturbing response to a new student.
But the sight of his bare arms and legs created a long, slow pull on her center.
“Assume a comfortable seated position. Close your eyes and allow your attention to focus on your breath, inhaling and exhaling through your nostrils,” Taki instructed, relieved her voice didn’t waver. Yeah, that would inspire confidence in my students.
“You’ve been in your head all day at work,” she said. “Now it’s time to come into your body.”
A class opening she frequently used, but a bad choice of words for tonight, she decided, trying to block the image of Reese’s well-toned arms and shoulders. She regained her concentration by filling her lungs with oxygen and exhaling with a controlled, even release.
She remained aware of Reese’s total attention as she led the class through warm-ups, sun salutes and the various poses she’d selected for tonight’s practice. Long used to students watching her, she couldn’t fathom why his intense scrutiny made her aware of herself as never before. The energy in the class felt sharper tonight, cutting through her distraction with a laserlike quality.
Only Reese’s presence explained the difference.
Why hadn’t she realized he might come to class? She’d encouraged him to try yoga, believing the practice would be therapeutic for him.
“And when you’re ready, you can come out of deep relaxation,” Taki said softly, alerting her students that class time had expired. Sitting with her back against a mirrored wall, she watched Reese, who still lay in corpse position. She hoped he’d been able to relax. Buddha knew the man needed it the way he was always rushing around.
Taki sighed at her ridiculous oath. When had she picked up that saying? Buddha certainly knew no such thing. In her never-ending search for a quiet mind, she’d managed to confuse the different philosophies she’d studied. Now with everything muddled inside her head, she’d never find the path to enlightenment and happiness.
If only her bowl hadn’t been stolen.
But she was probably putting too much faith in that remedy. Hadn’t Navi told her there was never one sure answer?
With her hands steepled in prayer position, she nodded and smiled at her students as they streamed from the yoga studio, and waited for her last student to leave. Reese.
He sat up, appearing more than a little dazed. But new students frequently reacted to their first savasana and deep relaxation the same way. Most people, definitely including Reese, were so stressed by a fast-paced life that their nervous systems remained in a constant state of agitation, which inevitably led down a path to one of the deadly modern diseases.
He’d recover in a few minutes. Tonight was likely the first time he’d managed to truly relax in years.
“How did you like the class?” she asked when his gaze sharpened and focused on her.
He rotated his neck left and right. “Wow. I haven’t been able to do that in a long time. What’d you do to me?”
“Nothing. You did it for yourself.”
“Listen,” Reese said, rising and stepping beside her. “I need your cell number in case something comes up on the bowl.”
“I don’t own a cell phone.” Taki rose and slipped on her sandals.
“Seriously?”
“Refusing to be at the mercy of a machine isn’t against the law.” She eased a loose gray sweatshirt over her camisole, feeling a slight chill now that she’d stopped moving.
“Then give me your home number. You do have a landline, right?”
Without replying, Taki removed her digital player from the spa’s sound system and stuffed it and other personal possessions into her class bag. She didn’t want to give him any phone number. She had good reasons to keep it private. Plus, it would be hard to avoid Reese if he could just call whenever he wanted.
But what if, like he suggested, he needed to speak to her about the bowl? Well, if she gave him her number, he had to respect her privacy and promise not to share it. She needed to make that clear.
When she faced him, his thick eyebrows were drawn together in puzzlement. No doubt he was used to women throwing their numbers at him without being asked.
“Will you miss another meeting if we go upstairs for a cup of herb tea?” she asked. “Before I give you my number, I need to explain something to you.”
He hesitated. “I don’t have a meeting, but...”
“But you have work to do,” she finished for him. Of course. She should have known that he’d feel compelled to use every second of the day to work. Even at night. So Mr. Workaholic could just wait to learn her phone number until he had a spare second.
He took a quick glance at his watch and sighed. “I guess I can make time.”
* * *
“THE PAWNSHOP DIDN’T have your bowl,” Reese told Taki as he relaxed onto a comfortable cushion. Until tonight, he’d never enjoyed this cozy nook of the spa where casual futon-style couches faced a picture window on the Atlantic Ocean. Five miles offshore, the lights of huge freighters glowed on the horizon.
At the service bar, she examined various boxes of tea, selected one and poured steaming water over tea bags in two white foam cups. Always in a hurry to get somewhere else, on occasion he’d grabbed a cup of coffee at this free beverage station, but never knew they provided herb tea. No doubt Taki’s doing.
“Lourdes promised she’d order biodegradable cups,” Taki said, frowning at the tea. “I’ll have to remind her again.”
“All Jacques’s Hock had was a silver chalice from Hialeah Race Track,” Reese said. “Sorry.”
She nodded. “I no longer believe my bowl is at a pawnshop. Honey?”
“What?” he asked, startled.
“Do