The South Beach Search
The South Beach Search
Sharon Hartley
Not the treasure they expected to find Trading the past for a simpler life in Miami is part of yoga teacher Taki's path to better karma. But when a devastating theft brings federal prosecutor Reese Beauchamps into her life, things are suddenly a lot more complicated!She's drawn to gorgeous Reese in ways she can't explain. His analytical mind prevents him from understanding why spiritual intuition guides her…and he reminds her of what she'd rather forget. But chasing a criminal, they can't dodge the sizzle of attraction. Now, unless Taki trusts Reese's determination to protect her, she might run again…and leave love behind.
Not the treasure they expected to find
Trading the past for a simpler life in Miami is part of yoga teacher Taki’s path to better karma. But when a devastating theft brings federal prosecutor Reese Beauchamps into her life, things are suddenly a lot more complicated!
She’s drawn to gorgeous Reese in ways she can’t explain. His analytical mind prevents him from understanding why spiritual intuition guides her…and he reminds her of what she’d rather forget. But chasing a criminal, they can’t dodge the sizzle of attraction. Now, unless Taki trusts Reese’s determination to protect her, she might run again…and leave love behind.
Neither of them spoke for a moment.
“I feel so close to you right now,” Taki whispered. “Do you feel it, too?”
Reese sucked in a quick breath, then released it. “Yes.”
And it was true. He did feel somehow connected to Taki. What had happened to his common sense? His usual levelheadedness must have fled at the same time as his sense of balance. And that had all occurred when he’d met her.
She raised her hand to his cheek, stroking his face as if caressing a precious keepsake. “I know I met you for a reason,” she said, her voice full of wonder.
“Taki, I…” He cupped her neck with both hands and pulled her toward him, never wanting to
let her go.
Dear Reader (#ulink_c3888336-9517-5ca9-b94d-a5d3d2610f6a),
This story began one evening when I saw a totally hot guy in the parking lot after yoga at the gym where I practiced at the time. His car and several others (not mine, fortunately) had been broken into, and he definitely was not happy. My mind played the what-if game—and Reese, dedicated workaholic, spiced with the personalities of a few attorneys I’d worked with over the years, was born.
Taki was inspired by one of my early yoga teachers, a lovely woman who always lived by yogic principles. She never worried about tomorrow or the past, didn’t react to anything negative, always remaining serene and positive no matter what occurred. We’d all be a lot healthier if we could behave like her.
Have you ever tried to stay totally in the present moment? It’s not easy. Once, while hiking through a magnificent old-growth forest, surrounded by incredible natural beauty, I realized even then my mind wandered someplace else. Why? What better place was there for me to be at that moment?
Life is a beautiful journey for us all to cherish. The South Beach Search is the story of Taki and Reese, how they fall in love and change each other. I hope you enjoy their journey!
Sharon Hartley
The South Beach Search
Sharon Hartley
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ABOUT THE AUTHOR (#ulink_9a13f37f-69c6-5664-a102-60acaefa934a)
SHARON HARTLEY has been practicing yoga for over thirty years and became a teacher in order to share her love of this ancient practice. Sharon believes yoga can be healing—just like a great story, and she loves writing stories as much as teaching yoga. Both can nourish our souls and teach us things about ourselves. She lives near South Beach with her husband, a Jack Russell terrorist and too many orchids. Sharon loves to hear from readers! Please visit her website at sharonshartley.com (http://www.sharonshartley.com).
For Max, my soul mate. Without him, I’d be forever searching for my other half.
Contents
Cover (#u8e5ea32f-c960-556e-8972-f89e6ad25b7d)
Back Cover Text (#uc116c380-eda1-5a25-89cf-6bdba386b4ac)
Introduction (#u0a74e20e-b8c0-55b7-9e60-0edfd98f7cf9)
Dear Reader (#ulink_778498ef-c37a-5955-aa6b-b7ff2ba47f28)
Title Page (#u14bac4fb-e243-5ced-8b63-540b1c42deda)
ABOUT THE AUTHOR (#ulink_8a8bea48-7219-5ffb-82ad-7b7facf1eaae)
Dedication (#u8b2da437-e51b-57f8-8e26-294a5cdcb398)
CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_03dcadfb-6e91-5e9e-a0b8-d144cf94d203)
CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_5a28a774-4bcc-52f9-99dc-4b6d3f001826)
CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_3a4e3619-9881-5567-bb89-181c9c9e906c)
CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_c0a338c2-c4d5-5170-af28-794cbda2c8d3)
CHAPTER FIVE (#ulink_8e036df9-045a-5414-aae8-c04897587f26)
CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_ddbaa27e-47ff-5236-9bb6-11e2c374f1f2)
HER BACK FLAT on the floor, Taki pushed into the yoga mat with both feet and lifted her hips toward the ceiling.
“Picture your spine as if it were a string of pearls,” she told her class as she demonstrated bridge pose. “Raise each vertebra one at a time and edge your shoulders closer together.”
Taki released the pose and stood to observe her students, making certain they didn’t hurt themselves. Placing a block between one student’s legs, she said, “Remember to keep your knees close together.”
A chorus of groans answered her reminder.
“But only go to your personal edge,” she instructed. “When you feel resistance, back off. In yoga, we never want to cause any pain.”
Benny, one of her regulars, laughed and moaned at the same time. Taki glanced his way and hurried to adjust him. Poor skinny Benny. He tried so hard, but, at seventy, had little flexibility and she always worried he’d push too hard.
“Now make yourselves as comfortable as possible,” she said. “Our final pose is the most important one we do, where we give ourselves the gift of a few minutes of total relaxation.”
“Time for our reward,” Benny said with a deep sigh.
As her students covered themselves with towels or blankets for warmth, she dimmed the lights. They would all sleep better tonight after she helped them progressively relax each part of their bodies. In a few minutes Benny would likely start snoring.
“Close your eyes,” she said, making her voice gentle, “and allow your attention to focus on your breath.” Taki smiled, loving this part of the class where she helped her students achieve at least ten minutes of stress-free existence. Something everyone badly needed in this fast-paced world.
“Imagine yourself in a field full of yellow daisies. Beautiful fragrant flowers stretch as far as the eye can—”
The door slammed open, hitting the wall like a gunshot. “Taki!” an excited female voice shouted.
“Shhhh.” Taki glared at Debbie, one of SoBe Spa’s energetic aerobics instructors. Deb knew better than to interrupt the end of her yoga class.
“I’m so sorry, but there’s an emergency,” Debbie said. “I need to speak with you right away.” She brightened the overhead light, making Taki wince in surprise.
A sense of dread replaced her peaceful mood as she approached the door. “What’s going on?” she whispered. The class began murmuring.
“The police want to speak to you,” Debbie whispered back. “Get your purse. Someone broke into your Jeep. You’ll need your registration.”
Immediately thinking about the package behind the driver’s seat, Taki told the class to remain in relaxation as long as they chose and redimmed the lights. She grabbed her cloth bag and draped it over her neck and shoulder, then followed Debbie.
“What happened?” she asked.
“Nobody knows,” Debbie replied as she pushed open the glass doors to the spa.
Taki shivered as she stepped into the crisp February air and wished she’d grabbed her sweatshirt before rushing out into the dark night. Still worried about the package, she hurried toward the bright lights illuminating a paved lot jammed with cars.
“I thought our parking area had security,” Taki said.
Debbie nodded, her ponytail swinging with the motion. “So did Reese Beauchamps. Whoever robbed you also broke into his brand-new Jag.”
“Oh, no,” Taki murmured. She’d never spoken to Reese, but knew him by sight as he was popular with most of the female staff.
“He’s not happy,” Debbie said, “and is even sexier when he’s mad.”
Taki continued toward where Reese stood tall and confident with his arms folded across his chest, speaking to a uniformed police officer. His dark hair was damp, either from his workout or a shower, and the way he’d combed it back accentuated the strong, high cheekbones of his handsome face.
She couldn’t understand his words but sensed irritation in the jab of his index finger. Oh, right. Wasn’t he some sort of big-shot lawyer? He definitely needed one of her relaxation sessions.
Then she spotted her Jeep, and her breath caught with a painful lurch. Her heart hammered inside her chest.
The canvas top had been cut twice with long, jagged slashes.
She took a deep breath and released it slowly to calm herself. The package had to be there. The bowl had no value to anyone except her.
“My briefcase contained my cell phone and other valuable papers,” Reese told the cop as she approached. “It is imperative that I get them back.”
“We’ll certainly do our best, Mr. Beauchamps.” It seemed to Taki that boredom dripped from the policeman’s voice. But maybe he was just overworked.
When Reese Beauchamps’s angry dark eyes met her stare, a whisper of familiarity brushed over her, an unexpected feeling that she’d met him before. But she hadn’t. No one would forget meeting this man.
“I’m Taki,” she said, forcing her attention to the policeman. “I own the Jeep.” The officer’s eyes widened when he faced her.
As the two men openly checked her out, she again wished she’d thrown some sort of cover over her form-fitting yoga pants and halter top.
She reached into her cloth bag for her wallet. “Here’s my registration, Officer.”
“Taki?” The officer frowned as he studied her papers. “That’s your legal name?” He glanced up. “Just...Taki?”
“Just Taki. And here’s my driver’s license and proof of that PIP insurance we all have to buy.”
She turned to Reese Beauchamps to offer her sympathy, and the buzz of recognition again surged through her.
Disoriented by the strange sensation, she glanced at his car. A temporary tag lay beneath shards of tinted glass from the shattered rear window. The trunk yawned open, its lock obviously forced. Poor guy.
“They stole your briefcase?” she asked.
He nodded. “From the trunk, yeah, with my cell phone inside. You have no idea how—” He ran a hand through his wet hair. “My whole life is in that damn phone.”
“Really?” she murmured. Your whole life? Refusing to be tethered to some addictive electronic device, she didn’t own a cell phone, but understood the rest of the world considered that beyond odd.
“Check to see if there’s anything missing from your vehicle,” the officer told Taki as he scribbled across a form. “I need to document it in my report.”
Somehow certain that the next few moments would impact the rest of her life, she straightened her shoulders and approached the rear of the Jeep with a quick prayer that she’d find a one-foot-square cardboard box with a Tibetan postmark wedged behind the front seat. She peered inside her vehicle.
The box wasn’t there.
After a thorough search, she accepted her bowl was gone. Stolen. Her stomach plunged toward her ankles. A year of hard work—and all for nothing. She closed her eyes and leaned against the Jeep’s hood. How could she have been so foolish?
But who would want an old metal bowl?
“Are you okay? Do you need to sit down?”
Reese Beauchamps’s voice brought Taki back to the present moment. Opening her eyes, she blinked back tears, refusing to cry. She had to accept another painful truth. Obviously she had more work to do.
“I’m okay,” she said, although she felt anything but.
“Are you sure? You’re not going to faint, are you?”
“Hardly.” She attempted a reassuring smile. “It’s just that my singing bowl is missing.”
“Your singing...bowl?” he asked. “You mean like a fruit bowl?”
She nodded, thinking only an attorney would compare a spiritual object to a bowl of apples.
“Was it an antique?”
“Yes,” she said. Better to leave it at that.
“I guess we both learned a painful lesson tonight about valuables in cars.” He held out his hand. “I’m Reese Beauchamps.”
“I know who you are,” Taki said as she grasped his warm hand. When they made contact, an electric sensation shot down her arm, and she felt a tug at her belly. That eerie sense of recognition washed over her again.
Had she known Reese Beauchamps in a previous lifetime? Could be. Or maybe she was just intensely attracted to him. The man was unbelievably good-looking.
“I’m the spa’s yoga instructor,” she said, still holding on to him, enjoying the sensation. “I know who most of the members are.”
“But I’ve never been to your class.”
“You should come,” she said, reluctantly releasing his hand. His strong grip was somehow reassuring. “Yoga would help you relax.”
Confused by her powerful reaction to him, she stared at a pulse beating steadily at the base of his neck, then raised her gaze to be captured by a pair of intense brown eyes. No wonder Debbie gushed over Reese.
“Hey, too bad, Taki.”
She glanced toward the voice. Hector, one of the spa’s personal trainers, approached with a purple gym bag slung over his heavily muscled shoulder. The police officer continued working on his forms.
“Reese,” Hector said with a nod at the Jag. “Wow. The new wheels. Bad luck, huh, man?”
“No,” Reese said. “Stupidity is more like it.”
“You lose anything?” Hector asked Taki.
“The bowl,” she said simply.
“Bummer.” Hector patted a Free Tibet sticker on the Jeep’s rusted bumper and shook his head. “Maybe you’re right, girl. Maybe you do have a spiritual blot on your soul. Gotta go, but let me know if I can do anything.”
With a wave, Hector continued to his red Camaro.
Taki cursed herself for telling big-mouth Debbie her theory of why her life was such a wreck. When would she get it that most people didn’t understand her unusual slant on the cosmos?
“Listen...Taki, is it?” Reese Beauchamps’s husky voice grabbed her attention again. He now stared at her as if she’d materialized before him from another dimension. “I’m confident I know who took my briefcase and why,” he said. “I had important notes inside regarding a missing witness.”
She raised her chin. “You lost a witness?”
“Not exactly.” His dark eyes still searching hers, he shook his head. “Anyway, if we find the stolen property, I’ll make sure you get your bowl back.”
“Okay, Miss Taki,” the officer called out, his voice emphasizing her name. “What’s missing? They get your radio?”
Taki and Reese approached the policeman. “The only thing that’s gone is a box with an ancient Tibetan bowl,” she said.
“An old bowl?” The cop frowned. “Give me a description.”
“It’s copper and brass, eight inches in diameter. There was also a wooden wand that came with it.”
The cop nodded as if now he understood. “A magic wand. Okay. So what’s the approximate value?”
“Priceless. I had it blessed by a holy man, so there’s not another one like it in the world.”
The officer raised his gaze and stared at her as if she were an alien invader. “Uh-huh. What’d you pay for it?”
“Nothing. It was a gift. From a Tibetan monk.”
“Come on, Miss Taki,” the cop insisted. “Give me a figure. What’s it worth?”
“My mortal soul,” she murmured. “I made a promise to give the bowl, as a symbol of gratitude more than anything, to the Paradise Way Ashram. If I don’t...” Taki looked down, but not before she saw the policeman roll his eyes heavenward. Reese Beauchamps said nothing, but she sensed his curiosity.
“What’s an...ashram?” the officer asked.
“Like a secluded religious retreat, right?” Reese answered.
She nodded. “Something like that.”
“Well, a hundred bucks ought to cover it,” the officer said. “I’m done here.” He handed Taki her registration and driver’s license. “You can get a copy of the police report for your insurance company in a couple of days.”
“Thank you, Officer,” Reese said. “I’m sure you’ll get to work on this right away.”
“Too bad I don’t have insurance,” Taki said when the officer returned to his black-and-white police cruiser.
“You don’t have insurance?”
“Just the required liability thing. Theft is too expensive.” As the enormity of her loss sank in, she blinked back tears. The bowl was supposed to right so many wrongs.
“If the perpetrator is who I think it is,” Reese said, “I’ll see what I can do about getting you some restitution.”
Thoroughly chilled now, she hugged her elbows, looking for warmth. “Thanks, but I just want my bowl back.”
“And believe me, I want my briefcase.” Rattling his keys as if anxious to leave, Reese gave his broken window a disgusted glance. “Well...I’ll be in touch.”
“Let me know as soon as you hear anything. That bowl is very important to me.”
“I can tell. But then, not many bowls are able to sing.” He raised his brows. “Does it perform opera or more like rap?”
She narrowed her eyes at the amusement in his voice, wishing people wouldn’t make fun of what they didn’t understand. But seriously, what did she expect? A man like Reese would never appreciate the peaceful tones created by her bowl, how soothing the sound was to her troubled soul.
“Mostly yodeling,” she said, trying to make her voice as earnest as possible.
He shook his head, obviously unsure whether she was serious. Good.
“Don’t get your hopes up too high, though,” he said as he opened the Jag’s door. “I can’t make any promises.”
After watching Reese drive away, Taki trudged back to the warmth of the spa. No matter how hard she tried to set things right with the universe, her karma always came back to haunt her. She tried to do the right thing, but maybe she was doomed to unhappiness forever.
She’d planned to deliver the bowl to the ashram immediately after her last class. Why, why had she been so foolish to leave it in the Jeep? She should have taken it into the spa and stashed it safely inside her locker. Yeah, she had been worried someone would ask her about it, want to see it, and of course she didn’t want to talk about the challenge Guru Navi had given her and how long she’d waited for the package to arrive from Tibet after the blessing. But maybe no one would have noticed.
She was just plain stupid. She deserved everything bad that ever happened to her.
Inside the ladies’ locker room, after a long steam bath which she hoped would melt away lingering negativity, Taki tried to think about what to do next. Unfortunately, no amount of steam could halt her depressing thoughts.
No point in visiting the ashram tonight. She could start over with another task, but where would she find the money to go back to Tibet? It had been a miracle she got there last time. With her lack of skills, she wasn’t likely to find another steamer captain willing to let her work her way across the Pacific Ocean. Although she had learned how to cook vast amounts of food for the always-hungry crew.
Debbie approached while Taki towel-dried her hair, wishing her brisk movements could push a new idea into her brain. She’d been seasick for three months on the last voyage and really didn’t want to go through that again.
“So what’s Reese going to do?” Debbie asked.
“He thinks he knows who stole his briefcase,” Taki said. She wrapped the towel around her head to secure her hair. “Maybe the same person took my property.”
“Did he call in the FBI?”
“The FBI? Why would he do that?” Taki rummaged in her locker to find a comb.
“Because that’s what federal prosecutors do when their stuff gets stolen.”
Taki looked back. “He’s a federal prosecutor?”
“Don’t you know anything?” Debbie shook her head. “He’s handling the Romero case. His picture is in the Miami Herald all the time. He’s—”
An accented voice interrupted Debbie. “Taki, what happened with Reese Beauchamps?” Lourdes Garcia, the manager of SoBe Spa, paused by Taki’s locker with a worried frown. “Does he blame the spa for the theft? Do we need to notify our attorneys?”
Taki shrugged. “He didn’t seem mad at the spa particularly, just the world in general.”
“That sounds like him,” Lourdes said with a nod. “The man is so intense he gives me a headache.”
“Intense, yes. And, man, those deep brown eyes...” Debbie exhaled slowly. “I swear he doesn’t miss a thing.”
As she combed her damp hair, Taki remembered his penetrating gaze. Yeah, Reese Beauchamps did notice everything around him. And the eyes were the windows to the soul. Reese sure had gorgeous eyes.
“When he works out with free weights,” Debbie continued, “I can barely concentrate on what I’m doing. He performs each rep as if his life depended on it.”
Lourdes laughed. “He’s a perfectionist, all right. Type A for sure. Rumor is he’s running for office. With his conviction record, I’ll bet he ends up attorney general or a U.S. senator.”
“Maybe even president someday,” Debbie added dreamily.
Taki shut her locker door with a clang. “I just hope he finds my bowl.”
* * *
THE NEXT MORNING, Reese arrived at his office in the federal building in downtown Miami at 6:00 a.m., his usual time. Leaving his condo at five-thirty meant no traffic on the roads and an easy commute. Even better was the fact that there were few colleagues around to interrupt him with phone calls or casual chats. He got a lot accomplished before other employees began arriving.
At 10:00 a.m. his secretary buzzed him.
“Agent Rivas is on line one.”
“Thank you, Joanne.” Reese had alerted Javier Rivas, the lead investigator on the Romero case, within hours of the theft. Hoping Javi had developed leads overnight, Reese grabbed the receiver and leaned back in his black leather swivel chair.
“Give me some good news, Javi.”
“Sorry, Reese. I’ve got nothing for you.”
“There’s really no sign of Izzo?”
“Not a whisper.”
“You checked all his haunts on South Beach?”
“Romero’s favorite thug is either dead or in hiding.”
Reese turned and looked over the sparkling aqua water of Biscayne Bay eight stories below. Winning the headline-grabbing Feldman case last year had earned him this office with a view, but he’d vacate the prized space tomorrow to keep Carlos Romero—a domestic terrorist with a violent, if murky, cause—behind bars.
“Izzo must know we’re looking for him.”
“Probably,” Javi said. “The bureau will stay on it, but without something else to go on, it’s pretty much a waiting game. He’ll poke his head up eventually.”
“Probably when he commits another crime.”
“Was anything besides your briefcase stolen, something that might end up with a fence?”
“Maybe,” Reese said after a pause. “A woman who works at the spa had some sort of Tibetan artifact taken from her vehicle. She insists it’s old and rare.”
The image of Taki, her long blond hair blowing in the evening breeze, blue eyes tragic with unshed tears, hadn’t been far from Reese’s thoughts since last night. Neither had strong, slender legs encased in black leggings flowing into a slim waist and perfectly formed breasts straining against her pink halter top.
He remembered with vivid detail the goose bumps that dotted her graceful arms as she’d tried to warm herself in the chilly evening air.
All of this going on in his head scant minutes after discovering that someone had stolen his cell phone, the device that coordinated the details of his way-too-complicated and overscheduled life.
And the photocopy of Claudia Romero’s journal in his briefcase, with detailed trial notes on every page.
Javi’s hard voice brought Reese back. “Izzo is no antiques dealer. I doubt he would know anything about Tibetan antiquities.”
“You’re probably right. He could have broken into the spa employee’s Jeep to throw us off track. The loss of the bowl upset the woman badly, though.”
“Or it could have been pure convenience. This wouldn’t be the first time Izzo pinched something he could dispose of easily.”
“We need to find him and ask him,” Reese said.
“Man, talk about bad luck. First your witness disappears and now your briefcase. Do you think Romero was fishing? Searching your vehicle in hopes of finding a lead to his ex-wife’s location?”
“Maybe. They want to find her as badly as I do.”
“Probably more,” Javi said. “I’ll send agents to major fences and Miami pawnshops and see if they come up with the missing bowl. I need a description. A photo would be better.”
“I’ll call the spa.”
Several hours later, Reese nodded at his secretary, confident his instructions would be carried out as ordered. Joanne was the best assistant he’d ever had.
“And those grand jury subpoenas need to be served today,” he ended.
Joanne nodded as she rose. “Yes, sir. Oh, I’m sorry, but I can’t find a number for this Taki person. There’s nothing listed, and the number she put down on the police report is for SoBe Spa.”
“Did you try the spa?”
“Yes, but she only teaches on Monday and Thursday nights, and the manager—” Joanne consulted her spiral-bound notebook “—Lourdes Garcia, wouldn’t give me Taki’s home number.”
“Did you tell her the U.S. Attorney’s Office needed to contact their employee?”
“Of course, but that didn’t make a difference. They have a strict policy not to give out the instructors’ numbers to anyone.”
“Get Ms. Garcia on the phone.”
Irritation gnawed at Reese when Joanne alerted him she’d reached Ms. Garcia. He wasn’t used to a roadblock over something as simple as a phone number.
“But, Reese, you surely understand our policy not to give out the instructors’ addresses or phone numbers,” Lourdes told him when he’d explained the reason for his request. “I might normally make an exception considering the circumstances, but Taki insists on her privacy. She’s one of the most popular members of our staff.”
“If I give you my office and cell number, will you call her and leave a message?”
“Certainly. She rarely checks voice mail, though—something about negative energy—so it might take a while to reach her. If I don’t hear from her, I’ll make sure she gets your message on Thursday.”
“It’s important, Ms. Garcia.”
He heard her release a long breath. “Everything is important to you, Reese.”
* * *
INSIDE THE ELEVATOR at his condo, Reese dropped his new briefcase and pushed the button for the twentieth floor. As the car lurched upward, he glared down at the stiff black leather, thinking the miserable bag was much heavier than the one stolen. And he’d liked his old case, a gift from his mother. It’d been well-made, and he’d used it since law school.
Reese was glad to be home. His condo was decorated by a woman he’d once dated. He often wondered if the antiseptic white-on-white living room reflected what she thought of his personality. He’d found her a bit boring, too, though, and their romance had been brief. He didn’t have time to date.
After depositing the attaché by a cream-colored sofa, Reese opened his vertical blinds, the sound a quiet whoosh. Five miles in the distance, the lights of South Beach glittered across Biscayne Bay. He searched for the blue zigzag neon strip that identified SoBe Spa. Was Taki conducting one of her classes? No, not until Thursday, according to the manager.
He turned away from the stunning view. He had two hundred pages of trial transcript to review and could never get any serious reading done at the office with all the interruptions. He’d pop the take-out pasta from Risotto’s into the microwave, sip one glass of Napa Valley Cabernet, then work until his eyes gave out.
Three delicious bites into garlic-laced linguini, his cell phone rang.
“Reese Beauchamps,” he said, his attention still focused on page twenty of the Romero versus Romero divorce transcript.
“Hi, Reese Beauchamps,” a soft feminine voice replied. “This is Taki. I got an urgent message to call you.”
Reese placed his fork across his plate and sat back. He glanced at the caller ID display. Private.
“Have you found my bowl?” she asked, her voice anxious.
“Sorry, not yet. I need more of a description.”
She released a sigh. “Would you like a photograph?”
“If you have one, that’d be great.”
“Oh, I’ve got lots of photos of my bowl, but I’d much rather have the real thing.”
“Because your mortal soul is in danger without it, right?”
He waited through a long pause before she answered. Why wasn’t her phone number available? Well, Lourdes Garcia said she valued her privacy. Nothing wrong with that unless you had something to hide.
“My soul was in danger before I got the bowl. The bowl was supposed to correct that problem.”
“A bowl can rescue your soul?” Reese suppressed a laugh. “How is it going to do that?”
“By repaying a karmic debt.”
Amused by Taki’s serious tone as she babbled her New Age nonsense, Reese tried to recall what the personal trainer had said to her in the spa’s parking lot. Something about a blot on her soul?
The woman might be easy to look at, but she was as nutty as psychics who predicted the future over the phone. Karmic debt?How would she know when the debt is repaid?
“Never mind. Where is your office?” she asked, now businesslike.
“In the federal building, the U.S. Attorney’s Office.”
“You’re not the United States attorney, are you?”
“Only one of many assistants,” Reese answered, thinking she didn’t sound at all impressed.
“I’ll drop off a picture tomorrow.”
“Thanks. That’ll help.”
“What will you do with it?” she asked.
“The FBI will show the photo to fences and pawnshops and hope for a hit.”
“Oh. Pawnshops.” After a moment she said, “Listen, thanks for trying to find my bowl. Lourdes says you’re a busy man.”
“You’re welcome,” Reese said, deciding it best not to tell her he hoped the bowl led him to Izzo, Romero’s top hit man. One way or another, he’d make sure this goofball got her bowl back.
He listened to the dial tone after she hung up, strangely dissatisfied at the prospect of spending the next three hours reading the messy details of the divorce between Claudia and Carlos Romero.
* * *
AFTER DISCONNECTING WITH REESE, Taki lay on her bed and gazed at the multitude of angels suspended from the white ceiling overhead. Surrounded by soft light from flickering candles, the colorful winged ceramic and papier-mâché creations looked as if they were flying as they swayed on thin filament wires.
As friends added to her collection, Taki hung her glorious angels one at a time, hoping the hovering guardians would protect her from the negative thoughts in the world.
She really needed the angels’ protection tonight. Why did she feel this odd, wild connection to Reese Beauchamps? Goose bumps popped up along her arms as she pictured his handsome face, his soulful dark eyes when she’d met him last night.
And why did the sound of his deep voice excite her in an unsettling physical way? It made no sense to be attracted to an intense, detail-focused lawyer. One who made fun of her bowl and the whole concept of karma.
Disturbed by her thoughts, Taki brought her fingers to her temples and applied gentle pressure. Hadn’t Guru Navi warned her about judging others? Reese was just upset, as she was, about the loss of important property. Guilt, her constant companion since childhood, weighed upon her, almost pressing her into the mattress.
There had to be some reason he stirred such strong emotions. Maybe her suspicion that she’d known him in another lifetime was the answer. She closed her eyes, deciding he’d likely made her life miserable for centuries. No doubt the man had a lot to answer for.
A light, cool wind rustled through the open window, tinkling her mobiles and sending the angels into flight. Her home had no heat, but she didn’t need any. Where she grew up, this temperature was considered balmy. To her, South Florida’s weather seemed heavenly tonight.
She inhaled deeply, taking in clean air, then stretched her arms high overhead, enjoying the breeze as it brushed across her overheated skin, her thoughts circling back to Reese. Since last night, she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him. It was possible his obvious position and power reminded her of what she’d gladly left behind, what she continued to run from.
She turned on her stomach and lifted her shoulders, stretching along the front of her body. She needed to clear her mind. She refused to think about greed and selfishness, the things her father’s endless parade of lawyers knew best.
The bowl’s disappearance was already beginning to affect her. She needed to find it as soon as possible. She’d do a short practice and meditate until tranquil.
Tomorrow she’d look for her bowl by visiting pawnshops herself.
CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_a7f17e1b-3e33-5b72-a3fc-315d71a85452)
Office of the United States Attorney for the Southern District of Florida.
TAKI GLARED AT the gold leaf letters adorning the heavy wooden door to Reese Beauchamps’s office. Of course she wasn’t actually experiencing déjà vu. She had already been here once today, at 9:00 a.m., when she’d left two photographs of her missing Tibetan bowl with a receptionist before setting off to the pawnshops.
She pushed open the door. What an adventure that had turned out to be.
At the sixth musty, crowded, depressing store she visited, she found a man who thought maybe someone had possibly come in with something that looked like her bowl yesterday. A bit vague, sure, but she’d been thrilled and pressed him for more info. But he put her off, telling her to come back later and talk to his boss.
“I’d like to see Reese Beauchamps,” Taki told the same pale, pregnant receptionist from this morning, having decided it best to relay the information directly to Reese. While she normally avoided lawyers like flu germs, she hoped his authority might encourage the pawnshop owner to talk.
“Do you have an appointment?” the woman asked. She placed her hand on her swollen belly and winced as if in discomfort.
“No. But I have valuable information I’m sure Reese will want. Please let him know I’m here.”
The receptionist lifted arched eyebrows at the use of his first name. “Your name again, please?”
“Taki.”
“Taki...?”
“Just Taki. How far along are you?” she asked.
The woman rubbed her abdomen and sighed. “Six months, but I have nausea like I’m six weeks. If it doesn’t stop, I’m going to have to go home.”
“Have you tried ginger?”
“Ginger?”
“Ginger makes a soothing herbal tea. Small amounts are safe for the baby and, trust me, it works. Cinnamon also helps. You might add some if you like the taste.”
The receptionist smiled dubiously. “Thanks. I’ll let Mr. Beauchamps’s secretary know you’re here.”
After the woman slid her frosted window shut, Taki seated herself in the waiting room and glanced at the wall clock. Almost one-thirty. Looking around, she noted sleek and modern furnishings that didn’t look all that comfortable. Plenty of magazines littered tables to help pass the time, but she’d rather meditate, if it came to that. Hopefully, she wouldn’t have long to wait.
Guru Navi always said waiting was an opportunity to spend quality time with yourself. But would Reese make her wait awhile? Was he that busy?
The only other person in the room was a balding elderly man. She smiled at him, but he didn’t make eye contact. Instead, he closed his eyes and shifted uncomfortably in his chair.
Becoming more and more concerned for him, Taki suffered along with the poor man while he twitched and uttered quiet moans. Every few minutes he rose and limped around the small room, sat again, then struggled back to his feet, pressing both hands against his lower back.
She nibbled at her bottom lip. All the signs of a bad lumbar area. She’d helped more than one chronic back patient with either yoga or herbs. Why not assist another while she waited for Mr. Big-shot Lawyer?
“Are you all right?” she asked. She’d learned most people loved to talk about their pain.
“It’s my lower back,” he said and sucked in a quick bit of air as if it were torture to even breathe. “Hurt it on the job.”
“Where exactly does it hurt?” Taki asked, making her voice soothing and sympathetic.
“Right at my belt line. Never goes away.”
“I’m so sorry. What does your doctor say?”
The man took a few hesitant steps. “That there’s nothing he can do. I’m old and just got to live with it.”
“Orthopedist?” she asked.
“And a damn neurologist. Every test in the book.”
She nodded. So he’d already consulted the Western medical specialties.
“Damn quacks,” he muttered.
“You poor thing.” Taki rose and approached the man. Before beginning, she asked what she always asked, even in her yoga classes. “Do you mind if I touch you?”
“What for?” he asked, eyes wide, but now looking at her with interest.
“Maybe I can help.”
* * *
WHEN THE INTERCOM BUZZED, Reese muted the sound on the DVR and rubbed his tired eyes, irritated by the interruption. Agent Rivas was probably correct that no clue to Claudia Romero’s location existed in this two-year-old videotape deposition, but he had to try. Perhaps she’d casually mentioned a second home or a place she liked to escape to on holiday.
Where the hell was she? Why hadn’t she contacted him? And why had Claudia refused to accept protective custody until her ex’s trial? Jury selection would begin in less than three weeks. The woman couldn’t possibly think she was safer on her own.
“What is it?” he said into the speaker. Reese reached for a roast beef sandwich delivered twenty minutes ago and loosened the plastic wrap. The sharp fragrance of the horseradish made him realize how hungry he was.
“Taki is here to see you,” Joanne said. “Shall I show her in?”
Reese dropped the sandwich and paused the DVR, already moving toward the long hallway to the reception area. “I’ll get her,” he told a startled Joanne as he strode past her desk.
Javi Rivas, out in the trenches working seedy pawnshops, reported an hour ago that a knock-out blonde named “Wacky” or “Tacky” had flashed photos of the bowl in some of the worst sections of Miami. He needed to put a stop to that immediately.
What had possessed the woman to search on her own?
She’d already annoyed him by dropping off the photos this morning and disappearing—here and gone before he could inform the receptionist to ask her to wait, that he needed to speak to her.
Taki was obviously in a hurry to make herself the next crime statistic in Miami-Dade County.
Reese opened the door to the waiting area and came to a shocked halt. Taki stood in the center of the room, her graceful hands probing the naked back of Robert Shinhoster.
“Ah. This is the place,” she said, stroking her index finger across the bony ridge of the old man’s spine.
Reese wasn’t sure which surprised him more, the surreal sight of the two of them or his irritated reaction. Taki’s hands were all over Robert Shinhoster, an injured federal worker who had been driving the entire office crazy about his case for months, but why should he care?
She was so focused on Shinhoster, she hadn’t heard the door open.
“Okay,” she told Shinhoster, dropping her arm. “I want you to mash up a chili pepper, mix it with a white skin cream, and rub it on this spot. But wear plastic gloves when you work with the preparation because it might irritate your hands. And don’t use the cream right after a hot bath or shower.”
“What will that do?” Shinhoster asked.
“The capsaicin in the pepper confuses the nerves and you focus on a temporary mild burning more than the ache in your back. I also recommend willow tea for its anti-inflammatory properties, massage—lots of gentle massage—and hot packs alternating with cold. When the inflammation goes down, start yoga classes. This time next year, you might be pain free.”
“Excuse me,” Reese said.
Taki looked over and smiled. “Hi, Reese.”
He hooked his hand under Taki’s arm to draw her away from a dazed-looking Shinhoster and out of the room.
“Hey, thanks,” Shinhoster yelled as the door closed.
“Just what do you think you’re doing?” Reese demanded when they faced each other in the long hallway.
Taki’s sapphire eyes clouded at his words. “I was helping that man. He’s in a great deal of pain.”
“And he’s trying to squeeze money out of the U.S. government for his supposed pain.”
“Only because he thinks he’s been cast aside. Poor dear feels disliked because he worked for the Internal Revenue Service. He says no lawyer will believe an auditor could get a bad back.”
Reese stared into her earnest face and realized the woman was absolutely serious. “And where did you get your medical degree?”
“I’m not a doctor,” she said, straightening her slender shoulders. “I’m an herbalist.”
“Then why are you behaving like a private detective?”
She blinked twice. “What?”
One thing at a time, Reese told himself. He glanced at the openmouthed receptionist who followed the conversation with keen interest.
“Let’s go to my office,” he said, motioning Taki ahead of him.
The effortless, regal way she moved reminded him of silk flowing over smooth skin. Taki appeared to glide more than walk. She looked curiously around her, her gaze peering into every open room along the corridor.
“Hold my calls,” he told Joanne as they passed her desk and entered his office. He closed the door and turned to Taki, whose gaze had zeroed in on his view of the sparkling water of Biscayne Bay.
“Please tell me you’re not trying to practice medicine,” he told her.
“I certainly know better than that,” she said. “I didn’t charge Mr. Shinhoster a thing. My advice is always free.”
Reese shook his head, imagining the headline on the front page of the Miami Herald: Unlicensed Yoga Teacher Caught Prescribing Drugs in U.S. Attorney’s Office.
“He can take my advice or ignore it. It’s his choice.” She shrugged. “But just think. If I cure his pain, then he’ll leave you alone. If he listens to me, he could probably return to work soon, but I think he’ll probably opt for retirement.”
Reese stared at her. “You discussed his future employment plans?”
“He needed someone to talk to. But enough about that. I have news.” She waved her hand, apparently intending to leap to a new subject. “I have a lead on the bowl,” she announced, excitement shining in her sky-blue eyes.
“A lead?” Reese placed his hands on his hips and leaned forward. “No doubt from one of your pawnshop visits?”
She nodded and flashed a dazzling smile. “I did what you suggested and took a photo to pawnshops. The clerk at Jacques’s Hock—” Taki reached in her jeans pocket and handed him a crumpled business card “—says to come back and talk to his boss this afternoon. I thought you would want to know. I was thinking it would be better if you went and did your...lawyer thing.”
Reese glanced at the card. “I never suggested that you go to pawnshops yourself.”
Unfazed, she continued to smile at him expectantly, obviously pleased with herself and totally relaxed in faded blue jeans and a bulky pale blue cotton sweater. He’d never been less relaxed. He took a deep breath and released it in an explosive whoosh.
“Listen, Taki, your misguided efforts are undermining the work of my field agents.”
Her smile faded. “They are? How?”
“The FBI is tracking an extremely dangerous man. Believe me, you don’t want this guy to discover you’re looking for him. He might come after you to find out why.”
“Oh.” She bit her lower lip and clasped her hands behind her.
“Let the authorities handle this. You could get yourself hurt.”
She shifted her gaze to the floor, looking so disappointed he resisted a foolish urge to make her feel better. Taki desperately wanted that damn bowl back and had worked hard to get what she considered a huge break in the case. He had to give her that.
Still—best not to encourage her. A woman who looked as good as this one shouldn’t hang out in the wrong sections of Miami.
Her gaze drifted around his office and stopped on his roast beef and Swiss on rye. “I interrupted your lunch.”
“Have you eaten?” he asked.
“No,” she said. “I guess I was too busy screwing up your investigation.”
“Would you like half of my roast beef sandwich? I have sodas in the refrigerator.”
She raised a horrified gaze to his. “Thank you, but I’m a vegetarian.”
“Oh,” he said, feeling foolish but not sure why.
Her very kissable lips curled into another smile, and he couldn’t help but smile back. What was it about this woman?
“Let me take you out for a healthier lunch,” she suggested.
He didn’t have time to leave the office for lunch, hadn’t gone out for lunch in weeks...hell, maybe a month. The Romero prosecution might be high-profile, but it was far from his only case. He had way too much work to do this afternoon. Her invitation was out of the question.
Unless he could learn more about her bowl and why it had been taken.
“It’s a beautiful day,” she said in a tempting voice. “The temperature is around sixty-eight degrees, the sky is bright blue and a fresh breeze is blowing. Weather like today’s is the reason thousands of people visit Miami every winter.”
He hesitated, fascinated by the tip of her tongue moistening her lips. She didn’t wear any sort of makeup, and no wonder. Why spoil perfection?
“The fresh air will clear your mind,” she said. “I’ll bet you’ll even be more productive afterward.”
“What the hell,” Reese said, wondering where his usual sense of urgency had vanished to. The Romero case would just have to wait. A man was entitled to eat.
He grabbed his coat and touched her back lightly. “Let’s not invite your new patient to join us.”
He’d intended to take his rented vehicle—the Jag was still at the dealer for repairs—but she insisted driving would only stress him out more and he needed to relax. So with a few misgivings, he climbed into the passenger seat and buckled his seat belt.
She bunched her hair into a navy blue beret. “Otherwise it gets hopelessly tangled,” she told him, then accelerated into traffic.
He loosened his tie, relishing the warmth of the sun on his face. The cool wind made conversation impossible while she careened way too fast along I-95. He glanced at the speedometer and tightened his seat belt.
And speeding on the interstate in Miami won’t stress me out?
He had no idea where she was taking him, but hoped they got there in one piece.
* * *
TAKI DECIDED REESE seemed even more familiar today. Much more familiar.
They were seated across from each other at a booth in The Spiritual Kitchen, her favorite restaurant. The sweet fragrance of curry hung in the air, and the faint, peaceful sound of chanting filtered through the sound system.
Reese concentrated on the menu, squinting and holding the paper at arm’s length.
She couldn’t wait any longer. She had to know if the feeling was mutual. That’s why she’d asked him to lunch even though she usually avoided lawyers—as she did all negative influences.
Leaning forward, she asked, “Do I seem familiar to you at all?”
Reese looked up and frowned. She wasn’t sure if he reacted to her question or the menu.
“Familiar?” he said. “How so?”
“As if maybe you had known me before.”
Reese sat back and rubbed his eyes. “You mean before our vehicles were broken into?”
She nodded.
“As in déjà vu?” he asked.
“Well, something like that.”
“No,” Reese said with the beginning of a smile. “Believe me, I would definitely remember you.”
Before Taki could reply, a turbaned waiter arrived to place a ceramic teapot and two matching cups on their table.
“You honor us with your visit, Taki,” the thin Indian man said with a slight bow.
“Thank you, Teshvar,” Taki replied, steepling her hands into prayer position and nodding in return. “Do you have any veggie stew left?”
“Always for you.”
“Then we’d like two orders, please, and lots of your special whole grain sesame bread.”
With another bow, the waiter disappeared. Taki returned her attention to Reese, who now studied her with an amused expression.
“Do you always order for your guests?” he asked.
“But you don’t know what’s good. Don’t worry. I promise you’ll love their special, and it won’t poison you like the lunch you were going to eat.”
As Reese regarded her across the table, she sensed he didn’t like losing even the tiniest little bit of control. She decided he was one of those men who needed to dominate everything and everyone around him. The fine tailoring of his charcoal double-breasted suit and cranberry silk tie screamed position and power. Pay attention to me. I’m important.
Just like her father.
“How about some peppermint tea?” she asked, disappointed in herself again. Why was she always so quick to judge this man? She didn’t really know him, at least in this lifetime, and she wasn’t being fair.
She poured them each a cup of tea, then dribbled honey from the jar on the table into her own brew. Her aim was a bit off, so she caught a slow-moving drip on the side of her cup, then licked the thick nectar from her finger. When she glanced up, she found Reese’s attention focused on her mouth as if he could taste the sweetness on her lips.
She lowered her gaze and stirred the tea. Steam drifted toward the ceiling between them. Taking a deep breath, she inhaled mint and orange blossoms. Maybe she was quick to judge him because he unsettled her so thoroughly. And because she found him so very attractive, which was of course ridiculous, considering—
“Do I seem familiar to you?” Reese asked, his voice calm and steady in the confusion of her senses.
She took a sip of the tea before answering. “I don’t know. I feel some sort of strange connection, but I can’t explain why.”
“Maybe it’s because we both were victims of the same crime two days ago.”
“So we’re like a victim support group?”
He smiled. “Exactly.”
“No. The way I felt was...well, strongest when I touched you the night of the theft.”
“When you touched me?”
She nodded. “When we shook hands. I’d like to try an experiment. Do you mind if I touch you again?”
He gave her a lazy grin. “Well, that depends on where you want to touch me.”
Heat flooded her cheeks as she said, “I want to touch your third eye.”
He blinked. “My what?”
“The third eye is the center of insight and intuition. It looks beyond the physical world.”
“And just where is this special body part?” he asked.
Taki bit her lower lip and gazed at the furrowed spot between and just above his dark eyebrows. “Right here,” she said, touching the spot lightly with her index finger.
A jolt of his energy rocketed through her, shooting all the way down to her toes. His eyes widened, and she knew the voltage affected him, too. She lowered her hand.
“Did you feel that?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper.
“Yeah, I felt it.” He leaned forward with his forearms on the table, holding her gaze. “Does that mean we’re attracted to each other?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I think it proves my theory that you’ve been harassing me through several lifetimes,” she said, sitting back.
“Harassing you?” Reese narrowed his eyes. “What are you talking about?”
“Well, anyway, we’ve known each other in a previous lifetime, probably several, and we have some issues to work out.”
Reese went still, but continued to stare at her.
“And now I need to help you find your stolen briefcase while I find my bowl,” she continued. “That way the negative energy will finally be severed between us and we’ll both have what we need, improve our karma.”
“Sever...negative...energy.” He leaned back in his chair, shaking his head. “And that’s a good thing?”
Taki nodded, surprised to be telling him the theory she had formulated last night after calling her guru at the ashram to tell him about the theft and meeting Reese. Navi agreed that the instant connection she had felt to Reese could be because they had known each other in previous lives. Of course that’s the only thing that made sense. She couldn’t be attracted to a man so like her father, so slick, arrogant and impatient.
Guru Navi had taught her so much, and they’d come such a long way together, how could he be wrong about this?
“I see,” Reese said. He tossed back the peppermint tea as if it were a glass of whiskey. “Tell me more about your bowl,” he said, with a look that suggested she’d suddenly sprouted wings and might fly like one of her angels. “You said it’s valuable because it’s one of a kind?”
“Yes,” she said. “My guru suggested a difficult task in order to ease my terrible...” She trailed off. Better not to tell the whole story. It was obvious Reese thought her philosophy foolish, and telling him would only further widen the breach between them.
“Your terrible what? Go on.”
“The bowl isn’t valuable in the sense you mean. There are thousands of similar bowls—even in catalogs. Anyone can buy one.”
“Then why is yours so special?”
“I trekked to a secluded monastery in Tibet to have my bowl blessed. The monks suggested I allow it to remain with them for one hundred and eight days, a number with spiritual significance, and then they shipped it back to me.” She shook her head, remembering the kindness at the monastery. “My bowl can never be replaced.”
“You mentioned the bowl sings? In fact,” he said, “I seem to recall something about yodeling.”
“My bowl does not yodel,” she said, but understood Reese was teasing. “It doesn’t rap or sing arias, either.”
“Oh, perhaps rock, then?”
She fought a laugh. “When you rub a wand around the interior, the vibration makes the metal hum, producing a clear, peaceful sound. It also chimes when you strike the rim. So, yeah, it sings.”
Hearing the lovely, high-pitched tone in her mind, she smiled at Reese, wishing he would pry open his mind just a little. Too bad his head was already crammed full of legal mumbo jumbo. At least he had asked for an explanation.
He gave her a half smile. “Where did you come from, lady?”
“I don’t know,” she answered. “But I think you were there with me.”
“Two vegetarian stews,” the waiter said as he placed steaming crocks on the table. Next came a wicker basket overflowing with slices of warm bread.
They both ate for several minutes without conversation. Finally, Taki took a drink of cool water. “I guess we were hungry.”
He smiled at her over a spoonful of stew. “You were right. This is delicious.”
She took another bite, pleased that he liked her favorite lunch.
“How long have you been a vegetarian?” he asked.
“When I was thirteen, I decided I loved animals so much that I just couldn’t eat one.”
“I’ll bet your mother loved that.”
“My mother died when I was nine.” Taki almost choked on her water when she realized what she’d said. Why on earth did she insist on babbling her secrets to this skeptical man? Of course, he was partly right. Her decision to become a vegetarian had incensed her father.
“I’m sorry,” Reese said.
“That’s okay,” she blurted, knowing her words only made the moment more awkward. By the kind way he smiled at her, though, she knew his sympathy was genuine.
He offered her a slice of bread and took one himself.
“This soup is really good,” he said again.
With peace between them, she decided to tell him her plan. “That pawnshop I told you about isn’t very far from here.”
He eyed her steadily. “Which pawnshop is that?”
“Jacques’s Hock. Where the clerk said to come back about the bowl.”
“We are not going to any pawnshop.”
She stared right back at him, not liking his dictatorial tone. She took orders from no one.... Well, except maybe Guru Navi, but he never gave orders. Only suggestions. This guy acted as if he were a five-star general.
“Why not?” she asked. “We’re right here.”
He shook his head as he took another bite of stew. “That’s a job for trained federal agents.”
“Going to a pawnshop requires training?”
“In this case, yes.”
She sat back and folded her arms. “You love giving orders, don’t you? And you’re used to everyone doing exactly what you tell them.”
He dropped a piece of bread on his plate, his dark eyes focused on her. “Have you been following the Romero case in the Herald?”
“No.” Best not to tell him she ignored newspapers. They were full of nothing but negativity, bad news, sad news, making it impossible to live in the present moment.
“Carlos Romero is in jail awaiting trial on a long list of charges, including first-degree murder for blowing up a post office in Fort Lauderdale and killing four people,” Reese explained.
“I remember that,” Taki said with a shudder. Even she hadn’t been able to avoid the horrifying story of the victims of that violent blast. It’d made national news. Why did people always have to hurt each other?
“Murder comes easily to some people,” he said. “They stole my briefcase hoping to discover the location of an important witness. Fortunately, they found nothing.”
“Well, I’m glad of that. But why would murderers take my bowl?”
“I was hoping you might know.”
“I don’t,” she said.
“Then maybe a diversion, to throw us off track, or just an opportunity to make a quick buck. But I’ll send an agent to check out your pawnshop. I promise.”
“When?”
“May I finish the lunch you ordered for me?”
“Of course,” she said and took a sip of her tea.
Good thing peppermint is excellent for indigestion, she thought, because Reese looked as if he was in for a serious case of heartburn.
* * *
BACK AT THE federal building, Taki smiled at Reese’s secretary as they walked past her cubicle. She had a pencil stuck behind one ear and a pen behind the other. The poor thing looked totally frazzled.
“Sorry I’m late, Joanne,” he said and grabbed a stack of messages from her desk.
“Romero’s attorney is trying to reach you,” the secretary said. “And Agent Rivas has phoned twice. I canceled the three o’clock conference when you weren’t back. It’s rescheduled for tomorrow at four.”
“Thank you,” Reese mumbled as he entered his office.
“Wow.” Taki moved to the front of his massive desk as he stepped behind it, reading his messages. “I made you miss a meeting.”
“It wasn’t important,” he said, still shuffling through the pink papers in his hand.
As she sat in a well-padded chair, Taki watched Reese morph back into Mr. United States Attorney. He’d relaxed slightly at lunch, but on entering his office he reverted to all-business. Just like her father. Never enough time to get everything done.
He’d insisted she accompany him upstairs so she could hear him dispatch an FBI agent to the pawnshop, although she figured it was really because he wanted to keep her away from the place. But since that meant he was worried about someone besides himself, maybe there was still hope for Reese Beauchamps. She hoped so. Despite his arrogance and love of barking orders, she liked him, although she couldn’t figure out why.
She hated to think it was because he was so good-looking. What did that say about her? But he did have the most gorgeous dark brown eyes. If she let herself, she could stare into them all day. And she liked the way his thick brown hair sported just a little wave. If he let it grow long, it would be magnificent.
“Call your agent Rivas,” she said, disgusted with herself. “Then I’ll let you get back to work.”
“Right.” Reese dropped the messages on the desk, pulled a swivel chair toward him and picked up the phone.
To give him space while he spoke to the agent, she wandered around his large office with the fabulous view, examining various diplomas and certificates adorning the walls. Could pieces of paper tell her anything about the man?
She admired elegantly framed degrees from undergraduate school at Princeton and law school at the University of Florida. Her father had once wanted her to attend Princeton.
Without reading, she focused on the Old English script in a dignified plaque as a sickening realization shot through her.
That was the third or maybe fourth time in one afternoon that Reese had caused her to think of her father. Before today, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d allowed the soulless monster to creep into her thoughts. Being reminded of the past never did anything but cause her pain.
The two men didn’t resemble each other at all physically, but both attacked life as if it were an opponent to be wrestled into submission.
She resisted the urge to run out of Reese’s office.
She needed to stay far away from this man. It didn’t matter how good-looking he was. He behaved too much like her father and would destroy the serenity she’d fought so hard to create.
CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_09a9c002-2590-5589-a3e4-41e59435fdbe)
“GET BACK TO me on that right away, Javi. Yeah, thanks.” Reese deliberately made his voice loud so Taki could hear him. She’d been staring at his Juris Doctor degree for five minutes as if it held the key to the secrets of her quixotic universe.
When he replaced the receiver, she turned. Reese smiled at her, liking it much better when they were friends.
“He’s ten minutes from the shop and will call me right back. Do you want to wait to see what he finds out?”
“No,” she said. “I no longer think anything will come of that.”
“What?” Reese pushed back in his chair, causing it to squeak in protest. “But you insisted on checking out the lead immediately.”
“I know. The thing is...” She paused and looked out the window. “Well, after we left the restaurant our path took us by Jacques’s Hock, and I got a strong feeling that my bowl wasn’t there.”
“You drove by the pawnshop? Why didn’t you tell me?”
She met his gaze again. “You’d have just fussed about it,” she said with a graceful shrug.
“And you got a...a feeling that your bowl wasn’t there?”
She straightened her shoulders. “Yes.”
“What kind of a feeling? Explain.”
“How can you explain a feeling? I just sensed my bowl was not inside that building.”
Reese rose, thinking Taki the most illogical person he had ever encountered. How could she change her mind so quickly? “My investigator is already on his way.”
“Sorry. I was wrong,” she said, blue eyes troubled. Then she brightened. “But at least I admit it.”
“Yeah, at least there’s that.” Reese fought an impulse to warn her about relying on irrational feelings. “Taki, in my experience, facts work a lot better when searching for the truth.”
“Oh, I’m sure you think so,” she said, moving toward the door. “But I’ve learned facts can be manipulated. Twisted into something ugly.”
Reese came around his desk and stood beside her, wondering why he felt the urge to touch her, however inappropriate such an action might be. Would that be considered harassment in one of those previous lifetimes where they’d known each other?
Previous lifetimes? Yeah, sure. No doubt they’d known each other during the Civil War. Or maybe ancient Rome.
“Thanks for lunch,” he said. Taki had insisted on paying, reminding him that he was her guest. “I’ll let you know if anything develops.”
“Thank you.”
“Please don’t go to any more pawnshops, Taki. And I’m not ordering. I’m asking.”
She cocked her head. “And you even said ‘please.’”
“I’m serious,” he said, doubting she would listen. Taki existed in some mystifying world of her own creation where dangerous men like Romero didn’t exist. Too bad that world was total fiction.
“I promise.” She smiled, dimples appearing in her smooth cheeks, her face so serious and open that he knew she considered her promise a sacred vow. Without warning, she rose to her toes and brushed a kiss on his left cheek, her lips as soft as her promise. Her fresh scent, maybe jasmine, filled his senses, reminding him of sunshine and a gentle spring breeze.
“Thanks for worrying about me,” she said, hesitating an instant too long before pulling away, her breath warm and sweet on his chin. Reese closed his eyes against the thought of crushing her to him.
What the hell is wrong with me?
With his fingers pressed to the spot where her lips had touched, he watched Taki exit his office in her strangely elegant manner.
Talk about a breath of fresh air. Taki had blown into his life and shaken it up like nothing ever had. Treating what he knew to be fact as fiction, she made the impossible seem somehow believable.
Negative energy? Third eyes? Mysterious feelings? Ridiculous.
As his buzzer sounded insistently behind him, Reese felt as if he was coming out of a trance. The woman was sincere in her quirky beliefs, but a total fruitcake. He shook his head to clear it.
Damn, but she was a huge distraction, one he didn’t have time for.
Reese sat at his desk and prioritized the phone calls he needed to return. Thanks to his little time-out with Miss New Age Wonder, he wouldn’t get home tonight until after ten o’clock.
Better stay far, far away from Wacky Taki or he’d never get any work done.
“Yes, Joanne?” he said into the intercom.
“Agent Rivas is on line two.”
Reese punched the speaker. “What have you got for me, Javi?”
“Dead end, Reese. Some crackhead pawned a silver cup from a horse race, nothing from Tibet. But the clerk practically got religious when talking about your friend Taki. When do I get to meet this knockout blonde?”
“She’s a little hard to reach,” Reese said, realizing with a groan that he still didn’t have her phone number or address.
Taki might be a nut job, but she was also damned elusive.
* * *
AT HOME THAT EVENING, still unsettled by the loss of her bowl—not to mention her lunch with Reese—Taki tried to calm her mind by sitting for meditation. But her restless thoughts looped over and over one thing: Reese made her think of her father—actually, reminded her of her father—and she hated her father.
Maybe Reese could help her find the bowl, but she had no business coming within a square mile of him if he dredged up thoughts of the soulless monster. She should never look into Reese’s eyes—no matter how dreamy those particular eyes. No matter how dark, how aware. She sighed.
Longing to regain serenity, Taki rose and opened her back door to gaze out on her small herb garden. The sight of vigorous plants bursting with life out of their neat rows immediately improved her mood. The natural world always soothed her. Other than practicing yoga, her happiest times were spent with Mother Nature, either hiking or watching beautiful things grow.
She moved down the steps, feeling as if she were transitioning into another world, a better place, a quiet and simple space where no problems interfered. With the property bordered by tall oaks, she always felt as if she were entering some secret garden as she entered the backyard of the estate where she lived.
Inhaling deeply, she was rewarded with the delicious scent of the rich earth she’d worked so hard to create—Miami Beach actually had pretty lousy dirt—and, yes, there it was: a hint of lavender.
Her gaze zeroed in on the row of lavender, shiny green leaves and tiny purple buds. So hard to grow in South Florida, but with the cooler temperatures of winter, her third attempt had finally met with success. Lavender encouraged relaxation, and soon she could create her special scented bath oil. She often gave samples to new students, recommending long, soothing soaks after class. Maybe she should give some to Reese.
The image of a bare-chested, dark-eyed Reese easing his muscled body into a steaming tub made her anything but relaxed—in fact, it instantly destroyed the tranquility she’d come outside seeking.
Closing her eyes, she released a slow exhale, forcing her traitorous mind away from a naked Reese Beauchamps. It would certainly help if she didn’t find him so darned attractive.
She slipped off her shoes and stepped into the soft damp dirt between rows. Glorying in that sensation, she wiggled her toes and hugged her elbows. The plot might be small, but it was all hers, and she was perhaps too proud of these happy, healthy herbs.
And how could she call herself an herbalist if she didn’t grow her own product? She’d been on the run so much lately, this was the first time she’d been able to grow her own crop in what seemed like forever. She frowned, thinking back. How long had it been since her last real garden? One where the plants sent their roots straight into the earth and not some plastic pot.
Bending her knees, but keeping her upper back flat to protect the fragile lumbar area, Taki yanked weeds from between her plants. Working steadily down a row of Saint-John’s-wort, she considered her next step to locate the missing bowl. Where was it? She didn’t have any luck with the pawnshops. Could Reese’s logical methods find it?
She sighed, realizing her thoughts had once again circled back to Reese Beauchamps. Certainly didn’t take long.
A mockingbird chirped, flitted into a pine tree, then onto the iron railing of Victoria’s second-floor balcony where he began to sing in earnest. No lights were on in the master bedroom, so likely her landlady wasn’t home. Taki hoped Victoria was out having a good time at one of her clubs, maybe playing bridge.
Victoria Van Buren, who’d just turned seventy, had once been her mother’s best friend and mentor. After returning from Asia, on what was meant to be a brief trip to see Navi six months ago, Victoria offered free lodging in a converted garage behind the main house for as long as Taki wanted, promising never to reveal her true identity to anyone. While waiting for the bowl to arrive, Taki had accepted Victoria’s hospitality.
But now with the bowl stolen, everything had somehow changed.
Taki loved her cottage, but definitely did not want to talk to Victoria tonight. Truthfully, she didn’t want to talk to anyone. That’s why she was pulling weeds in her herb patch, hoping to figure out what to do about her bowl and Reese.
Because the universe in all its wisdom had linked Reese with her bowl. Once that connection was made, there was nothing she could do about it—no matter how much she wanted to never think about him again.
Of course, it would be a lot easier to forget about Reese if she didn’t enjoy fantasizing about him in his bath. Maybe she needed to meditate more often. Or longer.
What would Navi tell her to do? Spotting another weed, she bent over to extract it. No doubt Navi would teach something about seeking the truth, tell her that she needed to “do the work.” And, yeah, that actually did make sense.
So she’d seek the truth. She’d continue to do what 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 you want honey in your tea?” She turned to him, eyebrows raised. “Or would you rather add another sweetener yourself?”
They stared at each other across the tiny area, and Reese wondered at the uneasiness in her eyes. In the soft lighting, their startling blue color appeared subdued, but her fair skin glowed. What was she worried about?
“Please,” he said. “And thank you.”
“In fact,” she said, while dribbling the thick liquid into the cups, “I’m not at all certain that your bad guys even took my bowl.”
When Reese accepted the tea from Taki, his hand brushed her slender fingers. She lowered her eyes at the contact.
“Why is that?” he asked, enjoying the connection between them. Hell, for some demented reason he enjoyed himself whenever he spent time with Taki.
“It’s a feeling I have,” she said. She parted her lips as if to say more, then pressed them firmly together.
Wishing he knew what she was about to say, he said, “Do you always rely so heavily on your feelings?”
She leaned back on the sofa. “What are you relying on to believe that Romero’s people took your briefcase?”
“Clear, logical assumptions supported by indisputable facts.”
“Well, my feelings may not be logical, but they’re usually right. Are your assumptions always correct?”
“Not always,” he said, smiling at her perceptive question. “Okay. Then what happened to your bowl?”
She stared into the white cup. “I don’t know yet.”
“Well, I do. Believe me, Taki, I’m trying like hell to get my briefcase back. If I do, I’ll locate your bowl.”
“Thank you,” she said.
But Reese could tell she didn’t believe he would find her lost artifact. He looked forward to witnessing her pleasure if he did. He took a hesitant taste and found the brew sweet and refreshing.
“What kind of tea is this?”
“Rosemary. It improves the memory, so it’ll help you with your work later.”
He stared into the amber liquid and shook his head at her constant attempts to help everyone. Then he grinned at her.
“Maybe you drink too much of this stuff and that’s why you think you remember me.”
“It doesn’t work that way.”
“Do I still seem familiar to you?”
“I don’t know.” Using her fingers as a comb, she absently swept her hand through her long blond hair. He wondered if the strands felt as soft as they looked.
“Sometimes I tend to get a little carried away,” she continued, throwing him a quick glance. “Perhaps we did meet previously, and I just don’t remember.”
“That’s much more likely than our introduction occurring in another life,” he said. Good to know she occasionally came back to earth.
“But where?” she asked. She took another sip of tea, watching him over the rim of the cup.
“In court maybe?” He raised his eyebrows, hoping she’d treat his next question as a joke. “Have you ever been up on federal charges?”
“Heavens, no. Is federal prosecuting the only legal work you’ve ever done?”
“Yes. I became an assistant U.S. attorney right out of law school.”
“So you don’t take private clients?”
“Never.”
“Why is that?”
Wondering where she was going with this conversation and why, Reese watched Taki nibble on her lower lip. She obviously wanted some information but didn’t want to ask directly.
“If you need a lawyer, Taki, I can recommend several.”
Her eyes widened. “I can’t imagine what would ever cause me to hire a lawyer,” she said with an emphatic shake of her head.
Her response told him a lot. “I guess you don’t like lawyers.”
He watched her suck air deep into her lungs, and then slowly release the breath.
“What if someone sues you?” he asked when she didn’t reply.
“Why would anyone sue me?” Taki balanced the tea as she tucked her bare feet beneath her on the couch.
“What about that blot on your soul? That might cause a lawsuit.”
“Maybe you don’t need my tea.” She grinned and shook her head. “You never forget a thing, do you?”
Not about you, he thought, imagining a thousand ways a woman as beautiful as Taki could place her soul in jeopardy.
“Lourdes says you want to run for political office,” Taki said.
“Who knows?” He shrugged, caught off guard by her comment. His future political career must be the subject of widespread speculation if even Taki had heard about it.
“So that’s why you’re a prosecutor, to get a reputation?”
“I became a prosecutor because I want to put criminals like Romero in jail where they belong. I hate it when people break laws and get away with it. Justice has always been important to me.” Reese paused. Where had that disclosure come from? Something about Taki required honesty.
“Or perhaps I secretly wanted to irritate my father,” he continued. “Dad believes that public service is for suckers and the way to practice law is behind a desk.”
“So your father is a lawyer, too?” she asked.
“Everyone in my family is.”
“Everyone?” Her face fell, as if his entire family had been diagnosed with tuberculosis.
“Well, almost everyone. My mother is a doctor.”
“Oh. Do you have any brothers or sisters?” she asked. He thought her voice sounded wistful.
“Two brothers and a sister...all attorneys working for my dad.”
“Are you from Miami?” she asked.
“Born and raised. How about you?”
“I’m an only child.”
“So why all the questions, Taki?” he asked, needing to get moving. “I thought you wanted to explain something to me.”
She nodded. “I was trying to get a better sense of who you are. I’m a very private person and have good reasons for not giving my phone number to just anyone.”
“I’m not just anyone. I’m a United States attorney, one of the good guys.”
“Are you really?” she asked softly.
“I put bad guys in jail,” he said, wondering about good reasons for not giving up a number. And why didn’t she have a cell?
She nodded, looking away. “The thing is, you remind me of someone who isn’t very nice at all.”
Startled, he asked, “How so?”
She met his gaze again. “Always barking orders, always in a hurry.”
That’s how she sees me? He groaned inwardly, knowing there was some truth in that description. “That’s how I get things done in my job.”
“If I give you my phone number, do you promise you won’t give it to anyone else?”
“If you don’t want me to, I promise I won’t.”
She didn’t immediately respond. Instead she chewed on her lower lip again. Feeling uncomfortably like a teenager asking a date to the prom, he waited.
* * *
TAKI GRABBED A pen and a napkin from the service bar and jotted down the number of the phone Victoria kept in the cottage. How could she say no? Otherwise Reese could start prying into her life to find out where she lived. Didn’t the government snoop on everyone these days?
She had no doubt he could learn anything he wanted through federal high-tech computers and gizmos, and there was no telling what he’d come up with.
She thrust the napkin toward him.
He accepted it with a long look at her scribbles. When he folded the paper and stuck it in the pocket of his gym shorts, she got the curious sensation that he’d memorized the numbers.
“I’ll be in touch if I get any news.” With a wave, he disappeared inside the men’s locker room.
Should she believe him? Would he keep her number private?
But maybe she shouldn’t worry. Unless he had info about their stolen property, why would he call? And in that case, she wouldn’t mind hearing from him.
Assuming the news was good.
On her way to the parking lot, she passed Hector and Lourdes working at the front desk and gave them a weak wave.
“Hey, Taki,” Lourdes said. “Don’t forget about the staff meeting next week.”
“Okay.”
“Any luck with your bowl?” Hector asked.
“Not yet,” she said and pushed open the door, glad for the rush of fresh air.
What was it about Reese’s dark, intelligent eyes that seemed so...aware? She shivered, recalling the force of his gaze as he stared directly into hers. It reminded her of the times Guru Navi tried to look deep into her soul. Funny, but it felt as if Reese saw her more clearly than her teacher.
Too bad Reese hadn’t become a healer like his mother instead of a lawyer. That would be so much better for his...
She slowed her crisp steps across the well-lit parking lot when she spotted a figure leaning against the Jeep’s driver door. Her pulse kicked up a notch, but she relaxed and resumed her pace when she recognized Benny.
“Hi, Ben. I’m sorry. Were you waiting for me?”
When Benny smiled, the wrinkles in his weathered face grew even deeper. “Yes. I have some interesting news.”
“What’s that?”
“Remember I promised I’d ask around the spa about your missing bowl?”
Taki nodded, a rush of excitement making her belly tingle. Reese would of course discount it as a worthless feeling.
“After your class, I found this stuck in my locker.” Benny produced a white envelope and handed it to her. With odd-size letters cut out from a magazine, “Taki” was pasted to the front.
“Did you see anyone around your locker?” she asked.
“I have no idea where it came from.”
“Have you opened it?”
“Of course not.”
She ripped open the envelope and withdrew a photograph.
“Oh, my God,” she said, staring at a bowl sitting on a sheet of newspaper with a wand propped against the rim.
Was it hers?
She peered at the image closely to make certain that the— Yes, there was that tiny crescent-shaped mar on the base. She pressed the photo to her chest and closed her eyes. This was definitely hers.
Who had sent this? And why to Benny?
“Are you all right?” he asked.
Taki opened her eyes, feeling silly about her reaction. “Yes, yes. I’m fine.”
“What is it?”
With a sigh, she passed him the photo. Now what?
“Proof of life,” Benny said. “Although of course the bowl isn’t actually alive, but that’s why they included the paper, to show a date.” Ben held up the image to examine it more closely. “That’s the front page of today’s Miami Herald.”
“Wait,” she said, grabbing the photo from Ben. “There’s something on the other side.”
On the back of the photograph, with those same mismatched cutout letters, someone had pasted directions.
BE AT PUERTO SAGUA TOMORROW AT SIX P.M. FOR INFORMATION ABOUT THIS ITEM.
* * *
AT FIVE FORTY-FIVE the next night, Taki slid onto a stool at Puerto Sagua and smiled at a waiter behind the broken-tiled counter. Smoke from the grill floated upward, billowing and obscuring the ceiling.
With a nod, the heavy-set server placed a menu and a plastic glass of water before her and moved on.
Taki took a slow drink while she surveyed the crowded Cuban restaurant. Maybe twenty-five diners sat at tables or at the long U-shaped counter that cut the room in half. Their noisy chatter and laughter bounced off the tiled walls, making her ears ring.
No one looked familiar. Not in this life or any other.
When the wall clock ticked down to six, the frowning waiter approached her again. She’d have to order something or be asked to leave. Black beans and rice seemed safe, but she was too nervous to eat.
After placing her order, she laid a hand on her queasy stomach. If only Reese had returned her calls. So much for her plan to avoid him, but of course he needed to know about the note.
Reese was always so confident and self-assured, she had no doubt his presence would bolster her faltering courage. She’d left messages at all his numbers revealing her intention to attend the meeting. She’d even spoken with his secretary. Joanne had been sweet, had promised to contact some agent named Javi and all but begged her not to do anything before she talked to Reese.
Forget that nonsense. She couldn’t miss the chance to recover her bowl. Benny knew she was here, as did Victoria, plus she had pepper spray tucked in her purse. She’d never used it and wasn’t sure if she could harm anyone with it, but just in case she slipped the small cylinder into her pocket for easy access.
And so many people crowded this restaurant, she was beginning to feel too warm. She fanned her face with the menu.
She wouldn’t leave with anyone, and even Reese’s bad guys wouldn’t drag her off from such a public place. What could they possibly want with her?
More important, why would anybody want her bowl?
CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_49d7ea26-b52e-5eea-acda-a5e3cb6b68fd)
REESE HAD NO problem spotting Taki when he entered the raucous atmosphere of Puerto Sagua. Seated at the counter, long blond hair partially braided and secured with a clip, her stillness was an oasis of tranquility in the center of chaos. In a warm, lively restaurant filled with the essence of garlic and onion, she made him think of the cool freshness of a deep forest.
If he weren’t so damned annoyed with her reckless behavior, he’d be glad to see her.
“You don’t know me,” Reese murmured as he slid onto the stool next to hers. He threw her a quick look. “Pretend we’re meeting for the first time.”
When she flashed a grateful, relieved smile, his mood improved. At least she was glad he’d come to her rescue.
Spotting Javi on the other side of the counter, Reese nodded. She followed his gaze and then looked to him in surprise.
“Who’s that?” she whispered.
“FBI.”
Her eyes widened, and her gaze swung back to Javi.
“Quit staring at him.”
When Taki refocused on her plate, which contained a mammoth serving of black beans—she couldn’t have touched a bite—Reese asked, “You really received a photograph of your bowl with a note instructing you to come here?”
“Not exactly. Someone left the photo with Benny, one of my regular students.” With a graceful movement, she tucked a strand of hair behind her shoulder.
Reese made a mental note to question Benny. He knew all about Benny. The old man practically lived at SoBe Spa, or anyway, he was there every time Reese worked out. So what was his involvement with Taki and her magic bowl?
“Why him and not you?” Reese asked.
The waiter arrived before she could reply.
“Cafecito to go,” Reese requested. The potent Cuban coffee was like mainlining caffeine, but he still had hours of work to do tonight.
“I asked people around the spa if they knew anything about the bowl,” she said when the waiter moved away. “Benny did, too. I guess he asked the right person.”
“That doesn’t make any sense. Do you have the photo?”
She reached for her purse.
“Wait. I’ll look at it later.”
Reese surveyed the room, searching for a familiar face. His initial response to Taki’s message had been that someone was playing a joke on her, but Puerto Sagua just happened to be Izzo’s favorite place for breakfast, and nobody in law enforcement believed in coincidences.
“Whoever sent the note has my bowl and maybe you can recover your briefcase, too,” she said, her voice low and urgent.
Reese stared at Taki’s animated face. Why did he find this nutcase so compelling? She certainly had guts. More courage than sense, apparently.
“You shouldn’t have come here alone, Taki. It was a foolish thing to do.”
“But you didn’t return my calls. I had no choice.”
Reese shook his head at her stubbornness. Why was this damned bowl so important? Something else had to be going on. He’d find out what tonight.
“I was in trial all day,” he said. “I didn’t get your messages until five-thirty.”
“Well, I didn’t want to miss the chance of getting my bowl back. Now quit talking to me or nothing will happen.” She smiled sweetly and extended her hand to dismiss him.
Reese grasped her fingers and squeezed. When she released her grip, he picked up his coffee, dropped a bill on the counter and moved to an empty table where he could keep an eye on her.
He pried open the lid of the foam take-out cup, shaking his head as he remembered Taki’s disapproval of the nonbiodegradable material. The woman wanted to save the world.
Steam floated up to his face, bringing with it an aroma of coffee.
Letting the brew cool a bit, he waited before taking the first sip and continued to observe the crowded room. He noted Javi did the same, but the agent blended in with the casually dressed clientele a lot better than Reese did in his tailored suit.
He probably stuck out as obviously as Taki.
What the hell was he doing here? He had too much work for these kinds of games. When he’d received Taki’s messages, he’d been torn between outrage and worry. Unable to let her face unknown danger alone, he’d called Javi and asked him to meet them at Puerto Sagua.
Outside the winter light faded to darkness, but no one approached her, although more than one male customer openly ogled her ethereal blond beauty.
Izzo certainly wasn’t in sight. Not that Reese thought this meeting had anything to do with him. Just another dead end, another wild-goose chase courtesy of Wacky Taki.
Reese sipped the strong coffee. She might be a little nuts, but he had to admit she was plenty easy on the eyes. Taki barely touched the food she’d ordered. She did drink four glasses of water, however, and occasionally would wrinkle her cute nose and wave off smoke from the grill that drifted her way.
At six forty-five, she scanned the back of the room and gave a disappointed shrug when their gazes locked. She picked up her check and slid off the stool.
Agreeing that it was time to give up, Reese pushed through the front door while Taki dealt with the cashier. He noted she used cash.
The night seemed oppressively dark when he exited the restaurant. Fast-moving clouds obscured the moon, and a brisk wind sent leaves scattering across the sidewalk. He buttoned his jacket against the crisp evening air. A cold front had swept into South Florida, and the thermometer would dip into the forties tonight. A rare event.
Wrapping a wool cape around her slight frame, Taki stepped onto the sidewalk.
“Where are you parked?” he asked when she moved beside him.
“I’m in the public lot over on Washington.” She glanced at his rented Ford sitting in a no-parking zone in front of the popular restaurant.
“I was late, remember?” Reese said, wondering why he felt defensive.
She raised her eyebrows, but said nothing.
“Come on. I’ll give you a ride to your car.” He opened the passenger door and motioned her in.
When Reese pulled his door shut, the quiet in the interior of the sedan made him feel as if he’d just locked out the world and had Taki all to himself. Not a bad feeling.
“Thank you for coming,” she said in what had to be the most sincere thanks he’d ever received.
“You’re welcome.”
“I’m sorry you wasted your time.”
“I’m sorry no one showed.”
“Me, too.” She sighed, obviously frustrated. “What went wrong? Why didn’t they come?”
“Good question.”
“The note didn’t say to come alone,” she mused. “Although they couldn’t have known you were with me.”
Reese suppressed a chuckle. He’d think she’d been watching too much television, but doubted she watched the TV much, if ever, what with all that negative energy emanating from the screen. Wouldn’t be good for that karmic debt.
“Maybe you’ll be contacted again.”
“I sure hope so,” she said.
“I hope you understand why I couldn’t return your calls?”
“Your secretary explained. I know you’re a busy man.”
Her voice sounded sympathetic, as if he had terminal cancer.
“Let me see the photo,” he said.
She dug in a multicolored fabric bag that featured images of an elephant, its strap snug between her breasts, and produced a color picture of a brass bowl with swirling patterns etched into the metal.
Reese studied the image, briefly disappointed there was no sign of his briefcase in the background. He recognized the headline of today’s newspaper. Definitely a recent photo.
“You’re sure it’s your bowl?”
“Positive.”
He flipped the photo and read the note, finding nothing that would lead to its author. The way the note had been created screamed amateur. Or again, maybe too many TV crime shows. No way was Romero involved.
He lifted his gaze back to her serious face. “Is there any chance your student was playing a mean trick on you?”
She reacted to that idea as if he had struck her. “Ben would never do that.”
He studied her. We’ll see about that. “Okay. Can I keep this?”
“I guess.”
“I want to send it to the FBI lab. Maybe they can find a clue to our mystery.”
She brightened at his plan. “Good idea. Thanks.”
He started the engine and pulled onto Collins Avenue. She remained silent, probably lost in mystical thoughts as they drove the short distance to her Jeep. He needed to learn why the bowl was so damned important to her.
“I’m going to follow you home,” Reese told her when he pulled behind her vehicle.
“That’s okay,” she said too quickly. “You don’t need to.”
“Yes, I do.”
“But—”
“We don’t know who was in that restaurant, but they know who you are.”
“Oh.” Her eyes widened, and for the first time he noted a hint of worry.
“I need to make sure you get home safely.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
“Just don’t break any speed limits this time.”
She nodded, exited the car and climbed into her Jeep.
After driving a few blocks, Reese called Javi, who followed him, checking for a tail.
“You see anything inside the restaurant?” Reese asked.
“Nada,” Javi said. “I had another agent posted outside, and she didn’t notice anything, either. None of Romero’s known people were there. Other than the usual South Beach freaks, no one suspicious.”
“Do I have a tail?”
“You’re clear.”
“Thanks, Javi. Appreciate the help tonight.”
“Hey, no problem, Reese. Anytime you need help with that blonde, you just let me know. I’m your man.”
“I’ll check in with you tomorrow,” Reese said, refusing to react to Javi’s comment, and disconnected.
When Taki turned into the brick driveway of an impressive Miami Beach home, Reese pulled in behind her and released a low whistle at the affluent surroundings. Soft illumination highlighted a three-tiered flowing fountain in the center of a landscaped oval. Overgrown red bougainvillea lined the facade of a handsome coral-colored villa beneath a clay tile roof. He estimated the gated estate covered at least two acres directly on Biscayne Bay.
He’d pictured Taki in some sort of rustic commune, or perhaps even a tent, not in an exclusive waterfront mansion. Well, well. Wasn’t this an interesting turn of events.
She jumped from her Jeep and walked toward him. He now recognized the relaxed way she moved, a fluid lilt to her slim hips he found mesmerizing. But the expression on her face told him she debated some huge problem.
Reese lowered his window, the motor issuing a quiet hum.
She bent her knees to bring her face level with his. “Thanks for following me home.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Were we followed?” Eyes wide, she glanced toward the quiet residential street.
Reese smiled. “I don’t think so.”
Taki returned her gaze to his face and released a big sigh. “Well, then—”
“You wouldn’t have any herbal tea, would you?” he asked.
“Um...well...sure,” she said. “Lots of it.” She nodded toward the house. “So would you...like to come in?”
“I’d love to.”
Reese set the rental’s alarm with a shrill beep, thinking, Why bother? It hadn’t kept Izzo out of the Jag. Truth was, car alarms sounded so frequently in Miami everyone ignored them. Taki grabbed her bag from the Jeep and slung it over one shoulder. He followed her to a small building behind the main house that had probably once been a free-standing garage.
In another life, of course, he thought to himself with a chuckle.
* * *
TAKI MENTALLY ZIPPED through an inventory of her living room while unlocking the door to her cottage. Was there anything in open view that would give Reese a clue to her birth name?
The Spencer Trust lawyers hadn’t yet traced her to this address, but they might be getting close. Reese had her phone number and now knew where she lived. He could easily give her away without even knowing he’d done a bad thing. Far better that no one know anything about her history. Mistakes could be made, the wrong thing mentioned to the wrong person. Her father had minions everywhere looking for her.
She needed more time to square things with the universe. She needed to find that bowl before her father located her and she was forced to move again.
“Do you have a favorite tea?” Taki asked as she stepped through the entrance and flipped on a switch. “Or will any flavor do?”
“Whatever you have will be fine,” Reese said.
As she’d expected, he scrutinized her front room as if they’d entered a Ripley’s Believe It or Not! museum. She couldn’t tell if he was amused or taken aback by what he saw.
She allowed her gaze to roam over the eclectic collection of furniture and curios from her Eastern travels and secondhand shops. She was especially fond of her collection of statuettes of Lord Ganesha, the Hindu elephant god, a deity so powerful it was said he could remove any obstacle. Now, that was some symbolism she really liked.
Everything had meaning to her, although her possessions probably looked like a bunch of old junk to Reese.
But there were no trappings from the Spencer fortune, she realized with relief. Even if he had heard of a runaway heiress, he’d never make a connection to her.
“Make yourself comfortable,” she said, “and I’ll put on some water.”
Taki poured distilled water into a kettle and placed it on her stove. With a quick push of a button, she ignited the flame, and gas burned with a quiet hiss. Reaching for two mugs from wooden cabinets, she mentally kicked herself for letting Reese in when she knew she should avoid him. How could she keep a calm mind when the man stirred emotion she was better off burying?
He’d been sweet to meet her at Puerto Sagua, but she could have just said she was tired, that she needed to get some sleep. That wasn’t a lie, not at all. She hadn’t slept well since she’d met Reese. She frowned. Since her bowl had been stolen.
But oh, no. She’d been entranced by the color of his eyes, by the shape of his lips, by the rich timbre of his voice as he’d asked about tea. It was beyond foolish to allow Reese inside her home, and dangerous because she found him so absurdly attractive. And why did she? The man represented everything she’d run away from four years ago. She should stay away from him, as she did all negative influences.
So how to explain her intense rush of pleasure when he showed up at the restaurant? Her reaction had nothing to do with her bowl, much less any past or future karma. She’d been thrilled from her crown chakra to the tips of her toes that he had come to help her.
Definitely beyond foolish.
Waiting for the water to boil, Taki rejoined Reese in the living room. He stood with folded arms squinting at a print of Buddha hanging near the door to her bedroom. Sensing he was chilled in her unheated home, she turned on a rectangular space heater by the ancient pink brocade sofa.
He’s from Miami, she remembered. Miami natives took great offense whenever the temperature dropped below sixty.
“It’ll warm up in a minute,” she said. As she closed the door to the bedroom, Taki smiled at her dangling angels and prayed for luck.
“Is this also from Tibet?” Reese asked, indicating the colorful print.
“No, a secondhand shop on Lincoln Road.” Taki admired the peaceful scene of Buddha seated beneath a leafy tree. It was one of her favorite images, one that usually put her in a serene frame of mind. But not tonight with Reese standing right next to her.
“Tell me about your bowl,” he said, “why it’s so important that you’d risk your life.”
She continued to stare at the bright colors in the print. “I didn’t risk my life.”
“If Romero’s people are involved, you did.”
“But why would Romero’s people want my bowl?”
“I keep hoping you’ll tell me.”
Taki leveled her gaze at Reese. Something in his voice made her uneasy. He observed her steadily, a hint of five o’clock shadow on his chin and cheeks. Did he think she knew something about his stolen briefcase?
“I don’t know any more than you do about the theft, Reese.”
Before he could respond, the kettle issued a shrill whistle.
Reese followed her into the tiny kitchen and less than an inch separated their hips. Not for the first time, she noted how small her kitchenette was. He was so near, she could sense every movement, every shift of his weight on his feet.
“It’s amazing what someone did with this old garage,” he said, loosening his tie and looking around. “How did you find it?”
“I give private lessons to Victoria Van Buren, the woman who owns the estate. She was a friend of...” Taki trailed off, realizing she’d almost told Reese that Victoria was a friend of her mother’s. Better not reveal anything about her history.
“Years ago,” Taki continued after clearing her throat, “Victoria’s husband converted this garage to an apartment and loaned it to friends in need. Since his death, she’s continuing that tradition.”
“How long have you lived here?”
“Almost six months,” Taki said as she poured steaming water into a ceramic teapot. Of course she couldn’t tell him an outright lie. She had to be careful. Satya, truth, was an important yogic principle, one she believed in.
“It’s nice,” he said. “Cozy.”
“I really love this cottage. It’s full of such good energy. I think old buildings retain the souls of all the people who once lived inside.”
Reese blinked. “Like ghosts?”
“No, not exactly. Just some part of their essence—or spirit maybe left behind.”
“Come on, Taki,” he said with a laugh. “You don’t really believe drywall and wood retain dead souls?”
She nodded, again confused by the strange connection she felt to Reese, which made no sense. He was nonreceptive to her beliefs and plainly had a lot of lives yet to live, a lot of issues left to resolve.
Not that she didn’t, she reminded herself. Maybe she should be more open to his way of thinking.
When she didn’t answer, he said, “Seriously?”
She ought to push him far, far away, but couldn’t since he could help her find the bowl. She stared into the brewing tea, knowing that now she wasn’t being honest with herself. Her interest in Reese wasn’t all about the bowl anymore. Maybe it never was.
“Do you really want this tea?” she said. She dropped her hand to her side, brushing his arm.
With a grin, he raised his eyebrows. “Do you have anything stronger?”
“Wine. Red or white?”
“Red might warm us up,” he said.
Reese stood close enough that she could feel his breath on her cheek. Between his overwhelming presence and the steaming water, she didn’t need to warm up. She felt as if the flames from the stove would consume her any second.
For a crazy moment she wanted to touch him. She wanted to take the palms of her hands and glide them up the sleeves of his jacket, pressing firmly enough to feel the hard muscle she knew lay beneath the fine blue fabric.
“Taki?” he said, a soft question in his voice.
“You’ll have to move so I can reach the wine bin. It’s overhead.” Her voice sounded strained to her own ears.
“I’ll get it for you,” he offered.
When Taki met his puzzled gaze, her breath caught in her throat. She, a woman who prided herself on fabulous breath control, could barely inhale because of swift, overpowering physical desire. Reese no longer seemed familiar. He was now a stranger who awoke a hunger she’d thought buried beneath mounds of guilt and sadness.
She swallowed and pointed to the cabinet. “The far corner,” she said.
Reese’s eyes searched hers, but he raised his arm and easily withdrew a bottle of California Cabernet Sauvignon from the high cupboard.
“How’s this?” he asked.
“Perfect.”
When she accepted the bottle, she placed her hands over Reese’s long fingers. For a brief moment he didn’t let go, and she felt his cool hand beneath her warm palms.
“Thanks,” she said.
“Sure.” His gaze locked on hers, he released the wine and took slow backward steps out of the kitchen.
Trying to regain her focus, Taki took deep inhalations as she searched for the corkscrew in a messy kitchen drawer. Why could she never achieve order in her life? Guru Navi always lectured about order and cleanliness, saucha, another essential of a good yoga practice. She located the chrome utensil, grabbed two wineglasses and moved into the living room.
Out of the kitchen, the temperature dropped several degrees. Relieved by the sudden chill, she headed toward the orange glow of the space heater. She placed the bottle and glass on a table and collapsed onto the sofa.
Reese sat beside her, leaning forward to retrieve the wine. She relaxed into the cushions, happy to let him do the honors. She needed to recover from what had almost happened in the kitchen. Had he noticed her ridiculous reaction to him? She’d almost attacked him. How could he not notice?
“You still haven’t told me about your bowl,” Reese said as he opened the wine. “Let’s see. So far I know you have a terrible blot on your soul. Because of that blemish, your guru sent you on a difficult journey to Tibet.”
“Right,” Taki said, surprised by Reese’s quick recitation of the small bits she’d told him. And he didn’t appear to be making fun of her. He sounded seriously interested.
“The pilgrimage itself was cleansing,” she said. “But I had a task to complete. I failed that task.” A wave of sadness washed through her. She’d also hoped the bowl would cleanse her soul of the anguish created by her mother’s death.
Reese nodded. “You were to deliver the bowl to the—” he paused a moment “—Paradise Way Ashram.”
“Good memory.” Why in heaven’s name had she told Reese all these details?
He nodded and poured wine into each glass. When she raised hers, he tapped his against it with a gentle clink and said, “To getting your bowl back.”
“And to you getting your briefcase.”
She took a swallow of the heady liquid and let its warmth slide down her throat. She needed to relax. Her usual methods hadn’t calmed her so far. Maybe the wine would.
After taking a sip of his own, Reese said, “So tell me about this blot on your soul.”
She smiled in spite of her unsettled mind. “That’s just the way Debbie interpreted my explanation of rotten karma.”
“Maybe you’d better explain karma to me. I’m not quite clear on that concept. You’re doomed somehow because...?”
“Because of previous bad behavior, maybe even in another life. Every person is the result of their past actions and present doings. It’s the universe’s way of evening things out.”
“What goes around comes around,” Reese said with a nod. “Got it. So what is it you’ve done that’s so awful?”
She knew from his tone of voice that he would probe until he got an answer. She couldn’t tell him the whole truth, but she couldn’t lie.
“Not me exactly. Let’s just say that my family has done some really...bad things that I’m trying to atone for.” She shook her head. “Unfortunately, the way things are going I’ll never be forgiven.”
“But you can’t be blamed for what your family has done.”
“Yes, I can. I benefited from their greed.” She took a slow sip of her wine. “Are you warm enough? Do you mind if I turn down the heater?”
“I’m fine.”
When she rose, a quick series of questions snapped through Reese’s mind. Could her rotten family be in trouble with the law? Maybe already incarcerated? Is that why she’d asked if he took private clients? What sort of crime had they committed?
Exactly what would he find if he pulled Taki out of the county database?
But she wasn’t a witness for him to cross-examine, so he remained silent. During that quiet, a bewildering rapport with her blossomed. No one understood wanting to distance yourself from an overbearing family better than he.
“Families can be a real pain in the ass, can’t they?” he said when she’d returned.
“Yes.” She paused, then asked, “So you’re not close to your family?”
“Oh, we’re close. We just don’t get along. My dad never stops harping at me to resign from the U.S. Attorney’s Office so I can join him in his private practice. He takes it as a personal affront that I won’t.”
She swirled her wine. “And you don’t want to go into private practice?”
“Especially not with him. But we were discussing your problem with the missing bowl.”
Before he could stop himself, Reese tucked an errant lock of hair behind her ear. The blond strand was as soft as he’d imagined.
“Tell me if I’ve got this straight,” he said.
She picked up her wine again and took a cautious sip, then leaned against the sofa, raising a wary gaze. He wondered what worried her.
“You believe that by giving the bowl to the ashram, you somehow erase all the previous sins of your family?”
“I hoped it would erase at least some of them, even if just symbolically.” Taki stared into the deep red liquid in her glass and sighed. “But, oh, no. I had to leave the bowl in the Jeep, so certain no one would want it, that the security guard would prevent any theft. What was I thinking after traveling all the way to Tibet?” Concern wrinkled her delicate brow. “I wonder if that carelessness makes the whole situation worse.” She looked up. “What do you think?”
Reese crooked his arm on the back of the sofa and leaned against it. “My first thought is to argue mitigating circumstances.”
She flushed, and he wanted to touch her cheek and tell her she was delightful. He took a swallow of wine as Taki threw him a challenging look.
“This is all a big joke to you, isn’t it?” she asked.
“No. I want my briefcase back as badly as you want your bowl of salvation.”
“But you think I’m completely bonkers.”
“I think you’re lovely.” Reese entwined his fingers in hers and lifted. He kissed the back of her hand, finding it soft and smooth. “And, yes, maybe just a little bonkers.” Fascinated by the stubborn expression that washed across her flushed face, he released her fingers.
“Should I contact you if I get another message from the thief?” she asked.
“Definitely. And don’t meet anyone again without backup.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Backup?”
“Call it what you want, just promise not to go alone.”
“Sorry,” she said. “I can’t promise. That would be a lie. I want my bowl too much, but I’ll take extra precautions.”
He wondered what extra precautions she had in mind. “I’ll give you Agent Rivas’s phone number,” he said, removing a business card from his wallet. “If I’m not available, call him. He can send an agent.”
She accepted the card. “You’re giving orders again, General Beauchamps.”
“Sorry. Bad habit.” What did it matter? Reese thought, suspecting she disregarded orders as easily as he gave them.
“That’s okay,” she said. “I’m getting used to it.”
“Yeah, I know. You just ignore me.”
“I always ignore lawyers.”
“Have you had a lot of experience ignoring attorneys?”
Her face closed off to him then, and he wondered why. What had happened in Taki’s past that she hated lawyers? Had she been involved with her family’s crimes? Is that why she was so protective of her phone number?
“Any experience is too much,” she said.
Good dodge, he thought, and searched for a neutral topic. “Tell me about your name.”
“My name?” she asked in a voice he could only describe as cautious. Again he wondered about her secrets.
“I know you weren’t born with the name Taki. How did you come by it?”
“Oh,” she said. “My guru gave it to me.”
“Your guru?” Reese shook his head. “You have a guru?”
“Yes, I do. Guru Navi. He’s been my teacher since I was eighteen when I met him following a lecture.”
“Okay. Go on. Your guru changed your name because...”
“As a symbol of a new beginning. A new name, new beginning. Navi is my spiritual guide.”
“How old is he?” Out of nowhere, Reese irrationally hoped that this guru she spoke of with such affection was Shinhoster’s age at least. Even older would be better.
“I never thought about it.” She grinned. “Ageless, I guess. Or timeless anyway.”
“He lives at this ashram?”
“Half the year here, half the year in India. He’s in Miami until June.”
“Smart guru,” Reese said. “He jets out just when the weather starts to get nasty and buggy.”
“It’s just as hot in India,” she said. “Hotter in some places. And you’re wrong about Navi. He has helped me more than you can imagine.”
Reese decided to run a check on the ashram to make sure the place was legit. It seemed strange that a well-meaning spiritual guide would send a woman with no money on an expensive trip to Tibet. Could the guru have had something to do with the meet at Puerto Sagua?
He took a drink of the delicious wine, wondering if he was actually jealous of a guru.
“This is excellent,” he said. He picked up the bottle, but the print was too damn small, so he couldn’t read the year. Working twelve hours a day had ruined his eyesight.
“It was a gift,” she said.
“Does the name Taki mean anything?” he asked, replacing the bottle.
She gathered her long hair behind her, then draped it across one shoulder. “Navi calls me his little seeker because I’m always searching.”
Without thinking, Reese lifted a lock of her blond hair and rubbed his thumb across the silky strands.
“What are you searching for?” When their eyes met, Reese wondered at the emotion he read there. She moistened her full lips with the tip of her tongue.
“Happiness,” she said softly. “Forgiveness.”
“How could anyone not forgive you?” he murmured, cupping her cheek. He stroked his thumb across satin-smooth skin, thinking her the most enigmatic woman he’d ever met, full of enchanting contradictions. Her blue eyes widened, but she didn’t pull away.
When Reese lowered his mouth to hers, she closed her eyes. Her soft lips were warm and willing, and Reese explored her mouth hungrily, tasting fine wine and enjoying the tiny noises issuing from the back of her throat.
Kissing Taki was a lot easier than trying to figure her out.
CHAPTER FIVE (#ulink_db8b524d-5b7b-5ef3-99ff-f17865666631)
EVEN IF REBORN a thousand times, Taki knew she would never forget the power of this kiss. Reese took possession of her mouth the way he dominated everything in his path, and his intimate, velvet warmth sent shivers of desire dancing through her.
She made a small sound of protest when he released the pressure on her lips. Reluctantly, she opened her eyes and focused on the area just above his loosened collar. Inhaling his spicy aftershave, a scent she knew she’d forever associate with him, her gaze traveled to his mouth barely an inch away. She lifted her face, wanting to kiss him again, to go on kissing him until...
“Taki, I...” His breath feathered across her cheek as he trailed off, seeming unsure of himself for the first time.
She dropped her chin and pulled back. Reality checked in again, and with it came tons of baggage. For a brief time-out, though, while his mouth made love to hers, nothing had been important but him.
“Should I apologize for that?” he asked, searching her eyes. “Because I’m really not sorry.”
“Me, neither,” she whispered. And she wasn’t. Reese really knew how to kiss.
She averted her eyes, not wanting him to see what she was feeling. She couldn’t let anything romantic get started with Reese. The man set her emotions on fire, and such turmoil was all wrong for her. She required tranquility in her life. She’d had enough upheaval.
An awkward silence stretched out.
“It’s getting late.” He placed his wine on the rattan table but made no motion to rise. Neither of them knew what to do now, she thought, where to go after that amazing kiss. Or at least it had been amazing for her.
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Sharon Hartley
Not the treasure they expected to find Trading the past for a simpler life in Miami is part of yoga teacher Taki's path to better karma. But when a devastating theft brings federal prosecutor Reese Beauchamps into her life, things are suddenly a lot more complicated!She's drawn to gorgeous Reese in ways she can't explain. His analytical mind prevents him from understanding why spiritual intuition guides her…and he reminds her of what she'd rather forget. But chasing a criminal, they can't dodge the sizzle of attraction. Now, unless Taki trusts Reese's determination to protect her, she might run again…and leave love behind.
Not the treasure they expected to find
Trading the past for a simpler life in Miami is part of yoga teacher Taki’s path to better karma. But when a devastating theft brings federal prosecutor Reese Beauchamps into her life, things are suddenly a lot more complicated!
She’s drawn to gorgeous Reese in ways she can’t explain. His analytical mind prevents him from understanding why spiritual intuition guides her…and he reminds her of what she’d rather forget. But chasing a criminal, they can’t dodge the sizzle of attraction. Now, unless Taki trusts Reese’s determination to protect her, she might run again…and leave love behind.
Neither of them spoke for a moment.
“I feel so close to you right now,” Taki whispered. “Do you feel it, too?”
Reese sucked in a quick breath, then released it. “Yes.”
And it was true. He did feel somehow connected to Taki. What had happened to his common sense? His usual levelheadedness must have fled at the same time as his sense of balance. And that had all occurred when he’d met her.
She raised her hand to his cheek, stroking his face as if caressing a precious keepsake. “I know I met you for a reason,” she said, her voice full of wonder.
“Taki, I…” He cupped her neck with both hands and pulled her toward him, never wanting to
let her go.
Dear Reader (#ulink_c3888336-9517-5ca9-b94d-a5d3d2610f6a),
This story began one evening when I saw a totally hot guy in the parking lot after yoga at the gym where I practiced at the time. His car and several others (not mine, fortunately) had been broken into, and he definitely was not happy. My mind played the what-if game—and Reese, dedicated workaholic, spiced with the personalities of a few attorneys I’d worked with over the years, was born.
Taki was inspired by one of my early yoga teachers, a lovely woman who always lived by yogic principles. She never worried about tomorrow or the past, didn’t react to anything negative, always remaining serene and positive no matter what occurred. We’d all be a lot healthier if we could behave like her.
Have you ever tried to stay totally in the present moment? It’s not easy. Once, while hiking through a magnificent old-growth forest, surrounded by incredible natural beauty, I realized even then my mind wandered someplace else. Why? What better place was there for me to be at that moment?
Life is a beautiful journey for us all to cherish. The South Beach Search is the story of Taki and Reese, how they fall in love and change each other. I hope you enjoy their journey!
Sharon Hartley
The South Beach Search
Sharon Hartley
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ABOUT THE AUTHOR (#ulink_9a13f37f-69c6-5664-a102-60acaefa934a)
SHARON HARTLEY has been practicing yoga for over thirty years and became a teacher in order to share her love of this ancient practice. Sharon believes yoga can be healing—just like a great story, and she loves writing stories as much as teaching yoga. Both can nourish our souls and teach us things about ourselves. She lives near South Beach with her husband, a Jack Russell terrorist and too many orchids. Sharon loves to hear from readers! Please visit her website at sharonshartley.com (http://www.sharonshartley.com).
For Max, my soul mate. Without him, I’d be forever searching for my other half.
Contents
Cover (#u8e5ea32f-c960-556e-8972-f89e6ad25b7d)
Back Cover Text (#uc116c380-eda1-5a25-89cf-6bdba386b4ac)
Introduction (#u0a74e20e-b8c0-55b7-9e60-0edfd98f7cf9)
Dear Reader (#ulink_778498ef-c37a-5955-aa6b-b7ff2ba47f28)
Title Page (#u14bac4fb-e243-5ced-8b63-540b1c42deda)
ABOUT THE AUTHOR (#ulink_8a8bea48-7219-5ffb-82ad-7b7facf1eaae)
Dedication (#u8b2da437-e51b-57f8-8e26-294a5cdcb398)
CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_03dcadfb-6e91-5e9e-a0b8-d144cf94d203)
CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_5a28a774-4bcc-52f9-99dc-4b6d3f001826)
CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_3a4e3619-9881-5567-bb89-181c9c9e906c)
CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_c0a338c2-c4d5-5170-af28-794cbda2c8d3)
CHAPTER FIVE (#ulink_8e036df9-045a-5414-aae8-c04897587f26)
CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_ddbaa27e-47ff-5236-9bb6-11e2c374f1f2)
HER BACK FLAT on the floor, Taki pushed into the yoga mat with both feet and lifted her hips toward the ceiling.
“Picture your spine as if it were a string of pearls,” she told her class as she demonstrated bridge pose. “Raise each vertebra one at a time and edge your shoulders closer together.”
Taki released the pose and stood to observe her students, making certain they didn’t hurt themselves. Placing a block between one student’s legs, she said, “Remember to keep your knees close together.”
A chorus of groans answered her reminder.
“But only go to your personal edge,” she instructed. “When you feel resistance, back off. In yoga, we never want to cause any pain.”
Benny, one of her regulars, laughed and moaned at the same time. Taki glanced his way and hurried to adjust him. Poor skinny Benny. He tried so hard, but, at seventy, had little flexibility and she always worried he’d push too hard.
“Now make yourselves as comfortable as possible,” she said. “Our final pose is the most important one we do, where we give ourselves the gift of a few minutes of total relaxation.”
“Time for our reward,” Benny said with a deep sigh.
As her students covered themselves with towels or blankets for warmth, she dimmed the lights. They would all sleep better tonight after she helped them progressively relax each part of their bodies. In a few minutes Benny would likely start snoring.
“Close your eyes,” she said, making her voice gentle, “and allow your attention to focus on your breath.” Taki smiled, loving this part of the class where she helped her students achieve at least ten minutes of stress-free existence. Something everyone badly needed in this fast-paced world.
“Imagine yourself in a field full of yellow daisies. Beautiful fragrant flowers stretch as far as the eye can—”
The door slammed open, hitting the wall like a gunshot. “Taki!” an excited female voice shouted.
“Shhhh.” Taki glared at Debbie, one of SoBe Spa’s energetic aerobics instructors. Deb knew better than to interrupt the end of her yoga class.
“I’m so sorry, but there’s an emergency,” Debbie said. “I need to speak with you right away.” She brightened the overhead light, making Taki wince in surprise.
A sense of dread replaced her peaceful mood as she approached the door. “What’s going on?” she whispered. The class began murmuring.
“The police want to speak to you,” Debbie whispered back. “Get your purse. Someone broke into your Jeep. You’ll need your registration.”
Immediately thinking about the package behind the driver’s seat, Taki told the class to remain in relaxation as long as they chose and redimmed the lights. She grabbed her cloth bag and draped it over her neck and shoulder, then followed Debbie.
“What happened?” she asked.
“Nobody knows,” Debbie replied as she pushed open the glass doors to the spa.
Taki shivered as she stepped into the crisp February air and wished she’d grabbed her sweatshirt before rushing out into the dark night. Still worried about the package, she hurried toward the bright lights illuminating a paved lot jammed with cars.
“I thought our parking area had security,” Taki said.
Debbie nodded, her ponytail swinging with the motion. “So did Reese Beauchamps. Whoever robbed you also broke into his brand-new Jag.”
“Oh, no,” Taki murmured. She’d never spoken to Reese, but knew him by sight as he was popular with most of the female staff.
“He’s not happy,” Debbie said, “and is even sexier when he’s mad.”
Taki continued toward where Reese stood tall and confident with his arms folded across his chest, speaking to a uniformed police officer. His dark hair was damp, either from his workout or a shower, and the way he’d combed it back accentuated the strong, high cheekbones of his handsome face.
She couldn’t understand his words but sensed irritation in the jab of his index finger. Oh, right. Wasn’t he some sort of big-shot lawyer? He definitely needed one of her relaxation sessions.
Then she spotted her Jeep, and her breath caught with a painful lurch. Her heart hammered inside her chest.
The canvas top had been cut twice with long, jagged slashes.
She took a deep breath and released it slowly to calm herself. The package had to be there. The bowl had no value to anyone except her.
“My briefcase contained my cell phone and other valuable papers,” Reese told the cop as she approached. “It is imperative that I get them back.”
“We’ll certainly do our best, Mr. Beauchamps.” It seemed to Taki that boredom dripped from the policeman’s voice. But maybe he was just overworked.
When Reese Beauchamps’s angry dark eyes met her stare, a whisper of familiarity brushed over her, an unexpected feeling that she’d met him before. But she hadn’t. No one would forget meeting this man.
“I’m Taki,” she said, forcing her attention to the policeman. “I own the Jeep.” The officer’s eyes widened when he faced her.
As the two men openly checked her out, she again wished she’d thrown some sort of cover over her form-fitting yoga pants and halter top.
She reached into her cloth bag for her wallet. “Here’s my registration, Officer.”
“Taki?” The officer frowned as he studied her papers. “That’s your legal name?” He glanced up. “Just...Taki?”
“Just Taki. And here’s my driver’s license and proof of that PIP insurance we all have to buy.”
She turned to Reese Beauchamps to offer her sympathy, and the buzz of recognition again surged through her.
Disoriented by the strange sensation, she glanced at his car. A temporary tag lay beneath shards of tinted glass from the shattered rear window. The trunk yawned open, its lock obviously forced. Poor guy.
“They stole your briefcase?” she asked.
He nodded. “From the trunk, yeah, with my cell phone inside. You have no idea how—” He ran a hand through his wet hair. “My whole life is in that damn phone.”
“Really?” she murmured. Your whole life? Refusing to be tethered to some addictive electronic device, she didn’t own a cell phone, but understood the rest of the world considered that beyond odd.
“Check to see if there’s anything missing from your vehicle,” the officer told Taki as he scribbled across a form. “I need to document it in my report.”
Somehow certain that the next few moments would impact the rest of her life, she straightened her shoulders and approached the rear of the Jeep with a quick prayer that she’d find a one-foot-square cardboard box with a Tibetan postmark wedged behind the front seat. She peered inside her vehicle.
The box wasn’t there.
After a thorough search, she accepted her bowl was gone. Stolen. Her stomach plunged toward her ankles. A year of hard work—and all for nothing. She closed her eyes and leaned against the Jeep’s hood. How could she have been so foolish?
But who would want an old metal bowl?
“Are you okay? Do you need to sit down?”
Reese Beauchamps’s voice brought Taki back to the present moment. Opening her eyes, she blinked back tears, refusing to cry. She had to accept another painful truth. Obviously she had more work to do.
“I’m okay,” she said, although she felt anything but.
“Are you sure? You’re not going to faint, are you?”
“Hardly.” She attempted a reassuring smile. “It’s just that my singing bowl is missing.”
“Your singing...bowl?” he asked. “You mean like a fruit bowl?”
She nodded, thinking only an attorney would compare a spiritual object to a bowl of apples.
“Was it an antique?”
“Yes,” she said. Better to leave it at that.
“I guess we both learned a painful lesson tonight about valuables in cars.” He held out his hand. “I’m Reese Beauchamps.”
“I know who you are,” Taki said as she grasped his warm hand. When they made contact, an electric sensation shot down her arm, and she felt a tug at her belly. That eerie sense of recognition washed over her again.
Had she known Reese Beauchamps in a previous lifetime? Could be. Or maybe she was just intensely attracted to him. The man was unbelievably good-looking.
“I’m the spa’s yoga instructor,” she said, still holding on to him, enjoying the sensation. “I know who most of the members are.”
“But I’ve never been to your class.”
“You should come,” she said, reluctantly releasing his hand. His strong grip was somehow reassuring. “Yoga would help you relax.”
Confused by her powerful reaction to him, she stared at a pulse beating steadily at the base of his neck, then raised her gaze to be captured by a pair of intense brown eyes. No wonder Debbie gushed over Reese.
“Hey, too bad, Taki.”
She glanced toward the voice. Hector, one of the spa’s personal trainers, approached with a purple gym bag slung over his heavily muscled shoulder. The police officer continued working on his forms.
“Reese,” Hector said with a nod at the Jag. “Wow. The new wheels. Bad luck, huh, man?”
“No,” Reese said. “Stupidity is more like it.”
“You lose anything?” Hector asked Taki.
“The bowl,” she said simply.
“Bummer.” Hector patted a Free Tibet sticker on the Jeep’s rusted bumper and shook his head. “Maybe you’re right, girl. Maybe you do have a spiritual blot on your soul. Gotta go, but let me know if I can do anything.”
With a wave, Hector continued to his red Camaro.
Taki cursed herself for telling big-mouth Debbie her theory of why her life was such a wreck. When would she get it that most people didn’t understand her unusual slant on the cosmos?
“Listen...Taki, is it?” Reese Beauchamps’s husky voice grabbed her attention again. He now stared at her as if she’d materialized before him from another dimension. “I’m confident I know who took my briefcase and why,” he said. “I had important notes inside regarding a missing witness.”
She raised her chin. “You lost a witness?”
“Not exactly.” His dark eyes still searching hers, he shook his head. “Anyway, if we find the stolen property, I’ll make sure you get your bowl back.”
“Okay, Miss Taki,” the officer called out, his voice emphasizing her name. “What’s missing? They get your radio?”
Taki and Reese approached the policeman. “The only thing that’s gone is a box with an ancient Tibetan bowl,” she said.
“An old bowl?” The cop frowned. “Give me a description.”
“It’s copper and brass, eight inches in diameter. There was also a wooden wand that came with it.”
The cop nodded as if now he understood. “A magic wand. Okay. So what’s the approximate value?”
“Priceless. I had it blessed by a holy man, so there’s not another one like it in the world.”
The officer raised his gaze and stared at her as if she were an alien invader. “Uh-huh. What’d you pay for it?”
“Nothing. It was a gift. From a Tibetan monk.”
“Come on, Miss Taki,” the cop insisted. “Give me a figure. What’s it worth?”
“My mortal soul,” she murmured. “I made a promise to give the bowl, as a symbol of gratitude more than anything, to the Paradise Way Ashram. If I don’t...” Taki looked down, but not before she saw the policeman roll his eyes heavenward. Reese Beauchamps said nothing, but she sensed his curiosity.
“What’s an...ashram?” the officer asked.
“Like a secluded religious retreat, right?” Reese answered.
She nodded. “Something like that.”
“Well, a hundred bucks ought to cover it,” the officer said. “I’m done here.” He handed Taki her registration and driver’s license. “You can get a copy of the police report for your insurance company in a couple of days.”
“Thank you, Officer,” Reese said. “I’m sure you’ll get to work on this right away.”
“Too bad I don’t have insurance,” Taki said when the officer returned to his black-and-white police cruiser.
“You don’t have insurance?”
“Just the required liability thing. Theft is too expensive.” As the enormity of her loss sank in, she blinked back tears. The bowl was supposed to right so many wrongs.
“If the perpetrator is who I think it is,” Reese said, “I’ll see what I can do about getting you some restitution.”
Thoroughly chilled now, she hugged her elbows, looking for warmth. “Thanks, but I just want my bowl back.”
“And believe me, I want my briefcase.” Rattling his keys as if anxious to leave, Reese gave his broken window a disgusted glance. “Well...I’ll be in touch.”
“Let me know as soon as you hear anything. That bowl is very important to me.”
“I can tell. But then, not many bowls are able to sing.” He raised his brows. “Does it perform opera or more like rap?”
She narrowed her eyes at the amusement in his voice, wishing people wouldn’t make fun of what they didn’t understand. But seriously, what did she expect? A man like Reese would never appreciate the peaceful tones created by her bowl, how soothing the sound was to her troubled soul.
“Mostly yodeling,” she said, trying to make her voice as earnest as possible.
He shook his head, obviously unsure whether she was serious. Good.
“Don’t get your hopes up too high, though,” he said as he opened the Jag’s door. “I can’t make any promises.”
After watching Reese drive away, Taki trudged back to the warmth of the spa. No matter how hard she tried to set things right with the universe, her karma always came back to haunt her. She tried to do the right thing, but maybe she was doomed to unhappiness forever.
She’d planned to deliver the bowl to the ashram immediately after her last class. Why, why had she been so foolish to leave it in the Jeep? She should have taken it into the spa and stashed it safely inside her locker. Yeah, she had been worried someone would ask her about it, want to see it, and of course she didn’t want to talk about the challenge Guru Navi had given her and how long she’d waited for the package to arrive from Tibet after the blessing. But maybe no one would have noticed.
She was just plain stupid. She deserved everything bad that ever happened to her.
Inside the ladies’ locker room, after a long steam bath which she hoped would melt away lingering negativity, Taki tried to think about what to do next. Unfortunately, no amount of steam could halt her depressing thoughts.
No point in visiting the ashram tonight. She could start over with another task, but where would she find the money to go back to Tibet? It had been a miracle she got there last time. With her lack of skills, she wasn’t likely to find another steamer captain willing to let her work her way across the Pacific Ocean. Although she had learned how to cook vast amounts of food for the always-hungry crew.
Debbie approached while Taki towel-dried her hair, wishing her brisk movements could push a new idea into her brain. She’d been seasick for three months on the last voyage and really didn’t want to go through that again.
“So what’s Reese going to do?” Debbie asked.
“He thinks he knows who stole his briefcase,” Taki said. She wrapped the towel around her head to secure her hair. “Maybe the same person took my property.”
“Did he call in the FBI?”
“The FBI? Why would he do that?” Taki rummaged in her locker to find a comb.
“Because that’s what federal prosecutors do when their stuff gets stolen.”
Taki looked back. “He’s a federal prosecutor?”
“Don’t you know anything?” Debbie shook her head. “He’s handling the Romero case. His picture is in the Miami Herald all the time. He’s—”
An accented voice interrupted Debbie. “Taki, what happened with Reese Beauchamps?” Lourdes Garcia, the manager of SoBe Spa, paused by Taki’s locker with a worried frown. “Does he blame the spa for the theft? Do we need to notify our attorneys?”
Taki shrugged. “He didn’t seem mad at the spa particularly, just the world in general.”
“That sounds like him,” Lourdes said with a nod. “The man is so intense he gives me a headache.”
“Intense, yes. And, man, those deep brown eyes...” Debbie exhaled slowly. “I swear he doesn’t miss a thing.”
As she combed her damp hair, Taki remembered his penetrating gaze. Yeah, Reese Beauchamps did notice everything around him. And the eyes were the windows to the soul. Reese sure had gorgeous eyes.
“When he works out with free weights,” Debbie continued, “I can barely concentrate on what I’m doing. He performs each rep as if his life depended on it.”
Lourdes laughed. “He’s a perfectionist, all right. Type A for sure. Rumor is he’s running for office. With his conviction record, I’ll bet he ends up attorney general or a U.S. senator.”
“Maybe even president someday,” Debbie added dreamily.
Taki shut her locker door with a clang. “I just hope he finds my bowl.”
* * *
THE NEXT MORNING, Reese arrived at his office in the federal building in downtown Miami at 6:00 a.m., his usual time. Leaving his condo at five-thirty meant no traffic on the roads and an easy commute. Even better was the fact that there were few colleagues around to interrupt him with phone calls or casual chats. He got a lot accomplished before other employees began arriving.
At 10:00 a.m. his secretary buzzed him.
“Agent Rivas is on line one.”
“Thank you, Joanne.” Reese had alerted Javier Rivas, the lead investigator on the Romero case, within hours of the theft. Hoping Javi had developed leads overnight, Reese grabbed the receiver and leaned back in his black leather swivel chair.
“Give me some good news, Javi.”
“Sorry, Reese. I’ve got nothing for you.”
“There’s really no sign of Izzo?”
“Not a whisper.”
“You checked all his haunts on South Beach?”
“Romero’s favorite thug is either dead or in hiding.”
Reese turned and looked over the sparkling aqua water of Biscayne Bay eight stories below. Winning the headline-grabbing Feldman case last year had earned him this office with a view, but he’d vacate the prized space tomorrow to keep Carlos Romero—a domestic terrorist with a violent, if murky, cause—behind bars.
“Izzo must know we’re looking for him.”
“Probably,” Javi said. “The bureau will stay on it, but without something else to go on, it’s pretty much a waiting game. He’ll poke his head up eventually.”
“Probably when he commits another crime.”
“Was anything besides your briefcase stolen, something that might end up with a fence?”
“Maybe,” Reese said after a pause. “A woman who works at the spa had some sort of Tibetan artifact taken from her vehicle. She insists it’s old and rare.”
The image of Taki, her long blond hair blowing in the evening breeze, blue eyes tragic with unshed tears, hadn’t been far from Reese’s thoughts since last night. Neither had strong, slender legs encased in black leggings flowing into a slim waist and perfectly formed breasts straining against her pink halter top.
He remembered with vivid detail the goose bumps that dotted her graceful arms as she’d tried to warm herself in the chilly evening air.
All of this going on in his head scant minutes after discovering that someone had stolen his cell phone, the device that coordinated the details of his way-too-complicated and overscheduled life.
And the photocopy of Claudia Romero’s journal in his briefcase, with detailed trial notes on every page.
Javi’s hard voice brought Reese back. “Izzo is no antiques dealer. I doubt he would know anything about Tibetan antiquities.”
“You’re probably right. He could have broken into the spa employee’s Jeep to throw us off track. The loss of the bowl upset the woman badly, though.”
“Or it could have been pure convenience. This wouldn’t be the first time Izzo pinched something he could dispose of easily.”
“We need to find him and ask him,” Reese said.
“Man, talk about bad luck. First your witness disappears and now your briefcase. Do you think Romero was fishing? Searching your vehicle in hopes of finding a lead to his ex-wife’s location?”
“Maybe. They want to find her as badly as I do.”
“Probably more,” Javi said. “I’ll send agents to major fences and Miami pawnshops and see if they come up with the missing bowl. I need a description. A photo would be better.”
“I’ll call the spa.”
Several hours later, Reese nodded at his secretary, confident his instructions would be carried out as ordered. Joanne was the best assistant he’d ever had.
“And those grand jury subpoenas need to be served today,” he ended.
Joanne nodded as she rose. “Yes, sir. Oh, I’m sorry, but I can’t find a number for this Taki person. There’s nothing listed, and the number she put down on the police report is for SoBe Spa.”
“Did you try the spa?”
“Yes, but she only teaches on Monday and Thursday nights, and the manager—” Joanne consulted her spiral-bound notebook “—Lourdes Garcia, wouldn’t give me Taki’s home number.”
“Did you tell her the U.S. Attorney’s Office needed to contact their employee?”
“Of course, but that didn’t make a difference. They have a strict policy not to give out the instructors’ numbers to anyone.”
“Get Ms. Garcia on the phone.”
Irritation gnawed at Reese when Joanne alerted him she’d reached Ms. Garcia. He wasn’t used to a roadblock over something as simple as a phone number.
“But, Reese, you surely understand our policy not to give out the instructors’ addresses or phone numbers,” Lourdes told him when he’d explained the reason for his request. “I might normally make an exception considering the circumstances, but Taki insists on her privacy. She’s one of the most popular members of our staff.”
“If I give you my office and cell number, will you call her and leave a message?”
“Certainly. She rarely checks voice mail, though—something about negative energy—so it might take a while to reach her. If I don’t hear from her, I’ll make sure she gets your message on Thursday.”
“It’s important, Ms. Garcia.”
He heard her release a long breath. “Everything is important to you, Reese.”
* * *
INSIDE THE ELEVATOR at his condo, Reese dropped his new briefcase and pushed the button for the twentieth floor. As the car lurched upward, he glared down at the stiff black leather, thinking the miserable bag was much heavier than the one stolen. And he’d liked his old case, a gift from his mother. It’d been well-made, and he’d used it since law school.
Reese was glad to be home. His condo was decorated by a woman he’d once dated. He often wondered if the antiseptic white-on-white living room reflected what she thought of his personality. He’d found her a bit boring, too, though, and their romance had been brief. He didn’t have time to date.
After depositing the attaché by a cream-colored sofa, Reese opened his vertical blinds, the sound a quiet whoosh. Five miles in the distance, the lights of South Beach glittered across Biscayne Bay. He searched for the blue zigzag neon strip that identified SoBe Spa. Was Taki conducting one of her classes? No, not until Thursday, according to the manager.
He turned away from the stunning view. He had two hundred pages of trial transcript to review and could never get any serious reading done at the office with all the interruptions. He’d pop the take-out pasta from Risotto’s into the microwave, sip one glass of Napa Valley Cabernet, then work until his eyes gave out.
Three delicious bites into garlic-laced linguini, his cell phone rang.
“Reese Beauchamps,” he said, his attention still focused on page twenty of the Romero versus Romero divorce transcript.
“Hi, Reese Beauchamps,” a soft feminine voice replied. “This is Taki. I got an urgent message to call you.”
Reese placed his fork across his plate and sat back. He glanced at the caller ID display. Private.
“Have you found my bowl?” she asked, her voice anxious.
“Sorry, not yet. I need more of a description.”
She released a sigh. “Would you like a photograph?”
“If you have one, that’d be great.”
“Oh, I’ve got lots of photos of my bowl, but I’d much rather have the real thing.”
“Because your mortal soul is in danger without it, right?”
He waited through a long pause before she answered. Why wasn’t her phone number available? Well, Lourdes Garcia said she valued her privacy. Nothing wrong with that unless you had something to hide.
“My soul was in danger before I got the bowl. The bowl was supposed to correct that problem.”
“A bowl can rescue your soul?” Reese suppressed a laugh. “How is it going to do that?”
“By repaying a karmic debt.”
Amused by Taki’s serious tone as she babbled her New Age nonsense, Reese tried to recall what the personal trainer had said to her in the spa’s parking lot. Something about a blot on her soul?
The woman might be easy to look at, but she was as nutty as psychics who predicted the future over the phone. Karmic debt?How would she know when the debt is repaid?
“Never mind. Where is your office?” she asked, now businesslike.
“In the federal building, the U.S. Attorney’s Office.”
“You’re not the United States attorney, are you?”
“Only one of many assistants,” Reese answered, thinking she didn’t sound at all impressed.
“I’ll drop off a picture tomorrow.”
“Thanks. That’ll help.”
“What will you do with it?” she asked.
“The FBI will show the photo to fences and pawnshops and hope for a hit.”
“Oh. Pawnshops.” After a moment she said, “Listen, thanks for trying to find my bowl. Lourdes says you’re a busy man.”
“You’re welcome,” Reese said, deciding it best not to tell her he hoped the bowl led him to Izzo, Romero’s top hit man. One way or another, he’d make sure this goofball got her bowl back.
He listened to the dial tone after she hung up, strangely dissatisfied at the prospect of spending the next three hours reading the messy details of the divorce between Claudia and Carlos Romero.
* * *
AFTER DISCONNECTING WITH REESE, Taki lay on her bed and gazed at the multitude of angels suspended from the white ceiling overhead. Surrounded by soft light from flickering candles, the colorful winged ceramic and papier-mâché creations looked as if they were flying as they swayed on thin filament wires.
As friends added to her collection, Taki hung her glorious angels one at a time, hoping the hovering guardians would protect her from the negative thoughts in the world.
She really needed the angels’ protection tonight. Why did she feel this odd, wild connection to Reese Beauchamps? Goose bumps popped up along her arms as she pictured his handsome face, his soulful dark eyes when she’d met him last night.
And why did the sound of his deep voice excite her in an unsettling physical way? It made no sense to be attracted to an intense, detail-focused lawyer. One who made fun of her bowl and the whole concept of karma.
Disturbed by her thoughts, Taki brought her fingers to her temples and applied gentle pressure. Hadn’t Guru Navi warned her about judging others? Reese was just upset, as she was, about the loss of important property. Guilt, her constant companion since childhood, weighed upon her, almost pressing her into the mattress.
There had to be some reason he stirred such strong emotions. Maybe her suspicion that she’d known him in another lifetime was the answer. She closed her eyes, deciding he’d likely made her life miserable for centuries. No doubt the man had a lot to answer for.
A light, cool wind rustled through the open window, tinkling her mobiles and sending the angels into flight. Her home had no heat, but she didn’t need any. Where she grew up, this temperature was considered balmy. To her, South Florida’s weather seemed heavenly tonight.
She inhaled deeply, taking in clean air, then stretched her arms high overhead, enjoying the breeze as it brushed across her overheated skin, her thoughts circling back to Reese. Since last night, she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him. It was possible his obvious position and power reminded her of what she’d gladly left behind, what she continued to run from.
She turned on her stomach and lifted her shoulders, stretching along the front of her body. She needed to clear her mind. She refused to think about greed and selfishness, the things her father’s endless parade of lawyers knew best.
The bowl’s disappearance was already beginning to affect her. She needed to find it as soon as possible. She’d do a short practice and meditate until tranquil.
Tomorrow she’d look for her bowl by visiting pawnshops herself.
CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_a7f17e1b-3e33-5b72-a3fc-315d71a85452)
Office of the United States Attorney for the Southern District of Florida.
TAKI GLARED AT the gold leaf letters adorning the heavy wooden door to Reese Beauchamps’s office. Of course she wasn’t actually experiencing déjà vu. She had already been here once today, at 9:00 a.m., when she’d left two photographs of her missing Tibetan bowl with a receptionist before setting off to the pawnshops.
She pushed open the door. What an adventure that had turned out to be.
At the sixth musty, crowded, depressing store she visited, she found a man who thought maybe someone had possibly come in with something that looked like her bowl yesterday. A bit vague, sure, but she’d been thrilled and pressed him for more info. But he put her off, telling her to come back later and talk to his boss.
“I’d like to see Reese Beauchamps,” Taki told the same pale, pregnant receptionist from this morning, having decided it best to relay the information directly to Reese. While she normally avoided lawyers like flu germs, she hoped his authority might encourage the pawnshop owner to talk.
“Do you have an appointment?” the woman asked. She placed her hand on her swollen belly and winced as if in discomfort.
“No. But I have valuable information I’m sure Reese will want. Please let him know I’m here.”
The receptionist lifted arched eyebrows at the use of his first name. “Your name again, please?”
“Taki.”
“Taki...?”
“Just Taki. How far along are you?” she asked.
The woman rubbed her abdomen and sighed. “Six months, but I have nausea like I’m six weeks. If it doesn’t stop, I’m going to have to go home.”
“Have you tried ginger?”
“Ginger?”
“Ginger makes a soothing herbal tea. Small amounts are safe for the baby and, trust me, it works. Cinnamon also helps. You might add some if you like the taste.”
The receptionist smiled dubiously. “Thanks. I’ll let Mr. Beauchamps’s secretary know you’re here.”
After the woman slid her frosted window shut, Taki seated herself in the waiting room and glanced at the wall clock. Almost one-thirty. Looking around, she noted sleek and modern furnishings that didn’t look all that comfortable. Plenty of magazines littered tables to help pass the time, but she’d rather meditate, if it came to that. Hopefully, she wouldn’t have long to wait.
Guru Navi always said waiting was an opportunity to spend quality time with yourself. But would Reese make her wait awhile? Was he that busy?
The only other person in the room was a balding elderly man. She smiled at him, but he didn’t make eye contact. Instead, he closed his eyes and shifted uncomfortably in his chair.
Becoming more and more concerned for him, Taki suffered along with the poor man while he twitched and uttered quiet moans. Every few minutes he rose and limped around the small room, sat again, then struggled back to his feet, pressing both hands against his lower back.
She nibbled at her bottom lip. All the signs of a bad lumbar area. She’d helped more than one chronic back patient with either yoga or herbs. Why not assist another while she waited for Mr. Big-shot Lawyer?
“Are you all right?” she asked. She’d learned most people loved to talk about their pain.
“It’s my lower back,” he said and sucked in a quick bit of air as if it were torture to even breathe. “Hurt it on the job.”
“Where exactly does it hurt?” Taki asked, making her voice soothing and sympathetic.
“Right at my belt line. Never goes away.”
“I’m so sorry. What does your doctor say?”
The man took a few hesitant steps. “That there’s nothing he can do. I’m old and just got to live with it.”
“Orthopedist?” she asked.
“And a damn neurologist. Every test in the book.”
She nodded. So he’d already consulted the Western medical specialties.
“Damn quacks,” he muttered.
“You poor thing.” Taki rose and approached the man. Before beginning, she asked what she always asked, even in her yoga classes. “Do you mind if I touch you?”
“What for?” he asked, eyes wide, but now looking at her with interest.
“Maybe I can help.”
* * *
WHEN THE INTERCOM BUZZED, Reese muted the sound on the DVR and rubbed his tired eyes, irritated by the interruption. Agent Rivas was probably correct that no clue to Claudia Romero’s location existed in this two-year-old videotape deposition, but he had to try. Perhaps she’d casually mentioned a second home or a place she liked to escape to on holiday.
Where the hell was she? Why hadn’t she contacted him? And why had Claudia refused to accept protective custody until her ex’s trial? Jury selection would begin in less than three weeks. The woman couldn’t possibly think she was safer on her own.
“What is it?” he said into the speaker. Reese reached for a roast beef sandwich delivered twenty minutes ago and loosened the plastic wrap. The sharp fragrance of the horseradish made him realize how hungry he was.
“Taki is here to see you,” Joanne said. “Shall I show her in?”
Reese dropped the sandwich and paused the DVR, already moving toward the long hallway to the reception area. “I’ll get her,” he told a startled Joanne as he strode past her desk.
Javi Rivas, out in the trenches working seedy pawnshops, reported an hour ago that a knock-out blonde named “Wacky” or “Tacky” had flashed photos of the bowl in some of the worst sections of Miami. He needed to put a stop to that immediately.
What had possessed the woman to search on her own?
She’d already annoyed him by dropping off the photos this morning and disappearing—here and gone before he could inform the receptionist to ask her to wait, that he needed to speak to her.
Taki was obviously in a hurry to make herself the next crime statistic in Miami-Dade County.
Reese opened the door to the waiting area and came to a shocked halt. Taki stood in the center of the room, her graceful hands probing the naked back of Robert Shinhoster.
“Ah. This is the place,” she said, stroking her index finger across the bony ridge of the old man’s spine.
Reese wasn’t sure which surprised him more, the surreal sight of the two of them or his irritated reaction. Taki’s hands were all over Robert Shinhoster, an injured federal worker who had been driving the entire office crazy about his case for months, but why should he care?
She was so focused on Shinhoster, she hadn’t heard the door open.
“Okay,” she told Shinhoster, dropping her arm. “I want you to mash up a chili pepper, mix it with a white skin cream, and rub it on this spot. But wear plastic gloves when you work with the preparation because it might irritate your hands. And don’t use the cream right after a hot bath or shower.”
“What will that do?” Shinhoster asked.
“The capsaicin in the pepper confuses the nerves and you focus on a temporary mild burning more than the ache in your back. I also recommend willow tea for its anti-inflammatory properties, massage—lots of gentle massage—and hot packs alternating with cold. When the inflammation goes down, start yoga classes. This time next year, you might be pain free.”
“Excuse me,” Reese said.
Taki looked over and smiled. “Hi, Reese.”
He hooked his hand under Taki’s arm to draw her away from a dazed-looking Shinhoster and out of the room.
“Hey, thanks,” Shinhoster yelled as the door closed.
“Just what do you think you’re doing?” Reese demanded when they faced each other in the long hallway.
Taki’s sapphire eyes clouded at his words. “I was helping that man. He’s in a great deal of pain.”
“And he’s trying to squeeze money out of the U.S. government for his supposed pain.”
“Only because he thinks he’s been cast aside. Poor dear feels disliked because he worked for the Internal Revenue Service. He says no lawyer will believe an auditor could get a bad back.”
Reese stared into her earnest face and realized the woman was absolutely serious. “And where did you get your medical degree?”
“I’m not a doctor,” she said, straightening her slender shoulders. “I’m an herbalist.”
“Then why are you behaving like a private detective?”
She blinked twice. “What?”
One thing at a time, Reese told himself. He glanced at the openmouthed receptionist who followed the conversation with keen interest.
“Let’s go to my office,” he said, motioning Taki ahead of him.
The effortless, regal way she moved reminded him of silk flowing over smooth skin. Taki appeared to glide more than walk. She looked curiously around her, her gaze peering into every open room along the corridor.
“Hold my calls,” he told Joanne as they passed her desk and entered his office. He closed the door and turned to Taki, whose gaze had zeroed in on his view of the sparkling water of Biscayne Bay.
“Please tell me you’re not trying to practice medicine,” he told her.
“I certainly know better than that,” she said. “I didn’t charge Mr. Shinhoster a thing. My advice is always free.”
Reese shook his head, imagining the headline on the front page of the Miami Herald: Unlicensed Yoga Teacher Caught Prescribing Drugs in U.S. Attorney’s Office.
“He can take my advice or ignore it. It’s his choice.” She shrugged. “But just think. If I cure his pain, then he’ll leave you alone. If he listens to me, he could probably return to work soon, but I think he’ll probably opt for retirement.”
Reese stared at her. “You discussed his future employment plans?”
“He needed someone to talk to. But enough about that. I have news.” She waved her hand, apparently intending to leap to a new subject. “I have a lead on the bowl,” she announced, excitement shining in her sky-blue eyes.
“A lead?” Reese placed his hands on his hips and leaned forward. “No doubt from one of your pawnshop visits?”
She nodded and flashed a dazzling smile. “I did what you suggested and took a photo to pawnshops. The clerk at Jacques’s Hock—” Taki reached in her jeans pocket and handed him a crumpled business card “—says to come back and talk to his boss this afternoon. I thought you would want to know. I was thinking it would be better if you went and did your...lawyer thing.”
Reese glanced at the card. “I never suggested that you go to pawnshops yourself.”
Unfazed, she continued to smile at him expectantly, obviously pleased with herself and totally relaxed in faded blue jeans and a bulky pale blue cotton sweater. He’d never been less relaxed. He took a deep breath and released it in an explosive whoosh.
“Listen, Taki, your misguided efforts are undermining the work of my field agents.”
Her smile faded. “They are? How?”
“The FBI is tracking an extremely dangerous man. Believe me, you don’t want this guy to discover you’re looking for him. He might come after you to find out why.”
“Oh.” She bit her lower lip and clasped her hands behind her.
“Let the authorities handle this. You could get yourself hurt.”
She shifted her gaze to the floor, looking so disappointed he resisted a foolish urge to make her feel better. Taki desperately wanted that damn bowl back and had worked hard to get what she considered a huge break in the case. He had to give her that.
Still—best not to encourage her. A woman who looked as good as this one shouldn’t hang out in the wrong sections of Miami.
Her gaze drifted around his office and stopped on his roast beef and Swiss on rye. “I interrupted your lunch.”
“Have you eaten?” he asked.
“No,” she said. “I guess I was too busy screwing up your investigation.”
“Would you like half of my roast beef sandwich? I have sodas in the refrigerator.”
She raised a horrified gaze to his. “Thank you, but I’m a vegetarian.”
“Oh,” he said, feeling foolish but not sure why.
Her very kissable lips curled into another smile, and he couldn’t help but smile back. What was it about this woman?
“Let me take you out for a healthier lunch,” she suggested.
He didn’t have time to leave the office for lunch, hadn’t gone out for lunch in weeks...hell, maybe a month. The Romero prosecution might be high-profile, but it was far from his only case. He had way too much work to do this afternoon. Her invitation was out of the question.
Unless he could learn more about her bowl and why it had been taken.
“It’s a beautiful day,” she said in a tempting voice. “The temperature is around sixty-eight degrees, the sky is bright blue and a fresh breeze is blowing. Weather like today’s is the reason thousands of people visit Miami every winter.”
He hesitated, fascinated by the tip of her tongue moistening her lips. She didn’t wear any sort of makeup, and no wonder. Why spoil perfection?
“The fresh air will clear your mind,” she said. “I’ll bet you’ll even be more productive afterward.”
“What the hell,” Reese said, wondering where his usual sense of urgency had vanished to. The Romero case would just have to wait. A man was entitled to eat.
He grabbed his coat and touched her back lightly. “Let’s not invite your new patient to join us.”
He’d intended to take his rented vehicle—the Jag was still at the dealer for repairs—but she insisted driving would only stress him out more and he needed to relax. So with a few misgivings, he climbed into the passenger seat and buckled his seat belt.
She bunched her hair into a navy blue beret. “Otherwise it gets hopelessly tangled,” she told him, then accelerated into traffic.
He loosened his tie, relishing the warmth of the sun on his face. The cool wind made conversation impossible while she careened way too fast along I-95. He glanced at the speedometer and tightened his seat belt.
And speeding on the interstate in Miami won’t stress me out?
He had no idea where she was taking him, but hoped they got there in one piece.
* * *
TAKI DECIDED REESE seemed even more familiar today. Much more familiar.
They were seated across from each other at a booth in The Spiritual Kitchen, her favorite restaurant. The sweet fragrance of curry hung in the air, and the faint, peaceful sound of chanting filtered through the sound system.
Reese concentrated on the menu, squinting and holding the paper at arm’s length.
She couldn’t wait any longer. She had to know if the feeling was mutual. That’s why she’d asked him to lunch even though she usually avoided lawyers—as she did all negative influences.
Leaning forward, she asked, “Do I seem familiar to you at all?”
Reese looked up and frowned. She wasn’t sure if he reacted to her question or the menu.
“Familiar?” he said. “How so?”
“As if maybe you had known me before.”
Reese sat back and rubbed his eyes. “You mean before our vehicles were broken into?”
She nodded.
“As in déjà vu?” he asked.
“Well, something like that.”
“No,” Reese said with the beginning of a smile. “Believe me, I would definitely remember you.”
Before Taki could reply, a turbaned waiter arrived to place a ceramic teapot and two matching cups on their table.
“You honor us with your visit, Taki,” the thin Indian man said with a slight bow.
“Thank you, Teshvar,” Taki replied, steepling her hands into prayer position and nodding in return. “Do you have any veggie stew left?”
“Always for you.”
“Then we’d like two orders, please, and lots of your special whole grain sesame bread.”
With another bow, the waiter disappeared. Taki returned her attention to Reese, who now studied her with an amused expression.
“Do you always order for your guests?” he asked.
“But you don’t know what’s good. Don’t worry. I promise you’ll love their special, and it won’t poison you like the lunch you were going to eat.”
As Reese regarded her across the table, she sensed he didn’t like losing even the tiniest little bit of control. She decided he was one of those men who needed to dominate everything and everyone around him. The fine tailoring of his charcoal double-breasted suit and cranberry silk tie screamed position and power. Pay attention to me. I’m important.
Just like her father.
“How about some peppermint tea?” she asked, disappointed in herself again. Why was she always so quick to judge this man? She didn’t really know him, at least in this lifetime, and she wasn’t being fair.
She poured them each a cup of tea, then dribbled honey from the jar on the table into her own brew. Her aim was a bit off, so she caught a slow-moving drip on the side of her cup, then licked the thick nectar from her finger. When she glanced up, she found Reese’s attention focused on her mouth as if he could taste the sweetness on her lips.
She lowered her gaze and stirred the tea. Steam drifted toward the ceiling between them. Taking a deep breath, she inhaled mint and orange blossoms. Maybe she was quick to judge him because he unsettled her so thoroughly. And because she found him so very attractive, which was of course ridiculous, considering—
“Do I seem familiar to you?” Reese asked, his voice calm and steady in the confusion of her senses.
She took a sip of the tea before answering. “I don’t know. I feel some sort of strange connection, but I can’t explain why.”
“Maybe it’s because we both were victims of the same crime two days ago.”
“So we’re like a victim support group?”
He smiled. “Exactly.”
“No. The way I felt was...well, strongest when I touched you the night of the theft.”
“When you touched me?”
She nodded. “When we shook hands. I’d like to try an experiment. Do you mind if I touch you again?”
He gave her a lazy grin. “Well, that depends on where you want to touch me.”
Heat flooded her cheeks as she said, “I want to touch your third eye.”
He blinked. “My what?”
“The third eye is the center of insight and intuition. It looks beyond the physical world.”
“And just where is this special body part?” he asked.
Taki bit her lower lip and gazed at the furrowed spot between and just above his dark eyebrows. “Right here,” she said, touching the spot lightly with her index finger.
A jolt of his energy rocketed through her, shooting all the way down to her toes. His eyes widened, and she knew the voltage affected him, too. She lowered her hand.
“Did you feel that?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper.
“Yeah, I felt it.” He leaned forward with his forearms on the table, holding her gaze. “Does that mean we’re attracted to each other?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I think it proves my theory that you’ve been harassing me through several lifetimes,” she said, sitting back.
“Harassing you?” Reese narrowed his eyes. “What are you talking about?”
“Well, anyway, we’ve known each other in a previous lifetime, probably several, and we have some issues to work out.”
Reese went still, but continued to stare at her.
“And now I need to help you find your stolen briefcase while I find my bowl,” she continued. “That way the negative energy will finally be severed between us and we’ll both have what we need, improve our karma.”
“Sever...negative...energy.” He leaned back in his chair, shaking his head. “And that’s a good thing?”
Taki nodded, surprised to be telling him the theory she had formulated last night after calling her guru at the ashram to tell him about the theft and meeting Reese. Navi agreed that the instant connection she had felt to Reese could be because they had known each other in previous lives. Of course that’s the only thing that made sense. She couldn’t be attracted to a man so like her father, so slick, arrogant and impatient.
Guru Navi had taught her so much, and they’d come such a long way together, how could he be wrong about this?
“I see,” Reese said. He tossed back the peppermint tea as if it were a glass of whiskey. “Tell me more about your bowl,” he said, with a look that suggested she’d suddenly sprouted wings and might fly like one of her angels. “You said it’s valuable because it’s one of a kind?”
“Yes,” she said. “My guru suggested a difficult task in order to ease my terrible...” She trailed off. Better not to tell the whole story. It was obvious Reese thought her philosophy foolish, and telling him would only further widen the breach between them.
“Your terrible what? Go on.”
“The bowl isn’t valuable in the sense you mean. There are thousands of similar bowls—even in catalogs. Anyone can buy one.”
“Then why is yours so special?”
“I trekked to a secluded monastery in Tibet to have my bowl blessed. The monks suggested I allow it to remain with them for one hundred and eight days, a number with spiritual significance, and then they shipped it back to me.” She shook her head, remembering the kindness at the monastery. “My bowl can never be replaced.”
“You mentioned the bowl sings? In fact,” he said, “I seem to recall something about yodeling.”
“My bowl does not yodel,” she said, but understood Reese was teasing. “It doesn’t rap or sing arias, either.”
“Oh, perhaps rock, then?”
She fought a laugh. “When you rub a wand around the interior, the vibration makes the metal hum, producing a clear, peaceful sound. It also chimes when you strike the rim. So, yeah, it sings.”
Hearing the lovely, high-pitched tone in her mind, she smiled at Reese, wishing he would pry open his mind just a little. Too bad his head was already crammed full of legal mumbo jumbo. At least he had asked for an explanation.
He gave her a half smile. “Where did you come from, lady?”
“I don’t know,” she answered. “But I think you were there with me.”
“Two vegetarian stews,” the waiter said as he placed steaming crocks on the table. Next came a wicker basket overflowing with slices of warm bread.
They both ate for several minutes without conversation. Finally, Taki took a drink of cool water. “I guess we were hungry.”
He smiled at her over a spoonful of stew. “You were right. This is delicious.”
She took another bite, pleased that he liked her favorite lunch.
“How long have you been a vegetarian?” he asked.
“When I was thirteen, I decided I loved animals so much that I just couldn’t eat one.”
“I’ll bet your mother loved that.”
“My mother died when I was nine.” Taki almost choked on her water when she realized what she’d said. Why on earth did she insist on babbling her secrets to this skeptical man? Of course, he was partly right. Her decision to become a vegetarian had incensed her father.
“I’m sorry,” Reese said.
“That’s okay,” she blurted, knowing her words only made the moment more awkward. By the kind way he smiled at her, though, she knew his sympathy was genuine.
He offered her a slice of bread and took one himself.
“This soup is really good,” he said again.
With peace between them, she decided to tell him her plan. “That pawnshop I told you about isn’t very far from here.”
He eyed her steadily. “Which pawnshop is that?”
“Jacques’s Hock. Where the clerk said to come back about the bowl.”
“We are not going to any pawnshop.”
She stared right back at him, not liking his dictatorial tone. She took orders from no one.... Well, except maybe Guru Navi, but he never gave orders. Only suggestions. This guy acted as if he were a five-star general.
“Why not?” she asked. “We’re right here.”
He shook his head as he took another bite of stew. “That’s a job for trained federal agents.”
“Going to a pawnshop requires training?”
“In this case, yes.”
She sat back and folded her arms. “You love giving orders, don’t you? And you’re used to everyone doing exactly what you tell them.”
He dropped a piece of bread on his plate, his dark eyes focused on her. “Have you been following the Romero case in the Herald?”
“No.” Best not to tell him she ignored newspapers. They were full of nothing but negativity, bad news, sad news, making it impossible to live in the present moment.
“Carlos Romero is in jail awaiting trial on a long list of charges, including first-degree murder for blowing up a post office in Fort Lauderdale and killing four people,” Reese explained.
“I remember that,” Taki said with a shudder. Even she hadn’t been able to avoid the horrifying story of the victims of that violent blast. It’d made national news. Why did people always have to hurt each other?
“Murder comes easily to some people,” he said. “They stole my briefcase hoping to discover the location of an important witness. Fortunately, they found nothing.”
“Well, I’m glad of that. But why would murderers take my bowl?”
“I was hoping you might know.”
“I don’t,” she said.
“Then maybe a diversion, to throw us off track, or just an opportunity to make a quick buck. But I’ll send an agent to check out your pawnshop. I promise.”
“When?”
“May I finish the lunch you ordered for me?”
“Of course,” she said and took a sip of her tea.
Good thing peppermint is excellent for indigestion, she thought, because Reese looked as if he was in for a serious case of heartburn.
* * *
BACK AT THE federal building, Taki smiled at Reese’s secretary as they walked past her cubicle. She had a pencil stuck behind one ear and a pen behind the other. The poor thing looked totally frazzled.
“Sorry I’m late, Joanne,” he said and grabbed a stack of messages from her desk.
“Romero’s attorney is trying to reach you,” the secretary said. “And Agent Rivas has phoned twice. I canceled the three o’clock conference when you weren’t back. It’s rescheduled for tomorrow at four.”
“Thank you,” Reese mumbled as he entered his office.
“Wow.” Taki moved to the front of his massive desk as he stepped behind it, reading his messages. “I made you miss a meeting.”
“It wasn’t important,” he said, still shuffling through the pink papers in his hand.
As she sat in a well-padded chair, Taki watched Reese morph back into Mr. United States Attorney. He’d relaxed slightly at lunch, but on entering his office he reverted to all-business. Just like her father. Never enough time to get everything done.
He’d insisted she accompany him upstairs so she could hear him dispatch an FBI agent to the pawnshop, although she figured it was really because he wanted to keep her away from the place. But since that meant he was worried about someone besides himself, maybe there was still hope for Reese Beauchamps. She hoped so. Despite his arrogance and love of barking orders, she liked him, although she couldn’t figure out why.
She hated to think it was because he was so good-looking. What did that say about her? But he did have the most gorgeous dark brown eyes. If she let herself, she could stare into them all day. And she liked the way his thick brown hair sported just a little wave. If he let it grow long, it would be magnificent.
“Call your agent Rivas,” she said, disgusted with herself. “Then I’ll let you get back to work.”
“Right.” Reese dropped the messages on the desk, pulled a swivel chair toward him and picked up the phone.
To give him space while he spoke to the agent, she wandered around his large office with the fabulous view, examining various diplomas and certificates adorning the walls. Could pieces of paper tell her anything about the man?
She admired elegantly framed degrees from undergraduate school at Princeton and law school at the University of Florida. Her father had once wanted her to attend Princeton.
Without reading, she focused on the Old English script in a dignified plaque as a sickening realization shot through her.
That was the third or maybe fourth time in one afternoon that Reese had caused her to think of her father. Before today, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d allowed the soulless monster to creep into her thoughts. Being reminded of the past never did anything but cause her pain.
The two men didn’t resemble each other at all physically, but both attacked life as if it were an opponent to be wrestled into submission.
She resisted the urge to run out of Reese’s office.
She needed to stay far away from this man. It didn’t matter how good-looking he was. He behaved too much like her father and would destroy the serenity she’d fought so hard to create.
CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_09a9c002-2590-5589-a3e4-41e59435fdbe)
“GET BACK TO me on that right away, Javi. Yeah, thanks.” Reese deliberately made his voice loud so Taki could hear him. She’d been staring at his Juris Doctor degree for five minutes as if it held the key to the secrets of her quixotic universe.
When he replaced the receiver, she turned. Reese smiled at her, liking it much better when they were friends.
“He’s ten minutes from the shop and will call me right back. Do you want to wait to see what he finds out?”
“No,” she said. “I no longer think anything will come of that.”
“What?” Reese pushed back in his chair, causing it to squeak in protest. “But you insisted on checking out the lead immediately.”
“I know. The thing is...” She paused and looked out the window. “Well, after we left the restaurant our path took us by Jacques’s Hock, and I got a strong feeling that my bowl wasn’t there.”
“You drove by the pawnshop? Why didn’t you tell me?”
She met his gaze again. “You’d have just fussed about it,” she said with a graceful shrug.
“And you got a...a feeling that your bowl wasn’t there?”
She straightened her shoulders. “Yes.”
“What kind of a feeling? Explain.”
“How can you explain a feeling? I just sensed my bowl was not inside that building.”
Reese rose, thinking Taki the most illogical person he had ever encountered. How could she change her mind so quickly? “My investigator is already on his way.”
“Sorry. I was wrong,” she said, blue eyes troubled. Then she brightened. “But at least I admit it.”
“Yeah, at least there’s that.” Reese fought an impulse to warn her about relying on irrational feelings. “Taki, in my experience, facts work a lot better when searching for the truth.”
“Oh, I’m sure you think so,” she said, moving toward the door. “But I’ve learned facts can be manipulated. Twisted into something ugly.”
Reese came around his desk and stood beside her, wondering why he felt the urge to touch her, however inappropriate such an action might be. Would that be considered harassment in one of those previous lifetimes where they’d known each other?
Previous lifetimes? Yeah, sure. No doubt they’d known each other during the Civil War. Or maybe ancient Rome.
“Thanks for lunch,” he said. Taki had insisted on paying, reminding him that he was her guest. “I’ll let you know if anything develops.”
“Thank you.”
“Please don’t go to any more pawnshops, Taki. And I’m not ordering. I’m asking.”
She cocked her head. “And you even said ‘please.’”
“I’m serious,” he said, doubting she would listen. Taki existed in some mystifying world of her own creation where dangerous men like Romero didn’t exist. Too bad that world was total fiction.
“I promise.” She smiled, dimples appearing in her smooth cheeks, her face so serious and open that he knew she considered her promise a sacred vow. Without warning, she rose to her toes and brushed a kiss on his left cheek, her lips as soft as her promise. Her fresh scent, maybe jasmine, filled his senses, reminding him of sunshine and a gentle spring breeze.
“Thanks for worrying about me,” she said, hesitating an instant too long before pulling away, her breath warm and sweet on his chin. Reese closed his eyes against the thought of crushing her to him.
What the hell is wrong with me?
With his fingers pressed to the spot where her lips had touched, he watched Taki exit his office in her strangely elegant manner.
Talk about a breath of fresh air. Taki had blown into his life and shaken it up like nothing ever had. Treating what he knew to be fact as fiction, she made the impossible seem somehow believable.
Negative energy? Third eyes? Mysterious feelings? Ridiculous.
As his buzzer sounded insistently behind him, Reese felt as if he was coming out of a trance. The woman was sincere in her quirky beliefs, but a total fruitcake. He shook his head to clear it.
Damn, but she was a huge distraction, one he didn’t have time for.
Reese sat at his desk and prioritized the phone calls he needed to return. Thanks to his little time-out with Miss New Age Wonder, he wouldn’t get home tonight until after ten o’clock.
Better stay far, far away from Wacky Taki or he’d never get any work done.
“Yes, Joanne?” he said into the intercom.
“Agent Rivas is on line two.”
Reese punched the speaker. “What have you got for me, Javi?”
“Dead end, Reese. Some crackhead pawned a silver cup from a horse race, nothing from Tibet. But the clerk practically got religious when talking about your friend Taki. When do I get to meet this knockout blonde?”
“She’s a little hard to reach,” Reese said, realizing with a groan that he still didn’t have her phone number or address.
Taki might be a nut job, but she was also damned elusive.
* * *
AT HOME THAT EVENING, still unsettled by the loss of her bowl—not to mention her lunch with Reese—Taki tried to calm her mind by sitting for meditation. But her restless thoughts looped over and over one thing: Reese made her think of her father—actually, reminded her of her father—and she hated her father.
Maybe Reese could help her find the bowl, but she had no business coming within a square mile of him if he dredged up thoughts of the soulless monster. She should never look into Reese’s eyes—no matter how dreamy those particular eyes. No matter how dark, how aware. She sighed.
Longing to regain serenity, Taki rose and opened her back door to gaze out on her small herb garden. The sight of vigorous plants bursting with life out of their neat rows immediately improved her mood. The natural world always soothed her. Other than practicing yoga, her happiest times were spent with Mother Nature, either hiking or watching beautiful things grow.
She moved down the steps, feeling as if she were transitioning into another world, a better place, a quiet and simple space where no problems interfered. With the property bordered by tall oaks, she always felt as if she were entering some secret garden as she entered the backyard of the estate where she lived.
Inhaling deeply, she was rewarded with the delicious scent of the rich earth she’d worked so hard to create—Miami Beach actually had pretty lousy dirt—and, yes, there it was: a hint of lavender.
Her gaze zeroed in on the row of lavender, shiny green leaves and tiny purple buds. So hard to grow in South Florida, but with the cooler temperatures of winter, her third attempt had finally met with success. Lavender encouraged relaxation, and soon she could create her special scented bath oil. She often gave samples to new students, recommending long, soothing soaks after class. Maybe she should give some to Reese.
The image of a bare-chested, dark-eyed Reese easing his muscled body into a steaming tub made her anything but relaxed—in fact, it instantly destroyed the tranquility she’d come outside seeking.
Closing her eyes, she released a slow exhale, forcing her traitorous mind away from a naked Reese Beauchamps. It would certainly help if she didn’t find him so darned attractive.
She slipped off her shoes and stepped into the soft damp dirt between rows. Glorying in that sensation, she wiggled her toes and hugged her elbows. The plot might be small, but it was all hers, and she was perhaps too proud of these happy, healthy herbs.
And how could she call herself an herbalist if she didn’t grow her own product? She’d been on the run so much lately, this was the first time she’d been able to grow her own crop in what seemed like forever. She frowned, thinking back. How long had it been since her last real garden? One where the plants sent their roots straight into the earth and not some plastic pot.
Bending her knees, but keeping her upper back flat to protect the fragile lumbar area, Taki yanked weeds from between her plants. Working steadily down a row of Saint-John’s-wort, she considered her next step to locate the missing bowl. Where was it? She didn’t have any luck with the pawnshops. Could Reese’s logical methods find it?
She sighed, realizing her thoughts had once again circled back to Reese Beauchamps. Certainly didn’t take long.
A mockingbird chirped, flitted into a pine tree, then onto the iron railing of Victoria’s second-floor balcony where he began to sing in earnest. No lights were on in the master bedroom, so likely her landlady wasn’t home. Taki hoped Victoria was out having a good time at one of her clubs, maybe playing bridge.
Victoria Van Buren, who’d just turned seventy, had once been her mother’s best friend and mentor. After returning from Asia, on what was meant to be a brief trip to see Navi six months ago, Victoria offered free lodging in a converted garage behind the main house for as long as Taki wanted, promising never to reveal her true identity to anyone. While waiting for the bowl to arrive, Taki had accepted Victoria’s hospitality.
But now with the bowl stolen, everything had somehow changed.
Taki loved her cottage, but definitely did not want to talk to Victoria tonight. Truthfully, she didn’t want to talk to anyone. That’s why she was pulling weeds in her herb patch, hoping to figure out what to do about her bowl and Reese.
Because the universe in all its wisdom had linked Reese with her bowl. Once that connection was made, there was nothing she could do about it—no matter how much she wanted to never think about him again.
Of course, it would be a lot easier to forget about Reese if she didn’t enjoy fantasizing about him in his bath. Maybe she needed to meditate more often. Or longer.
What would Navi tell her to do? Spotting another weed, she bent over to extract it. No doubt Navi would teach something about seeking the truth, tell her that she needed to “do the work.” And, yeah, that actually did make sense.
So she’d seek the truth. She’d continue to do what 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 you want honey in your tea?” She turned to him, eyebrows raised. “Or would you rather add another sweetener yourself?”
They stared at each other across the tiny area, and Reese wondered at the uneasiness in her eyes. In the soft lighting, their startling blue color appeared subdued, but her fair skin glowed. What was she worried about?
“Please,” he said. “And thank you.”
“In fact,” she said, while dribbling the thick liquid into the cups, “I’m not at all certain that your bad guys even took my bowl.”
When Reese accepted the tea from Taki, his hand brushed her slender fingers. She lowered her eyes at the contact.
“Why is that?” he asked, enjoying the connection between them. Hell, for some demented reason he enjoyed himself whenever he spent time with Taki.
“It’s a feeling I have,” she said. She parted her lips as if to say more, then pressed them firmly together.
Wishing he knew what she was about to say, he said, “Do you always rely so heavily on your feelings?”
She leaned back on the sofa. “What are you relying on to believe that Romero’s people took your briefcase?”
“Clear, logical assumptions supported by indisputable facts.”
“Well, my feelings may not be logical, but they’re usually right. Are your assumptions always correct?”
“Not always,” he said, smiling at her perceptive question. “Okay. Then what happened to your bowl?”
She stared into the white cup. “I don’t know yet.”
“Well, I do. Believe me, Taki, I’m trying like hell to get my briefcase back. If I do, I’ll locate your bowl.”
“Thank you,” she said.
But Reese could tell she didn’t believe he would find her lost artifact. He looked forward to witnessing her pleasure if he did. He took a hesitant taste and found the brew sweet and refreshing.
“What kind of tea is this?”
“Rosemary. It improves the memory, so it’ll help you with your work later.”
He stared into the amber liquid and shook his head at her constant attempts to help everyone. Then he grinned at her.
“Maybe you drink too much of this stuff and that’s why you think you remember me.”
“It doesn’t work that way.”
“Do I still seem familiar to you?”
“I don’t know.” Using her fingers as a comb, she absently swept her hand through her long blond hair. He wondered if the strands felt as soft as they looked.
“Sometimes I tend to get a little carried away,” she continued, throwing him a quick glance. “Perhaps we did meet previously, and I just don’t remember.”
“That’s much more likely than our introduction occurring in another life,” he said. Good to know she occasionally came back to earth.
“But where?” she asked. She took another sip of tea, watching him over the rim of the cup.
“In court maybe?” He raised his eyebrows, hoping she’d treat his next question as a joke. “Have you ever been up on federal charges?”
“Heavens, no. Is federal prosecuting the only legal work you’ve ever done?”
“Yes. I became an assistant U.S. attorney right out of law school.”
“So you don’t take private clients?”
“Never.”
“Why is that?”
Wondering where she was going with this conversation and why, Reese watched Taki nibble on her lower lip. She obviously wanted some information but didn’t want to ask directly.
“If you need a lawyer, Taki, I can recommend several.”
Her eyes widened. “I can’t imagine what would ever cause me to hire a lawyer,” she said with an emphatic shake of her head.
Her response told him a lot. “I guess you don’t like lawyers.”
He watched her suck air deep into her lungs, and then slowly release the breath.
“What if someone sues you?” he asked when she didn’t reply.
“Why would anyone sue me?” Taki balanced the tea as she tucked her bare feet beneath her on the couch.
“What about that blot on your soul? That might cause a lawsuit.”
“Maybe you don’t need my tea.” She grinned and shook her head. “You never forget a thing, do you?”
Not about you, he thought, imagining a thousand ways a woman as beautiful as Taki could place her soul in jeopardy.
“Lourdes says you want to run for political office,” Taki said.
“Who knows?” He shrugged, caught off guard by her comment. His future political career must be the subject of widespread speculation if even Taki had heard about it.
“So that’s why you’re a prosecutor, to get a reputation?”
“I became a prosecutor because I want to put criminals like Romero in jail where they belong. I hate it when people break laws and get away with it. Justice has always been important to me.” Reese paused. Where had that disclosure come from? Something about Taki required honesty.
“Or perhaps I secretly wanted to irritate my father,” he continued. “Dad believes that public service is for suckers and the way to practice law is behind a desk.”
“So your father is a lawyer, too?” she asked.
“Everyone in my family is.”
“Everyone?” Her face fell, as if his entire family had been diagnosed with tuberculosis.
“Well, almost everyone. My mother is a doctor.”
“Oh. Do you have any brothers or sisters?” she asked. He thought her voice sounded wistful.
“Two brothers and a sister...all attorneys working for my dad.”
“Are you from Miami?” she asked.
“Born and raised. How about you?”
“I’m an only child.”
“So why all the questions, Taki?” he asked, needing to get moving. “I thought you wanted to explain something to me.”
She nodded. “I was trying to get a better sense of who you are. I’m a very private person and have good reasons for not giving my phone number to just anyone.”
“I’m not just anyone. I’m a United States attorney, one of the good guys.”
“Are you really?” she asked softly.
“I put bad guys in jail,” he said, wondering about good reasons for not giving up a number. And why didn’t she have a cell?
She nodded, looking away. “The thing is, you remind me of someone who isn’t very nice at all.”
Startled, he asked, “How so?”
She met his gaze again. “Always barking orders, always in a hurry.”
That’s how she sees me? He groaned inwardly, knowing there was some truth in that description. “That’s how I get things done in my job.”
“If I give you my phone number, do you promise you won’t give it to anyone else?”
“If you don’t want me to, I promise I won’t.”
She didn’t immediately respond. Instead she chewed on her lower lip again. Feeling uncomfortably like a teenager asking a date to the prom, he waited.
* * *
TAKI GRABBED A pen and a napkin from the service bar and jotted down the number of the phone Victoria kept in the cottage. How could she say no? Otherwise Reese could start prying into her life to find out where she lived. Didn’t the government snoop on everyone these days?
She had no doubt he could learn anything he wanted through federal high-tech computers and gizmos, and there was no telling what he’d come up with.
She thrust the napkin toward him.
He accepted it with a long look at her scribbles. When he folded the paper and stuck it in the pocket of his gym shorts, she got the curious sensation that he’d memorized the numbers.
“I’ll be in touch if I get any news.” With a wave, he disappeared inside the men’s locker room.
Should she believe him? Would he keep her number private?
But maybe she shouldn’t worry. Unless he had info about their stolen property, why would he call? And in that case, she wouldn’t mind hearing from him.
Assuming the news was good.
On her way to the parking lot, she passed Hector and Lourdes working at the front desk and gave them a weak wave.
“Hey, Taki,” Lourdes said. “Don’t forget about the staff meeting next week.”
“Okay.”
“Any luck with your bowl?” Hector asked.
“Not yet,” she said and pushed open the door, glad for the rush of fresh air.
What was it about Reese’s dark, intelligent eyes that seemed so...aware? She shivered, recalling the force of his gaze as he stared directly into hers. It reminded her of the times Guru Navi tried to look deep into her soul. Funny, but it felt as if Reese saw her more clearly than her teacher.
Too bad Reese hadn’t become a healer like his mother instead of a lawyer. That would be so much better for his...
She slowed her crisp steps across the well-lit parking lot when she spotted a figure leaning against the Jeep’s driver door. Her pulse kicked up a notch, but she relaxed and resumed her pace when she recognized Benny.
“Hi, Ben. I’m sorry. Were you waiting for me?”
When Benny smiled, the wrinkles in his weathered face grew even deeper. “Yes. I have some interesting news.”
“What’s that?”
“Remember I promised I’d ask around the spa about your missing bowl?”
Taki nodded, a rush of excitement making her belly tingle. Reese would of course discount it as a worthless feeling.
“After your class, I found this stuck in my locker.” Benny produced a white envelope and handed it to her. With odd-size letters cut out from a magazine, “Taki” was pasted to the front.
“Did you see anyone around your locker?” she asked.
“I have no idea where it came from.”
“Have you opened it?”
“Of course not.”
She ripped open the envelope and withdrew a photograph.
“Oh, my God,” she said, staring at a bowl sitting on a sheet of newspaper with a wand propped against the rim.
Was it hers?
She peered at the image closely to make certain that the— Yes, there was that tiny crescent-shaped mar on the base. She pressed the photo to her chest and closed her eyes. This was definitely hers.
Who had sent this? And why to Benny?
“Are you all right?” he asked.
Taki opened her eyes, feeling silly about her reaction. “Yes, yes. I’m fine.”
“What is it?”
With a sigh, she passed him the photo. Now what?
“Proof of life,” Benny said. “Although of course the bowl isn’t actually alive, but that’s why they included the paper, to show a date.” Ben held up the image to examine it more closely. “That’s the front page of today’s Miami Herald.”
“Wait,” she said, grabbing the photo from Ben. “There’s something on the other side.”
On the back of the photograph, with those same mismatched cutout letters, someone had pasted directions.
BE AT PUERTO SAGUA TOMORROW AT SIX P.M. FOR INFORMATION ABOUT THIS ITEM.
* * *
AT FIVE FORTY-FIVE the next night, Taki slid onto a stool at Puerto Sagua and smiled at a waiter behind the broken-tiled counter. Smoke from the grill floated upward, billowing and obscuring the ceiling.
With a nod, the heavy-set server placed a menu and a plastic glass of water before her and moved on.
Taki took a slow drink while she surveyed the crowded Cuban restaurant. Maybe twenty-five diners sat at tables or at the long U-shaped counter that cut the room in half. Their noisy chatter and laughter bounced off the tiled walls, making her ears ring.
No one looked familiar. Not in this life or any other.
When the wall clock ticked down to six, the frowning waiter approached her again. She’d have to order something or be asked to leave. Black beans and rice seemed safe, but she was too nervous to eat.
After placing her order, she laid a hand on her queasy stomach. If only Reese had returned her calls. So much for her plan to avoid him, but of course he needed to know about the note.
Reese was always so confident and self-assured, she had no doubt his presence would bolster her faltering courage. She’d left messages at all his numbers revealing her intention to attend the meeting. She’d even spoken with his secretary. Joanne had been sweet, had promised to contact some agent named Javi and all but begged her not to do anything before she talked to Reese.
Forget that nonsense. She couldn’t miss the chance to recover her bowl. Benny knew she was here, as did Victoria, plus she had pepper spray tucked in her purse. She’d never used it and wasn’t sure if she could harm anyone with it, but just in case she slipped the small cylinder into her pocket for easy access.
And so many people crowded this restaurant, she was beginning to feel too warm. She fanned her face with the menu.
She wouldn’t leave with anyone, and even Reese’s bad guys wouldn’t drag her off from such a public place. What could they possibly want with her?
More important, why would anybody want her bowl?
CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_49d7ea26-b52e-5eea-acda-a5e3cb6b68fd)
REESE HAD NO problem spotting Taki when he entered the raucous atmosphere of Puerto Sagua. Seated at the counter, long blond hair partially braided and secured with a clip, her stillness was an oasis of tranquility in the center of chaos. In a warm, lively restaurant filled with the essence of garlic and onion, she made him think of the cool freshness of a deep forest.
If he weren’t so damned annoyed with her reckless behavior, he’d be glad to see her.
“You don’t know me,” Reese murmured as he slid onto the stool next to hers. He threw her a quick look. “Pretend we’re meeting for the first time.”
When she flashed a grateful, relieved smile, his mood improved. At least she was glad he’d come to her rescue.
Spotting Javi on the other side of the counter, Reese nodded. She followed his gaze and then looked to him in surprise.
“Who’s that?” she whispered.
“FBI.”
Her eyes widened, and her gaze swung back to Javi.
“Quit staring at him.”
When Taki refocused on her plate, which contained a mammoth serving of black beans—she couldn’t have touched a bite—Reese asked, “You really received a photograph of your bowl with a note instructing you to come here?”
“Not exactly. Someone left the photo with Benny, one of my regular students.” With a graceful movement, she tucked a strand of hair behind her shoulder.
Reese made a mental note to question Benny. He knew all about Benny. The old man practically lived at SoBe Spa, or anyway, he was there every time Reese worked out. So what was his involvement with Taki and her magic bowl?
“Why him and not you?” Reese asked.
The waiter arrived before she could reply.
“Cafecito to go,” Reese requested. The potent Cuban coffee was like mainlining caffeine, but he still had hours of work to do tonight.
“I asked people around the spa if they knew anything about the bowl,” she said when the waiter moved away. “Benny did, too. I guess he asked the right person.”
“That doesn’t make any sense. Do you have the photo?”
She reached for her purse.
“Wait. I’ll look at it later.”
Reese surveyed the room, searching for a familiar face. His initial response to Taki’s message had been that someone was playing a joke on her, but Puerto Sagua just happened to be Izzo’s favorite place for breakfast, and nobody in law enforcement believed in coincidences.
“Whoever sent the note has my bowl and maybe you can recover your briefcase, too,” she said, her voice low and urgent.
Reese stared at Taki’s animated face. Why did he find this nutcase so compelling? She certainly had guts. More courage than sense, apparently.
“You shouldn’t have come here alone, Taki. It was a foolish thing to do.”
“But you didn’t return my calls. I had no choice.”
Reese shook his head at her stubbornness. Why was this damned bowl so important? Something else had to be going on. He’d find out what tonight.
“I was in trial all day,” he said. “I didn’t get your messages until five-thirty.”
“Well, I didn’t want to miss the chance of getting my bowl back. Now quit talking to me or nothing will happen.” She smiled sweetly and extended her hand to dismiss him.
Reese grasped her fingers and squeezed. When she released her grip, he picked up his coffee, dropped a bill on the counter and moved to an empty table where he could keep an eye on her.
He pried open the lid of the foam take-out cup, shaking his head as he remembered Taki’s disapproval of the nonbiodegradable material. The woman wanted to save the world.
Steam floated up to his face, bringing with it an aroma of coffee.
Letting the brew cool a bit, he waited before taking the first sip and continued to observe the crowded room. He noted Javi did the same, but the agent blended in with the casually dressed clientele a lot better than Reese did in his tailored suit.
He probably stuck out as obviously as Taki.
What the hell was he doing here? He had too much work for these kinds of games. When he’d received Taki’s messages, he’d been torn between outrage and worry. Unable to let her face unknown danger alone, he’d called Javi and asked him to meet them at Puerto Sagua.
Outside the winter light faded to darkness, but no one approached her, although more than one male customer openly ogled her ethereal blond beauty.
Izzo certainly wasn’t in sight. Not that Reese thought this meeting had anything to do with him. Just another dead end, another wild-goose chase courtesy of Wacky Taki.
Reese sipped the strong coffee. She might be a little nuts, but he had to admit she was plenty easy on the eyes. Taki barely touched the food she’d ordered. She did drink four glasses of water, however, and occasionally would wrinkle her cute nose and wave off smoke from the grill that drifted her way.
At six forty-five, she scanned the back of the room and gave a disappointed shrug when their gazes locked. She picked up her check and slid off the stool.
Agreeing that it was time to give up, Reese pushed through the front door while Taki dealt with the cashier. He noted she used cash.
The night seemed oppressively dark when he exited the restaurant. Fast-moving clouds obscured the moon, and a brisk wind sent leaves scattering across the sidewalk. He buttoned his jacket against the crisp evening air. A cold front had swept into South Florida, and the thermometer would dip into the forties tonight. A rare event.
Wrapping a wool cape around her slight frame, Taki stepped onto the sidewalk.
“Where are you parked?” he asked when she moved beside him.
“I’m in the public lot over on Washington.” She glanced at his rented Ford sitting in a no-parking zone in front of the popular restaurant.
“I was late, remember?” Reese said, wondering why he felt defensive.
She raised her eyebrows, but said nothing.
“Come on. I’ll give you a ride to your car.” He opened the passenger door and motioned her in.
When Reese pulled his door shut, the quiet in the interior of the sedan made him feel as if he’d just locked out the world and had Taki all to himself. Not a bad feeling.
“Thank you for coming,” she said in what had to be the most sincere thanks he’d ever received.
“You’re welcome.”
“I’m sorry you wasted your time.”
“I’m sorry no one showed.”
“Me, too.” She sighed, obviously frustrated. “What went wrong? Why didn’t they come?”
“Good question.”
“The note didn’t say to come alone,” she mused. “Although they couldn’t have known you were with me.”
Reese suppressed a chuckle. He’d think she’d been watching too much television, but doubted she watched the TV much, if ever, what with all that negative energy emanating from the screen. Wouldn’t be good for that karmic debt.
“Maybe you’ll be contacted again.”
“I sure hope so,” she said.
“I hope you understand why I couldn’t return your calls?”
“Your secretary explained. I know you’re a busy man.”
Her voice sounded sympathetic, as if he had terminal cancer.
“Let me see the photo,” he said.
She dug in a multicolored fabric bag that featured images of an elephant, its strap snug between her breasts, and produced a color picture of a brass bowl with swirling patterns etched into the metal.
Reese studied the image, briefly disappointed there was no sign of his briefcase in the background. He recognized the headline of today’s newspaper. Definitely a recent photo.
“You’re sure it’s your bowl?”
“Positive.”
He flipped the photo and read the note, finding nothing that would lead to its author. The way the note had been created screamed amateur. Or again, maybe too many TV crime shows. No way was Romero involved.
He lifted his gaze back to her serious face. “Is there any chance your student was playing a mean trick on you?”
She reacted to that idea as if he had struck her. “Ben would never do that.”
He studied her. We’ll see about that. “Okay. Can I keep this?”
“I guess.”
“I want to send it to the FBI lab. Maybe they can find a clue to our mystery.”
She brightened at his plan. “Good idea. Thanks.”
He started the engine and pulled onto Collins Avenue. She remained silent, probably lost in mystical thoughts as they drove the short distance to her Jeep. He needed to learn why the bowl was so damned important to her.
“I’m going to follow you home,” Reese told her when he pulled behind her vehicle.
“That’s okay,” she said too quickly. “You don’t need to.”
“Yes, I do.”
“But—”
“We don’t know who was in that restaurant, but they know who you are.”
“Oh.” Her eyes widened, and for the first time he noted a hint of worry.
“I need to make sure you get home safely.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
“Just don’t break any speed limits this time.”
She nodded, exited the car and climbed into her Jeep.
After driving a few blocks, Reese called Javi, who followed him, checking for a tail.
“You see anything inside the restaurant?” Reese asked.
“Nada,” Javi said. “I had another agent posted outside, and she didn’t notice anything, either. None of Romero’s known people were there. Other than the usual South Beach freaks, no one suspicious.”
“Do I have a tail?”
“You’re clear.”
“Thanks, Javi. Appreciate the help tonight.”
“Hey, no problem, Reese. Anytime you need help with that blonde, you just let me know. I’m your man.”
“I’ll check in with you tomorrow,” Reese said, refusing to react to Javi’s comment, and disconnected.
When Taki turned into the brick driveway of an impressive Miami Beach home, Reese pulled in behind her and released a low whistle at the affluent surroundings. Soft illumination highlighted a three-tiered flowing fountain in the center of a landscaped oval. Overgrown red bougainvillea lined the facade of a handsome coral-colored villa beneath a clay tile roof. He estimated the gated estate covered at least two acres directly on Biscayne Bay.
He’d pictured Taki in some sort of rustic commune, or perhaps even a tent, not in an exclusive waterfront mansion. Well, well. Wasn’t this an interesting turn of events.
She jumped from her Jeep and walked toward him. He now recognized the relaxed way she moved, a fluid lilt to her slim hips he found mesmerizing. But the expression on her face told him she debated some huge problem.
Reese lowered his window, the motor issuing a quiet hum.
She bent her knees to bring her face level with his. “Thanks for following me home.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Were we followed?” Eyes wide, she glanced toward the quiet residential street.
Reese smiled. “I don’t think so.”
Taki returned her gaze to his face and released a big sigh. “Well, then—”
“You wouldn’t have any herbal tea, would you?” he asked.
“Um...well...sure,” she said. “Lots of it.” She nodded toward the house. “So would you...like to come in?”
“I’d love to.”
Reese set the rental’s alarm with a shrill beep, thinking, Why bother? It hadn’t kept Izzo out of the Jag. Truth was, car alarms sounded so frequently in Miami everyone ignored them. Taki grabbed her bag from the Jeep and slung it over one shoulder. He followed her to a small building behind the main house that had probably once been a free-standing garage.
In another life, of course, he thought to himself with a chuckle.
* * *
TAKI MENTALLY ZIPPED through an inventory of her living room while unlocking the door to her cottage. Was there anything in open view that would give Reese a clue to her birth name?
The Spencer Trust lawyers hadn’t yet traced her to this address, but they might be getting close. Reese had her phone number and now knew where she lived. He could easily give her away without even knowing he’d done a bad thing. Far better that no one know anything about her history. Mistakes could be made, the wrong thing mentioned to the wrong person. Her father had minions everywhere looking for her.
She needed more time to square things with the universe. She needed to find that bowl before her father located her and she was forced to move again.
“Do you have a favorite tea?” Taki asked as she stepped through the entrance and flipped on a switch. “Or will any flavor do?”
“Whatever you have will be fine,” Reese said.
As she’d expected, he scrutinized her front room as if they’d entered a Ripley’s Believe It or Not! museum. She couldn’t tell if he was amused or taken aback by what he saw.
She allowed her gaze to roam over the eclectic collection of furniture and curios from her Eastern travels and secondhand shops. She was especially fond of her collection of statuettes of Lord Ganesha, the Hindu elephant god, a deity so powerful it was said he could remove any obstacle. Now, that was some symbolism she really liked.
Everything had meaning to her, although her possessions probably looked like a bunch of old junk to Reese.
But there were no trappings from the Spencer fortune, she realized with relief. Even if he had heard of a runaway heiress, he’d never make a connection to her.
“Make yourself comfortable,” she said, “and I’ll put on some water.”
Taki poured distilled water into a kettle and placed it on her stove. With a quick push of a button, she ignited the flame, and gas burned with a quiet hiss. Reaching for two mugs from wooden cabinets, she mentally kicked herself for letting Reese in when she knew she should avoid him. How could she keep a calm mind when the man stirred emotion she was better off burying?
He’d been sweet to meet her at Puerto Sagua, but she could have just said she was tired, that she needed to get some sleep. That wasn’t a lie, not at all. She hadn’t slept well since she’d met Reese. She frowned. Since her bowl had been stolen.
But oh, no. She’d been entranced by the color of his eyes, by the shape of his lips, by the rich timbre of his voice as he’d asked about tea. It was beyond foolish to allow Reese inside her home, and dangerous because she found him so absurdly attractive. And why did she? The man represented everything she’d run away from four years ago. She should stay away from him, as she did all negative influences.
So how to explain her intense rush of pleasure when he showed up at the restaurant? Her reaction had nothing to do with her bowl, much less any past or future karma. She’d been thrilled from her crown chakra to the tips of her toes that he had come to help her.
Definitely beyond foolish.
Waiting for the water to boil, Taki rejoined Reese in the living room. He stood with folded arms squinting at a print of Buddha hanging near the door to her bedroom. Sensing he was chilled in her unheated home, she turned on a rectangular space heater by the ancient pink brocade sofa.
He’s from Miami, she remembered. Miami natives took great offense whenever the temperature dropped below sixty.
“It’ll warm up in a minute,” she said. As she closed the door to the bedroom, Taki smiled at her dangling angels and prayed for luck.
“Is this also from Tibet?” Reese asked, indicating the colorful print.
“No, a secondhand shop on Lincoln Road.” Taki admired the peaceful scene of Buddha seated beneath a leafy tree. It was one of her favorite images, one that usually put her in a serene frame of mind. But not tonight with Reese standing right next to her.
“Tell me about your bowl,” he said, “why it’s so important that you’d risk your life.”
She continued to stare at the bright colors in the print. “I didn’t risk my life.”
“If Romero’s people are involved, you did.”
“But why would Romero’s people want my bowl?”
“I keep hoping you’ll tell me.”
Taki leveled her gaze at Reese. Something in his voice made her uneasy. He observed her steadily, a hint of five o’clock shadow on his chin and cheeks. Did he think she knew something about his stolen briefcase?
“I don’t know any more than you do about the theft, Reese.”
Before he could respond, the kettle issued a shrill whistle.
Reese followed her into the tiny kitchen and less than an inch separated their hips. Not for the first time, she noted how small her kitchenette was. He was so near, she could sense every movement, every shift of his weight on his feet.
“It’s amazing what someone did with this old garage,” he said, loosening his tie and looking around. “How did you find it?”
“I give private lessons to Victoria Van Buren, the woman who owns the estate. She was a friend of...” Taki trailed off, realizing she’d almost told Reese that Victoria was a friend of her mother’s. Better not reveal anything about her history.
“Years ago,” Taki continued after clearing her throat, “Victoria’s husband converted this garage to an apartment and loaned it to friends in need. Since his death, she’s continuing that tradition.”
“How long have you lived here?”
“Almost six months,” Taki said as she poured steaming water into a ceramic teapot. Of course she couldn’t tell him an outright lie. She had to be careful. Satya, truth, was an important yogic principle, one she believed in.
“It’s nice,” he said. “Cozy.”
“I really love this cottage. It’s full of such good energy. I think old buildings retain the souls of all the people who once lived inside.”
Reese blinked. “Like ghosts?”
“No, not exactly. Just some part of their essence—or spirit maybe left behind.”
“Come on, Taki,” he said with a laugh. “You don’t really believe drywall and wood retain dead souls?”
She nodded, again confused by the strange connection she felt to Reese, which made no sense. He was nonreceptive to her beliefs and plainly had a lot of lives yet to live, a lot of issues left to resolve.
Not that she didn’t, she reminded herself. Maybe she should be more open to his way of thinking.
When she didn’t answer, he said, “Seriously?”
She ought to push him far, far away, but couldn’t since he could help her find the bowl. She stared into the brewing tea, knowing that now she wasn’t being honest with herself. Her interest in Reese wasn’t all about the bowl anymore. Maybe it never was.
“Do you really want this tea?” she said. She dropped her hand to her side, brushing his arm.
With a grin, he raised his eyebrows. “Do you have anything stronger?”
“Wine. Red or white?”
“Red might warm us up,” he said.
Reese stood close enough that she could feel his breath on her cheek. Between his overwhelming presence and the steaming water, she didn’t need to warm up. She felt as if the flames from the stove would consume her any second.
For a crazy moment she wanted to touch him. She wanted to take the palms of her hands and glide them up the sleeves of his jacket, pressing firmly enough to feel the hard muscle she knew lay beneath the fine blue fabric.
“Taki?” he said, a soft question in his voice.
“You’ll have to move so I can reach the wine bin. It’s overhead.” Her voice sounded strained to her own ears.
“I’ll get it for you,” he offered.
When Taki met his puzzled gaze, her breath caught in her throat. She, a woman who prided herself on fabulous breath control, could barely inhale because of swift, overpowering physical desire. Reese no longer seemed familiar. He was now a stranger who awoke a hunger she’d thought buried beneath mounds of guilt and sadness.
She swallowed and pointed to the cabinet. “The far corner,” she said.
Reese’s eyes searched hers, but he raised his arm and easily withdrew a bottle of California Cabernet Sauvignon from the high cupboard.
“How’s this?” he asked.
“Perfect.”
When she accepted the bottle, she placed her hands over Reese’s long fingers. For a brief moment he didn’t let go, and she felt his cool hand beneath her warm palms.
“Thanks,” she said.
“Sure.” His gaze locked on hers, he released the wine and took slow backward steps out of the kitchen.
Trying to regain her focus, Taki took deep inhalations as she searched for the corkscrew in a messy kitchen drawer. Why could she never achieve order in her life? Guru Navi always lectured about order and cleanliness, saucha, another essential of a good yoga practice. She located the chrome utensil, grabbed two wineglasses and moved into the living room.
Out of the kitchen, the temperature dropped several degrees. Relieved by the sudden chill, she headed toward the orange glow of the space heater. She placed the bottle and glass on a table and collapsed onto the sofa.
Reese sat beside her, leaning forward to retrieve the wine. She relaxed into the cushions, happy to let him do the honors. She needed to recover from what had almost happened in the kitchen. Had he noticed her ridiculous reaction to him? She’d almost attacked him. How could he not notice?
“You still haven’t told me about your bowl,” Reese said as he opened the wine. “Let’s see. So far I know you have a terrible blot on your soul. Because of that blemish, your guru sent you on a difficult journey to Tibet.”
“Right,” Taki said, surprised by Reese’s quick recitation of the small bits she’d told him. And he didn’t appear to be making fun of her. He sounded seriously interested.
“The pilgrimage itself was cleansing,” she said. “But I had a task to complete. I failed that task.” A wave of sadness washed through her. She’d also hoped the bowl would cleanse her soul of the anguish created by her mother’s death.
Reese nodded. “You were to deliver the bowl to the—” he paused a moment “—Paradise Way Ashram.”
“Good memory.” Why in heaven’s name had she told Reese all these details?
He nodded and poured wine into each glass. When she raised hers, he tapped his against it with a gentle clink and said, “To getting your bowl back.”
“And to you getting your briefcase.”
She took a swallow of the heady liquid and let its warmth slide down her throat. She needed to relax. Her usual methods hadn’t calmed her so far. Maybe the wine would.
After taking a sip of his own, Reese said, “So tell me about this blot on your soul.”
She smiled in spite of her unsettled mind. “That’s just the way Debbie interpreted my explanation of rotten karma.”
“Maybe you’d better explain karma to me. I’m not quite clear on that concept. You’re doomed somehow because...?”
“Because of previous bad behavior, maybe even in another life. Every person is the result of their past actions and present doings. It’s the universe’s way of evening things out.”
“What goes around comes around,” Reese said with a nod. “Got it. So what is it you’ve done that’s so awful?”
She knew from his tone of voice that he would probe until he got an answer. She couldn’t tell him the whole truth, but she couldn’t lie.
“Not me exactly. Let’s just say that my family has done some really...bad things that I’m trying to atone for.” She shook her head. “Unfortunately, the way things are going I’ll never be forgiven.”
“But you can’t be blamed for what your family has done.”
“Yes, I can. I benefited from their greed.” She took a slow sip of her wine. “Are you warm enough? Do you mind if I turn down the heater?”
“I’m fine.”
When she rose, a quick series of questions snapped through Reese’s mind. Could her rotten family be in trouble with the law? Maybe already incarcerated? Is that why she’d asked if he took private clients? What sort of crime had they committed?
Exactly what would he find if he pulled Taki out of the county database?
But she wasn’t a witness for him to cross-examine, so he remained silent. During that quiet, a bewildering rapport with her blossomed. No one understood wanting to distance yourself from an overbearing family better than he.
“Families can be a real pain in the ass, can’t they?” he said when she’d returned.
“Yes.” She paused, then asked, “So you’re not close to your family?”
“Oh, we’re close. We just don’t get along. My dad never stops harping at me to resign from the U.S. Attorney’s Office so I can join him in his private practice. He takes it as a personal affront that I won’t.”
She swirled her wine. “And you don’t want to go into private practice?”
“Especially not with him. But we were discussing your problem with the missing bowl.”
Before he could stop himself, Reese tucked an errant lock of hair behind her ear. The blond strand was as soft as he’d imagined.
“Tell me if I’ve got this straight,” he said.
She picked up her wine again and took a cautious sip, then leaned against the sofa, raising a wary gaze. He wondered what worried her.
“You believe that by giving the bowl to the ashram, you somehow erase all the previous sins of your family?”
“I hoped it would erase at least some of them, even if just symbolically.” Taki stared into the deep red liquid in her glass and sighed. “But, oh, no. I had to leave the bowl in the Jeep, so certain no one would want it, that the security guard would prevent any theft. What was I thinking after traveling all the way to Tibet?” Concern wrinkled her delicate brow. “I wonder if that carelessness makes the whole situation worse.” She looked up. “What do you think?”
Reese crooked his arm on the back of the sofa and leaned against it. “My first thought is to argue mitigating circumstances.”
She flushed, and he wanted to touch her cheek and tell her she was delightful. He took a swallow of wine as Taki threw him a challenging look.
“This is all a big joke to you, isn’t it?” she asked.
“No. I want my briefcase back as badly as you want your bowl of salvation.”
“But you think I’m completely bonkers.”
“I think you’re lovely.” Reese entwined his fingers in hers and lifted. He kissed the back of her hand, finding it soft and smooth. “And, yes, maybe just a little bonkers.” Fascinated by the stubborn expression that washed across her flushed face, he released her fingers.
“Should I contact you if I get another message from the thief?” she asked.
“Definitely. And don’t meet anyone again without backup.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Backup?”
“Call it what you want, just promise not to go alone.”
“Sorry,” she said. “I can’t promise. That would be a lie. I want my bowl too much, but I’ll take extra precautions.”
He wondered what extra precautions she had in mind. “I’ll give you Agent Rivas’s phone number,” he said, removing a business card from his wallet. “If I’m not available, call him. He can send an agent.”
She accepted the card. “You’re giving orders again, General Beauchamps.”
“Sorry. Bad habit.” What did it matter? Reese thought, suspecting she disregarded orders as easily as he gave them.
“That’s okay,” she said. “I’m getting used to it.”
“Yeah, I know. You just ignore me.”
“I always ignore lawyers.”
“Have you had a lot of experience ignoring attorneys?”
Her face closed off to him then, and he wondered why. What had happened in Taki’s past that she hated lawyers? Had she been involved with her family’s crimes? Is that why she was so protective of her phone number?
“Any experience is too much,” she said.
Good dodge, he thought, and searched for a neutral topic. “Tell me about your name.”
“My name?” she asked in a voice he could only describe as cautious. Again he wondered about her secrets.
“I know you weren’t born with the name Taki. How did you come by it?”
“Oh,” she said. “My guru gave it to me.”
“Your guru?” Reese shook his head. “You have a guru?”
“Yes, I do. Guru Navi. He’s been my teacher since I was eighteen when I met him following a lecture.”
“Okay. Go on. Your guru changed your name because...”
“As a symbol of a new beginning. A new name, new beginning. Navi is my spiritual guide.”
“How old is he?” Out of nowhere, Reese irrationally hoped that this guru she spoke of with such affection was Shinhoster’s age at least. Even older would be better.
“I never thought about it.” She grinned. “Ageless, I guess. Or timeless anyway.”
“He lives at this ashram?”
“Half the year here, half the year in India. He’s in Miami until June.”
“Smart guru,” Reese said. “He jets out just when the weather starts to get nasty and buggy.”
“It’s just as hot in India,” she said. “Hotter in some places. And you’re wrong about Navi. He has helped me more than you can imagine.”
Reese decided to run a check on the ashram to make sure the place was legit. It seemed strange that a well-meaning spiritual guide would send a woman with no money on an expensive trip to Tibet. Could the guru have had something to do with the meet at Puerto Sagua?
He took a drink of the delicious wine, wondering if he was actually jealous of a guru.
“This is excellent,” he said. He picked up the bottle, but the print was too damn small, so he couldn’t read the year. Working twelve hours a day had ruined his eyesight.
“It was a gift,” she said.
“Does the name Taki mean anything?” he asked, replacing the bottle.
She gathered her long hair behind her, then draped it across one shoulder. “Navi calls me his little seeker because I’m always searching.”
Without thinking, Reese lifted a lock of her blond hair and rubbed his thumb across the silky strands.
“What are you searching for?” When their eyes met, Reese wondered at the emotion he read there. She moistened her full lips with the tip of her tongue.
“Happiness,” she said softly. “Forgiveness.”
“How could anyone not forgive you?” he murmured, cupping her cheek. He stroked his thumb across satin-smooth skin, thinking her the most enigmatic woman he’d ever met, full of enchanting contradictions. Her blue eyes widened, but she didn’t pull away.
When Reese lowered his mouth to hers, she closed her eyes. Her soft lips were warm and willing, and Reese explored her mouth hungrily, tasting fine wine and enjoying the tiny noises issuing from the back of her throat.
Kissing Taki was a lot easier than trying to figure her out.
CHAPTER FIVE (#ulink_db8b524d-5b7b-5ef3-99ff-f17865666631)
EVEN IF REBORN a thousand times, Taki knew she would never forget the power of this kiss. Reese took possession of her mouth the way he dominated everything in his path, and his intimate, velvet warmth sent shivers of desire dancing through her.
She made a small sound of protest when he released the pressure on her lips. Reluctantly, she opened her eyes and focused on the area just above his loosened collar. Inhaling his spicy aftershave, a scent she knew she’d forever associate with him, her gaze traveled to his mouth barely an inch away. She lifted her face, wanting to kiss him again, to go on kissing him until...
“Taki, I...” His breath feathered across her cheek as he trailed off, seeming unsure of himself for the first time.
She dropped her chin and pulled back. Reality checked in again, and with it came tons of baggage. For a brief time-out, though, while his mouth made love to hers, nothing had been important but him.
“Should I apologize for that?” he asked, searching her eyes. “Because I’m really not sorry.”
“Me, neither,” she whispered. And she wasn’t. Reese really knew how to kiss.
She averted her eyes, not wanting him to see what she was feeling. She couldn’t let anything romantic get started with Reese. The man set her emotions on fire, and such turmoil was all wrong for her. She required tranquility in her life. She’d had enough upheaval.
An awkward silence stretched out.
“It’s getting late.” He placed his wine on the rattan table but made no motion to rise. Neither of them knew what to do now, she thought, where to go after that amazing kiss. Or at least it had been amazing for her.
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Sharon Hartley
Тип: электронная книга
Жанр: Современные любовные романы
Язык: на английском языке
Издательство: HarperCollins
Дата публикации: 16.04.2024
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О книге: Not the treasure they expected to find Trading the past for a simpler life in Miami is part of yoga teacher Taki′s path to better karma. But when a devastating theft brings federal prosecutor Reese Beauchamps into her life, things are suddenly a lot more complicated!She′s drawn to gorgeous Reese in ways she can′t explain. His analytical mind prevents him from understanding why spiritual intuition guides her…and he reminds her of what she′d rather forget. But chasing a criminal, they can′t dodge the sizzle of attraction. Now, unless Taki trusts Reese′s determination to protect her, she might run again…and leave love behind.