by Gwen Hayes
She felt herself growing colder. Not because he was wrong, but because it was too easy to pretend. She liked it when he called her his wife. She knew she was lonely, but she hadn’t realized just how alone she felt until she warmed so quickly to the thought of someone caring about her walking alone in the woods.
She had to shut this down. Now was not the time to think about that kiss or the warm, gooey feelings she got when he pretended to be in love with her all night.
When he opened the cabin door and she stepped inside, she could practically hear the sound of the record scratching as all sound in her head came to a complete halt.
That damned bed.
“How are we going to do this?” she asked him, hoping beyond hope he would stay true to his gentlemanly manners and offer to sleep on the floor.
“We go to sleep,” he answered instead.
“Right.”
He lifted his shirt in one swift motion. “Afraid you can’t control yourself, honey?”
“Oh, I’m not worried about me.” But she was. She so was.
He was amazing. His muscles were chiseled by the finest sculptor ever, and the lines of his frame tapered in a way that made her hands itch to trace the line. They worked in advertising, for crying out loud. Where did he come up with a body like that?
But no way she let him get the upper hand here. She released her pony tail like it was the Kraken. Shaking out her hair bad shampoo-commercial style, she unbuttoned the over-sized flannel she’d thrown over a tank top before dinner.
He didn’t even try to mask his interest. “Whose shirt is that?” he asked.
“Mine.”
“Who did it used to belong to?” His voice...well, it cracked. “It’s a man’s shirt. I can tell by the buttons.”
She paused unbuttoning it. “Does it matter?” Did he care? Was he jealous?
“It does if he’s still in the picture. Since I’ll be sleeping with his girlfriend tonight.”
Their gazes locked and held for several long seconds that felt like hours. Finally, she shook her head. “There’s no one. I’m not seeing anyone right now.” She’d been giving Phillip the heave-ho when Miguel had interrupted her phone call yesterday.
“Me either.” Which she assumed, but she probably should have asked before she’d kissed him.
So. They had gone from barely tolerating each other, to pretending to be married, kissing, and now getting into bed together after establishing they were both single. This day could not have turned out more differently than she’d expected.
His eyes were hungry, but she couldn’t stop poking the bear as she slid the shirt off her shoulders. He took two steps toward her but paused and reached past her, grabbing his shave kit from the bureau behind her. Her chest was inches from grazing his. She was within kissing distance of the pulse point on his neck that beat faster because of her. “Mind if I take the bathroom first?” he asked.
She couldn’t translate the words very fast. Like he was speaking Swahili instead of English. She was afraid she was alone in the sea of rising lust, but one glance down his lower body spoke of his desire matching hers. She traveled the line back up the happy trail until she met his gaze. And his smirk.
Jerk.
“No, you should definitely go first. You have some things to ...take care of,” she said pointedly, sending him a matching smirk.
He wasn’t in the bathroom but five minutes, and her pulse still raced while she took her turn. She hoped she took long enough in the bathroom that he would be asleep when she got into bed. Whether he was or not, slipping into the soft clean sheets had been heavenly, and she drifted off as soon as her head hit the pillow.
Tomorrow could take care of itself. She’d had all she could be reasonably expected to take for today.
Chapter Three
Good morning, Campers!
Hopefully you didn’t have too much fun at the mixer and campfire last night and are ready for some hot, summer fun. If you did overindulge, go back to the scene of the crime where we’ve stashed blue coolers filled with Heather Tully’s Secret Hangover Remedy (pour yourself a glass from the pitcher) If hair of the dog is more your style, the red coolers are stocked with cans of beer and tomato juice.
If you’ve never tried couples’ yoga, you don’t know what you’ve been missing. We know it’s early, but you won’t regret greeting the day with your beloved and learning some sexy, intimate poses.
Regular Schedule
Sunrise Yoga: 7:30 a.m. on the dock
Buffet Breakfast: White tent 8 a.m. to 9 a.m.
Zip-lining opens: 9 a.m.
Spa and Massage: 9 a.m. to 8 p.m. (see reception desk to make appointment)
Kayak and tennis lessons: 10 a.m. to 2 p.m.
Lunch buffet: noon-2 p.m.
Trivia in the boathouse: 4 p.m. to 5 p.m.
Cocktail hour: 5 p.m.
Dinner Buffet: 6 p.m. to 8 p.m.
Theme party: 9 p.m.
Campfire: 9 p.m. to 2 a.m.
Midnight munchies every night at campfire
Sera and Miguel:
Sunrise Yoga: 7:30 a.m.
Softball practice: 9 a.m.
Marriage Counseling: 1 p.m.
MIGUEL HAD NEVER EATEN SMOKED pears before, but as he woke up by degrees, he realized he’d been dreaming about them.
And then he figured out why.
Sera’s hair, which usually smelled like pears, had absorbed some campfire smoke the night before, and her hair was under his nose. And his body was curved around hers like spoons in a drawer. Which meant if she woke up now, she would feel just how much he was enjoying waking up wrapped around her. Because she felt really good pressed up against him.
Really good.
It wasn’t often that he woke up wrapped around a woman. He wasn’t a spend the night kind of guy. It sent an impression he wasn’t interested in maintaining. He wasn’t a manwhore, either. It’s not like he was out getting laid every weekend with random one night stands. But on the nights when he wasn’t being a monk, he did not usually fall asleep with a woman.
Sera mumbled something, and he couldn’t resist pulling her in a little tighter.
He told himself that the sexual tension between them was a good thing. It would make their charade more believable. It would make it easier to look like they were in love if they looked like they wanted to bang each other. He told himself that holding her close right now would help make touching her later seem more natural.
He could tell himself whatever he wanted. The simple truth was that it didn’t matter if she wasn’t wearing the pencil skirt or that her hair smelled like smoke or that she annoyed him by simply existing. He was spooning Sera Worth because there was nothing on earth he’d rather do at that moment than hold her close and smell her, smoke and all.
Okay, there was something else he wanted to do.
But sex was off the table. They still had to go back to the real world after this one-week marriage fantasy. Sex would complicate things way too much.
He let himself drift back to sleep until she started shifting around in his arms. He cracked open one eye to find her staring at him over her shoulder.
“Good morning, husband.” Her voice was crackly. He guessed he assumed she woke up just as smooth and polished as she showed up to the office. Her hair was everywhere...she definitely did muss after all. Because she looked and sounded like the kind of woman you drag back into bed when she tried to get out.
“Morning, wife.”
She rolled until she was facing him all the way, but there wasn’t a lot of room on the bed, and she didn’t strive to put more space between them. “Did you sleep well?”
“Like a rock.” Her eyes were so big. Had her eyes always been like that? So expressive? He didn’t know her well enough to pick up what she was feeling, but in a weird way, he wished he did.
“I was thinking about the sheep farm.”
Huh? “Huh?”
“Well, I know that they make a little bit of money
selling the raw wool and the hats that Neil makes and sells on Etsy. But I’m wondering if they could do farm tours. Maybe even a small scale B&B. And Neil could have a physical shop where he does his knitting during the day where people can come in and buy yarn. He has to knit somewhere; it might as well be someplace where he could sell his wares at the same time.”
“That’s what you were thinking about this morning?”
She nodded, and sure enough, her eyes had a little light behind them. Like the spark from her thought was lighting them up and he could see her thinking.
“That’s not what I was thinking about,” he admitted. Though it was a good idea. Hobby farms were on trend right now.
She giggled softly. “I know. I felt you thinking against my ass.”
He’d never heard her giggle before. And he’d never heard her swear. This trip was getting better all the time because he was going to make it his mission to hear them both more often. “Does it bother you?”
“That you woke up with an erection? No. That’s kind of what guys do.”
“You’re not going to try and take any credit for it? I think you should.”
There was something very soothing about the intimacy of their morning talk. Yeah, he wanted to bone her, but the soft light and hushed voices and cocoon of blankets wasn’t encouraging him to jump out of bed and start the day. Nobody could see them in the cabin. It wasn’t about fooling everyone into thinking they were a couple. It was just the two of them without the office or the competition or the expectations of anyone else.
But all good things must end and they made their way to sunrise yoga on the waterfront. Pre-coffee.
This probably wasn’t going to end well.
Lake Waawaatesi was calm and beautiful. A good day for paddle boarding. If nothing else, this trip was worth it for the scenery. Just breathing out here felt better.
The dock was large, but it would have to be to accommodate all the yoga enthusiasts. Not everyone was up at dawn for the session—but he and Sera had decided to be everywhere they could in case they were being judged. Sleeping in would have been nice, but the peace of a day not yet begun was nice too.
They took two mats and settled in, watching as two extremely fit people got in position. A man and a woman.
“Good morning everyone. My name is Essa and this is Birk. We’re going to spend every dawn with you for the next week.”
Birk? Seriously? Did yoga instructors take on stage names? The guy was a piece of work. More muscle than brain. Or maybe Miguel was just jealous.
Nah. He hated Birk on sight.
“Yoga for couples is extremely beneficial for creating bonds and strengthening intimacy. We’ll start with very beginner and basic poses, but by the end of our time together, you’ll have a couple of tantric poses in your repertoire as well.”
He’d heard the word tantric before, so he glanced at his partner who looked alarmed.
“Doing yoga together will build trust and unity. You will find that if you give into the breathing, you and your partner will unite in similar rhythms. Your breathing and heartbeats will synchronize and you’ll feel in tune with each other in ways you never imagined before. The trust comes as you learn each other’s limitations, as you rely on each other to stretch and extend out of yourself.”
He looked around and was relieved to see other people were nervous. Except Steve and Neil. Maybe they did yoga together already.
“We’ll begin by sitting cross-legged and knee to knee, so if you’ll face each other on the mats, we’ll start.”
As they sat, he noticed how easily Sera moved her legs into position. She was already bendy where he was not.
“Okay now, Birk and I are going to show you the “heart hug” by putting our left hands over each other’s hearts and our right hands in Namaste prayer position.” They got onto their mats and asked everyone to copy their pose. “Now close your eyes and breathe. Just relax and allow your breathing to synchronize.”
After a few minutes of breathing, they were taught three more poses and it was all...nice. Until they did something called “child’s pose with upward dog.”
Brick and Essa showed the pose first, and he got hot. Very hot. All over. It was basically doggy style with clothes. Now that he and Sera were so “in sync” with each other, they mentally communicated that he be the first into child’s position. But when the direction from Essa came, “lean your hips forward into the upward dog while resting your hips on your partner’s sacrum,” he was sure he was going to flip Sera over and maul her in front of everyone. When they switched, he didn’t even care about it being awkward anymore. He wanted to rest on her sacrum more than he’d wanted anything in a very long time.
She felt good. Better than good.
“Miguel?” she asked as they held the pose.
“Yes, Sera?”
She didn’t answer. They just kept breathing and neither the question nor the answer felt all that important anyway. He concentrated on the sound of the water lapping against the dock supports below them, the sky gentling from pink to blue, the cry of fishing birds on the lake, and the smell of pears and the rich scent of the wood surrounding them. He hadn’t ever felt so present in a moment. He’d deny it if anyone asked, but he could feel her heart beating inside of him. A small vibration pulling at him.
After yoga, after a cold shower, after breakfast, and after another cold shower, they had softball.
“I can’t do this,” Sera said, the panicked look in her eye concerning him.
“Why?” he pulled her away from the line. Today and tomorrow they practiced. Then the intramural games would start for the week.
He didn’t like her color and found he could name another of her moods based on her expressive eyes. Terror.
“I’m not good at sports.”
It was more than that, but he didn’t want to push her. “I saw you contort your body into several poses this morning. You’re strong, toned, and flexible. What’s really wrong.”
“I don’t know how to play. I’ve never...I’ve never even held a bat.”
What kind of childhood included never holding a bat?
He didn’t care if they lost every game they played, Mr. Martin be damned, but he was going to erase that look of terror from her eyes.
“Hey, princess. We got this.” Once more, he was spooned around her body, but this time he was molding her hands around the bat, one palm up, one down.
“I’m not very strong,” she protested.
“You don’t need to be.” He slid his hands to her hips. “This is where your power is.”
She twisted her head to give him a sidelong glance. “My hips?”
“Yep. And here.” He tapped her head. “’Hitting is fifty percent above the shoulders.’ That’s a quote from Ted Williams.”
“Who is Ted Williams?”
“Later.” He walked her through a couple swings, blaming the warming day for the heat even while knowing it came from inside him. He needed to stop touching her, but he couldn’t. He was a pig. The worst kind.
“We have free time after this until lunch. I could use a swim,” she said, as if the image he conjured of her in a swimsuit was no big deal.
Maybe the cold water would be good for him. He definitely needed a cool down.
SERA WORRIED THAT THE BEER might have been a bad idea right before seeing a marriage counselor, but she drank it anyway. Beer had never tasted so good as they relaxed in the Adirondack lounge chairs overlooking the lake and made their story airtight.
“We really do have a great marriage, Miguel.”
He laughed. “You don’t think the Eiffel Tower proposal was too much?”
“Maybe a little. I think I’d rather be proposed to in private.”
He considered her carefully for a moment, his head cocked to one side. “A sensible proposal, right? Hell, you probably didn’t even want me to ask. You would prefer a quiet discussion of the reasons to get married versus staying single.”
“Wel
l, yes. Marriage shouldn’t be a yes or no question asked by the man.”
Miguel held his hand up. “I get it. You’ve never been in love.”
One. Two. Three...
“I can see you counting,” he said. The teasing lilt in his voice just made her more agitated. “You count a lot.”
“I certainly do,” she answered and swigged down the last third of her beer. “What makes you think I’ve never been in love? Just because I’m practical doesn’t mean I can’t also have feelings.”
“I don’t doubt your capability of having feelings, princess. I’m just saying you’ve never been swept away by them. A marriage proposal isn’t supposed to be practical.”
“I see. And you know this because you’ve proposed so many times then?”
A flare lit his eyes from behind and then poofed out just as quickly. “Just once.”
His answer staggered her, but he was closing down and she wasn’t going to get more out of him than that. He checked his watch and stood.
“Miguel...”
“It’s time to go to counseling. I proposed to you in Paris. I swept you off your feet.” He held out his hand to help her out of her chair. “You can be practical about a lot of things, Sera, but being in love with me isn’t one of them.”
A cold flush swept over her body at his words. That would be the problem with a guy like Miguel. A woman can forget herself, lose herself, when she’s in love. Sera couldn’t allow herself that kind of chaos.
They met their counselor, who turned out to be Birk from yoga, in an office with several of his diplomas on the wall. The office overlooked the lake from the second floor of the lodge. The lodge itself was going to be pretty grand, but it was still undergoing rehab construction.
Birk was handsome. Under other circumstances, she’d have probably dated him. She self-consciously rubbed the ring on her left hand—she’d transferred the band she usually wore from her right. Her movement drew Birk’s eyes and she worried. Was that some kind of signal to a therapist? Marriage in trouble?
She and Miguel sat next to each other on the couch and Birk took a chair across from them. “How did you enjoy yoga this morning?” he began.
