by Pamela Aares
By the time they reached the main foyer, she was exhausted. Thinking about every move before making it was tiring. She was already considering what she’d extract as payback from Alex. He’d set this up. He must’ve known how damned focused his buddy was. Alex would pay.
She whirled to face Kaz. “Do you think about every move before you pitch?”
A puzzled look crossed his face. The question was an extension of the conversation that she’d had with herself all the way up the stairs, but he couldn’t know that.
“I think with my whole body, not just my mind.” She opened her mouth to question him, and he put up a finger. “I’ll show you. But first steps first.”
He opened the main door. “After you.”
If he had smiled then, she might’ve punched him. He must have known the torture he was inflicting. But as she crossed the drawbridge and descended the steps to the cobbled driveway in front of Trovare, it occurred to her that maybe he didn’t. Maybe for him exploring and examining movement was just a part of everyday life. But it wasn’t his moves under scrutiny. She felt like a racehorse at an auction yard.
She looked back at him. He was staring. Not at her. At the drawbridge.
“It looks authentic.”
“It is,” she said, relieved to have his focus off her. “My father found it in a ruin in Périgord, most of it anyway. The wood was rotted, but the metal bits are all original.”
He stepped up beside her. “Does it keep the hordes out?”
“Until you.”
That wasn’t what she’d meant to say.
He laughed, but his easy reaction didn’t calm the flaming in her cheeks.
“I’m sorry,” she said and meant it. “You came here at Alex’s request.”
“But not yours.” They stepped down onto the cobbled drive and headed toward the vineyard. “At least you’re not being overly nice.”
“I’d think having people be nice was a good thing,” she said, not liking the defensiveness in her voice.
“Nice can be excruciating, all the mincing around and shallow smiles. I prefer honesty.”
“I warn you, nice is my go-to mode,” she said. It was true, but admitting something so personal suddenly sounded ridiculous.
Her mind raced—sorting, sifting, considering his words. She’d never thought of niceness as a dangerous handmaiden of dishonesty.
He stopped and pivoted toward her. “I doubt that what we’re about to do will make you feel like trotting out the word nice.”
The words were politely said, but they sent a shiver down her spine. And there she was thinking about her spine again. His eyes held a glint of what? Not derision. Challenge. A strange thrill wove through the tension tightening her chest.
With a wave of his arm, he motioned toward a path that ran through the older areas of Trovare’s vineyard.
She lifted her chin. “You go first.”
She’d had enough of the uncomfortable feelings that sizzled in her when he watched her from behind. There was no denying the power he exuded. His intense focus extended from him like a search beacon and touched everything in its beam. Maybe Alex was right. With that sort of power, maybe Kaz could help her unwind the knots in her body, diffuse the pain, move her closer to being ready to play her part.
She stepped behind him and tried to match his long strides as he set off toward a cluster of oaks in the south vineyard. He moved with sinuous grace, the muscles of his legs and along his broad shoulders working in a balanced rhythm. She’d seen many athletes’ bodies—she’d watched hundreds of baseball games and seen the players up close when Alex brought his teammates to Trovare. But Kaz moved differently from any of them. He moved like…like a tiger stalking prey, every movement graceful but alert, almost prowling.
She tugged at the edge of her shirt and picked up her pace.
The ropes slung over his shoulder moved in time with his strides. She imagined what a man like him could do with ropes, with power.
Alex might trust Kaz, but everything about her brother’s friend set her on edge.
Kaz stopped near the largest oak, untangled the webbed ropes and tied them to a branch.
Then wordlessly he walked to Sabrina and unstrapped the sling from her shoulder and dropped it to the leaf-scattered ground.
“Let’s see you move,” he said as he stepped back.
She froze.
“Move, you know, as in motion.” He offered the faintest hint of a smile.
“Um…perhaps you could give me a clearer direction?”
“This isn’t Hollywood. Just move.”
She ignored the dig about Hollywood and stepped one foot to the side and then followed it with the other.
He pressed his lips together.
“Sabrina, this isn’t a test. Here… Follow me.”
He bent his knees and swung his hips from side to side. “Start with this. I want to see your hip movement.”
Color flamed in her cheeks as she crouched and self-consciously shifted her weight and moved her hips. His gaze was more intense than any lover’s she’d ever known. More intimate. More…invasive. She rocked her hips again, but couldn’t look at him. Adrenaline riddled through her as she shifted. She knew how to move, but having him watch—it was too much.
She straightened. “I don’t see what this has to do with my shoulder.”
He folded his arms across his chest. “I’m not sure yet, either, but—”
“Then maybe we could just move right to the shoulder part.”
He smiled. A Cheshire Cat friggin’ smile if ever there was one.
“Are you enjoying torturing me?”
“We haven’t really started, but no,” he said as his smile faded. “I’m sorry if you’re uncomfortable. But discomfort can be a key aspect of healing. Maybe it’s a good sign.”
He moved to stand beside her. “Lift your uninjured arm, slowly, like this.”
She copied his move and raised her arm.
“Slower,” he said in a near-hypnotic tone. “Do it again. And this time, be aware of your ribs as you move.”
She did as he said and tried to concentrate on her ribs. The breeze wafted his scent to her. Exotic. Cedar or sandalwood. And a citrus undertone. And under that—
“Movement is the language of your brain,” he said.
She snapped her attention back to her movements.
“Every action creates trillions of connections. If you move without awareness, no new paths are created. Like a plow furrowing a field, the old patterns just become deeper and more entrenched. Habitual movements can lead to loss of strength and flexibility.” He tapped a finger to his head. “Not just in your body, but also your mind.”
He raised his arm and motioned for her to copy him again.
“This time, be aware of any feeling in your stomach as you raise your arm. Don’t judge the feeling, just notice it.”
She raised her arm, concentrating on her belly. But it was impossible to ignore the fire that was kindling lower on its own accord. She dragged her attention back to her arm and then tried to focus on other feelings in her belly, any other feeling. But every time she looked at him, the slow burn in her core jumped a few degrees.
“If you move and focus your attention,” he said in the same mesmerizing tone, “even a simple movement can change your body, alter your mind, enrich your soul.”
Her soul?
Wasn’t it enough that her mind and body were zinging with strange, uncontrollable feelings? Now he had to bring her soul into it?
With an exasperated sigh, she dropped her arm to her side.
“Don’t you want me to raise my injured arm?” she asked, hoping that changing things up might break the odd spell weaving through her.
“No. The work you’ve just done is sufficient.”
He reached his hand toward her.
“May I touch you?”
It was a simple question, gently asked.
She swallowed her urge to flee and nodded.
&nb
sp; “And would you take off your jacket?”
“My jacket?”
He nodded.
She fumbled with the zipper, then removed her hoodie and dropped it to the ground.
The breeze was cool against her skin but as he moved behind her, heat surged in her veins.
“Don’t shoulders and arms have to do with the front of the body?” she asked, still trying to derail some of the energy flooding her.
“Women ignore their back bodies.”
He put his hands on her shoulders. She shut her eyes and hoped he didn’t feel the zing of adrenaline that shot through her when his fingers touched her skin. And was grateful that he couldn’t see the blush of embarrassment that flushed her cheeks. Goose bumps lifted along her arms as something more, some feeling she had no word for, rushed into her.
“Are you cold, Sabrina?”
“No,” was all she could utter.
She really was losing her mind. The guy hadn’t had his hands on her for more than thirty seconds and already he’d shocked feelings through her that made no sense. She’d been touched by muscled, athletic stuntmen during film shoots, by lovers over the years, by Derrick—who’d be her lover if she let him—but no man’s touch had created such a deep, immediate and mysterious effect.
He ran his fingertips along her shoulders. She tried to suppress the rising shiver.
“Your back, your spine, your glutes, those are your power sources.” He pressed along her muscles, his fingers streaming unsettling energy as he moved closer to the nape of her neck. “Along with your core. But we’ll address your abdominal muscles when we go back inside.”
The image of him observing her belly sent another shock of heat deep into her core. And lower. That sensation she did have words for—desire, hot and insistent. She wondered if he knew.
He pressed under the blade of her injured shoulder, and the pain made her wince, had her tensing, guarding.
“See if you can breathe into this, Sabrina. I promise not to hurt you.”
She inhaled as he pressed his fingers gently into the knotted muscles under her shoulder blade. Then he pressed on both sides of her shoulders at a point where the sensation was nearly unbearable, even though his touch was light. The near-painful feeling kept her mind off the twinge of hot wanting she was trying to ignore.
Maybe it’d just been too long since she’d had a lover. Maybe she should share Derrick’s bed. But something had kept her from crossing that line with him. He might be her co-star, mentor of sorts and friend, but she wasn’t as ready as he was to add lover to the list.
Kaz traced his fingers down her arms, stroked along her forearms to her fingertips. She shivered with a mixture of pleasure and wariness. Mostly wariness.
“Maybe your attacker did you a favor,” Kaz said as he moved his hands up her forearms and back to her shoulders. She felt almost dizzy as he ran his thumbs down either side of her spine. “This problem you’re having—maybe he set it off, but maybe not. It may have been lurking for some time.” He moved his hands back to her shoulders, pressed again along the muscles of her neck, this time closer to her skull. “You were going to have to deal with the heart of this no matter what.”
“But…I have…” His thumbs reached the base of her skull. “I have…stunts to perform…in less than three weeks.” Her voice sounded distant, hollow. She was going to—
Kaz caught her in his arms.
“Good,” he said as he firmed his hands around her ribcage and held her upright. As he steadied her, all she could think of was that his fingertips were only inches from her breasts.
But once she caught her breath, fury sped in.
“Good? Making me faint is good?” She spun around.
Bad move.
His hands still circled her ribs and he was close. Too close. Her senses were overwhelmed by the scent of incense and heat and male. Serious male.
He released his hands and stepped back. “That wasn’t a faint. That was a reset, to use a simple word for it. Early and surprising, but a reset.” He frowned. “But this is going to take longer than I had hoped.”
Her tangled and unwanted feelings of desire morphed into anger. He obviously didn’t feel that he had to explain what he was doing. But she wanted answers. And a plan. If she was going to work with him, to let him touch her, to let him…help her heal, he was going to have to pony up some explanations.
She crossed her arms. And didn’t feel the usual horrible twinge of pain. The deeper pain was still there, achy and roosting, but for the first time in a while, she could draw her arm across her chest without a hot, lancing stab of hurt. Whatever had just happened, she was one degree closer to freedom.
“Wow,” she said as wonder threaded through her anger, loosening it. “I haven’t been able to do that without pain for months.”
He raised a brow. Evidently in his mind such minor progress wasn’t cause for celebration.
“That defensive gesture might be one you need to get away from,” he said with an authority that disturbed her. He nodded toward her folded arms and her fingers gripped tight around her elbows. “You need to learn to balance defense with offense. Anger is a very poor offense. And you need to learn about subtle distinctions.”
Offense? Defense? Subtlety? They were supposed to be talking about her muscles, not her strategy for life.
“Alex should have warned me that I was going to spend the day with Obi-Wan Kenobi.”
He laughed. The sound of it surprised her and flowed through her anger. The tightness webbed in her body began to dissolve. She dropped her arms to her sides.
“Let’s try the TRX.” He gestured toward the yellow and black webbed ropes hanging from the sturdy oak branch.
A breeze had kicked up and the ropes swayed as she followed Kaz toward them. He took the ropes in his hand, straightened them, tugged and then handed the rubber-covered handles to her.
Her fingers brushed his as she took the handles. Was she imagining things, or did his eyes narrow as he pulled his hands away?
“Take the handles—both of them—in your uninjured hand, Sabrina.”
Her name sounded foreign when he spoke it; she was beginning to like hearing him say it.
He raised his arms in an arcing motion. “Plant your feet, like this.” He showed her a bent-knee stance with his toes turned in. “And pivot from your hips as you lift your arm.”
She tried to copy his movement. It looked easy enough, but she couldn’t do it.
“Don’t worry. We’re going for re-patterning your body. Awkward is good.”
“That’s a relief.” She tried again, with less success.
He stepped to her. “May I?” He motioned to her hands with his.
When she nodded, he closed his hands around hers. His were large, and surprisingly smooth for a farmer. For an athlete, she reminded herself. She wondered just how much farming he actually did. And they were warm, his large hands. As he snugged his grip, heat and energy pulsed a spellbinding path straight to her core.
“Sabrina?”
Caught savoring the delicious lure of the warmth and energy, she blushed. What was it about the man that set her mind spinning? That set her body on a course of its own?
“Try to concentrate. Imagine yourself moving like a child. Children feel their movements; their thoughts don’t get in their way. Feel the arc. Turn into it like this.”
He moved her hand up, guiding it around and above her head, then back, and opened her palm to the sky. There were no words for the delicious surge of release that flooded her. How was it possible that already she was feeling more flexible and comfortable? She floated in the lush feeling as he moved her arm in the opposite direction, back to the starting position.
And then, too soon, he pulled his hands away. She could’ve sworn she saw lines of energy trailing from his hands to hers.
She really had to get more sleep.
“Try it without my help.” He stepped away, watching.
She gripped the handles a
nd brought the rope taut, parallel with the branch, as he’d shown her. Then she twisted her arm up toward the sky and pivoted her hips. Exhilaration rushed through her and with it a wave of pleasure that sent more goose bumps prickling along her arms.
But that wasn’t all.
“Something shifted,” she said breathlessly as she tried to express the awe flooding her. “Something inside me.” But the dizziness that followed the rush had her wavering on her feet.
He placed a palm on her lower back and stilled her. “Breathe. Just breathe.”
His words steadied her as much as his hand did. But her pulse picked up its pace as he moved his arm to circle her waist. She slowed her movements and found her balance.
He took the handles from her.
“Good.”
She turned to him. “Thank you,” she said, trying again to ignore the energy throbbing in her. “I don’t know why I have such a hard time doing such a simple thing.”
“This is no simple thing, Sabrina.”
His gaze met hers and held, probing deeply into places she’d never offered permission to be explored. And she saw into him too. Mystery and power lived in Kaz Tokugawa. But something else lived there as well, something raw, something she couldn’t name, something painful, haunting, controlling. And then, as quickly as the impression had appeared, it flicked off, as if he knew she’d seen it, as if he could control such things.
“We’ll try this again tomorrow.” He began to untie the ropes from the tree. “That’s enough for today.”
Jolted, she dragged her attention back to the task at hand. “But I only did one movement.” She was accustomed to repeating, practicing, getting it right. Alex’s training practices had rubbed off on her. “I’d like to try again.”
“You are so like your brother,” he said. There was no judgment in his voice. “I suspected as much. You will be a good student. But force is not the answer. You need to ease into these movements.”
“I’m not your student,” she said, flustered.
His eyes flashed with an emotion she couldn’t read. “We’re all students, Sabrina. The wisdom wants to enter, but we get in our own way.”
