Fall Into Temptation (Blue Moon #2) (2 page)

C
heerful from caffeine
and a good night’s sleep, Beckett breezed through the doorway into the section of his house that was dedicated to his law practice. Originally a parlor, the high-ceilinged room opened onto a glassed-in sun porch, making the entire space bright and comfortable.

Here he’d stripped the dark plaid wallpaper from the walls, but left the waist-high wainscoting. Built-ins flanked the double doors that opened into the library that he used as a conference room. On the back wall was a large stone fireplace.

His office was through a set of ornately carved pocket doors toward the front of the house, overlooking the porch and driveway.

Ellery’s desk faced the sun porch’s entrance. From there, she did her best to edit the never-ending stream of visitors. It was here that his worlds of politics and business intersected. Clients of his practice shared the sunny waiting space with town council members and residents with beefs or wildly inappropriate suggestions … sometimes both.

Beckett put Ellery’s pink kitten mug down on her desk. His paralegal swiveled in her chair, her desk phone cradled between ear and shoulder.

“Uh-huh. Sure Mrs. Parker. I’ll let him know as soon as he’s back in the office,” she said into the phone. “You, too. Bye now.”

Her painted black lips stretched into a grin. Her ebony hair hung in lazy, loose curls pinned back from her face. Tiny skull earrings danced at her lobes.

“Mrs. Parker is
very
interested in talking to you about redoing her will, which is code for talking you into dating her daughter.”

“Moon Beam?” Beckett winced. He had gone to school with Moon Beam Parker and had spent a very memorable portion of junior year with her, during which he lost his virginity to her in the backseat of his mother’s SUV. The relationship had fizzled — as so many high school romances in Blue Moon — when Moon Beam left for a yearlong stay on a commune in Vermont after her parents’ divorce.

“It seems Mrs. Parker became aware of the attention you’re getting since that article and wants to lock you down for Moon Beam.”

“Husband number three, am I?” Beckett said, dropping into one of the chairs in front of Ellery’s desk. He sipped his coffee. “What else is on the agenda, besides marrying me off?”

“First things first,” Ellery said. “Welcome back. You look tan and mostly happy.”

“I am tan and mostly happy.” He thought of his mother’s news and suppressed a frown.

“Good.” Ellery nodded briskly. “Here’s a copy of your calendar for this week. I tried to keep the appointments a little light so you don’t lose your post-island buzz.” She ran through some of the highlights of the coming week, pointing with black tipped nails. “You also have a Chamber event at noon today. Ribbon-cutting at the yoga studio.”

Beckett perked up. So he’d get to meet the beautiful and flexible yoga teacher today. That was a plus. The memory of her laughing in candlelight behind the glass of her studio tugged at him. All those red curls and that pale skin. There was something bewitching about her.

“Beckett?” Ellery was looking at him.

“What?”

“I asked if you met her yet?” Ellery asked, breaking through his thoughts.

He frowned. “No. I just got back last night,” he reminded her.

“She great. She’s amazing actually,” Ellery gushed. “She started teaching classes last week and I signed up for a monthly package after my first class. I think you’ll really like her. She’s a good fit.”

Before he could ask her what the limber, young yoga instructor would be a good fit for, they were interrupted by his nine o’clock, who was thirty-five minutes early.

And so it began.

Beckett worked his way through appointments, research, and paperwork right up until he had to leave for the ribbon cutting. He grabbed the ceremonial gold shears that Ellery held up for him and headed out the door.

“Don’t run with those,” she called after him.

There was already a crowd gathered around the front door of the studio. They were all familiar faces. Elvira Eustace, with her more salt than pepper ringlets, was chatting animatedly with Anthony Berkowicz, the skinny editor of
The Monthly Moon
, who was holding a digital camera bigger than he was.

Anthony’s mother, Rainbow, was impatiently staring at her watch while Mrs. McCafferty of the catchall general store McCaffertys talked her ear off.

The door to the yoga studio opened, and Rob from OJs by Julia stepped out carrying empty trays.

“Hey, Beckett,” Rob greeted him.

Beckett nodded at the trays. “Does Julia have you doing deliveries now?”

Rob grinned. “She and the baby are directing everyone from home for another few days. It was all I could get her to commit to before she comes back to work.”

“Three kids under five,” Beckett shook his head. “You two are super heroes.”

“Or insane,” Rob shrugged happily. “What’s new with you? How was your trip?”

Beckett’s response was cut off by town councilwoman Dr. Donna Delveccio. Donna’s entrepreneurial parents had raised three equally enterprising children. All told, the family owned and operated Blue Moon’s dry-cleaning business, medical supply store, and Delveccio Dental.

“Let’s get this show on the road, Beckett,” she said, rubbing her hands together. “There’s a mini turkey club in there with my name on it and I’ve got a cavity filling at one.”

“Do we have a yoga studio owner somewhere around here?” Beckett asked, scanning the crowd.

Dr. Donna shrugged. “Maybe she’s inside?”

“I’ll see if I can find her and get you your turkey club,” he told her. “Why don’t you organize everyone and I’ll be right back?”

He made a move toward the studio’s glass door and turned back. “What’s her name?” he asked Donna.

“Gianna Decker.”

Beckett entered the studio, noting that the painting supplies from last night had been cleaned up. A long buffet table, laden with sandwiches, snacks, and mini smoothies, was set up in front of the windows.

At the back of the room, the door to a second, smaller studio was open. It was empty. But down the narrow hallway he noticed one of the restroom doors was closed. She must be in there. He decided to give her another minute or two when he heard the doorknob rattle.

“Is anyone out there?” called a muffled voice.

He hurried down the hall and arrived at the door in time to hear her groan.

“Seriously? Of all days,” the voice said woefully. The handle jiggled again, harder this time. A swift thump replaced the jiggling. “I really don’t like you right now, door!”

Beckett knocked and heard the yelp on the other side of the wood. “Are you stuck?” he asked.

“Oh my God! Yes, please help. The lock must be broken and I have to get outside. Everyone’s waiting.”

Beckett tried the handle on his side. “Definitely stuck,” he assessed.

“Gee, you think?” she asked dryly.

“Doors don’t block sarcasm,” he reminded her.

“Right. Sorry. I’m just flustered. Can you get me out of here?”

“No. I think you have to stay in there forever.”

“Doors don’t block sarcasm, you know.”

Beckett laughed. “Sorry. Couldn’t help it. I can get you out.” He reached into his pocket and grabbed the ever-present multi-tool his father had given him. “I’m going to take the screws out of the handle on this side, okay?”

“Oh, good. I was afraid you were going to kick the door down.”

“We’ll save that as a last resort,” he promised.

Beckett made quick work of the screws and popped the handle off of his side. He heard the thunk of the interior handle hitting the floor. With his index finger, he pushed the striker release and the door swung open.

She was sitting on the vanity, her bare feet dangling, peeking through the folds of her long skirt. The grin she gave him lit up the bathroom like fireworks in the night sky. Sliding off the countertop, she launched herself into his arms. He caught her purely on instinct and his eyes widened as her full, soft lips landed on his.

There was nothing carnal about the kiss, he thought as she pulled back and slid to the floor. But it still affected him.

“Do you always kiss complete strangers?” he demanded gruffly.

Her wide green eyes sparkled. “I do when they rescue me from considerable amounts of embarrassment and life in restroom prison. I was just debating whether or not the hand soap in here was edible.”

She looked like a fairy. Delicate and small, her ivory skin was dotted with a smattering of freckles. She wore her long red hair loose, cascading down her back. Her snug long sleeve shirt showed off a compact, curvy body.

“Now if you’ll excuse me. I need to go cut a ribbon,” she announced, patting his arm as she stepped around him.

“You can’t get started without me,” he said, following her down the hall and into the studio.

She whirled around, her skirt billowing around her legs. “Don’t tell me,” she said, raising an eyebrow. “Beckett Pierce.”

“At your service, it appears,” he said, with a mock bow.

“Well, isn’t that interesting?” She smiled again, looking him over from head to toe. “Very interesting.” Gianna turned her back on him again and slipped out the front door leaving him frowning after her.

Back outside, Beckett found that Donna had organized everyone into the appropriate positions and the ceremonial tie-dye ribbon was stretched taut in front of the door.

Elvira handed the comically large scissors to him.

Beckett beckoned for Gianna to join him behind the ribbon. “Ready?”

“Let’s do this,” she grinned.

“On behalf of all of Blue Moon, I’d like to welcome Gianna Decker to our community,” Beckett announced to the crowd. “I’m sure she will be an excellent addition to our town as both a business owner and neighbor.”

The small crowd applauded enthusiastically and Gianna waved.

Beckett held up the scissors to the ribbon and captured her hand with his free one. “Together?”

She looked up at him, their gazes locked. He swore he saw a lifetime in those eyes before she winked. And together they snipped through the thick, colorful ribbon.

G
ia watched
Beckett from across the studio as he chatted with a woman in a suit and two men who looked identical except for the color of their flannel shirts.

He was certainly easy to look at. The thick, dark hair waved a bit on top. His strong jawline and high cheekbones were a classical, appealing canvas for eyes so gray they were nearly silver.

He wore the navy suit with a careless comfort, keeping the look slightly more casual by forgoing a tie and leaving the top button of his unwrinkled button-down open. The cut of the suit hinted at spectacular shoulders, a personal favorite for her.

Beckett moved with confidence, made eye contact, and paid attention. It’s too bad he was officially untouchable. Had his name been anything other than Beckett Pierce, she would have been tempted. Very tempted. But he was off limits, and even she could see disaster written all over this potential.

No, it was better to stick with her plan. Focus on her family and her business. Relationships were officially off the table for the foreseeable future until everything else was stabilized.

She couldn’t help but wonder how Beckett would react when he realized who she was.

Picking up her green smoothie, she sipped. Rainbow Berkowicz wandered over to her side. “How’s the new business checking account treating you?” she asked.

Gia grinned. All business from someone named Rainbow. Was it any wonder she already loved Blue Moon? “It’s just fine, thanks. How’s the banking industry these days?”

Rainbow launched into a dry analysis of current lending rates and what they meant for the local economy.

Willa, one of Gia’s first students in the studio, floated over to them. Her wavy blonde hair flowed down her back reaching her hips when it wasn’t secured in a thick braid. “The new paint is just gorgeous. Very peaceful,” she told Gia.

“Thanks, Willa. That’s what I was going for.” She felt a warm current rush up her spine as Beckett joined their little circle. “Are you coming to class tomorrow?” she asked Willa.

“I’ll be here. I felt as loose as water after last class,” Willa said, with a dreamy smile. “Have you taken one of Gia’s classes yet, Beckett?”

“Not yet, but I plan to,” Beckett said, with a politician’s smile.

Gia raised an eyebrow. She knew an empty platitude when she heard one and tolerated them about as well as manicured nails on a chalkboard.

“Oh, you should,” Willa nodded vigorously. “Gia is a wonderful teacher.” A chirping noise sounded from the depths of Willa’s tote bag. She dug out her cellphone. “And that’s my cue to get back to the store. Those boots won’t sell themselves! Thank you for lunch. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I’ll walk out with you,” Rainbow announced. They made their departure, leaving Gia with Beckett at her side.

“So you’d like to take a class, huh?” she asked. He may have saved her from a locked door, but little white lies were a personal pet peeve. A sin in her eyes, having lived with them for so long before. That was a major strike against him. She felt a little relief as his attractiveness dipped down to slightly more normal levels.

“Sure. Sometime,” he nodded, frowning and looking mayoral.

She wasn’t buying it and decided to call his bluff. “I don’t know, Beckett,” Gia said baring her teeth in a fake smile. “The classes can be a little intense. I wouldn’t want you to get hurt.”

He looked insulted. “I run five miles a day. I think I can handle a little stretching.”

He was cocky, but she’d take him down a notch in class. “I guess we’ll see. I promise to take it easy on you,” she said, her smile sharp as razors.

“When’s your next class?” he demanded.

“Seven tonight.”

“I’ll see you then.”

“Great,” she said smugly.

B
eckett showed
up at Half-Moon Yoga fifteen minutes early wearing gym shorts and a scowl. As soon as he’d left the ribbon cutting, he realized Gianna had manipulated him into agreeing to take a class.

It was sneaky and underhanded. Which rankled him as much as her initial suggestion that yoga would be too much for him. He didn’t like that kind of manipulation from anyone, not even a beautiful woman.

He wasn’t into the whole OM-ing, stretching deal, but wouldn’t dream of saying that to a woman who made her living that way.

He could have cancelled, had even considered it when he got back to his office. But that would give her the false sense of satisfaction that she had scared him off. A redheaded pixie and her downward-facing dogs weren’t going to rattle him.

He had run track in high school. He hit the gym for early morning workouts five days a week and ran just as often. He had a protein shake for breakfast every day. He was in shape — great shape — and no bendy yoga guru was going to insinuate otherwise.

It was quite the eclectic crowd in the studio tonight. He recognized four of the starters from the high school football team taking up spots in the front row. Maizie from Peace of Pizza was brushing her white blond bangs out of her eyes while her boyfriend, Benito, stretched.

In the corner by the window, Beckett spotted resident pothead and poker champion Bill Fitzsimmons sitting cross-legged with his eyes closed. His lips were moving, but no sound came out. He was wearing sweatpants that looked like they had lived through the seventies.

Beckett was just noticing how warm the studio was when Fitz stood up and took off his pants, revealing embarrassingly small spandex shorts. It took all his control not to start laughing … or crying.

Gianna, in cropped tights and a strappy tank top that showed off some spectacular curves, smiled from the front of the room.
That was going to be distracting
, he thought.

“Welcome,” she called to him, with a hint of friendly cockiness in her eyes. “Let me get you a mat.”

Beckett followed her to the shelving unit that held rolled up mats in purples and greens as well as a dozen foam blocks and soft blankets.

Gianna handed him a green mat. “You can set up anywhere. Just face the front of the room.” She stood on tiptoe and grabbed one of the blocks off the shelf. “Here.”

“What’s this for?”

“It helps with modifications for some of the poses.”

Beckett eyed her. “I doubt I’ll need to modify anything.”

“Suit yourself,” she said with a wink and sauntered back to her mat.

Beckett took a spot in the back row and pulled off his sweatshirt.

The woman next to him smiled at him and he recognized her as the reigning women’s champ of the Blue Moon Five-Miler for the past four years. She also managed to kick his ass every time they met up on the running trail.

“Hey, Taneisha. How’s the training going?”

She greeted him with a toothpaste commercial-worthy grin. “I should be Boston-ready for next year. What brings you to yoga?” She flowed forward over her extended legs, reaching for her feet.

“Just supporting the small business community,” Beckett answered evasively.

“What other mayor would willingly walk into a hot power flow class to show his support? Blue Moon is lucky to have you,” Taneisha said, gliding back up and stretching her arms over her head.

“Hot power flow?”

Gianna cut off any response to his question from the front of the room. “Okay, everyone. We’re going to get started. If you’re new, don’t worry.” Her green eyes locked on to Beckett’s face. “Just follow your neighbor and I’ll be around to help. So let’s start in child’s pose.”

Four minutes into the class, and Beckett had a steady trickle of sweat working its way down his back and a growing concern that he wasn’t going to survive the class. Gianna wandered around the room calling out instructions in a soothing voice that belied the fact that she was basically asking her students to work themselves up to and past death on their mats.

Beckett gritted his teeth and rolled forward, triceps shaking as they dipped into a low plank again.
Hadn’t they already done like fifty of these?
This constant flowing — or vinyasa, whatever the fuck that was — wasn’t awakening his body as she claimed it would. Instead it was drawing his attention to body parts that screamed in agony.

He was in great shape, wasn’t he? Why did he feel like the Tin Man clunking around in shorts?

He shoved back to down dog again, a brief respite, before kicking one leg forward. He rose up, a second behind his neighbors, and reached for the ceiling, praying for a meteor to strike the studio.

Beckett was thinking about collapsing on the floor and taking a breather when he felt hands on him straightening his arms.

“Lift through your arms,” Gianna said quietly. “That’s right. Now extend through the spine like you’re reaching for the ceiling through the top of your head.” She ran her hands up his sweat-soaked spine in a sweeping motion that made his skin burn.

“Perfect,” she said when he complied. He was acutely and uncomfortably aware of her hands leaving his body.

He had to admit, the pose felt better with her corrections. But it only lasted another second before she had them plunging through the sequence on the other side. Over and over he careened toward the floor praying his arms would hold him. The sweat was flowing so freely it was tickling his legs. A drop gathered on the tip of his nose and splashed to the mat as he swooped down.

Are my eyeballs sweating
? he wondered.

He chanced a glance to his left. Taneisha’s flawless skin was dotted with beads of sweat and she was smiling her way through another sun salutation. Next to her, Fitz had stripped off his shirt and was now only wearing his ridiculous briefs.

There’s a picture he wouldn’t be unseeing anytime soon, he thought. But maybe the skinny hippie had the right idea in this situation. Beckett used the thigh-quivering chair pose to yank his t-shirt over his head. It landed with a wet thwack on the floor behind him.

Gianna had returned to her mat and flowed with the class on another round. She moved with ease and grace, as if she’d been born flowing through yoga poses. He hated her gorgeous, graceful guts.

* * *

S
omething was nudging his foot
.

Beckett opened an eye and swiped at the sweat that rolled into it.

Like a siren, she appeared in his line of vision. A shimmering mirage of evil beauty. Gianna grinned down at him.

“What was that?” he groaned, flopping his arms out to the sides.

“That was hot power flow yoga,” she answered, sinking down next to him in a move as graceful as ballet.

“How do you move like that?” Beckett asked, studying her. She had a dimple in her chin and mischief in her eyes.

“Like what?”

“Like you’re dancing. Everything you do is like dancing.”

She was starting to look concerned. “How about we get some water into you?” she suggested.

Beckett rolled to his side and slowly worked his way into a seated position. The studio was empty except for the two of them. He vaguely remembered everyone bowing and saying “nama-something,” but he didn’t really recall the mass exodus.

Gianna handed him a bottle of water and a towel. “How do you feel?”

“Like I was steamrolled, wrung out, and hung up to dry.”

She laughed then, a husky music. She patted his shoulder. “That’s exactly how you’re supposed to feel.”

“You win,” Beckett sighed and drank deeply.

“You hung in there for the entire class. I’d say this one ends in a tie,” Gianna decided. She rose to her feet and reached a hand out to him.

Beckett debated not taking it, but worried his legs would betray him. He let her pull him up to standing and glanced down at the mat.

“You’re going to have to burn this one,” he said, eyeing the body-sized sweat stain.

She grinned up at him. “Don’t worry about it. I think I’ve got some industrial cleaner in the back somewhere.” She headed over to the shelves and Beckett picked up his still-sopping t-shirt.

Gianna returned with a spray bottle and another towel. “I don’t think you’re going to want to put that back on,” she said, wrinkling her nose at his soggy t-shirt.

“Yeah,” Beckett agreed, pulling on his sweatshirt instead. He picked up the block that he had ended up relying on like a lifeline and put it back on the shelf.

“Is this your last class tonight?”

She glanced up from his newly laundered mat, eyes trailing a little slower over his bare chest. “It is. You are free to go shower and drink several beers.”

“Is that what you do after class?” he teased.

“Shower, yes. One beer and usually a giant dish of mac and cheese or something equally unhealthy.”

Beckett’s stomach growled in response. A shower beer and dinner were in his future, he decided.

“I’ll walk you to your car,” Beckett offered. Now that he was recovering some of his energy, he was reluctant to leave her. Especially since he’d be leaving her with the image of him barely conscious drowning in a pool of his own sweat. He could do better and perhaps recover a bit of his pride.

“Thanks, but I walked,” Gianna told him, grabbing her bag from one of the cubbies along the back wall.

He felt a pang when she tugged a hoodie over her tank top. She had a beautiful body. One that demanded attention, even from the near dead. “I’ll walk with you.”

She eyed him for a moment. “Okay. That would be nice.”

Beckett waited by the front door while she turned off the studio lights and together they exited into the cool October evening.

“Which way are you?” he asked.

She slid her key into the lock and pointed to the left.

“Me, too. We must be neighbors,” Beckett commented, as they started down the sidewalk.

“Imagine that,” Gianna said, with an amused look.

Beckett threw his sweaty t-shirt over his shoulder. “How do you like Blue Moon so far?”

“It’s wonderful,” she said. “Everyone’s so warm. I love that my kids will grow up knowing their neighbors and walking to school.”

“You have kids?” Beckett immediately looked down at her left hand. No ring.

She shot him an amused look. “Two kids and an ex-husband. You?”

“Zero kids and no ex-husbands.”

Gianna laughed. “Any wives? Current or past?”

They walked past Karma Kustard and Beckett waved to Pete the owner who was manning the counter.

“None. The Pierce brothers take our bachelorhood seriously. Well, we did until recently.” He thought of Carter with his Summer.

“How many of you are there?” Gia asked.

“Three. I’m the good-looking one.” He winked.

She rolled her eyes and tugged the hair band out of her thick, auburn curls letting them tumble down her back. “You must be the middle child.”

“How did you guess?”

“Like recognizes like.”

“You’re the middle, too?”

She nodded, tossing her hair over her shoulder and he caught a whiff of lavender. “I’ve got two sisters.”

“Are you close?” he asked. He wondered if they looked like her. Gianna was a head turner. He couldn’t imagine two more of her.

“Not geographically, I’ve got one bouncing around South Carolina and one in L.A., but we talk and email constantly. How about you and your brothers?”

He thought of Carter and Jax. Close was a good word for his relationship with them, especially now that they were all back home and starting a business together. “We’re pretty close. So two kids, huh?”

Gianna nodded and stuffed her hands in the front pocket of her hoodie. “Yeah, they’re pretty great. I’m hoping to be half the parent my dad was while I was growing up. If I can accomplish that, I can do anything,” she sighed.

“How about your mother?” Beckett asked.

Gianna shrugged. “She left us years ago. My sisters and I were in our early teens, so you can imagine what gems we were then. But Dad hung in there and figured out how to fill both roles. He never once let us feel like it was our fault or that what we wanted wasn’t important.”

“He sounds like a good man.”

“As close to sainthood as you can get,” she nodded. “Your parents?”

Beckett caught a glimpse of his disheveled, sweat-soaked hair in the next storefront window and scrubbed a hand through it. Next time he saw Gianna it was going to be in a suit after a shower, he promised himself.

“My dad was great. He put his heart into everything he did. He was never too busy for anyone who needed help.” Beckett could still call up a hundred memories of his dad setting aside everything to have a conversation, to lend a hand, or just answer his incessant questions as a five-year-old.

“He sounds wonderful,” Gianna said, guiding them off of Main Street.

“He was. He died five years ago.”

“Still miss him.” It wasn’t a question, but an acknowledgement.

“Every day,” Beckett nodded. It was true. There wasn’t a day that went by without his thoughts turning to John Pierce.

“And your mother?” Gianna asked.

Beckett felt the familiar warring emotions of love and frustration that bubbled to the surface every time he thought of his mother the past few months.