The Tantric Principle (7 page)

“I like your place.”

She let her gaze slide over her office. Arianna had been proud to get a small space of her own, and had to work her way up the ranks from a cubicle to sharing an office with many, to her own. The bright red splashes of color lent a creative air to the space with the wine carpeting and bold watercolors on the wall. Dark cherry wood accents with the desk and matching chair added richness. A lush palm tree stood in the corner, its leafy greens blending with the stark simplicity of the room. Framed photos of inspiring words and mottos hung from the walls.

Grant paused at one of the quotes. “Dare to Suck.” One dark brow lifted. “Very poetic.”

“It is. You gotta love Aerosmith. If you don’t, I think our affair will be doomed.”

“Love the guy.”

“Good choice,” she said. “He talked about songwriting and freedom. If you’re going to shoot for mastery, you have to dare to suck first. It clicked with me.” He gave her another hard kiss. “Amazing. I probably could have quoted a guru master in a paragraph. I think you covered it with three words. Would you like to come speak at my next conference?”

“Only if I get the same fringe benefits I did in Boston.”

“Part of my compensation package.” He dropped a small picnic basket on the gleaming wood. “I brought you a late supper so you wouldn’t be tempted to do the fast food thing.” Pleasure speared through her while she peeked in the basket. “Hmmm, brie, crackers, fruit, olives.”

“I just wanted to drop it off, I know you’re busy.”

Arianna took in his long corded length clad in faded jeans and a black t-shirt with the word OM on the front. His hair was raked back from his face and set off the slash of cheekbones and fierce brows. He was her own personal warrior and she was getting dangerously close to. . . .

Danger.

He brought her food, but didn’t expect her to re-arrange her schedule. He seemed to admire who she was, and what she'd accomplished without assuming she’d change for a relationship.

Arianna snaked her fingers through his and pulled him down to the carpet. She hiked up her skirt and kicked off her heels, settling herself comfortably on the floor. “Eat with me. I need a break.”

He sat cross legged beside her and emptied the basket. “So, tell me exactly what you do,” he said. “I hear advertising and I think about the movies. Posterboards, big accounts, long hours.”

Arianna popped a wheat cracker with Brie in her mouth, then spoke. “Pretty much like the movies. At least, my job is. My main title is the manager of the Creative Services Department. I lead a team which comes up with the ideas for ads, print, television, radio, internet, etcetera. I deal with copyright, graphic artists, and a thousand personalities. But my mainstay is coming up with a killer idea and then selling it. Products and companies are always looking for branding. The next big catchy theme song, like the Gap commercials or the Geico gecko.”

“Hmmm, maybe I should hire you for my yoga school.”

She grinned wickedly and reached for a grape. “Got about $500,000 in available funds for one ad?”

He choked. “Crap. I guess I need to stick with the pennysaver.” Arianna laughed. “Guess so. Though if you want to branch out, I can help you with the marketing.”

He smiled at her with pure pleasure. “You’d do that, wouldn’t you?”

“Of course.”

He seemed to file the knowledge away and continued. “So what account are you working on now?”

Guilt nipped at her conscience. She wanted to tell him about Chicago but she needed more time to think and process the outcome. She stretched her legs out in front of her and caught the look on his face. She teased him by deliberately spreading her legs. His gaze snagged on the lines of her lacy pink underwear. “I’ll tell you what account I just closed. Do you see what I’m wearing?”

“I’m a little distracted by what’s underneath.”

“That’s what I’m talking about. Rosebud lingerie.”

One black brow shot up. “You’re kidding? That’s getting as popular as Victoria’s Secret.

Isn’t that the commercial with the woman half dressed ready to get spanked? Then she pulls her head up and whispers “Rosebud. Get your man to do anything.”

“That’s it.”

He blinked. “Did you come up with that line?”

She nodded and looked quite proud of herself. “It was a bit of a risk and I almost took the bullet. Thought it could be too sexual, but boundaries are being pushed and we can’t be afraid to test them.”

He shook his head in admiration. “You’re good.”

“Thanks. But there’s always someone better waiting to take over my job. You’re only as good as your last win. That’s why I ended up in your yoga class. I needed some balance.” Grant stared at the woman in front of him and felt his chest tighten in an age old response he wanted to avoid. Wine red strands of hair fell past her jaw with a glossy sheen as she turned her head. She popped another grape through pouty red lips that were too big for the features on her face, yet worked to pull a man right in. Her eyes were a moody shade of green that reminded him of storm tossed seas and mossy hills, quick with laughter and temper. She wore a buttery yellow top that looked soft to the touch, and molded to her full, high breasts. Her chocolate brown skirt showed off lean, tanned legs. Arianna Devlin was a firestorm in a feminine package.

She constantly surprised him. Her ambition, her heart, and her honesty. She had created one of the biggest advertising campaigns in a cut throat industry, yet sat with him on her office floor, legs open, eating brie and laughing like it was any other day.

He was falling in love with her.

The knowledge wrecked him and ripped him to shreds. Dear God, he had no time for this nonsense. He wanted to have a hot affair for as long as it lasted, then part amicably. He should have known. From the first day, the woman had never inspired tame emotions. She’d cut through his relaxed control and made him want to rip off her clothes and thrust into her with possession.

He wanted to own her in the basic way a man loves a woman. Such primitive feelings were foreign to him. Even his first wife commanded a loving sweetness and protectiveness, but never these darker emotions. Primal instincts buried deep for all of these years rose. Instincts he didn’t want to deal with.

“Grant? What’s wrong?”

He opened his mouth and almost blurted out the words. Truth for truth. He loved her, goddamnit, and they would both have to accept it. He almost said it. Then—

“Oops, sorry!”

Grant turned toward the door as a tall man with sandy colored hair stood before them. He looked caught off guard, then instantly curious. Grant knew right then and there he had been lovers with Arianna. When his gaze swung to hers, he noticed she looked wary, almost as if she was afraid he would guess and judge her for it. Or as if she was hiding something.

He pushed the thought away and concentrated on being polite as she introduced him.

“So, you’re the yoga guy,” Tim said. Grant almost winced at the awful term but managed to nod. “I thought so. Maybe all that deep breathing was worth it after all. Some promotion, huh?”

Arianna visibly flinched, then seemed to force a smile. “I didn’t tell him yet, Tim.”

“Crap. Sorry, again. Didn’t mean to interrupt, just wanted to see if you were pulling in Cindy to work with us tonight.”

“Sure, I’m up for some brainstorming.”

“Done. Nice to meet you.”

Grant watched the man stride out in his perfectly tailored suit and decided he didn’t like him. He studied Arianna, who looked way too interested in finding the perfect black olive, and suspected something was wrong.

“Promotion?”

Her laugh seemed forced. “Yes, I didn’t get to tell you. Seems the Rosebud account got me the recognition I wanted. They’re moving me up the ranks.” He pondered her statement and made sure he spoke mildly. “You don’t seem too excited about it.”

Her gaze swung up and locked on his. His gut clenched with anticipation for something she would say, something disturbing, something that might change his life. But she only smiled, soft and slightly sad. “I am excited. I just found out a few hours ago so I think I’m in shock.”

“It’s a big deal, isn’t it?”

Arianna nodded. “I get to head the account. I’ll be working on a Superbowl ad, so yes, it’s a big deal.”

‘Then we’re going to celebrate. I’m taking you out tomorrow night, if you’re free of course.”

“I’m not.”

“Hot date?”

“Yoga class,” she said.

He moved in and pulled her onto his lap. She expected a kiss, but he managed to tickle her tummy and made her squeal out in surprise. “Cancel it,” he ordered. “Come out with me instead.”

She agreed and his mouth came down on hers.

Arianna expected dark passion and received sweetness. His lips sipped at hers, then dipped inside to play. His tongue stroked her with a heavy languor that made her limbs melt. He explored the satiny wetness of every inch of her mouth, then slowly broke away. She let a sigh of satisfaction slip from her lips. “Ok, we’ll compromise. Class first, then dinner,” she said.

“You drive a hard bargain.”

Her hand slipped from his neck to between his legs to find him pulsing and ready. She squeezed and gave him a wicked smile. “No, but you certainly do.” He threw back his head and laughed. “You’re a hell of a woman, Arianna.” For one brief moment, she felt the energy in the room change. An unanswered statement, a question, hung heavily in the air. She felt as if she was drowning in the dark inkiness of his eyes, pulling her downward, urging her to tell him the truth.

She was in love with him.

She was moving to Chicago.

Arianna swallowed the words and deliberately slid back a few inches, letting her hand drop from his body. Grant seemed to sense her decision and allowed his gaze to cool, allowed her to separate from him. For now.

But she knew it was a warning.

The truth would be coming soon. He’d see to it. She would tell him soon, but for a little longer, she wanted to enjoy being with him without complications. Without decisions or regret.

She just needed more time.

“I better go. You have work to do.” Grant rose and packed up the basket, kissed her good-bye and left. Arianna stared at the closed door for a long time before forcing herself back to work.

* * * *

There was going to be trouble.

Arianna watched the young Missy with her lover and took a deep breath.

Over the past week, she noticed Missy getting a little too attached to Grant. After their last argument, Arianna decided to let him work it out and not interfere. She trusted him and knew his intentions were honorable. She also trusted his business instincts and felt he would make the right decision.

Except tonight was Tombstone time. High Noon. Arianna was about to stake her turf and Grant was going to have to deal with it. Their celebration dinner had been pushed back a few days due to another tight deadline. Grant had been completely supportive, so they decided to go to dinner tonight after class. She’d just joined the intermediate students and was feeling her way through the group dynamics, going deeper into her practice. Missy was one of the students. She had been deliberately cold toward Arianna, her gaze continuously roving her body as if comparing and judging her inferior. Missy was an excellent student and far in her practices. Her asanas were graceful to watch and she usually served as a model to the others.

Because of her status, she spent more time with Grant than the others. She spoke with him in low, intimate whispers and always placed a hand on his arm. Or grabbed his hand when she laughed as if she had no idea she was doing it. She watched Missy go in and out of his private office as if she had a personal key, and Arianna knew Grant allowed it because he was training her to serve as a mentor to the others.

But Arianna was going to kick her ass, so she would not be needed as a mentor.

She watched her competition from under heavily lidded eyes. The studio was cleaned up and the students had been counseled.

She respected Grant’s decision to keep their relationship a secret, and she didn’t want Missy to discover the truth. Suspecting was a whole different ball game from confirming, and Grant didn’t need any conflict right now.

The willowy blonde plastered herself to Grant’s side as she listened to him speak. She wore a skimpy halter top that emphasized her heavy breasts, and her lycra pants left nothing to the imagination. She had pulled the clip out of her hair, and Arianna spotted heavy makeup on her face, not appropriate for a workout.

Arianna shook her head. Grant was the only man to ever see her both vulnerable and unpolished. Stringy hair, wet from sweat. Make-up run off her face. Arms shaking with exertion and a trucker’s mouth when she couldn’t hold a pose. Sometimes tears when she held a posture long enough to break through some emotional barriers. Not to mention her trouble keeping up her pedicures, which were always exposed with everyone’s feet bare in class. Yet, Missy, seemed polished and manicured and perfumed and. . . ready for action.

Arianna smothered a laugh at the thought, then decided to break up the party.

She reached the couple and enjoyed the spark of warmth that lit Grant’s eyes when he spotted her. “Are you almost ready to go?” she asked casually.

“Absolutely,” he said. “Missy, I would dedicate more time to your meditation. You seem like you’re ready for a breakthrough.”

“I am. I was hoping we could discuss a few things.” Missy raised an eyebrow in her direction. “Would you mind if I stole Grant for a bit longer?” Grant opened his mouth but Arianna interrupted. “I’m sorry, Missy, we were going to catch a bite.” She smiled in apology. “I’m starving from that workout. Can you catch up with him later?”

Missy took a small side step until she was flush against Grant. “Oh, that’s so nice you’re getting something to eat. Can I join you? Would love to discuss the practices more, and maybe Arianna can learn a few more things. I know she’s new.” Silence descended.

Arianna waited for Grant to make a decision. A Mexican stand off had officially been called. If Missy joined them, it would solidify their relationship as friends, and there would be no romantic dinner. But if he did say something, Missy would know the truth and expose their secret.