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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?
