Body Talk: An Ex-Navy SEAL Billionaire Romance Read online

  I made up my mind to try one more. It read: WANTED: Yoga Instructor. No experience required. Must be female, attractive and willing to learn.

  It sounded just like the other come-on jobs I’d been weeding through. I was out of options, though, and almost out of money. Tiff was giving me the boot signal, and as homesick as I was, I didn’t want to go back to Ann Arbor as a failure. That just wasn’t in me.

  There was no number to call, just an address. I walked back to the apartment before Tiff came home and put on more suitable clothes. I chose a sporty outfit that I’d never worn, gave the taxi driver the address, and settled back against the seat to watch the scenery.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Dagger

  I stood back from the building and looked at the sign for my new business. Real You Yoga, it read. I knew it was corny, but I hoped it would put people in the right mood for the concept.

  I didn’t need money, thanks to the inheritance I’d received from my parents, who’d been killed in a car accident just as I’d started high school. I wasn’t the sort to sit still, though. The SEALs had been intense, and I’d gotten a good deal of diversion from my mourning. That was over, now, and I needed some purpose. So I’d decided that, if nothing else, life would be interesting. Not in the sense of the Chinese proverb, but in a way that let me mock anything uncomfortable or politically correct. I’d had enough hierarchical rhetoric in my Navy SEAL career. I wanted to smile.

  Katrina came out of the door and stood beside me, shielding her eyes from the sun with her hand. “Looks great, boss. You can almost see it from the street.”

  You never could tell with Katrina whether she was seriously featherbrained or trying to be funny, so I gave her the benefit of doubt.

  “That’s what they call subtle, Kat.”

  “Oh.” She nodded, saluted me with her sun-shielding hand, and went back inside. I guessed that meant she’d been serious. She was polishing the small window in the solid, black-stained mahogany door.

  The goal had been to look exclusive, pricey and off limits to people who wandered by. That’s where Kat came in. It was her job to screen anyone who walked in the door. It was definitely members only.

  Katrina “Kat” Williams was half receptionist and half lure. The first time I’d seen her she put me in mind of a youngish Anna Faris. Her pixie face wore the wispy blonde hair well, and her lithe form looked great in yoga pants and a top. I knew that any tough guy would melt when she twisted her mouth into that puzzled frown, and those huge, innocent golden eyes would make him her slave. It didn’t matter that her IQ was low enough to make a cat competition—it was what was on the outside that counted. In fact, I had doubts whether I’d find anyone with half a brain to work for me. In their shoes, I’d have kept going.

  I’d discovered yoga during rehab. I’d come out of an explosion and surfaced into flames. My buddy was already dead, but I dragged him back and later stood with his family as we lowered him into the ground at Arlington. Tim was probably the best friend I’d ever had, and yet I’d been mostly a big brother to him.

  The yoga was intended to gently stretch my scarred back and provide some meditative pain relief. At first, I’d written it off as bunk, but then it grew on me. I wasn’t a pill person, and this restored some sense of control.

  All that had led to this day and this moment. I unlocked the door, hung up the sign, and Real You Yoga came to life. I didn’t give a shit whether it made money. It was more of an experiment in human behavior.

  A cab pulled up to the curb and a pair of long legs slid out, obviously shapely even in their faux leather leggings. There was an unbelievably gorgeous, ash-blonde head attached on the other end, and in the middle… well, let’s just say I fully appreciated the beauty of curves.

  “Hi,” she called to me. “I’m looking for Real You Yoga,” she said in a whispery voice that made me picture bedside lamps with veils over the shade and a woman’s legs opened and waiting for me. I was in trouble at her first words.

  I pointed at the sign and waited expectantly. She looked nervous and tentative, but paid the cab off and came toward me. “Is this your place?” she asked, assuming that, I suppose, from the fact that I was in workout clothes and standing outside the door. I liked that she read people well.

  I nodded.

  “I’ve come about the instructor position?” Again, she was hesitant, and my knees were telling me to sit down somewhere, preferably behind a big desk to mask the hard-on growing between my legs.

  “Come on in,” I invited, holding the door open while she ducked beneath my arm and went inside. I gave Kat a stay out of it shake of my head and she went back to her cleaning and nesting.

  “Come on back to the office and we’ll talk,” I told Legs.

  “I’m Whitney,” she said clearly in a voice that suggested she often had to spell it.

  “Uh-huh,” was all I could choke out.

  She went ahead of me, and I got a good look at her tight, perfect ass. Jesus! She looked over her shoulder at me. I think she was nervous about being led through a dark corridor to an unknown room alone.

  “It’s okay,” I said, motioning her forward with a sweep of my hand. She took a deep breath and kept going.

  The day had turned out to be far better than I could have hoped.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Whitney

  That wasn’t what I was expecting—not at all.

  My first impression of the business was that it was something different from your normal yoga studio. More exclusive, expensive and probably not the kind of place I’d normally ever go.

  Then I saw him. Sweet Mother of God, what a specimen of the male gender. I had to use those exact words in my mind because I could feel a heat between my legs that had nothing to do with getting a job or going through an interview. In fact, since I was a virgin, the whole feeling was not really subject to intellectual interpretation. I just knew I wanted that body on top of mine.

  “I’m Whitney,” I repeated, and realized I sounded like a dullard.

  “Yes, so you said. My office is that door on the left,” he told me. My throat went dry at the deep sound of his voice. I could have closed my eyes and listened to it all night… or day, I mean.

  The studio was darkish and the doors were closed. I’d expected something more open, with high ceilings, mirrors on the walls and light pouring in through broad windows.

  He gestured to an odd-looking chair opposite his desk and I sat down, if you could call it that. It was more of a lying-down kind of chair, like a psychologist’s couch. “Interesting chair,” I commented and the twinkle in his dark brown eyes gave me that curious feeling between my legs again. I couldn’t say it felt bad, but it was close to being an itch that I needed to scratch.

  “So, Whitney, do you have a resume?” he asked holding his hand toward me across the desk. I stared, looking at the huge hand with a broad knuckle. The nails were precisely manicured. I wanted to kiss that hand. No, I’m lying. I wanted that hand to cup every cup-able part of me, but at the same time I didn’t think it proper that I think in those terms just yet. I nodded and slid a sheet of paper across the desk toward his hand. At the last second, I picked it up and let my fingers graze his hand. Sweet Jesus! That must be what it feels like for a cordless razor to slide into its charger—all kind of rough and yet smooth with a cradle that fits you perfectly and an electric charge that enters through your bottom!

  He studied the resume as I watched his expression. I tried to read every nuance as his eyes remained level and his face expressionless.

  “Whitney Travers… I don’t see any yoga experience mentioned here,” he commented in a casual voice, and I felt my heart plummet in disappointment.

  “No, I’m afraid not, other than a little experimenting on my own. I’ve never been a teacher, though,” I admitted, scooting to the front of the odd chair as I prepared to hear him tell me I wasn’t what he was looking for.

  “That’s good,” he nodded, continuing to look at t
he resume. “I like to train my own people.” His words made my heart soar.

  What was going on with me? I had spent my entire postpubescent life veering away from groping hands and salacious remarks, and now here I was salivating over a perfect stranger like a bitch in heat. This was totally out of character for me, and it was difficult to pay attention to his questions while my eyes were devouring his body.

  “Would you consider yourself an open-minded person?” he asked.

  I was doing my best to stay in the moment and make a good impression. However, I was fixated on his large Adam’s apple, surrounded by the cords of muscle in his tanned neck. I’d always heard it said that a large Adam’s apple meant large male genitalia. I was trying not to picture that, but this man exuded such masculinity and presence that I had to keep swallowing. He was sucking me in like a vacuum cleaner.

  “I’m sorry?” I was totally embarrassed that I had to ask him to repeat his question. Worse yet, I could see the twinkle in his eyes. He knew what was going on. I probably wouldn’t have been the first woman to throw herself at his feet and scream “Take me, take me!”

  “I was interested in whether you consider yourself to be an open-minded person. While the job is technically for a yoga instructor, there are a few details which make it unusual.”

  I nodded. “I’m very open to new concepts, and I’m a quick learner,” I answered, hoping this would earn some points.

  “That’s good. What sort of hours are you looking for?” His dark eyes were melting my reserve, and I was one step short of throwing myself into his lap.

  “It doesn’t matter. I’m very open.”

  “Open, are you? Open is good. Why don’t you let me show you around the studio and give you some details you should know about in advance?”

  “Okay,” I immediately agreed as my head bobbed up and down in excitement. I hadn’t been through many job interviews in my life, but this one had the sound of moving in the right direction.

  He stood and motioned with his hand toward the hallway, holding the door open for me as I passed through. He showed me to a door that was marked with a silhouette of a woman in pink yoga clothes. He nodded to me and I opened it, looking inside to find a large room with the floor completely covered with thick, absorbent mats. The walls were lined with floor-to-ceiling mirrors, and the only other furnishings were a selection of inflated balls, some exercise bands with handles, and a small table that held neatly folded black towels. Now that was more on the order of what I had expected to find in the studio! I slid off my shoes and entered the room, pausing to turn and listen to what he had to say.

  “Just as you noticed, I’m sure, there was a feminine symbol on this door. There is, likewise, another identical room with a male symbol in blue on its door down the hall.”

  “Well, that’s convenient. I suppose a lot of women are uncomfortable doing yoga in front of men.”

  “Would you be?” Those brown magnets were clinging to my eyes, and something told me they were hoping I wouldn’t say yes. Okay, I will play his game, if only to spend a little more time with him. I wondered briefly whether someone was hypnotizing me from a distance. I was having thoughts that were unlike any I’d ever had before. There was nothing unlikable about this man, and yet I knew no one was perfect. I was choosing not to see the negatives.

  “Me? Not really, but then I have age on my side. Maybe in another twenty years…” I let the thought drift. I hoped he might pick it up and send it in an agreeable direction.

  He walked closer to me and knelt, motioning me to join him. We sat down on the mat, our faces barely two feet apart. “You may have noticed that we take care to protect our members’ privacy. There is a reason for that.”

  “Well, from what I’ve seen, I would say your clientele is probably well-heeled and privacy is in high demand.”

  “Good observation, but it’s more than that.” He leaned forward, his brown eyes coming within a foot of mine as a wry grin formed on his lips. “They’re all in the nude.”

  I had been half smiling like the mindless teenager I used to be when his words sank in. I jerked back a few inches as the ramifications took root. “Always?”

  He nodded slowly in the affirmative. “You see, part of the yoga experience is to learn your body. Not only do you learn self-control and to move in a manner that affords you tremendous balance and sync with your skeletal and muscular framework, but the essence is increased when there is no clothing to limit your senses.”

  “I see,” I answered softly, the images processing themselves through my mind’s eye. “Does this mean that you instruct your clients in the nude?”

  Gently smiling, he nodded. “Would that be a problem for you?”

  “Well, I can’t lie. It’s not something I’ve considered before, but I could see your point about it being healthy. If nothing else, it’s a very new take on a very old art.”

  “I was right,” he said, nodding. “I knew at your first words that you were bright, and I’m happy now to hear that you have a business point of view as well.”

  I could feel his breath as he spoke. His scent swirled into my nostrils like a hypnotic drug that loosened my muscles and made them compliant. I was trying to sit up straight, when all I wanted to do was lie down and put my head into his cross-legged lap. “Thank you.”

  “It occurs to me that I haven’t introduced myself. My name is William, William Braun, although most of the guys called me Dagger.”

  “The guys?”

  “I’m a former SEAL. It’s common that we give one another nicknames, a form of camaraderie. You can call me Dagger, if you like.”

  I nodded and tried to keep from drowning in his scent and the depth of his brown eyes.

  “So, you haven’t answered my question. How would you feel about conducting lessons in the nude?”

  I swallowed hard. This wasn’t just a random proposition. This was about preserving the morals I’d set for myself since I was very young. Tiffany was always teasing me, telling me I was nothing more than a Girl Scout. It used to hurt my feelings, and then slowly I began to have a sense of pride. Had the time come to separate the woman from the girl? I was slow to answer.

  “I can tell you have some reservations. I hope it goes without saying that this isn’t a sleazy operation. It’s a concept with valid roots. You would work with the women in this room, and I would work with the men down the hall. Now, I will warn you, I do expect that after a series of beginner lessons, those who are couples will enjoy sessions together. This is intended to enhance their sexuality with one another.”

  I thought for a moment. “Does that mean you would be my partner?”

  He nodded.

  Whatever I had felt earlier between my legs was now a gushing river. “Who is going to train me initially?”

  “I will.”

  My heart was threatening to burst from my chest. I could feel my nipples harden at the mere thought of it. But could I let go of my little-girl values? “I’m not sure if I could do everything you’d want me to.” I wasn’t sure if penetration was part of the exercise, but felt it was important to mention that I did have some limits so he understood I didn’t take this lightly.

  “We can work around that,” he said quietly, watching my face for a reaction. “Penetration is optional,” he added, reading the look on my face correctly.

  The room felt hot and airless as I felt myself nodding my head. “Okay. I’m up for it.”

  Did I detect the smallest sigh of relief from him? Was he afraid I had planned to walk away? How many others had he interviewed who had, indeed, walked away? Was I in my right mind if I didn’t? It didn’t matter now. No matter how loudly my mind argued, my body had a better argument.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Dagger

  Frankly, I was amazed at her response. Here was a stunning young woman, with credentials, who for some unknown reason was willing to reach well beyond her comfort zone. It couldn’t be for the money; there were too many other things she
could choose to do. I watched her for a few long moments as her eyes darted around in confusion. It became obvious that her decision had been spur of the moment and she wasn’t entirely comfortable with it.

  I had to ask myself, why did she do it? It was part of my training. When I asked the questions, I had more information, and that was often the only thing that had kept me, or those I was responsible for, alive. I decided to keep an eye on her. I didn’t want to traumatize her. In fact, all I truly wanted… was her.

  “You seem like this all is a bit much for you?”

  She shrugged. “Kind of.”

  “Let’s see what we can do to make it easier, shall we?”

  “Like what?”

  “Come with me,” I told her, and we both rose. She followed me wordlessly, grabbing her shoes at the door. I led her to the end of the hall and opened the wide doors for her. “Let’s go in here,” I said as I motioned her inside.

  She peeked around the corner. “A pool?”

  “Do you like to swim?”

  “Sure, who doesn’t?”

  “C’mon. I guess you can understand why I’m particularly fond of water myself. So, here’s what I’m thinking. We should make sure you can do this before you take the job for sure, right?”

  She nodded. “I guess so.”

  “There,” I pointed to a doorway, “is the women’s locker room. Go on in and put your things into a locker. You’ll find a stack of white terry robes. Put one on and join me back out here when you’re ready. I think if you do this in water, it might give you a bit of modesty at first—feels more elemental, I guess is the best way to put it.”

  She swallowed hard. “Now?”

  “Whitney, you don’t have to do this. You can turn right now and leave and I won’t hold it against you. Naturally, you couldn’t be my assistant, for obvious reasons, but I wouldn’t want you to do something that makes you have regrets.”