Musing as he wandered to the door, he considered this option. His friend James, a doctor from the local surgery, had insisted that this was the way to meet his perfect bang-bunny. He should know, having tried it out already apparently, not that it lasted according to James, but it was good for a short-term wham-bam option.

  “I hope he’s right.”

  Meditation. The word had him cringing. Thoughts of lotus positions and chanting really didn’t appeal, but his work continued to suffer, and something had to change. Quickly.

  The crunch of gravel broke through his thoughts, he turned, watching a small compact vehicle turn into the drive. It stopped beside his car, making it look like a hulking behemoth.

  The woman inside the car got out, exhibiting the same amount of enthusiasm as he previously showed, and he watched, fascinated, as she swung her large tote bag over her shoulder with quick and efficient moves. Her midnight-coloured hair gathered at the top of her head glinted from the overhead shining street lamps.

  Deep in his gut something lurched, and he blinked, spellbound, before she turned and closed her door, breaking his concentration. Twin lights flashed on the side of her car as she touched the tiny locking device in her hand and made her way in his direction.

  Was she also attending the introductory class? He hoped so, because this was the kind of woman he wanted to meet. Beautiful, almost classically perfect until he caught the sight of her too wide lips, the tiny bump on her nose and the pencil thin brows. Her loose yoga pants and fitted exercise shirt screamed modern woman with an agenda, and the thought ricocheted that maybe she wasn’t quite what he was looking for.

  Ah well, hopefully there’d be other women there who would meet his criteria for artistic perfection. Something he appreciated daily. Yet there was something indefinable about her. It could be the confident way she strode toward the door…

  “Excuse me, are you going in?”

  The modulation of her voice grabbed him by the throat and shook his sensibilities, as nothing else ever had.

  “Uh, yes. I’m attending the Meditation for Beginner's class. You?”

  Her eyes took on a startled, deer-in-the-headlights look. Her pupils dilated, and he watched, intrigued despite himself at the flaring of her nostrils.

  “Uh sure. I mean, yes.” A delightful crest of red slid over the skin of her cheekbones.

  “Well then, let’s go in together.” He grabbed the door, opened it wide, and followed her inside the building.

  * * *

  Davina gulped, more than slightly aware of the tall and unbelievably handsome guy behind her. Somewhere near six feet, he wasn’t muscle bound but had that kind of toned look about him.

  His hair, not quite black but more than a dark brown—russet came to mind—worn short but not militaristic. She detected a hint of curl, and she felt sure it was soft and springy to the touch. His face was all planes and his cheeks looked like chiselled granite. Davina was almost ready to melt right there and then.

  He was the man she’d hunted for on the matchmaking sites with no success and when she’d finally taken a slightly less well-trodden path, here he was. An Adonis in loose pants and flowing shirt, turning up to her meditation introductory class.

  A delicious shiver wanted to quiver its way through her body and yet she controlled it, even though her entire nervous system had become hyper aware and sensitized.

  “Thanks,” was all she could manage as she entered the building and the scent of incense wafted, cool air sliding over her skin while music, something deep and eastern, played low.

  Once the door shut, the light mellowed to only slightly brighter than dim.

  At the desk along the far wall stood a woman talking softly to three women, who then turned as one and trotted past, each with a small smile on their lips.

  “Welcome! I’m Karly Knight and you’d have to be Micah McKay and Davina Elliott. Here for the Meditation for Beginners session, right?”

  Davina blinked at the friendly tones, then the words hit her. The two of them… was there no one else attending?

  “I thought the session was fully booked?” His voice carried a sharpness that had her wincing.

  “And so it is, Micah.”

  Davina couldn’t help herself. Her head turned, looking into the man’s face as Karly spoke with soft, mesmeric tones.

  “For these introductory sessions, I like to keep focus and it’s easiest when I have only two students. Allows me to individualise your experience, so to speak.”

  The jitter that began when she’d first spied him moved further down her body, near her most intimate zone, and it left her tingling uncomfortably.

  “Come, Davina and Micah, let’s move into the studio.” She beckoned them to the door on the left of the entrance way and they followed, Davina clutching her bag nervously.

  Once they’d stepped over the threshold, Karly closed the door, and the intimacy of the space came close to overwhelming. The room was darker than beyond, with sounds which swelled from every direction, and padded cushions of jewelled tones littered the floor. A sweet scent of jasmine and citrus filled the air, and she stopped, momentarily lost in her thoughts.

  A tinkle of laughter echoed, and she gazed at Karly. “Exactly what you should feel my dear.”

  “I… Uh, what?”

  “You feel like you’ve stepped into another place. Somewhere that allows you to expand your senses. Isn’t that right, Davina?”

  Aghast that the woman had read her so well, Davina had no choice but to nod.

  “Good then. Take a seat and we can begin.”

  Davina stowed her bag and noted that the man, Micah, had moved to a teal-coloured cushion, then settled herself on the floor.

  “Now, I know neither of you has studied any form of meditation before, and I always think it wise to begin at the beginning. So, I’d like you both to close your eyes. Simply be.”

  Even as she did, Davina felt silly, aware of the man sitting in the room with her.

  “Listen to my voice. Simply be yourself and breathe. Breathe in and breathe out. Feel the expansion of your lungs, the way you inhale, then gently release it back into the atmosphere…”

  * * *

  By the end of the first half-hour session, Micah had breathed and listened more than enough. This wasn’t what I signed up for. No, he wanted to learn more about the facets of sexual meditation. To experience some pleasure while he had time to investigate more deeply the women he may meet. The woman he’d spent the initial session with, Davina, certainly interested him. It wasn’t the frailty he’d caught sight of in her eyes and tried so damned hard to hide. Neither was it that she was downright comely—an old-fashioned word, to be sure, but one he embraced. Now he laughed because the old-fashioned term had never fit so well. It was an indefinable air that swirled around her, hinting at a sexual maelstrom just beyond sight.

  She certainly intrigued him.

  Micah blinked as he half listened to Karly and her suggestion of homework.

  “When you go home, relax tonight. Let yourself just be with no attempt to meditate. Don’t fill your mind with television. Instead, turn on some music that feeds the soul and eat a healthy meal. Then tomorrow and for the rest of the week, take time for yourself in a nest you’ve created. Prepare a room with sounds and soft places. Simply breathe and concentrate on the centre of your being.”

  “Fine.” Davina’s tone was anxious, as if she too were—he cast about for the right word—unsure of Karly’s teachings. Not that he disregarded them. Careful investigation had shown him she ran the tightest ship in town for this kind of thing. It was more. He couldn’t see himself assuming a meditative state in his house, with Karen coming and going at will and endlessly complaining.

  “Micah? Are you listening?”

  He blinked and grinned at Karly, hoping that would assuage any frustration she might feel at his inattention.

  “I’m very impressed with the progress you’ve both made, but time is short for the introductory lessons. Come back same day next week at six and we’ll go over what we’ve done and explore further.” Karly ushered—the speed of which left him breathless and smiling—she’d obviously had a lot of experience with this, as she propelled them through the door and into the entranceway. The foyer now filled with others, laughing and chatting, ready for their session.

  Micah moved to the door and watched as Davina scurried out and hurried to her car. She tossed her bag in and slid into the seat, then glanced in his direction before he heard the ignition kick over.

  In that moment, he decided Davina was the woman he wanted to pursue, at least for now. Oh yes, I’ll be back next week. He wouldn’t miss it for the world. Now all he needed to do was make sure she was on the same page as him and ready to progress his interest.

  * * *

  Davina pushed the sofa out of the way, biting her lip and knowing that Elyse would find this far too funny not to laugh at. “Except there is no way she’s coming over!”

  The words lacked strength and Davina slumped to the floor, gazing at the mounded cushions in jewelled tones she picked out.

  Her emotions warred, and she swung from nervous, excited to dejected and back again. She’d been okay until the woman asked if she was redecorating, because surely her partner would love the colours chosen.

  The memory left Davina’s face flaming. “Do women only redecorate when they have a new lover?” The words echoed and mocked, and she felt foolish. “Of course not.” But the weakness of her response had angry tears threatening.

  It’s what her mother had done with every fresh man in her life. A fact Davina had tried for years to block.

  “Damn you, mother!”

  If only the situation was that simple.

  She was thirty. A successful woman. A lawyer. But the fact of the matter was, she had an itch she needed to scratch with a man. She didn’t trust them to hang around, though. Not for the long haul, so rather than put herself through that, she’d concluded years ago, that casual hook-ups were her best and only option.

  “Protection is key.” Shame the words didn’t instil any kind of confidence in her. Hell, the last six months had been a hell of a drought.

  “I can sit here and wallow or do something about that.” Anger pushed her from the floor as she gazed around the room, assessing. “No. Not this one.”

  Her three-bed unit gave her the option of a spare room. Not that anyone used it. If she met with a man—and that had been a long time waiting—she chose a hotel. Her mother never came to stay, and truthfully, that suited Davina. The mid-sized room she’d converted to an office and the other room was her haven. The bedroom.

  Realisation dawned. “I can’t set this up in here.” If she were honest with herself, not that she was embarrassed by what she hoped to achieve. No, it was more about the intimacy.

  She’d wasted the last hour moving furniture for nothing. Maybe she’d be better dismantling the spare room. It was wasted space after all, and Elyse never went in there.

  Davina opened the door and considered the sparse interior. A bed. Two bedside tables and not much else. “Perfect.” She could dismantle the bed and store it.

  With quick moves, she unplugged the pretty bedside lamps, judged them to be perfect for her needs, and propped them in the room's corner. The bed itself, a white metal affair, was ornately pretty but hers from home, as were the bedside tables. Something about them jarred, and she stared as realisation dawned. “It’s not the ‘me’ I am anymore.”

  What to do with them? In that instant, she knew she didn’t want them or the reminders of what they stood for.

  As she turned and looked in the lounge room's direction, she realised she’d kept the second, third and even fourth-hand furniture she’d moved in with. Cast offs and bits she’d bought cheaply when she’d first moved out of home and she’d ignored that, because it just wasn’t that important.

  There was no cohesion or theme. Black and grey chairs scattered around a scarred wood coffee table, but nothing to soften or blend.

  Ugly yet functional. Mismatched.

  “Kind of like me.” Tears burned but Davina didn’t scrub them away, because for the first time, she accepted she’d settled in her life.

  The raging torrent of hurt, anger, and despair gathered pace, crashing through her like a sea. She surrendered to it. Let it wash over her.

  When the tears passed, exhaustion tugged. “I need to change me.”

  Whatever had allowed the pain of her past to finally erupt also pushed her forward. “I need to change, and the first step is what I see around me.” Decision made, she tottered toward the coffee table and scooped up her phone. A quick scan showed a lighter day. Nothing that required her physical presence.

  Pressing the autodial, she called her boss, who she knew would still be at work. “Hey David? I need the day off tomorrow, I’ve checked my schedule and I’ve no court appearances. I’m going to pop out and see to some urgent business in the morning, then work from home, okay?”

  “Everything okay, Dav?” She heard the worry. She never took time off, and it concerned him.

  “Yeah, I’ll be good. I just have some personal things to sort. I’ll be back in on Wednesday.” Even as she pressed the button, disconnecting the call, she could sense how easy it would be to sink into the fear. “I won’t do that. Tomorrow, I can start again.”

  Micah stepped away from his easel. Frustration grew in his chest, larger and larger until it would smother him, and he rubbed at the ache deep in his chest. This painting was a passable facsimile of his vision, but nothing more. It lacked the passion and depth he knew himself capable of.

  The magical quality, the strokes and smoothing of chalk he’d made his own, eluded him.

  Just as they had for the last several months. If he’d been an author, he might have called it writer's block, but for a painter, it was death.

  The light was perfect. His studio, overlooking the ocean, boasted one hundred and eighty degrees of glass. A clear domed roof, something he’d added after purchasing the property, sparkled as sunlight filtered down. The image he’d taken crisp and clear.

  In his hand, the chalk crumbled as his grasp became evermore desperate.

  His stroke-work exquisite, yet the tones just missed the mark. Moves that had become second nature refused to cooperate.

  “Why?”

  Karen, his agent and on-again-off-again lover, had left the room, muttering unintelligible babble about frustration being Micah’s problem, her heels clicking with a rapid tattoo of fury. “That of a woman scorned.” For a mere second, the miasma that surrounded him melted away, his fingers gripping the chalk as he leaned in, yet that small move banished the chink of spark, leaving him once again bereft.

  Against the wall, stacked in rows, were canvasses, wasted to his mind as he’d attempted repeatedly to complete the work promised to the gallery. Time was running short, and that knowledge ate at him, riding him like a demon upon some hideous evil equine.

  He turned, dropping the chalk into its slot and gathering up the cloth he wiped his hands on.

  In the last week, Karen tried many times to interest him in what they’d shared, but instead of passion all he’d felt was a mild distaste.

  He stepped into the kitchen, taking in the aroma of food. Spices teased his olfactory senses, stopping him in his tracks. The sigh he released was that of a man hard done by. If he stepped into the lounge, he might find her there. Two glasses of wine on the table, nestled in the deep mound of cushions. She’d done this before, the last time he’d attempted to end their relationship.

  “Mic? I need you!” Her words filtered through his brain.

  He stopped at the threshold and took in the view.

  Her bright red merry widow fit perfectly, arraying every curve, her hair a curtain of red silk. Yet he remained unmoved.

  “Karen, I can’t do this.”

  She gave a moue, red lips glistening. “Of course you can, lover.” Karen spoke breathlessly, as if overcome with emotion. “Come over and I’ll help you, just as I always do.” Karen pushed up, aware of the way her breasts rose and moved, creamy satin skin in pale contrast to the scarlet silk she wore. Every move meant to heighten arousal, but it left him cold.

  “Karen, please. We can still be friends, but it’s done. I can’t do this anymore. I respect you too much.”

  Her cheeks blazed. “You don’t mean that. I’ve seen your work and you need—”

  “I don’t know quite what I need, Karen, only that while I like and admire you, the sexual nature of this relationship is over.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “You’ve got someone else. Haven’t you? You’ve been unfaithful.”

  He sighed, reached over, and assisted her up.

  “No Karen. I haven’t been unfaithful. I haven’t taken up with another woman. It’s just…” Helplessness threaded through his brain and entire body. How do I tell her I no longer desire her? Without stripping what is essentially her away and damaging her irreparably?

  “But, in the past…” Tears glittered at the end of her eyelashes, the green now depths of embarrassment and loss.

  He gathered her close, careful to keep his touch gentle and calming. “I like you a lot. It’s why I’m ending this. Before you and I make a hasty decision, we’ll regret. We’ve been friends and lovers for years, but it’s no longer enough for me. I respect you too much to use you and I respect me too much as well.”

  Releasing her, he stepped back. “We, as lovers, have run our path. There’s nothing more there for me to give you.” He watched her eyes, noting the flare of recognition. Sure, for the first time, she not only heard but also understood. Their sexual liaison couldn’t continue.

  Karen sniffled. “You’re sure?”

  He tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear. “Very much so. Now, go dress and we’ll have dinner and see if we can find a way forward with the gallery situation.”

  Karen frowned. “I organised a casserole, thinking it would last in the slow cooker until…” Her words died away, and he knew exactly what she’d been thinking.