“Take a deep breath in,” Azalea says. “Exhale doubt.”

Roman puts his hands back on my waist, and I exhale a shuddering breath instead of doubt.

“It was a miniature tumbleweed,” he murmurs into my ear.

“What?” I hiss back.

“The thing that rolled over your foot. It was a miniature tumbleweed, made out of the tendrils of some beach grass.”

Heat rushes to my face. “Why are you telling me this?”

“I just want you to know that you’re in good hands at Bliss Resort.”

I have to stifle a snort, and I’m partially unsuccessful. “You can prevent insects from crawling on your sand mat? That’s impressive.”

“Not as impressive as you.” He says this with such warmth that I almost fall for it. I almost fall into it. Would it be so bad if I turned around and put my arms around his neck? I need a breather from the intensity of this yoga class. “I can’t wait to see how you position this on our social media accounts.”

Yes. Work. I detach myself from the steadying influence of his hands on my waist and clear my throat. “Speaking of social media, I’d better get some pictures.” Roman brought the camera, and we put it on the edge of the mat. I can feel his eyes on me as I go to get it, but by the time I’ve turned back to the class, he’s in mountain pose, eyes straight ahead.

I snap a few shots of the sunrise, then grab a few back up and down the beach to get some anonymous shots of the class. By the time I’ve finished, Azalea is giving us the old namaste and setting us free.

The rest of the couples scatter, and after a minute, Roman’s the only one left. He’s gathered up both of our mats and bags, and I get the sense he’s watching me very carefully.

“So,” he says, as we make our way back toward the office. “What did you think?”

“It was good.” I keep it neutral.

We continue walking, accompanied only by our weighted silence, to the hotel and through the lobby.

“I hope you’re not embarrassed about the tumbleweed,” he says, as we pass by my office.

“I hope you’re not embarrassed about the pool,” I shoot back, then wink and blow him a kiss before closing the door in his face.

8

Roman

Jenny shuts herself in her office for the rest of the morning, and I’m left to wonder how Genevieve Starlight grew into a woman with that killer instinct.

I swear I had her during that yoga class. Her cheeks were on fire and she bit at her lip in such a pretty fashion that I knew I was getting under her skin. Turnabout is fair play. She got under mine, I got under hers, and then....

I hope you’re not embarrassed about the pool.