Teaching Passion
~ a sensual romance ~
by Robynn Honeychurch
Teaching Passion
Copyright Robynn Honeychurch 2011
Published by CoolCats Publishing at Smashwords
Discover other titles by Robynn Honeychurch at Smashwords.
All rights reserved.
Robynn Honeychurch can be contacted at: books.mythicworks.ca
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Dedication:
For Lesley, who has always had faith in my writing: Thank you.
Thank you to my husband and daughter who have supported me and helped make this project possible. I love you both with all my heart.
CHAPTER 1
“Damion Drake?!” Randy repeated. “I really get to work with Damion Drake?” Her mouth fell open.
She knew that name.
The locally renowned, young master had a reputation of teaching excellence. He was recognized for the work he did with athletes, and for his all-round knowledge of Asian martial arts.
“Well, you have to be interviewed by him first. But yes, it’s likely,” Isabelle, her elderly T’ai Chi instructor replied wryly, a gentle smile curving the corners of her thin mouth. “He’s been teaching T’ai Chi for 10 years and has the status of a master practitioner.”
Randy nodded, her eyes alight. “I know,” she said.
The women stood near the doors exiting the large empty room that served as a T’ai Chi classroom.
Isabelle laughed lightly. “I bet I know what you’ve heard about him,” she teased. “And it’s all true,” she said, referring to the rumors of his drop-dead gorgeous looks. “Plus he’s a very skilled teacher,” she said, still smiling.
“Well, when do I get to meet him?” Randy Thomson asked impatiently.
“Are you sure you’re in your late twenties, and not nineteen?” Isabelle couldn’t help joking.
Randy made a face. “Are you telling me your libido isn’t working any longer? And here I thought you were so healthy for your age!” She shot back.
“Touché,” her instructor responded. “I’ve set up an interview for you next week at his studio. He operates a T’ai Chi center in the south end of Calgary. Like I said, he wants to meet you before he agrees to take you on for private training and apprenticeship.”
“Oh,” Randy replied, her delicate brows pulling together.
She stared unseeingly through the glass windows of the front door. It was dark out and the other students had already filed out of the classroom.
Pushing her thick, unruly, cinnamon hair from her eyes, she asked, “Well, is he nice? Do you think he’ll take me as a student?”
“He is, and I do! You’re enthusiastic about your training and your movements and postures are coming along well. I don’t think you need to worry,” Isabelle consoled.
“Good. Thank you so much for the referral—I mean getting me connected with a mentor to train with—and Master Drake no less… Thank you, too, for all you’ve taught me these past years…” pretty, petite Randy said. This was her last class with Isabelle.
“You’re welcome. You’ve been a great pupil. I’ve enjoyed working with you and will miss having you in my class. But I’m glad to see you have the interest in continuing on with your studies, and Master Drake has truly mastered the Chi—his body’s internal energy. Assuming he takes you as a student, he will teach you well.”
“I look forward to meeting him.” Randy replied and the two women smiled at each other.
“Well!” Isabelle sighed, “I’d better go, it’s late and I need to lock up the building. Please let me know how things go. I’d love to stay in touch.“
“Me too,” she agreed, “I’ll call. Goodnight.”
Walking out into the brisk February air, Randy tried to imagine this Damion Drake, T’ai Chi master.
Short and built like a barrel?
Blond? Bald?
What did other women think constituted a ‘gorgeous man’? She’d find out soon enough, she figured.
Taking a deep breath of dry, cold, Alberta air, she slowly exhaled and climbed into her car to drive home.
That night she dreamt she was standing on a mountain top looking out over rolling hills sprinkled with evergreens and painted green with spring grass. A breeze caressed her hair and she could smell the sweet aroma of spring buds in the air.
She looked down. She was wearing her T’ai Chi shoes and workout clothes and standing on a flat, mossy rock-outcropping. All around her feet were little purple flowers poking their heads above the red earth.
It’s so beautiful here.
She took a long, slow breath in and slowly let it out, her body relaxed and a joyous, peaceful feeling spread over her. Just then she heard a disembodied man’s voice speak to her.
“Relax your shoulders! Lift your head and look straight ahead! You need to sink into your stance more.”
She looked around. She was definitely by herself on this windswept, mountaintop.
Then a strange sensation came over her body. As if it had a mind of its own, her posture adjusted and she was standing in a much steadier, stronger position. She looked down at her arms which were held out in front of her as though she were hugging a large tree and at her softly bend knees: yes, this was her body but something else had just been controlling it!
“Who are you?” Randy asked the deep, rich voice.
“Who are you?” Came the reply. And at that point for the life of her she couldn’t remember her own name.
Brushing her teeth the following morning, she pondered the significance of her dream.
Must be that I’ve become so immersed in learning T’ai Chi lately, that it’s permeating my subconscious!
Randy looked at her unusually pale face in the mirror.
I need to get out more.
I need a break from the kids at preschool.
I probably just need a cup of coffee, she concluded, and padded into the kitchen to see if it was ready.
Blink, her fluffy white cat brushed against her leg, meowing, and looking up plaintively at her owner.
“What have you got to worry about? Your life is so simple,” she complained to her pet. Then relented, noticing her empty food bowl. “Oh! You want food do you? Alright, coming right up.”
If only I’d been born a cat.
No, I take that back. I don’t mind teaching preschool and I like my life well enough. It’s just that I’d rather be working with, and instructing, adults.
Well, I will be soon, she reassured herself, pouring food into Blink’s bowl.
CHAPTER 2
Randy arrived at the unmarked, flat-roofed building the following week a few minutes early. The building was nestled between two modern-looking homes and covered in cedar siding that made the structure look inviting. A small white sign hung above the entrance to the unpretentious building and boasted “The Studio” in black script.
She pulled her car up to the curb, across the street from the building, tucked her keys into her wallet and placed that in the pocket of her beige wool dress-coat. She looked over at The Studio again, then glanced at her watch.
Should she wait?
Or just go in now even though she was early?
She’d go in now, she decided, knowing that she’d be more nervous if she continued to wait.
Opening the front door, she stepped into a large empty cloakroom with wooden benches lining the wall to her left. The wall on her right housed a long coat closet and the back wall: a mirror.
Oh! Her hair was a disheveled mess again, she observed, staring with dismay at her reflection. And to think she’d brushed it not more than an hour ago! It was a constant job for her to keep her long tresses in order; they just had a mind of their own! She ran her fingers through it and decided, short of running back to the car for her comb, there wasn’t much to be done about it now.
Sitting down, Randy removed her winter boots, noticing the terracotta floor tiles that lined the room: clean and polished.
Nice, tasteful yet understated. I hope this is a good sign.
Doesn’t a clean workspace represent an organized mind?
So, Damion Drake is organized, that doesn’t mean he’ll think I’m good enough for private training to be a T’ai Chi teacher.
Stop worrying, it’ll be fine.
After hanging up her jacket, she took a deep breath and glanced again in the mirror. She hoped she’d worn the right thing! She just hadn’t been sure whether to expect a seated interview or some sort of audition.
Why was she so nervous?
She could feel her heart beating faster than normal. It was only that she was anticipating going into training as a T’ai Chi master, she thought. But she knew it also had something to do with the sexy Damion Drake, still a faceless name to her.
“Ready or not…” she whispered to herself, and went through the entrance labeled “Studio.”
It was empty also. The floor was a beautiful pale hardwood that gleamed in the late afternoon light coming in from the south-facing windows. The whole south wall was lined with long, narrow windows and a set of sliding glass doors looking out onto a snowy back yard. It looked to Randy like there might be a Japanese-style garden hidden under all that white. A miniature maple bent over almost to the ground under the snow’s weight and next to it stood a small stone pagoda. To the right of that was a tiny pond, now frozen over by February’s cool temperatures, but cleared of snow by some fastidious soul. It was ringed with a stepping-stone pathway. Randy knew she would enjoy observing this lovely view during her weekly lessons through the dawning spring.
“And you are…?” A deep voice questioned from behind her, startling her out of her reverie.
Slowly, she turned towards the voice. She took in the sight of the tall, lithe, frowning man—probably in his early thirties—dressed in black, standing before her. His arms were crossed causing his powerful biceps to bulge.
He wore loose fitting cotton pants and… ooh my, a form-hugging T-shirt with a T’ai Chi symbol embroidered over his left well-shaped pectoral muscle.
Her gaze swung up to his dark eyes and hers widened in response to what she saw there. Subtle humor laced with something deeper… a sort of knowing wisdom that seemed to shine through; he looked at her as if he could read all her emotions, sense all her thoughts.
Her mouth went dry and suddenly she felt hot and weak. An electric force enveloped the compelling, handsome man, and she could feel the air crackling with his presence.
“Damion Drake?” She choked out, then cleared her throat, “I’m Randy Thomson.”
“Are you now?” And he gave a low, throaty chuckle. He had short, ebony hair, olive skin, high cheekbones, and inviting laugh-lines around his mouth; dark brows arched up questioningly.
“What are you laughing at?” Randy questioned, annoyed. She wondered at the humor of this devastatingly, magnetic man.
“Somehow I was under the impression Randy Thomson was a man. Clearly,” he paused, his eyes roving over her, taking in her loose cream toned linen pants and chocolate, fitted sweater that hugged her small, rounded breasts, “clearly,” he repeated, “I was mistaken.”
This made her blush—what a boorish man!
She’d expected him to have better manners than this!
Damion moved forward then to clasp her hand in a cool, firm grasp. Though she was tempted to resist the handshake, she allowed her thin hand to be enveloped by his large, strong one. Randy felt an overpowering tingling sensation travel through her fingers and up her arm.
She tried to yank her hand away, but it was as though she had no strength at all.
His warm embrace was not forcing her hand to remain in place, and yet something was!
She looked up at him, her expression shaken and wary. His eyes twinkled but his lips retained their serous line as a long uncomfortable moment stretched between them, their eyes locked.
Randy struggled to maintain some sense of composure despite the inner frustration that grew into anger with every passing second she was held victim to his display of power. She supposed he meant her to be impressed but instead she was fuming.
Not only was he a boor, but a show-off as well!
Likely he expected women to fall, shaking, at his feet at his display of strength.
Finally the contact was broken and Randy’s hand fell like a stone to her side. She opened her mouth to give him what-for, then, just in time, recalled that she was here for an interview and she really didn’t want to blow it, no matter how much she might already be doubting her ability to work with this man!
Attempting to recover her composure, she took a deep breath and gritted out, “Pleased to meet you, Master… Drake.”
“Please, call me Damion,” came the smooth response. “All my students do. Come now, we’ll have a seat in my office and discuss our future relationship…” and in long, loose strides he led the way into a small room off the back of the studio, not giving her any opportunity to object or reconsider.
The office was a small, wood paneled room that became dwarfed once occupied by Damion’s large and dominating presence.
“Please, sit,” he directed, pointing to a chair near his desk.
Neatly laid out piles of paperwork covered the wooden surface. There was nothing particularly personal about the room, Randy noticed, looking around, except for the small, framed photograph sitting on one corner of the desk. It appeared to have been taken at least ten years ago, judging by the style of dress, and featured a group of smiling faces with arms waving in earnest at the camera. Perhaps a large family portrait, she speculated. The walls were bare save for one ink-brushed painting of a bamboo plant, hanging opposite Damion’s desk.
As she took a seat, she felt the master’s eyes follow her, and she glanced up. His expression was unreadable.
“Give me a brief history of your T’ai Chi experience, Ms. Thomson,” he said, arms crossed, one hip resting against the edge of the desk. He was uncomfortably close.
“Please, call me Randy,” she responded. Then, hands clutched together in her lap, she began to describe her T’ai Chi experiences to the intense man before her.
Randy climbed into her car after her hour-long interview.
Well, that is, without a doubt, the sexiest, scariest, most ill-mannered, irritating man I’ve ever met!
How Isabelle could call him “nice”, I’ll never know.
While he had been thorough in his testing of her fundamental knowledge and skill level, he’d also clearly enjoyed making her squirm. For every answer she gave him, he questioned her reasoning, tested her confidence, and then with a mocking smile would move to the next question. Never once did she know if she’d given the answer he’d wanted.
And the way he’d stood over her, with his arms folded across his chest, biceps flexed. She’d been seated by his desk and had to crane her neck to look up at him! When she’d finally decided she would stand to be on equal footing with him if the man wouldn’t sit down himself, he’d perceptively put a hand on her shoulder.
“Please. Stay seated,” he’d said.
It was a command, not a request. She had recognized that instantly, and although she’d wanted to disobey, there really wasn’t any option!
On her drive home Randy continued to cogitate on her future instructor. He had told her at the end of the hour that he would be happy to work with her privately in a teacher-preparation capacity, but now she wasn’t so sure that she wanted to!
She’d thanked him politely and made plans for their first lesson the following week, though.
She had to admit, she did feel a strange attraction to her new mentor— the way his calm, deep voice rolled over her as if it were caressing her with its very sound….
His voice!
She gasped and a chill ran up her spine. It had been Damion’s voice she’d heard in her dream the other night.
How odd, to dream of an unknown voice.
What did it mean?
Was it destiny, a premonition, or coincidence?
She didn’t know what to make of this discovery. It boded strangely for times ahead.
And that handshake business had been weird, too.
She had heard that a master of martial arts was called such because he had mastered his own body’s energy so well that he could mentally control other people’s. But seeing and feeling it happen to her was something else! Randy wasn’t sure she liked the concept, but she knew this same ability allowed a person to defend himself in times of need and to help heal.
Randy had been immediately aware of Damion’s radiating energy and strength from the moment she had turned to find him standing behind her.
There was something else, too: his quiet confidence and masculine grace just made her toes tingle! And the way he looked at her, as though her body and soul had lain exposed before him. But these same traits made her supremely distrusting of the man. He was a man, after all, and if he put designs on her, she’d know he was just another retched rake in disguise.
Unfortunately, Damion is one bold and handsome devil…
“OK, OK,” she murmured sternly to herself, “get a grip. The guy’s also a rude boor! How can I drool over a guy like that?” She already knew the answer to that! He was amazingly sexy—and just as infuriating!
Nothing will come of this minor attraction anyway, so why worry about it?
He’s a master, my mentor and future instructor and that’s all he’ll ever be.
With that, she put him out of her mind. Glancing at her flushed cheeks in the rearview mirror, she saw with dismay that her startlingly blue eyes sparkled with a bit more life than usual.
What a sap she was!
CHAPTER 3
It was Monday afternoon at Sunrise Preschool. The parents had all retrieved their children and Randy was busy tidying up. As she picked up toys and put lids on bottles of paint she thought about her upcoming T’ai Chi lesson.
She would be seeing Damion again. In some ways, she looked forward to her first lesson with him; there was always more to learn, even in regards to the basic one-person form she was studying. All the same, she had this knot in the pit of her stomach that wouldn’t go away.
She disliked being bullied and had little patience for impolite behavior—goodness knows, she had to put up with enough of that teaching preschool! She was confident that Damion could help her become a competent instructor—if only they didn’t kill each other first.
Randy wished she didn’t feel an attraction towards the man, that was all. She’d have to learn to ignore the hot waves she felt wash over her every time she remembered his strong warm hand engulfing hers in that compellingly powerful manner.
Darn, darn, darn! Don’t do this to yourself!
Sure it’s been a long time since you’ve been caressed or held close by a man. Or kissed overwhelmingly passionately by a devastating hunk, but…
Actually, have you ever been kissed that way?
Well, thinking about that sure wasn’t going to help her change the direction of her thoughts! She had been burned once by a man, she reminded herself, and even at twenty seven she wasn’t particularly anxious to risk her heart again—and certainly not with this man.
Keep Shane in mind.
Shane was the weasel who’d broken her heart—and he’d been a looker, too. It would be wise for her to remember that when she was tempted to fantasize about Master Drake.
“What’s got your brow so knitted together?” Her co-worker, Allison, asked Randy observantly.
Randy stopped wiping off the counter by the sink in the kid’s craft area and looked up at the friendly face of her good friend.
“Nothing serious,” she mused, “just remembering old heart break.”
“Heart break, or betrayal?” Allison asked perceptively, recognizing that Randy was recalling her break-up with Shane.
The two women had been friends for the past five years, since Randy began working at the preschool, and they’d come to know each other very well.
Randy tipped her head to the side, “I guess I’m not sure… it really felt like my heart had been ripped out of me, at the time.”
“I know, but you were in shock—I mean, finding your beau in bed with his ex-girlfriend would be hard for anyone to take. What makes you think of that now?”
Randy dodged the question. “It just makes me so mad, you know? He could have told me what was going on. I’d rather have been dumped than walked in on them like that! I think he wanted me to find out that way—for some demented reason. Otherwise, why would he have invited me over for dinner that night and then left the door unlocked? I knocked and when he didn’t answer I let myself in. It wasn’t until I heard noises coming from his bedroom that I even considered what might be going on. At that point I should have just turned around and walked out. But no, I had to go see.” She paused to try to get a grip on her anger.
“I know, you really took it hard.”
“How could I not? We dated for three years—after a year of him pursuing me. If only I’d known he was bedding other women while courting me, I wouldn’t have touched him with a ten foot pole!”
“You’ve got to let it go now, Randy. I mean it’s been a year. I would have thought you’d be over all this by now.”
“A year doesn’t feel like very long to my heart,” she sighed. “I guess it all comes up again, though, when I start thinking about Damion. I mean, I just don’t feel like I can trust men now, you know? Especially not any who seem good looking or suave.”
“Damion? Your new The T’ai Chi instructor? You’re on a first-name basis already, are you?”
Randy blushed in response. “Well, he told me to call him that…” she defended.
“And ‘suave’ sure doesn’t describe the Master Drake I’ve heard of.”
“I guess you’re right; he’s not charming enough to be suave.” Randy made a face. “He was just too darn sexy in his workout outfit—his supple muscles rippling when he moved. His soft, deep voice…” Her words drifted off as she sighed again.
“Listen to me! I keep telling myself to get a grip. Anyway, he may look good, but he’s a jerk.”
Allison’s eyebrows rose, “Really? You can tell that already? First he’s a suave womanizer, now he’s a jerk?” She looked as though she was suppressing a laugh.
“Yes!” Randy responded adamantly. “With looks like he’s got he’s probably overrun with women. I doubt he even noticed I have breasts…”
But there her words drifted off, for she remembered that he had indeed noticed her softly curvaceous form beneath her sweater when they’d met. Color slowly suffused her cheeks.
“Well, he’s either a creep or a Casanova—and I don’t want to be involved with either!”
“I think it’s far too early in the game for you to be worrying your sweet head about that man, Randy,” her co-worker replied. “And if he’s a jerk, he’s a jerk. Get him out of your mind.”
“You’re right… I think I’m just a little man-starved, that’s all. Maybe I should start dating again—just casually, you know?”
“Maybe you should,” Allison encouraged, putting the day’s attendance sheets away in the office.
Randy looked around at the tidied playroom and smiled, “Kids are great, aren’t they? Contentedly living in the moment.“
Her friend nodded and chuckled, “They’re great most of the time.”
Randy walked towards the front hall and retrieved her coat. “Shall we call it a day?”
“Sounds like a good plan to me, my dear!” Allison agreed. “For the record, though, I have a feeling you’ll find Damion to be nothing at all like Shane.”
“It doesn’t really matter,” her co-worker responded. “I don’t intend to find out.”
Allison just laughed and Randy gave her the sternest look she could muster before she, too, burst into giggles.
Randy felt much better after her conversation with Allison, she realized, as she drove across the to The Studio.
Calgary was having one of its regular chinooks that brought warm weather and blue skies from the Rocky Mountains that lay to the west of the city. With the sun shining on her face through the side window of her Subaru as she moved her car down Center Street towards the Elbow Drive exit, she couldn’t help but feel great!
Everything was going to work out fine.
Working with a master like Damion Drake was quite an honor, she acknowledged and she was looking forward to it.
As for his boorish tendencies, she’d just ignore them!
She would keep her distance emotionally and everything would be fine.
Damion stood by the window, staring out unseeingly at the garden behind his studio. He knew he should be planning his first lesson with Randy, but all he could think about was the fact that he was going to have Randy, all to himself, for an hour this evening. This woman with the soft red hair and tempting, subtle curves, the rosy cheeks and bright azure eyes. This woman with her flaring temper, who came in earnest to learn from him.
She didn’t seem to recognize the sensual, magnetic energy she emitted as she had moved through the form he’d asked her to demonstrate during their interview.
He punched his right fist into his left palm and turned away from the wintry view.
He wasn’t interested in Randy!
She was his student, for goodness sake. He could have any woman he wanted and he definitely had no desire to be involved with a novice practitioner of this martial art—especially with one who was looking to him for guidance. He had to maintain impartiality here so that he could, in good conscience, judge her fit for Accreditation when the time came.
But she sure was something special, his libido reminded him. He clamped down on his desires, relaxed his body, and turned his attention toward the task at hand: planning his next lesson. She would be arriving shortly, and he was determined to be composed and prepared.
CHAPTER 4
“I’m here!” Randy called brightly coming into the studio room.
“Hello Randy. Ready to work, I see,” Damion commented, looking over her attire.
Her loose fitting cotton pants and T-shirt were standard outfit for T’ai Chi practice. Her instructor’s gaze lingered momentarily on her face, staring seriously into her deep blue eyes—eyes that made him think of a lake in the pre-dawn light. Randy tried to look away but was unwillingly compelled to maintain the eye contact. She felt as if she were undergoing a test—she probably was, but got no hint as to whether she passed.
“First we will work on your breathing technique…” Her mentor said abruptly, and so her first the lesson began.
Half an hour later she was sick of breathing. She knew she needed to breathe deeply and from her abdomen, but come on! Wasn’t half an hour of standing and breathing, lying on the floor with her hand on her stomach and breathing—in and out, in and out—enough?
“Can we take a break for a minute?” Randy finally risked asking. “I’d like to use the bathroom…” her voice trailed off and she reddened.
“Would you stop a T’ai Chi class you were teaching to use the facilities?” Damion asked sternly, his brows dipping, forehead creasing.
“Well, no… but—“ she said hesitantly.
Damion interrupted with, “Then we’ll continue on. Begin T’ai Chi!” He voiced the command for her to start the series of T’ai Chi movements.
Well! He sure needs to prove he’s Mr. High and Mighty!
All she’d wanted was a moment alone to try to compose herself!
Lying flat on her back on an exercise mat, with Damion looming over her, had been distinctly unnerving. She had been hyper-aware of the rise and fall of her breasts straining against her shirt, feeling exposed and subservient.
It had made her mad!
She knew her body was tense with this unexpressed anger as she worked through the postures.
“Stop.” He barked, only moments after she’d begun the practice.
“What?” She asked, annoyed, looking over at him.
“Stay there, don’t move.”
He disappeared into his office, returning seconds later holding something. As he came up behind her, she twisted around to look at him.
“Stay still, I said,” Damion repeated exasperatedly, and Randy turned her head back making a face at him that he couldn’t see.
It was flustering to have this powerfully virile man standing inches behind her, and doing—what? She didn’t know and she didn’t like it. It unnerved her—this heat and a palpable energy she could feel radiating from him.
Presently, he lifted her long unruly hair off her neck and gathered it together in both his hands.
“You are unconsciously tossing your head now and then as you move to get these locks out of your eyes, and it’s sorely inhibiting your practice.”
“I can do that!” She disputed, referring to the task of capturing her wild mass of cinnamon strands. In vain, she attempted to twist her head from his grasp; wincing at the pain of having her hair pulled, she realized it was futile. Damion chuckled—he had no intention of releasing her
“I don’t mind.” He said, amused by her struggles. Randy frowned and held still.
Boy, she disliked this stubborn man!
But she realized she may as well cooperate and get this over with.
She could feel his warm breath against the sensitive skin at the nape of her neck as he concentrated on twining the elastic around her hair. It felt good—and she mentally fought against the pleasant sensation.
He’s my overbearing teacher, and that’s all…
If only he knew what he’s doing to me!
Unbidden, hot waves of desire coursed through her. Better that he doesn’t know probably, she acknowledged ruefully, feeling her cheeks flush. She felt his tapered fingers brush against her flesh, just below her right ear. He let go of her bound hair, but his fingers trailed slowly, deliberately down the side of her neck to her collarbone and on to meet the edge of her shirt, as though he was exploring the texture and shape of her. She gasped, her eyes widening as she stared blindly at the wall before her. His strong hand rested, then, for a suspended moment on her shoulder.
She didn’t want this—this—this tempting!
If he was going to ignore the student—teacher boundaries, she’d have to reinforce them herself, for she had no intention of letting their acquaintance move in this direction!
What am I doing? Damion asked himself.
Get a grip and get your hands off this woman.
You can’t have her and you don’t want her anyway.
But, lordy, does she smell heavenly. Like spring wildflowers drenched in early morning dew…
He instantly yanked his hand away and, although Randy was relieved, she couldn’t help but feel as though something significant—something more than his hand had just been taken from her.
Still, she turned to Damion and said fiercely, “Don’t touch me like that! I don’t think it’s appropriate!”
He looked mildly surprised, but his smile was mocking. “I’ll do my best,” he said obliquely.
She wanted to hit him.
The remainder of the hour was a disaster as far as Randy was concerned. Everything she did was wrong.
“From the top!” He had barked. “Sink your weight and slight relax your pelvis. Straighten your spine and bend your knees more. More!” And, “Begin T’ai Chi again! Freeze. Your hands are coming up too high there. Take it from the beginning again.”
She must have done the whole set nine times before the lesson was out. She was exhausted from the effort of trying so hard. And she was peeved! This was her first lesson with this new teacher and she felt she deserved some leeway to adjust!
Looking at the clock on the wall for the umpteenth time, she finally pointed out, “It’s five thirty.”
“Do you have a hot date you need to run off to?” Damion asked, his tone cruelly disbelieving.
He couldn’t possibly know that she didn’t—could he?
“Maybe,” she responded coolly. “In any case,” she charged on, “I thought we were done at five and—“
“You’re right,” he broke in, “let’s call it quits for the day. I have another class to teach soon anyhow, and I’ve surely worked you to your limit by now.”
Randy was sure she’d heard a trace of scorn and disappointment in his voice, and boy, was she tempted to give him what-for! But she clenched her fists and spoke through tight lips as her well-bred manners got the better of her.
“Thank you for the lesson. I’ll tie my hair up properly for next class and work on the breathing.”
She walked towards the cloakroom.
“Work on all of it!” He barked.
Randy’s mouth dropped open. Slowly she shut it, and turning, she gave the T’ai Chi master her most piercing look.
“I will! That’s why I’m here. To learn. From you,” She said with deliberate enunciation. “I may not be meeting your standards, Master Drake, but I am trying,” she said hotly, her large, expressive eyes flashing. She got some satisfaction from calling Damion by the name he’d requested she avoid.
He chuckled humorlessly, “Good,” was all he said before turning his back on her and crossing the room to his office. She gasped, clearly she had just been dismissed.
She felt exhausted and a bit discouraged on her drive home—and she’d been in such a good mood going into her lesson!
What went wrong?
She’d endeavored to follow Damion’s instructions, to take his advice, listen carefully and apply it; but he just rubbed her the wrong way! Goodness knew, she was doing her damnedest to be a submissive, agreeable student despite his rude behavior.
Something had definitely changed part way through the session, though; the air in the classroom had grown more tense after he’d tied her hair up. He was likely regretting having touched her, and that set him in a bad mood. Randy felt it was so unfair that he’d taken his frustration out on her! It had been his choice to touch her hair, to make her stand still… she could have done it herself! She’d even said so. Instead, she’d been overcome with sexual sensations—the likes of which she’d never felt before— and had no desire to feel towards this untrustworthy man. He had broken the professional boundary between them by touching her in that casual and yet intimate manner.
She couldn’t decipher his motives.
Was he just trying to put her in her place?
Was he fighting his own demons of desire?
Maybe he didn’t care about maintaining propriety in their working relationship! Yet, Damion had a sterling reputation, so people either ignored his inappropriate behavior, or she was a special recipient of it! In any case, it made her uncomfortable. For the past year or so she’d tried to stay clear of men like Shane and now she had another one on her hands. Maybe she was making a mountain out of a molehill. She tried to put her worries aside as her home came into view.
Pulling her little blue car up in front of her place, she got out, stretched and gathered her purse and bag of work clothes together.
She loved her little house with its white wood siding, large, covered front porch, steeply pitched roof and many windows. The house had been her great-aunt’s and then her uncle’s after her death. And he’d passed it on to Randy. She had few relatives, coming from a line of small families, and as she’d been her uncle’s only niece or nephew she was lucky enough to inherit this beautiful place.
Walking through the low front gate and up the brick walk, she pictured her garden out back, as it would soon be. Spring was fast approaching and little tree buds would be unfurling their leaves towards the sun, daffodils poking their heads above the damp soil, and new grass would be pushing up through the fresh, rich earth. Melted snow was dripping off the eaves and into the rain gutters making a concert of sounds, and dusk was settling around her as she mounted the steps to her wide wooden porch.
Unlocking the front door, she stepped inside and set down her armload. Blink tiptoed over and brushed back and forth against her leg.
“Hi there, sweetie,” Randy said bending to pick up her cat. Stroking the animal’s soft fur, she glanced around the inside of her home.
Straight ahead lay the hallway leading back to the kitchen and dining area that looked out over the large back yard, the garden and old oak tree. In front of her and to her right were the stairs leading up to her cozy loft bedroom. On her left, just beyond the front closet was a doorway to the small spare bedroom and to her immediate right was the living room. The back, right corner of the house held her bathroom.
Done in cream tones with dark blue and chocolate brown accents, she supposed it wasn’t the most feminine of decors. Her uncle had redecorated about twenty years before and she found his simple, understated taste appealing. The walls and berber carpet were cream accented with dark wood trim. Her table and chairs had been made of the same timber. She had bought ultramarine pillows and linens to liven up the place and at the end of a day like today, there was truly no place she would rather be!
The phone rang just then and Randy gently put her cat down, hurriedly removed her boots and ran towards the kitchen to answer on the third ring. Maybe it was Allison checking up on her… But no, it was her mother.
“Hi Mom,” she said trying to disguise the yawn she suddenly felt coming on as she plunked herself down in a nearby chair.
“Dear, how are you? You sound tired. Has it been a long day? Well, I’ll try not to keep you. I was just calling to see how your new classes are going. Did you ever tell me your new instructor’s name?”
“Yes. I mean… no I didn’t, I don’t think. It’s Damion—“ She was cut off by her mother’s enthusiastic squeal.
“Drake?! You’re studying with Damion Drake? Oh, you lucky girl. I met him at a workshop he was teaching here in Edmonton last year. Such a talented young man, and soooo good looking,” she drawled. “He was offering a weekend class at the local Recreation Center near here—you know the one about three blocks away? It was mainly for serious athletes—to help them with their balance and coordination and such—but since I run a lot , he allowed me to attend. I’ve always wanted to try T’ai Chi, you know, and he was such a patient, perceptive—not to mention powerful—teacher.
“Afterwards, when your father came to pick me up—Master Drake invited us out for tea! We had a nice visit and he promised to call when he was back in town. So how are your classes going?” And she actually paused long enough for her daughter to get two words in edge-wise.
“Not so“
“Oh dear, is he pushing you hard, love? Of course he is. Well I’m sure you know that he means well. He only wants you to become the best you can at doing and teaching your T’ai Chi. Don’t take it too seriously, though, dear. I know you’ll do fine. Have you had a chance to visit with him outside the classroom yet? A date perhaps?”
Randy rolled her eyes heavenwards.
She’d only had one class so far, for goodness sake!
“I don’t think—“ Randy tried to get out, but again was overtaken by her well-meaning mother.
“No, you’re right, I guess it wouldn’t be proper for you to be dating your teacher. He surely would be a catch, though, sweetheart, and you’ve been so long without a man in your life…”
Oh, no… Randy thought.
“I’m not in any rush,” she mumbled over the sound of her mother’s voice as she rambled on.
“… And we’re hoping that will work out well for you. Randy? Randy, are you still there?”
“Yes, I’m here Mom, what did you say?”
“Are you really alright, dear?” True motherly concern laced Mrs. Thomson’s voice.
“I’m fine, Mom, really, just tired. That’s all.”
Randy raised her left hand to her forehead and brushed some loose strands of hair from her eyes. Her hair was still pulled back and held up with the elastic Damion had used. She repressed the soft smile that had touched her lips.
“I was saying that your father and I have a flight booked for Saturday morning into Calgary. We wanted to visit with you, catch up and all. Christmas already seems like a long time ago to us and we miss you. We also wanted to visit Frank’s brother,” her mother went on.
Frank, Randy’s father, tried to make time for her uncle whenever he came to town. Her uncle had moved into a retirement complex four years ago after handing the house over to his niece. He’d grown too old to look after the place, he’d said, and he wanted more time to golf. Unfortunately, the older man’s health had rapidly deteriorated since then and the doctors suspected Alzheimer’s to be the cause.
“You both know I’d love to have you come visit and stay with me. The guest room is always ready for you both.” She put in.
Her mother may be overwhelmingly energetic, but she knew she cared the world for Randy, and Randy felt the same in return.
“Thank you, dear. Could you meet us at the airport? We’ll be in at 10:30 to gate C3, and our return flight is Sunday evening.”
“That’ll be great, Mom, I’ll be there. Look forward to seeing you both… I hate to be rude, but I’m hungry and haven’t had dinner yet…”
“Oh my, of course. We love you, Randy, and we’ll see you soon. Bye now.”
“Love you too. Bye-bye.” Randy hung up, stretched her arms out and then over her head and yawned.
Reaching back, she carefully untangled the elastic from her hair and ran her fingers through her long locks to untangle them. She rubbed her scalp gently where her hair had been pulled tight and closed her eyes, listening to the dripping eves outside the kitchen window. The quiet of the house helped to calm her.
Grabbing a banana, she went into the bathroom to run a bath. So she’d have company this weekend, she mused.
Well good.
It would get her mind off a certain dashing, infuriating, dark eyed hunk. She wondered fleetingly what he was doing right now. Was he still teaching a class? Going over paperwork? Doing a practice session of his own? Out to dinner with some sophisticated, tall, made-up woman?
It didn’t matter, she really wasn’t interested.
But even as the thought crossed her mind, she didn’t believe it. She was interested, she just didn’t want to be!
Damn the man!
Randy looked at herself in the long bathroom mirror next to the tub as she pulled off her shirt and slacks, at her slender but certainly not long legs, her delicately rounded hips and small, firm breasts. Her skin was pale and smooth. She compared herself to Damion’s imaginary “type” of woman: she wasn’t luxuriously buxom, that was for sure, and her face was unadorned, save for some lip-gloss and mascara. She honestly didn’t need to add anything more to her skin—what with her naturally pink cheeks, clear complexion and rose-colored lips. She was bare of make-up and short, and she’d never be sophisticated.
She worked at a preschool, for heaven’s sake.
So she’d never be right for Damion. She sighed.
Who cares? She was who she was, and she liked who she was.
“Best get your mind off him, girl,” she chided herself.
And she did. Sinking into the steaming, bubbly water she relaxed, laying her head against the back of the large clawfoot tub, she closed her eyes. Allowing her mind to drift freely, her body began to relax.
In an apartment on the south side of the city, not far from The Studio, Damion reached behind him for the shampoo. He so rarely took a bath, but tonight he hoped it would ease the built-up tension he was feeling.
It had been a long time since a lady had affected him the way Randy did, and that annoyed him intensely. He prided himself on being in control of his emotions, of knowing his mind and being able to direct his thoughts as he saw fit.
Well, he smiled sardonically to himself, I didn’t do very well at controlling myself today.
What was that business with the hair anyway?
He knew better than to touch his students in any manner that could be construed as personal.
And, Damion admitted to himself, he did feel a sliver of regret for how hard he’d pushed Randy tonight. Everything he’d reviewed with her had been components they’d needed to cover, but could she absorb that much at once?
With past teachers-in-training, especially at this first level, he’d always eased them into the vigorous routine of movement refinement and apprenticeship. Yet, with this woman he wanted to test her, to push her to her limit and see if she would break or rise up to meet his standards. He also admitted to himself that he’d felt angry at her for attracting him.
I thought you had better control of your emotions, brother, he reprimanded himself.
I can’t seem to keep a handle on myself where Randy is concerned. What is it about her?
Never had he been so obviously thrown off balance by a female! He sure didn’t like it.
He rinsed his hair, then rested his head back against the rim of the tub and stretched out his long legs, hanging them over the edge. She was a feisty, perky little thing, though he knew she was trying hard to suppress her nature in his presence.
A slow smile spread across his lips. Sooner or later he’d push the button that would send her flying off the handle. If he admitted it to himself, he looked forward to seeing her red hair fly and her cheeks flame scarlet as she let her temper reign, he mused.
In the meantime, though, she needed to work on staying focused and relaxed during her T’ai Chi practice. He knew she had it in her to connect deeply with her body’s internal energy. Damion saw it in the determined, quiet way she moved through the sections, staying properly grounded and centered. Some of the details of her moving and breathing patterns could use some work, but he wasn’t worried; he knew it would come together for her.
That was the real reason he was thinking about her now, he tried to convince himself, because she was his newest student.