The South Beach Search. Sharon Hartley

bowl?”

      “I keep hoping you’ll tell me.”

      Taki leveled her gaze at Reese. Something in his voice made her uneasy. He observed her steadily, a hint of five o’clock shadow on his chin and cheeks. Did he think she knew something about his stolen briefcase?

      “I don’t know any more than you do about the theft, Reese.”

      Before he could respond, the kettle issued a shrill whistle.

      Reese followed her into the tiny kitchen and less than an inch separated their hips. Not for the first time, she noted how small her kitchenette was. He was so near, she could sense every movement, every shift of his weight on his feet.

      “It’s amazing what someone did with this old garage,” he said, loosening his tie and looking around. “How did you find it?”

      “I give private lessons to Victoria Van Buren, the woman who owns the estate. She was a friend of...” Taki trailed off, realizing she’d almost told Reese that Victoria was a friend of her mother’s. Better not reveal anything about her history.

      “Years ago,” Taki continued after clearing her throat, “Victoria’s husband converted this garage to an apartment and loaned it to friends in need. Since his death, she’s continuing that tradition.”

      “How long have you lived here?”

      “Almost six months,” Taki said as she poured steaming water into a ceramic teapot. Of course she couldn’t tell him an outright lie. She had to be careful. Satya, truth, was an important yogic principle, one she believed in.

      “It’s nice,” he said. “Cozy.”

      “I really love this cottage. It’s full of such good energy. I think old buildings retain the souls of all the people who once lived inside.”

      Reese blinked. “Like ghosts?”

      “No, not exactly. Just some part of their essence—or spirit maybe left behind.”

      “Come on, Taki,” he said with a laugh. “You don’t really believe drywall and wood retain dead souls?”

      She nodded, again confused by the strange connection she felt to Reese, which made no sense. He was nonreceptive to her beliefs and plainly had a lot of lives yet to live, a lot of issues left to resolve.

      Not that she didn’t, she reminded herself. Maybe she should be more open to his way of thinking.

      When she didn’t answer, he said, “Seriously?”

      She ought to push him far, far away, but couldn’t since he could help her find the bowl. She stared into the brewing tea, knowing that now she wasn’t being honest with herself. Her interest in Reese wasn’t all about the bowl anymore. Maybe it never was.

      “Do you really want this tea?” she said. She dropped her hand to her side, brushing his arm.

      With a grin, he raised his eyebrows. “Do you have anything stronger?”

      “Wine. Red or white?”

      “Red might warm us up,” he said.

      Reese stood close enough that she could feel his breath on her cheek. Between his overwhelming presence and the steaming water, she didn’t need to warm up. She felt as if the flames from the stove would consume her any second.

      For a crazy moment she wanted to touch him. She wanted to take the palms of her hands and glide them up the sleeves of his jacket, pressing firmly enough to feel the hard muscle she knew lay beneath the fine blue fabric.

      “Taki?” he said, a soft question in his voice.

      “You’ll have to move so I can reach the wine bin. It’s overhead.” Her voice sounded strained to her own ears.

      “I’ll get it for you,” he offered.

      When Taki met his puzzled gaze, her breath caught in her throat. She, a woman who prided herself on fabulous breath control, could barely inhale because of swift, overpowering physical desire. Reese no longer seemed familiar. He was now a stranger who awoke a hunger she’d thought buried beneath mounds of guilt and sadness.

      She swallowed and pointed to the cabinet. “The far corner,” she said.

      Reese’s eyes searched hers, but he raised his arm and easily withdrew a bottle of California Cabernet Sauvignon from the high cupboard.

      “How’s this?” he asked.

      “Perfect.”

      When she accepted the bottle, she placed her hands over Reese’s long fingers. For a brief moment he didn’t let go, and she felt his cool hand beneath her warm palms.

      “Thanks,” she said.

      “Sure.” His gaze locked on hers, he released the wine and took slow backward steps out of the kitchen.

      Trying to regain her focus, Taki took deep inhalations as she searched for the corkscrew in a messy kitchen drawer. Why could she never achieve order in her life? Guru Navi always lectured about order and cleanliness, saucha, another essential of a good yoga practice. She located the chrome utensil, grabbed two wineglasses and moved into the living room.

      Out of the kitchen, the temperature dropped several degrees. Relieved by the sudden chill, she headed toward the orange glow of the space heater. She placed the bottle and glass on a table and collapsed onto the sofa.

      Reese sat beside her, leaning forward to retrieve the wine. She relaxed into the cushions, happy to let him do the honors. She needed to recover from what had almost happened in the kitchen. Had he noticed her ridiculous reaction to him? She’d almost attacked him. How could he not notice?

      “You still haven’t told me about your bowl,” Reese said as he opened the wine. “Let’s see. So far I know you have a terrible blot on your soul. Because of that blemish, your guru sent you on a difficult journey to Tibet.”

      “Right,” Taki said, surprised by Reese’s quick recitation of the small bits she’d told him. And he didn’t appear to be making fun of her. He sounded seriously interested.

      “The pilgrimage itself was cleansing,” she said. “But I had a task to complete. I failed that task.” A wave of sadness washed through her. She’d also hoped the bowl would cleanse her soul of the anguish created by her mother’s death.

      Reese nodded. “You were to deliver the bowl to the—” he paused a moment “—Paradise Way Ashram.”

      “Good memory.” Why in heaven’s name had she told Reese all these details?

      He nodded and poured wine into each glass. When she raised hers, he tapped his against it with a gentle clink and said, “To getting your bowl back.”

      “And to you getting your briefcase.”

      She took a swallow of the heady liquid and let its warmth slide down her throat. She needed to relax. Her usual methods hadn’t calmed her so far. Maybe the wine would.

      After taking a sip of his own, Reese said, “So tell me about this blot on your soul.”

      She smiled in spite of her unsettled mind. “That’s just the way Debbie interpreted my explanation of rotten karma.”

      “Maybe you’d better explain karma to me. I’m not quite clear on that concept. You’re doomed somehow because...?”

      “Because of previous bad behavior, maybe even in another life. Every person is the result of their past actions and present doings. It’s the universe’s way of evening things out.”

      “What goes around comes around,” Reese said with a nod. “Got it. So what is it you’ve done that’s so awful?”

      She knew from his tone of voice that he would probe until he got an answer. She couldn’t tell him the whole truth, but she couldn’t lie.

      “Not