Fall Into Temptation (Blue Moon #2) Read online

  Anthony’s mother, Rainbow, was impatiently staring at her watch while Mrs. McCafferty of the catchall general store McCaffertys talked her ear off.

  The door to the yoga studio opened, and Rob from OJs by Julia stepped out carrying empty trays.

  “Hey, Beckett,” Rob greeted him.

  Beckett nodded at the trays. “Does Julia have you doing deliveries now?”

  Rob grinned. “She and the baby are directing everyone from home for another few days. It was all I could get her to commit to before she comes back to work.”

  “Three kids under five,” Beckett shook his head. “You two are super heroes.”

  “Or insane,” Rob shrugged happily. “What’s new with you? How was your trip?”

  Beckett’s response was cut off by town councilwoman Dr. Donna Delveccio. Donna’s entrepreneurial parents had raised three equally enterprising children. All told, the family owned and operated Blue Moon’s dry-cleaning business, medical supply store, and Delveccio Dental.

  “Let’s get this show on the road, Beckett,” she said, rubbing her hands together. “There’s a mini turkey club in there with my name on it and I’ve got a cavity filling at one.”

  “Do we have a yoga studio owner somewhere around here?” Beckett asked, scanning the crowd.

  Dr. Donna shrugged. “Maybe she’s inside?”

  “I’ll see if I can find her and get you your turkey club,” he told her. “Why don’t you organize everyone and I’ll be right back?”

  He made a move toward the studio’s glass door and turned back. “What’s her name?” he asked Donna.

  “Gianna Decker.”

  Beckett entered the studio, noting that the painting supplies from last night had been cleaned up. A long buffet table, laden with sandwiches, snacks, and mini smoothies, was set up in front of the windows.

  At the back of the room, the door to a second, smaller studio was open. It was empty. But down the narrow hallway he noticed one of the restroom doors was closed. She must be in there. He decided to give her another minute or two when he heard the doorknob rattle.

  “Is anyone out there?” called a muffled voice.

  He hurried down the hall and arrived at the door in time to hear her groan.

  “Seriously? Of all days,” the voice said woefully. The handle jiggled again, harder this time. A swift thump replaced the jiggling. “I really don’t like you right now, door!”

  Beckett knocked and heard the yelp on the other side of the wood. “Are you stuck?” he asked.

  “Oh my God! Yes, please help. The lock must be broken and I have to get outside. Everyone’s waiting.”

  Beckett tried the handle on his side. “Definitely stuck,” he assessed.

  “Gee, you think?” she asked dryly.

  “Doors don’t block sarcasm,” he reminded her.

  “Right. Sorry. I’m just flustered. Can you get me out of here?”

  “No. I think you have to stay in there forever.”

  “Doors don’t block sarcasm, you know.”

  Beckett laughed. “Sorry. Couldn’t help it. I can get you out.” He reached into his pocket and grabbed the ever-present multi-tool his father had given him. “I’m going to take the screws out of the handle on this side, okay?”

  “Oh, good. I was afraid you were going to kick the door down.”

  “We’ll save that as a last resort,” he promised.

  Beckett made quick work of the screws and popped the handle off of his side. He heard the thunk of the interior handle hitting the floor. With his index finger, he pushed the striker release and the door swung open.

  She was sitting on the vanity, her bare feet dangling, peeking through the folds of her long skirt. The grin she gave him lit up the bathroom like fireworks in the night sky. Sliding off the countertop, she launched herself into his arms. He caught her purely on instinct and his eyes widened as her full, soft lips landed on his.

  There was nothing carnal about the kiss, he thought as she pulled back and slid to the floor. But it still affected him.

  “Do you always kiss complete strangers?” he demanded gruffly.

  Her wide green eyes sparkled. “I do when they rescue me from considerable amounts of embarrassment and life in restroom prison. I was just debating whether or not the hand soap in here was edible.”

  She looked like a fairy. Delicate and small, her ivory skin was dotted with a smattering of freckles. She wore her long red hair loose, cascading down her back. Her snug long sleeve shirt showed off a compact, curvy body.

  “Now if you’ll excuse me. I need to go cut a ribbon,” she announced, patting his arm as she stepped around him.

  “You can’t get started without me,” he said, following her down the hall and into the studio.

  She whirled around, her skirt billowing around her legs. “Don’t tell me,” she said, raising an eyebrow. “Beckett Pierce.”

  “At your service, it appears,” he said, with a mock bow.

  “Well, isn’t that interesting?” She smiled again, looking him over from head to toe. “Very interesting.” Gianna turned her back on him again and slipped out the front door leaving him frowning after her.

  Back outside, Beckett found that Donna had organized everyone into the appropriate positions and the ceremonial tie-dye ribbon was stretched taut in front of the door.

  Elvira handed the comically large scissors to him.

  Beckett beckoned for Gianna to join him behind the ribbon. “Ready?”

  “Let’s do this,” she grinned.

  “On behalf of all of Blue Moon, I’d like to welcome Gianna Decker to our community,” Beckett announced to the crowd. “I’m sure she will be an excellent addition to our town as both a business owner and neighbor.”

  The small crowd applauded enthusiastically and Gianna waved.

  Beckett held up the scissors to the ribbon and captured her hand with his free one. “Together?”

  She looked up at him, their gazes locked. He swore he saw a lifetime in those eyes before she winked. And together they snipped through the thick, colorful ribbon.

  3

  Gia watched Beckett from across the studio as he chatted with a woman in a suit and two men who looked identical except for the color of their flannel shirts.

  He was certainly easy to look at. The thick, dark hair waved a bit on top. His strong jawline and high cheekbones were a classical, appealing canvas for eyes so gray they were nearly silver.

  He wore the navy suit with a careless comfort, keeping the look slightly more casual by forgoing a tie and leaving the top button of his unwrinkled button-down open. The cut of the suit hinted at spectacular shoulders, a personal favorite for her.

  Beckett moved with confidence, made eye contact, and paid attention. It’s too bad he was officially untouchable. Had his name been anything other than Beckett Pierce, she would have been tempted. Very tempted. But he was off limits, and even she could see disaster written all over this potential.

  No, it was better to stick with her plan. Focus on her family and her business. Relationships were officially off the table for the foreseeable future until everything else was stabilized.

  She couldn’t help but wonder how Beckett would react when he realized who she was.

  Picking up her green smoothie, she sipped. Rainbow Berkowicz wandered over to her side. “How’s the new business checking account treating you?” she asked.

  Gia grinned. All business from someone named Rainbow. Was it any wonder she already loved Blue Moon? “It’s just fine, thanks. How’s the banking industry these days?”

  Rainbow launched into a dry analysis of current lending rates and what they meant for the local economy.

  Willa, one of Gia’s first students in the studio, floated over to them. Her wavy blonde hair flowed down her back reaching her hips when it wasn’t secured in a thick braid. “The new paint is just gorgeous. Very peaceful,” she told Gia.

  “Thanks, Willa. That’s what I was going for.” She felt a
warm current rush up her spine as Beckett joined their little circle. “Are you coming to class tomorrow?” she asked Willa.

  “I’ll be here. I felt as loose as water after last class,” Willa said, with a dreamy smile. “Have you taken one of Gia’s classes yet, Beckett?”

  “Not yet, but I plan to,” Beckett said, with a politician’s smile.

  Gia raised an eyebrow. She knew an empty platitude when she heard one and tolerated them about as well as manicured nails on a chalkboard.

  “Oh, you should,” Willa nodded vigorously. “Gia is a wonderful teacher.” A chirping noise sounded from the depths of Willa’s tote bag. She dug out her cellphone. “And that’s my cue to get back to the store. Those boots won’t sell themselves! Thank you for lunch. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “I’ll walk out with you,” Rainbow announced. They made their departure, leaving Gia with Beckett at her side.

  “So you’d like to take a class, huh?” she asked. He may have saved her from a locked door, but little white lies were a personal pet peeve. A sin in her eyes, having lived with them for so long before. That was a major strike against him. She felt a little relief as his attractiveness dipped down to slightly more normal levels.

  “Sure. Sometime,” he nodded, frowning and looking mayoral.

  She wasn’t buying it and decided to call his bluff. “I don’t know, Beckett,” Gia said baring her teeth in a fake smile. “The classes can be a little intense. I wouldn’t want you to get hurt.”

  He looked insulted. “I run five miles a day. I think I can handle a little stretching.”

  He was cocky, but she’d take him down a notch in class. “I guess we’ll see. I promise to take it easy on you,” she said, her smile sharp as razors.

  “When’s your next class?” he demanded.

  “Seven tonight.”

  “I’ll see you then.”

  “Great,” she said smugly.

  4

  Beckett showed up at Half-Moon Yoga fifteen minutes early wearing gym shorts and a scowl. As soon as he’d left the ribbon cutting, he realized Gianna had manipulated him into agreeing to take a class.

  It was sneaky and underhanded. Which rankled him as much as her initial suggestion that yoga would be too much for him. He didn’t like that kind of manipulation from anyone, not even a beautiful woman.

  He wasn’t into the whole OM-ing, stretching deal, but wouldn’t dream of saying that to a woman who made her living that way.

  He could have cancelled, had even considered it when he got back to his office. But that would give her the false sense of satisfaction that she had scared him off. A redheaded pixie and her downward-facing dogs weren’t going to rattle him.

  He had run track in high school. He hit the gym for early morning workouts five days a week and ran just as often. He had a protein shake for breakfast every day. He was in shape — great shape — and no bendy yoga guru was going to insinuate otherwise.

  It was quite the eclectic crowd in the studio tonight. He recognized four of the starters from the high school football team taking up spots in the front row. Maizie from Peace of Pizza was brushing her white blond bangs out of her eyes while her boyfriend, Benito, stretched.

  In the corner by the window, Beckett spotted resident pothead and poker champion Bill Fitzsimmons sitting cross-legged with his eyes closed. His lips were moving, but no sound came out. He was wearing sweatpants that looked like they had lived through the seventies.

  Beckett was just noticing how warm the studio was when Fitz stood up and took off his pants, revealing embarrassingly small spandex shorts. It took all his control not to start laughing … or crying.

  Gianna, in cropped tights and a strappy tank top that showed off some spectacular curves, smiled from the front of the room. That was going to be distracting, he thought.

  “Welcome,” she called to him, with a hint of friendly cockiness in her eyes. “Let me get you a mat.”

  Beckett followed her to the shelving unit that held rolled up mats in purples and greens as well as a dozen foam blocks and soft blankets.

  Gianna handed him a green mat. “You can set up anywhere. Just face the front of the room.” She stood on tiptoe and grabbed one of the blocks off the shelf. “Here.”

  “What’s this for?”

  “It helps with modifications for some of the poses.”

  Beckett eyed her. “I doubt I’ll need to modify anything.”

  “Suit yourself,” she said with a wink and sauntered back to her mat.

  Beckett took a spot in the back row and pulled off his sweatshirt.

  The woman next to him smiled at him and he recognized her as the reigning women’s champ of the Blue Moon Five-Miler for the past four years. She also managed to kick his ass every time they met up on the running trail.

  “Hey, Taneisha. How’s the training going?”

  She greeted him with a toothpaste commercial-worthy grin. “I should be Boston-ready for next year. What brings you to yoga?” She flowed forward over her extended legs, reaching for her feet.

  “Just supporting the small business community,” Beckett answered evasively.

  “What other mayor would willingly walk into a hot power flow class to show his support? Blue Moon is lucky to have you,” Taneisha said, gliding back up and stretching her arms over her head.

  “Hot power flow?”

  Gianna cut off any response to his question from the front of the room. “Okay, everyone. We’re going to get started. If you’re new, don’t worry.” Her green eyes locked on to Beckett’s face. “Just follow your neighbor and I’ll be around to help. So let’s start in child’s pose.”

  Four minutes into the class, and Beckett had a steady trickle of sweat working its way down his back and a growing concern that he wasn’t going to survive the class. Gianna wandered around the room calling out instructions in a soothing voice that belied the fact that she was basically asking her students to work themselves up to and past death on their mats.

  Beckett gritted his teeth and rolled forward, triceps shaking as they dipped into a low plank again. Hadn’t they already done like fifty of these? This constant flowing — or vinyasa, whatever the fuck that was — wasn’t awakening his body as she claimed it would. Instead it was drawing his attention to body parts that screamed in agony.

  He was in great shape, wasn’t he? Why did he feel like the Tin Man clunking around in shorts?

  He shoved back to down dog again, a brief respite, before kicking one leg forward. He rose up, a second behind his neighbors, and reached for the ceiling, praying for a meteor to strike the studio.

  Beckett was thinking about collapsing on the floor and taking a breather when he felt hands on him straightening his arms.

  “Lift through your arms,” Gianna said quietly. “That’s right. Now extend through the spine like you’re reaching for the ceiling through the top of your head.” She ran her hands up his sweat-soaked spine in a sweeping motion that made his skin burn.

  “Perfect,” she said when he complied. He was acutely and uncomfortably aware of her hands leaving his body.

  He had to admit, the pose felt better with her corrections. But it only lasted another second before she had them plunging through the sequence on the other side. Over and over he careened toward the floor praying his arms would hold him. The sweat was flowing so freely it was tickling his legs. A drop gathered on the tip of his nose and splashed to the mat as he swooped down.

  Are my eyeballs sweating? he wondered.

  He chanced a glance to his left. Taneisha’s flawless skin was dotted with beads of sweat and she was smiling her way through another sun salutation. Next to her, Fitz had stripped off his shirt and was now only wearing his ridiculous briefs.

  There’s a picture he wouldn’t be unseeing anytime soon, he thought. But maybe the skinny hippie had the right idea in this situation. Beckett used the thigh-quivering chair pose to yank his t-shirt over his head. It landed with a wet thwack on the floor behind him. />
  Gianna had returned to her mat and flowed with the class on another round. She moved with ease and grace, as if she’d been born flowing through yoga poses. He hated her gorgeous, graceful guts.

  Something was nudging his foot.

  Beckett opened an eye and swiped at the sweat that rolled into it.

  Like a siren, she appeared in his line of vision. A shimmering mirage of evil beauty. Gianna grinned down at him.

  “What was that?” he groaned, flopping his arms out to the sides.

  “That was hot power flow yoga,” she answered, sinking down next to him in a move as graceful as ballet.

  “How do you move like that?” Beckett asked, studying her. She had a dimple in her chin and mischief in her eyes.

  “Like what?”

  “Like you’re dancing. Everything you do is like dancing.”

  She was starting to look concerned. “How about we get some water into you?” she suggested.

  Beckett rolled to his side and slowly worked his way into a seated position. The studio was empty except for the two of them. He vaguely remembered everyone bowing and saying “nama-something,” but he didn’t really recall the mass exodus.

  Gianna handed him a bottle of water and a towel. “How do you feel?”

  “Like I was steamrolled, wrung out, and hung up to dry.”

  She laughed then, a husky music. She patted his shoulder. “That’s exactly how you’re supposed to feel.”

  “You win,” Beckett sighed and drank deeply.

  “You hung in there for the entire class. I’d say this one ends in a tie,” Gianna decided. She rose to her feet and reached a hand out to him.

  Beckett debated not taking it, but worried his legs would betray him. He let her pull him up to standing and glanced down at the mat.

  “You’re going to have to burn this one,” he said, eyeing the body-sized sweat stain.

  She grinned up at him. “Don’t worry about it. I think I’ve got some industrial cleaner in the back somewhere.” She headed over to the shelves and Beckett picked up his still-sopping t-shirt.

  Gianna returned with a spray bottle and another towel. “I don’t think you’re going to want to put that back on,” she said, wrinkling her nose at his soggy t-shirt.