Chapter 1

He must be a model, thought Lilly, as she finished up her last morning sun salutations. He certainly isn’t a yogi!

Lilly had been watching the perfect specimen of a man for the last three days. He couldn’t do a downward dog to save his life. And if that was the case, then what in the world was he doing at a yoga retreat in Costa Rica?

It irritated her that she couldn’t keep her eyes off him. He really was the most handsome man she had ever seen. That also irritated her.

He was tall. Maybe six two and lean and muscular. Not muscular from yoga and bodyweight resistance exercises, but from pumping iron and pull-ups. He was lean like a runner. And that face! Strong angles with soft brown eyes that seemed to be in a constant state of introspection. His hair was also perfect, of course. Brown and cut short, not a strand out of place . . . perfect. Lilly could tell he had curl in his hair from how perfectly it stayed in place. Unlike hers, which was fine and straight.

With hands clasped in namaste, she stole a glance at him again. He was looking at her and smiling.

With a gasp, Lilly quickly rolled up her mat and stomped out of the open-air gazebo.

Ugh. Now he thought she was staring at him! Well, she had been staring at him, but not like that. He seemed so out of place!

Really irritated now but mostly with herself, she let herself into her airy bungalow. She would shower and take her breakfast in her room so she wouldn’t run into the stranger. And that’s how she wanted to keep him—a stranger.

She had been coming to this yoga retreat for the last four years. She looked forward to it all year. It was her only vacation where she could be herself, well, kinda . . . and alone. Not a soul here knew her. She was just Lilly.

The retreat prided itself on being exclusive and private. No media or reporters allowed. In the previous years she had seen several Hollywood stars attend the retreat. Everyone kept to themselves. Although she recognized a few from past years and sometimes some of them that recognized one another would become friendly, but not Lilly. Never Lilly.

After her shower she felt better. She combed her long, blonde hair and slipped into a comfy sundress.

Her breakfast tray was left outside her door. Fresh grapefruit, homemade Greek yogurt and granola, fresh-squeezed orange juice, and black coffee.

When she was done, she set her tray outside her door once again. She padded barefoot to her private balcony where a hammock strung up by rope waited for her. She picked up her next romance novel from the pile by the hammock and situated herself for the next couple of blissful hours.

Before she opened the book, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. The sounds of the exotic birds and monkeys calmed her. The smell of the dense tropical vegetation tickled her nose. This is as close to heaven as anyone can get, she thought and smiled, as she opened the first page of her book.

Chapter 2

What the hell have I gotten myself into? Garrett thought, as he tried for the third time to get into the Bird of Paradise pose. How was he supposed to get into a standing split with his hands grasped behind him? He was somewhat flexible but these poses were ridiculous! And, more important, why would anybody want to put their body through such torture?

It was definitely a cult. He looked around the gazebo. Every person there was holding the pose without any apparent effort. Classic overachievers.

But there was one person in the group whom he didn’t mind watching as she contorted her body into impossible poses. She was fascinating. She wasn’t that tall, maybe five six, but her delicate physique made her appear taller. She had the classic ballerina’s body. She was so graceful as she flowed from one pose into another.

Her long, blonde hair was piled on her head in what he’d heard described as a messy bun. Her blue eyes appeared a little too big for the soft angles of her face. She was a classic beauty and quite possibly the most gorgeous woman he had ever seen.

But she had an air about her that screamed “don’t approach me.” She wasn’t alone. In Garrett’s research of the yoga retreat, he had read that several celebrities had been there in the past. He didn’t think she was a Hollywood celebrity because every celebrity that he’d ever met that said they didn’t want to be bothered or recognized was outright lying. But not her. Not the ballerina. She meant it.

Even though she didn’t want to be bothered, Garrett had seen her stealing glances at him. He liked that. He had spent the last three days making sure he was situated behind her so he could get his fill of watching her. It was the only bright spot in his days.

He certainly didn’t plan this trip. He owned a magazine in New York City and one of his writers wanted to write a story about why these yoga retreats were so popular. Why did people feel the need to travel to Costa Rica and pay exorbitant amounts of money to attend? Why not just go to the local yoga studio or a retreat in the States? What zen was available in Costa Rica that you couldn’t get at home?

At the last minute, there had been a family emergency with an employee who was booked on the trip. Garrett had tried to get anyone else on his staff to go, but not one of them was available, which was bullshit. He knew they were true New Yorkers and felt very comfortable with their stress and anxiety. They wore it proudly.

So, instead of losing the money, he decided to go himself and write the article. Big mistake. He was going out of his mind. There was no internet available at the resort. It was strictly vegetarian. And he thought he would go batshit crazy if he had to sit through another hour-long guided meditation.

But he had found out that the resort would transport him to town, which was about ten miles away, and pick him up whenever he chose. Bingo.

The town-car driver had told him of a great steakhouse where he could get a stiff drink and a good steak. He felt like he had won the lottery.

The place was crowded. The hostess led him to the bar to wait until a table opened up. Not a problem at all.

“What can I get for you?” the bartender asked.

Garrett looked at the back wall of liquor.

“I don’t see it displayed, but do you have any Johnnie Walker Blue?”

The bartender smiled and nodded.

“Great, make it a double,” Garrett said, smiling now himself.

As he took his first sip, he looked around the restaurant. He couldn’t see a single person from the resort. Typical.

No one until he turned and looked into the blue eyes of the beautiful ballerina.