Page 29 of The Forbidden Trio

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To all the bands I worked with over the years and to the many musicians I dated—you gave me an insight into the music industry and how things happen behind the scenes I could never have had otherwise. But most of all to my big brother, David, a superb musician and songwriter, lost over twenty years ago, for the song lyrics to “Lay Me Down Tonight” used in this book.

Chapter One

Janie inhaled deeply, exhaled slowly and lowered her body, bending at the waist until she could place her hands flat on her yoga mat.

“Everyone remember to breathe as you press hands and heels down into the floor, stretching the hamstrings… good. Gently rise up until you’re back in mountain pose, then reach high overhead with both hands, stretching… and bring both hands into prayer position in the center of your chest, head bent. Pause to inhale, exhale.” She straightened up and glanced around the room

to see how her students were doing. “Now bring both arms up overhead again and…”Oh Jesus God.

What the hell was he doing in her class?

Cole Kennrick. Indie rock star. Hottest man she’d ever seen. And her ex-husband.

She caught herself wanting to lean toward him to catch a hint of his scent: leather and motor oil from his motorcycle—he’d always had a motorcycle—and that little bit of something spicy and earthy that washim.

His skin. His hair. His mouth…

She blinked. Her class. What had she been saying?

Breathe.

“…inhale, lowering your arms until you touch the earth. Let it ground you.”Please let it ground me.

Had he seen her blanch?

“Let your breath out slowly as you step back with your right foot, coming into Warrior pose. Lift your arms and breathe.”

If only she didn’t look at him again she’d be all right.

“Inhale and straighten the left leg once more, exhaling as you bend. Good. Now let’s bend the right knee down to the earth, straighten up and place your hands on your hips…” Hell.

She was looking right at him—she couldn’t help it. And he was staring back at her; those mesmerizing ice-blue eyes gleaming even from the back of the room. Those eyes… and his tall, lean body, every muscle perfectly carved, his shoulders almost too broad for his frame. His right arm was completely tattooed now—a full sleeve in bold colors. His chest too, from what she could see—all black and gray work. God, she loved tattoos on a man.

On Cole.

She blinked, tried to breathe.

She would finish the damn class despite his presence. Despite the sheer male beauty of him lurking at the back of the room in nothing but black basketball shorts and a simple white ribbed tank top that managed to look sexier on him than on any other man alive.

She focused on the painted Japanese shoji screens behind him and continued with the instructions she knew by rote, thank God. Still, the hour-long class seemed to last at least a month before she reached the final pose.

“Bring your hands together in front of your heart, palms together. Bow your head and give thanks.Namaste.”

“Namaste,” the class repeated.

“See you all next week.”

She stood and began to roll up her mat, her gaze firmly on the polished bamboo floors she’d had installed in her studio,Om, when she did the remodel last year. They were softer on the feet.

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