Read Online Gilt Trip (The Boston Uncommons Mystery Series Book 3) by Arlene Kay - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Arlene Kay
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The mirth-inducing strikes and lunges were pathetic efforts that even Cato would scoff at.
“Eja. Ms. Kane.” He moved behind me and gently straightened my shoulders. “So much tension there. No wonder you are struggling.” He took my hand and led me to the sofa. “Do you meditate?” he asked.
“Not really. My thoughts start swirling around, and it spoils the mood.” I gulped a lungful of air. “I’d like to learn, though. Sometimes I have trouble sleeping.”
Justin nodded. “That will be our task this evening. Decreased stress through mindful thought. Many of my clients find relief that way.”
Mindful thought? Shaolin doctrine was centuries old, but this sounded like new age nonsense. Either way, I was up for anything that promoted sleep. It certainly beat hoarding Ambien like a miser’s gold.
“Do I need to sit on the floor?” I asked.
“Not right away. We can manage right here. Bend your neck forward.” He found the pressure points and massaged my back and shoulders until I purred.
“I didn’t realize this was part of the process,” I said.
“We adapt to the needs of the individual. Remember, the second Shaolin Law requires physical and mental health.” His hands kneaded my muscles with a strength that banished every ache.
“Do you often make house calls?” I asked.
“Sometimes. For special clients.”
Justin’s hands moved slowly down my back and slid toward my breasts. Danger signals, vivid, flashing lights, interrupted my meditation. I wiggled out of his grasp and sat upright.
“Is something wrong, Ms. Kane?” His expression was bland and untroubled, the picture of innocence.
“I . . . I don’t feel comfortable with this. Let’s go back to stretching.”
“As you wish.” Justin Ming leapt to his feet with the agility of a feline. For the next twenty minutes he guided me through patterns so basic that even I excelled. When we stopped, I confronted the sexy sifu.
“Phaedra Jones was one of your private students,” I said. “Heather Exley too.”
“Why do you ask?” Justin Ming was the most self-contained man I’d ever met. “As you know, Shaolin Laws are never forced on followers. They are guides for spiritual and emotional cultivation.”
I no longer felt fearful, awkward, or shy around Justin Ming. A surge of anger emboldened me beyond reason. “I assume there is an extra fee for special services,” I said. “Emotional cultivation can’t be cheap.”
He permitted himself a small, measured smile. “My disciples are often generous. They donate as their circumstances allow.”
“Master Moore approves of this?” I asked, unable to keep the scorn from my voice. Justin Ming was one sexy step up from an escort service. It galled me that someone I had admired, and yes, lusted after a bit, had me so completely fooled. I’m just a writer after all. Even one of our presidents lusted in his heart.
Justin’s voice was soft but unapologetic. “The master is unworldly. He has no part in this.”
“Phaedra Jones did. I could tell by the way she looked at you.”
A faint blush stole over his cheeks as Justin Ming bowed his head. “Our laws oblige us to be chivalrous and spread love.”
“Really?” I grabbed a folder and flipped through the Ten Shaolin Laws. “You forgot the eighth commandment, Sifu. ‘Forbidden to abuse power official or physical.’ The rulebook says you can be banished for any violations.” I slapped the folder down on the coffee table. “Someone might take exception to spreading that much love.”
He locked eyes with me, sending a shiver straight down my spine. I’m a risk-taker, who doesn’t always think before acting. Sometimes, audacity makes me stupid. Justin Ming, a powerful man who could snap my neck with one lethal blow stood only two feet away. Cato was my only hope, and he was firmly in the enemy camp. I flashed back to the crumpled corpse of Phaedra Jones. Would I suffer the same grisly fate?
Justin must have read my
“Eja. Ms. Kane.” He moved behind me and gently straightened my shoulders. “So much tension there. No wonder you are struggling.” He took my hand and led me to the sofa. “Do you meditate?” he asked.
“Not really. My thoughts start swirling around, and it spoils the mood.” I gulped a lungful of air. “I’d like to learn, though. Sometimes I have trouble sleeping.”
Justin nodded. “That will be our task this evening. Decreased stress through mindful thought. Many of my clients find relief that way.”
Mindful thought? Shaolin doctrine was centuries old, but this sounded like new age nonsense. Either way, I was up for anything that promoted sleep. It certainly beat hoarding Ambien like a miser’s gold.
“Do I need to sit on the floor?” I asked.
“Not right away. We can manage right here. Bend your neck forward.” He found the pressure points and massaged my back and shoulders until I purred.
“I didn’t realize this was part of the process,” I said.
“We adapt to the needs of the individual. Remember, the second Shaolin Law requires physical and mental health.” His hands kneaded my muscles with a strength that banished every ache.
“Do you often make house calls?” I asked.
“Sometimes. For special clients.”
Justin’s hands moved slowly down my back and slid toward my breasts. Danger signals, vivid, flashing lights, interrupted my meditation. I wiggled out of his grasp and sat upright.
“Is something wrong, Ms. Kane?” His expression was bland and untroubled, the picture of innocence.
“I . . . I don’t feel comfortable with this. Let’s go back to stretching.”
“As you wish.” Justin Ming leapt to his feet with the agility of a feline. For the next twenty minutes he guided me through patterns so basic that even I excelled. When we stopped, I confronted the sexy sifu.
“Phaedra Jones was one of your private students,” I said. “Heather Exley too.”
“Why do you ask?” Justin Ming was the most self-contained man I’d ever met. “As you know, Shaolin Laws are never forced on followers. They are guides for spiritual and emotional cultivation.”
I no longer felt fearful, awkward, or shy around Justin Ming. A surge of anger emboldened me beyond reason. “I assume there is an extra fee for special services,” I said. “Emotional cultivation can’t be cheap.”
He permitted himself a small, measured smile. “My disciples are often generous. They donate as their circumstances allow.”
“Master Moore approves of this?” I asked, unable to keep the scorn from my voice. Justin Ming was one sexy step up from an escort service. It galled me that someone I had admired, and yes, lusted after a bit, had me so completely fooled. I’m just a writer after all. Even one of our presidents lusted in his heart.
Justin’s voice was soft but unapologetic. “The master is unworldly. He has no part in this.”
“Phaedra Jones did. I could tell by the way she looked at you.”
A faint blush stole over his cheeks as Justin Ming bowed his head. “Our laws oblige us to be chivalrous and spread love.”
“Really?” I grabbed a folder and flipped through the Ten Shaolin Laws. “You forgot the eighth commandment, Sifu. ‘Forbidden to abuse power official or physical.’ The rulebook says you can be banished for any violations.” I slapped the folder down on the coffee table. “Someone might take exception to spreading that much love.”
He locked eyes with me, sending a shiver straight down my spine. I’m a risk-taker, who doesn’t always think before acting. Sometimes, audacity makes me stupid. Justin Ming, a powerful man who could snap my neck with one lethal blow stood only two feet away. Cato was my only hope, and he was firmly in the enemy camp. I flashed back to the crumpled corpse of Phaedra Jones. Would I suffer the same grisly fate?
Justin must have read my
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