Show & Tell. Rhonda Nelson

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      SAVANNAH ABSENTLY FIDGETED with the ring on her finger. It wasn’t uncomfortable, just unfamiliar, and it fit perfectly. She covertly peeked at it again and a peculiar ache swelled in her chest. The smooth, cool band was beautiful in its simplicity and made her wonder if she’d ever meet anyone who would long to truly place a ring on her finger and be all to her that the gesture implied.

      She doubted it.

      Knox had unwittingly tapped her one weakness with the ring he’d bought her as a prop—her desire to be wanted.

      Other than those few woefully short years with her parents, Savannah had never been truly wanted. While she’d certainly stayed with a few good families during her stint in the foster-care system, most families had taken her in either for the compensation or to add an indentured servant to their household. Sometimes both. A live-in maid, a built-in baby-sitter. But no one had ever truly wanted her.

      Savannah had made the mistake of letting that weakness impair her judgment once with Gib, but she’d never do it again. Rejection simply hurt too much and wasn’t worth the risk. She’d learned to become self-reliant, to trust her instincts, and never to depend on another person for her happiness.

      “Wow,” Knox murmured as they were led down a wide hall and finally shown into their room.

      Wow, indeed, Savannah thought as she gazed at the plush surroundings. The natural hardwood floors and thick white plaster walls were a continued theme throughout the house, creating a light and airy atmosphere. Heavy wooden beams decorated the high white ceilings, tying the wood and white decor together seamlessly.

      A huge canopied bed draped with yards and yards of rich brocade hangings occupied a place of honor in the middle of one long wall. Coordinating pieces—a chest of drawers, dresser and a couple of nightstands—balanced the room perfectly. A dinette sat in one corner and a small arched fireplace accented with rich Mexican tile added another splash of color and warmth. Multicolored braided rugs were scattered about the room, adding more depth to the large space. Light streamed in through two enormous arched windows. It was a great room, very conducive to romance, Savannah thought.

      A ribbon of unease threaded through her belly as she once again considered why she was here—and what she’d have to resist. Savannah glanced at the bed and, to her consternation, imagined Knox and her vibrating the impressive four-poster across the room, her hands shaped to Knox’s perfectly formed ass as he plunged in and out of her. She imagined candlelight and rose petals and hot, frantic bodies tangled amid the scented sheets. Savannah drew in a shuddering breath as dread and need coalesced into a fireball in her belly.

      Knox cased the room, checked out the closet and adjoining bath. He whistled. “Hey, come check out the tub.”

      Given her wayward imagination, Savannah didn’t think that would be wise. Visions of Knox wet and naked and needy weren’t particularly helpful to her cause.

      “So,” Knox said as he returned from admiring the bath. “Which side of the bed do you want?”

      Savannah blinked, forced a wry smile. “I think the question is which part of the floor do you want?”

      Knox glanced at the gleaming hardwood and absently scratched his temple. He wore an endearing smile. “Do I have a prayer of winning this argument?”

      “No.” Savannah hated to be such a prude, but having to sleep next to him would be sheer and utter torture. Simply being in the same room with him would be agonizing enough. Savannah grimly suspected that were they to share that bed, she’d inexplicably gravitate toward him. Toward his marvelous ass. Considering he didn’t reciprocate this unholy attraction, she wasn’t about to risk embarrassing herself and him.

      He sighed. “As the lady wishes. I suppose we should head to the common room for the Welcome Brunch.”

      Savannah nodded. Without further comment, the two of them exited the room and, with Knox’s hand at her elbow, they made their way down a long wide hall back to the foyer and then into what had been dubbed the common room. A long table piled with food sat off to the side of the enormous room and little sofas and armchairs were grouped together to encourage idle chitchat. Savannah’s stomach issued a hungry growl, propelling her toward the food.

      “Hungry, are you?” Knox queried.

      “Ravenous.”

      “I offered to share my peanuts with you,” he reminded teasingly.

      Savannah grunted. “I wasn’t about to partake of your ill-gotten gains.”

      Knox chuckled, a deep silky baritone that made her very insides quiver. Jeez, the man had cornered the market when it came to sex appeal. It was the same sort of intimate laugh she assumed he’d share with a lover. Something warm and quivery snaked through her at the thought.

      “I simply flirted a little, Savannah. It’s not like I raped and pillaged. Honestly, have you not ever batted your lashes and tried to get out of a speeding ticket?”

      “No,” she lied as she selected a wedge of cheese and a few crackers.

      He chuckled again. “Liar.”

      “That’s different,” she said simply for the sake of disagreeing with him, which she did a lot. “And it’s Barbie, you idiot. Do you want to blow our cover from the get-go?”

      “Whatever.” He paused. “Oh, look, our host and hostess have arrived.”

      Savannah turned and her gaze landed on an older couple—early to middle fifties, she guessed. Bare feet peeked from beneath the hems of their long white robes. The woman wore her completely silver hair in a long flowing style that slithered over her shoulders and stopped at the small of her back. Silver charms glittered from her wrists and a large, smooth lavender stone lay suspended between her breasts via a worn leather cord. This woman seemed to embody everything their glossy pamphlet proclaimed. Serenity, harmony and all those other adverbs that had been touted in the trendy brochure.

      As for the man, a calm strength seemed to hover about him as well. He appeared relaxed yet confident, as though he was the only stud for his mare. A niggle of doubt surfaced as Savannah studied the two. Could the art of tantric sex really be all this couple claimed it was? Quite honestly, it seemed impossible to Savannah, but for the first time since she’d accepted that she’d be working on this story with Knox, Savannah wondered if she’d been too hasty in forming her opinions.

      The man smiled. “Welcome. I’m Dr. Edgar Shea and this is my lovely wife and life partner, Dr. Rupali Shea. We’re so glad that you’re here.” He paused. “Some of you are here as a result of frustration, some of you are here as a result of your partner’s prodding, and some of you are here because you’re simply curious.” His grin made an encore appearance. “Regardless of why you are here, we’re exceedingly glad and are looking forward to teaching you everything we’ve learned about the art of tantric lovemaking. What we will teach you, what we’ll freely share and will graphically demonstrate for your benefit, will change your lives…if you are open to the possibilities.”

      “At the beginning of each session,” Rupali began, “we like to do a little preliminary test, to see for ourselves just how much ground we need to cover, to see which couples will require one-on-one instruction.” She paused and smiled to the room at large. “Now don’t look frightened. It’s a simple test. But first we’ll introduce ourselves and share our inadequacies. No embarrassment, no boundaries,” she said. СКАЧАТЬ