Say You Love Me (Pine Valley Book 3)(3)

By: Heather B. Moore


Clara decided she’d be the last one to leave the room. It would give her a few minutes by herself to re-center her thoughts. The next class would be in thirty minutes, and maybe she’d even stay for it. The double session might be what she needed tonight—she should sleep pretty well if she was completely exhausted.

But no, apparently super-yoga-man was staying as well. Leslie was talking to one of the final women in the room when Clara determined to leave after all. There was no way she was staying if her neighbor was staying as well. She rose to her feet and bent to roll up her mat, pointedly not looking over at the newcomer.

“Clara?”

She froze. Then, slowly, she raised her gaze to see the man looking right at her. Even though it was dim, she’d certainly recognize him if they knew each other. Which they didn’t.

“Don’t you work for Jeff Finch?”

Clara straightened, still studying the man’s features. Surely she’d remember a man who looked like he could be a model and a professional athlete all in the same package.

He moved to his feet in one fluid motion. When he stood, he was well over a foot taller than Clara, although her 5’1” frame had never given her much of a height advantage over anyone.

Just then Leslie brightened the lights, throwing the room into stark visibility, and Clara got a good look at the man. His dark-brown eyes were intense, to say the least, and his hair was a dark blond—cut short, but just long enough to give him a bit of a playboy look.

“Dawson Harris,” he said, extending his hand.

Clara’s mouth opened; then she closed it. Dawson Harris. Jeff’s lawyer? They’d talked on the phone a few times, and she’d always enjoyed their short conversations. If she’d known he looked like this, she might have been more reserved. He could easily be a poster boy for a country club, and perhaps he did spend a lot of time there with clients. His chiseled looks probably got him plenty of attention from women. Well, he knew her as bubbly, outgoing Clara, so that’s who she’d be.

“Oh, hi, Mr. Harris,” Clara said, putting on a broad smile, even though she was wearing workout clothes and her dark red hair was in a sweaty ponytail. Yet, now that the lights were on, she noticed his shirt had sweat stains too—maybe he’d been lifting weights or something before class. “Small world. I didn’t know you were in this class.”

“Small world, indeed,” he said, his eyes crinkling at the corners with his smile. “I thought it was you—but since I’ve only seen your picture on the real estate website, I wasn’t completely sure.”

Clara laughed. Which mortified her, because it bordered on a giggle. “It’s me, in person.” She tucked her rolled mat under her arm. The sooner she got out of here the better, because Dawson Harris was making no secret of studying her—when his girlfriend was on the other side of the room.

“This class was a lot harder than I thought it would be,” Dawson continued.

Clara almost laughed again and was about to say something about how he made it look easy—but would that be too flirty? “I thought yoga would be easy, too, before I tried it.”

Dawson nodded and set his hands on his hips.

Clara refused to notice the definition of his arms. He was attractive, so what? A lot of men were. She didn’t need to ogle her boss’s lawyer. “Well, Leslie’s a great teacher,” she said, trying to think of an exit plan.

“Yeah, I guess so.” He gave a half shrug. “I have nothing else to compare it to. This is my first class.”

“Dawson!” Leslie called out, waving him over.

Time for Clara to make herself scarce.





Dawson drew away from Leslie’s rather tight grip. He had no problem hugging his condo neighbor, especially since she’d been begging him to come to her class for months and he’d finally made it. But he was probably not smelling too great, since he’d run several miles before showing up to the yoga class.

“I’m so glad you came,” Leslie gushed, her dark ponytail bouncing as she talked. “I thought you said you were working late tonight.”

“My client rescheduled,” Dawson said. He’d been on his way to his meeting when Leslie had waved him down in the condo parking lot. Dawson did have a late meeting, but when it was cancelled, he made the detour to the gym. He preferred running outside, but he’d put off Leslie long enough. And he figured if he went to one of her classes, she’d stop being so persistent. Even though Leslie was about five years older than Dawson, who was thirty, she seemed to have the energy of a twenty-year-old.