Her smile never wavered. “Correct.”

He wondered if she breathed to ward off a climax. If he had her in his bed, he’d make sure to push every button she owned to make her lose that almighty control and see if she was able to breathe then. Holy crap, where had that thought come from? She’d probably kill his arousal the moment she opened her mouth to speak anyway. Stone decided to push. “And this works for everything?” he prodded. “No matter what the circumstance?”

“Yes. By the end of this course, I’ll show you how it can be done.”

Oh, no, she wasn’t getting off the hook that easy. “Let’s take this scenario. Some jacked-up druggie starts his freak-out attack and goes for a gun. Instead of reacting with normal human emotions such as, oh, I don’t know, irritation, general crankiness, and rage, instead I’m supposed to go all Zen and concentrate on breathing before going with my general gut reaction of self-protection and male testosterone. Does this sound right to you?”

Her jaw tightened, but she remained stubbornly tranquil. “You would experience and feel those basic emotions, Officer, but with this practice you’d be able to transition them by connecting with the breath. You will be taught to move past them. Not attach yourself to the up-and-down roller coaster our emotions put us through on a constant basis. This is the way you avoid making bad decisions.”

Dudes A and B looked even more enchanted. Stone scratched his head. It was a good excuse to move his hips and wiggle out of the excruciating position for a moment. “Huh. Sounds a little bit like a magic pill to me. Or like drinking the fruit punch.”

Those green eyes flashed. He tried not to chuckle.

“Since I tend to avoid both pills and sugary drinks, why don’t we allow actions to make up our minds?” Her smile was forced and not directed at him. “Let’s begin. Close your eyes. Breathe slowly in and out, and follow your breath. Thoughts will interrupt the flow, but try to let them flicker past your closed eyes like a movie; you’re not attached to them. When you find yourself wandering, bring your mind back to the breath. We’ll sit quietly for ten minutes. Feel the air rush in and out of your lungs and let yourself go.”

Stone closed his eyes and succumbed to ten minutes of ridiculousness. He intended to do exactly what she said, though, so at the end of this workshop he’d be able to tell her honestly that these methods didn’t work.

He listened to his breath. He wished for a cigarette. He thought about what he’d have for dinner. He cursed the growing cramps in his leg but didn’t hear the other two wiggle around, so damned if he’d move first. Was it over yet? How long was ten minutes? How would she know the time was up? He craved to open his eyes and peek at her but refused in case she caught him and used him as an example of bad behavior.

He’d rather be bad with her in other ways.

Huh. There was that thought again. All sexual. He must be pretty hard up. How long since his last affair? He ticked down the days, then realized he was going on weeks. Yep. Way too long.

Stone clenched his fists, remembered to relax his fingers, and went back to the breath. Who would’ve thought he breathed so much in ten minutes? He needed to go to a chiropractor. It had been on his to-do list, but he’d gotten too busy at work and forgotten. Oh, he had to pick up beer on his way home, too—he was all out and yesterday he’d craved an IPA and had nothing in the fridge. Back to the breath. Was ten minutes over yet?

Her rich, smooth voice caressed his ears and immediately calmed him.

“Begin to bring yourself back. Deepen your breath, feeling your chest expand and release. Let your body sink into the mat, feeling the earth support you, and slowly open your eyes.”

Oh, thank God it was over.

He heard movement, so he stretched out his legs, trying not to wince at the wimpy charley horse in his calf. Okay, he was definitely stretching more. She’d proven his body needed something other than manly weights.

“We’ll be using that simple exercise regularly. Would anyone like to share how they felt?”

Dude A rushed to answer. “I felt that if I’d known about that technique before, I would’ve used it in traffic jams. My head got clearer.”

She beamed. “Excellent. Luther? Any thoughts?”

Luther looked thoughtful. “It was an interesting technique. Hard to focus but has intriguing possibilities to integrate in the future to avoid emotional reactions due to my wife’s male clients. That’s usually a hot spot for me.”

“Wonderful. Officer Petty?”

“Stone.”

He enjoyed the slight flush to her cheeks, but she remained professional. “Stone, did you have any physical difficulty? Usually men have the most trouble sitting in this position for a while.”

“Nope. Piece of cake.”

“Wonderful. We’ll be increasing our time increments until we sit for half an hour regularly.”

Well, fuck. Won’t that be a barrel of laughs!

“Did any strange thoughts or emotional issues crop up?”

He met her gaze head-on and grinned. “Actually, I kind of had a lightbulb moment. If I hadn’t remembered, it could’ve been a disaster.”

She leaned in, intrigued. “Really? Would you like to share?”

“Sure.” He never released her from his stare. “I ran out of IPA. In my house, that’s cause for a full temper tantrum.”

Luther frowned. “What’s IPA? Some kind of file code?”

“It’s beer. Good beer.”

Luther looked just as disappointed in him as his instructor did, and damned if he didn’t feel even better at the dual reactions. Yeah, he was twisted.

Her lips tightened, but she never let the obvious annoyance seep into her tone. “I’m thrilled this session helped, Officer Petty.” She emphasized his title so subtly it was like a graceful sweep behind the knees. Quiet but deadly. “I’m looking forward to hearing more on your lightbulb moments in the future. For now, that’s it, gentlemen. I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon.”

She rolled to her feet in one graceful motion, turned her back, and began gathering her things.

Stone gritted his teeth and stood, refusing to show he felt stiff and achy. The bastards next to him seemed fine. Maybe they had kids they sat on the floor with regularly. He needed to get a nephew or a niece or something.

He watched her hurry out the door, enjoying the swing of her tight rear. Her license said five eight, but he pegged her as being a bit taller. Those legs could wrap tight around a man’s hips and squeeze so hard he’d probably pass out in pleasure. Of course, once her mouth opened he’d be resuscitated and dragged into hell.

Too bad.

Maybe he’d shoot some pool with Devine tonight. If he was gonna be suspended, he sure as hell wasn’t staying at home, bored out of his mind. Since he couldn’t have a smoke, he’d stop at Dunkin’ on the way and get his favorite chocolate Munchkins. He’d bring some for the guys at the station and see if he could sniff out a good crime someone needed help on. Like who purposefully mixed the recyclables up with the trash.

Stone headed out.

“POPPY, WHAT ARE YOU doing here?”

The bungalow was filled with the scents of onion, grease, and comfort. She laughed at the doggy attack of squirming fur and crazy tongues, then dropped to the floor in surrender while she hugged her fur babies. The stress of the day eased from her shoulders. Dorothy was so right. There was nothing quite like home.

Her grandfather walked over, spatula in hand, and shook his head. “You got your hands full with these monkeys, honey,” he said. “Decided to walk them and surprise you with dinner. Unfortunately, I think Mike got hungry early and raided the kitchen. The garbage was torn up and scattered everywhere.”

Arilyn groaned. “I thought I locked it up! I was running late and forgot. I need to get one of those big cans with the lid. Hey, how’d you know it was Mike?”