This whole preoccupation was just a...a way for her subconscious to avoid focussing on what needed to be dealt with. Which was to regather her resources and refocus her determination to be of service at the Russel Corporation, to be a valuable team member rather than a liability.
‘What was that sigh for?’
She blinked to find Finn’s beautiful brown eyes surveying her. And they were beautiful—the colour of cinnamon and golden syrup and ginger beer, and fringed with long dark lashes. She didn’t know how lashes could look decadent and sinful, but Finn’s did.
‘You’re supposed to be relaxing—enjoying the sun and the sea...your book.’
‘I am.’
‘Liar.’
He rolled to his side to face her more fully, and she shrugged. ‘I had a restless night.’ She stifled a yawn. ‘That’s all.’
‘When one works as hard as you do, it can be difficult to switch off.’
‘Old habits,’ she murmured, reaching for her T-shirt and pulling it over her head and then tying her sarong about her waist, feeling ridiculously naked in her modest one-piece.
Which was crazy because she and Finn and the rest of her family had been on this beach countless times together, and in briefer swimsuits than what either of them were wearing now. ‘I don’t want to get too much sun all at once,’ she said by way of explanation, although Finn hadn’t indicated by so much as a blink of his gorgeous eyelashes that he’d wanted or needed one. She glanced at him. ‘You’ve been incapacitated for a couple of months and yet I’m paler than you.’
‘Yeah, but my incapacitation meant spending a lot of time on the rooftop terrace of my apartment on the French Riviera, so...not exactly doing it tough.’
Fair point.
‘You ever tried meditation?’
‘You’re talking to me, Audra, remember?’
His slow grin raised all the tiny hairs on her arms. ‘Lie on your back in a comfortable position and close your eyes.’
‘Finn...’ She could barely keep the whine out of her voice. ‘Meditation makes me feel like a failure.’ And there was more than enough of that in her life at the moment as it was, thank you very much. ‘I know you’re supposed to clear your mind, but...it’s impossible!’
‘Would you be so critical and hard on someone else? Cut yourself some slack.’ He rolled onto his back. ‘Work on quietening your mind rather than clearing it. When a thought appears, as it will, simply acknowledge it before focussing on your breathing again.’
He closed his eyes and waited. With another sigh, Audra rolled onto her back and settled her hat over her face. It was spring and the sun wasn’t fierce, but she wasn’t taking any chances. ‘Okay,’ she grumbled. ‘I’m ready. What am I supposed to do?’
Finn led her through a guided meditation where she counted breaths, where she tensed and then relaxed different muscle groups. The deep timbre of his voice, unhurried and undemanding, soothed her in a way she’d have never guessed possible. Her mind wandered, as he’d said it would, but she brought her attention back to his voice and her breathing each time, and by the time he finished she felt weightless and light.
She heard no movement from him, so she stayed exactly where she was—on a cloud of euphoric relaxation.
And promptly fell asleep.
* * *
Finn didn’t move until Audra’s deep rhythmic breaths informed him that she was asleep. Not a light and sweet little nap, but fully and deeply asleep.
He rolled onto his tummy and rested his chin on his arms. When had she forgotten how to relax? He’d spent a large portion of every Christmas vacation from the age of twelve onwards with the Russel family.
She’d been a sweet, sparky little kid, fiercely determined to keep up with her older siblings and not be left behind. As a teenager she’d been curious, engaged...and a bit more of a dreamer than the others, not as driven in a particular direction as they’d been either. But then he’d figured that’d made her more of an all-rounder.
When had she lost her zest, her joy for life? During her final years of school? At university? He swallowed. When her mother had died?
Karen Russel had died suddenly of a cerebral aneurysm ten years ago. It’d shattered the entire family. Audra had only been seventeen.
Was it then that Audra had exchanged her joy in life for...? For what? To become a workaholic managing the charitable arm of her family’s corporation? In her grief, had she turned away from the things that had given her joy? Had it become a habit?
He recalled the odd defiance in her eyes when she’d spoken about owning a shop—the way she’d mocked the idea...and the way the mockery and defiance had been at odds. He turned to stare at her. ‘Hell, sweetheart,’ he whispered. ‘What are you doing to yourself?’