Page 8 of Clock Strikes Paradise

And I’m going to have to deal with him directly. Oh, goody.

And that encounter was only a few hours away. I left the couple to their drinks. As I continued my walk, I rounded a bend in the path and came across a standalone building. A sign with flowing script read,Calypso Calm. The entrance was a small, covered porch with wooden benches and hanging baskets overflowing with exotic tropical flowers. It exuded a welcoming, peaceful vibe, and I was drawn toward it.

Through the large windows, I glimpsed a spacious room with a polished wooden floor. A comfortable seating area with a loveseat and several armchairs was arranged in one corner, while to the side, I glimpsed a larger room with a wall of mirrors. A small, trickling fountain added to the serene atmosphere. Large windows looked out to the swaying palm trees and the glittering ocean beyond.

Without thinking about it, I pushed open the door and stepped inside, inhaling the cool, fragrant air. The scent of essential oils mingled with the gentle sound of trickling water. A woman with warm brown eyes and a lovely smile greeted me from behind a sleek white counter. Her dark, curly hair was gathered into a loosebun at the nape of her neck. She wore black yoga pants and a fitted tank top that readLose Your Worries at Sandpiper Cay.

“Hello there! Welcome to Calypso Calm,” she said. “I’m Monica, the instructor. Are you interested in joining a class?”

My tension eased a little in her presence, and I glanced around the tranquil space. “I’ve never done yoga before. I was just curious.”

“It’s never too late to try something new,” Monica encouraged. “I’m starting a restorative yoga class in just a few minutes. It’s perfect for beginners, and a great way to unwind and de-stress. You could probably use a little of both, right?”

Her perceptive comment was right on. “That’s tempting, but...” I hesitated, my gaze drifting to the open doorway of the studio. A handful of people were already settling onto their mats. They seemed so comfortable, so at ease. It was a foreign concept to me.

“It's okay to be unsure,” she said, her voice soft and reassuring. “Yoga is about finding a connection with your body and breath, not about being perfect. Especially restorative yoga.”

I was drawn to her calm, approachable manner—especially after witnessing Laurent’s arrogant dismissiveness. But as I glanced around the tranquil space, my practical side reasserted itself. A wave of guilt washed over me. Here I was, exploring this luxurious island, indulging in frivolous thoughts of yoga while my to-do list stretched a mile long. And luxuries were something I’d never been comfortable with. The irony of enjoying Clay’s lavish generosity, while feeling the pressure to prove my worth to him, settled in my stomach like a lead ball.

“It’s more that I hadn’t planned this. I have a lot to do before an event tonight.”

“Of course.” Monica’s gaze softened, and she tilted her head slightly. “What time is this important event?”

“Seven o'clock,” I admitted, my fingers toying with the waistband of my leggings.

“And it's now almost four.” she pointed out gently. “You could easily spare an hour to de-stress, and still have plenty of time to get ready.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but her words hit a nerve. She was right. I was clinging to my checklist like a life raft, but perhaps I needed a different kind of rescue. Maybe an hour of quiet reflection would be more valuable than another hour hunched over spreadsheets and contracts.

So I agreed to join the class since I was already wearing suitable clothing. Monica led me into the spacious studio, where a handful of other guests were preparing for the class. Soft music played in the background, adding to the soothing atmosphere. I was a little self-conscious at first, my movements stiff and uncertain as we began with gentle warm-up stretches.

Soon, however, my anxieties began to recede as Monica guided us through a series of restorative poses. We moved into a supported child’s pose, my forehead resting on a soft block and my arms stretched out in front of me. A sense of calm washed over me as I focused on my breath, releasing the tension I’d been carrying in my shoulders and back. I even managed a supported bridge pose, my hips lifted and resting on a block, opening my chest and easing the tightness that seemed to have taken up residence in my lungs.

Throughout the session, my mind drifted back to Clay. To the man I'd seen on the plane earlier that day. Yet even in casual attire, he exuded an air of effortless sophistication.And that lock of hair that kept falling onto his forehead… I sighed. There was something undeniably appealing about Casual Clay. He was different than the boss I saw at the office every day. Not necessarily more approachable, but… less intimidating. Perhaps the tropical air was affecting him too.

After class, I helped Monica put the mats away, maybe a little residual guilt seeping back in at enjoying myself. At the same time, the peaceful atmosphere, with its lingering scent of lavender and eucalyptus, made me reluctant to leave.

“You did great for your first class,” she said, her warm, genuine smile like a soft blanket. “You seem to have a natural ability to connect with the poses.”

“Thank you,” I replied, surprised by how relaxed and refreshed I felt. “It was actually easier than I expected.”

“Yoga can be surprisingly accessible,” she said. “It's about finding what feels good for your body, not about forcing yourself into impossible positions.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” I hesitated for a moment, unsure how much to reveal. “I'm actually here on business. There's a very important event I need to make sure goes smoothly.”

“It sounds like you have a lot on your plate,” Monica observed, her brown eyes filled with understanding. “A little downtime now and again might be just what you need to stay focused.”

I hesitated. A part of me agreed with her—I could already feel the tension creeping back into my shoulders as I thought about the reception. But old habits died hard.

“I'll be fine,” I said, trying to convince myself as much as her. “I'm used to working under pressure.”

“I admire your dedication,” Monica said, her smileunwavering. “But remember, taking care of yourself is just as important as taking care of business.” She glanced at the clock on the wall. “I teach classes every day. Come back whenever you need a break. You’re welcome anytime.”

I smiled, touched by her offer. “Thank you. I’ll keep that in mind.” I glanced at my watch. It was just after five. “But I should probably get ready for the reception now.”

“Of course,” she said, her voice soothing. “Enjoy the evening.”

“Thank you. I will. And thank you for the class. You were right—I feel recharged now.”