Pleasure for Two

“How does that feel? Is it too much pressure, just right or not enough?”

Marcel grunted his approval. He’d had massages before, but never like this. Sexual tension engulfed the room, stirring something deep within him. He couldn’t believe what Dominique was doing with her hands.

“Are you comfortable enough?”

To keep from moaning out loud, he nodded in response. Marcel felt as if he was about to blow. Dominique cupped, kneaded and stroked his body with such urgency that lines of electricity zipped down his back. Each bolt was stronger than the last, deeper and more intense than anything he’d ever experienced.

Try as he might, he couldn’t stop himself from wanting her, and he finally gave up after a valiant effort. His eyes shot open when he felt her hands on his backside. Lifting his head off the table, he turned and stared over his shoulder at her. His vision was clouded with lust, but he saw the heat in her eyes. Dominique had sex on the brain, and when she slowly licked her lips, Marcel jumped to his feet. Now it was on.

PAMELA YAYE

has a bachelor’s degree in Christian education and has been writing short stories since elementary school. Her love for African-American fiction and literature prompted her to actively pursue a career in writing romance. When she’s not reading or working on her latest novel, she’s watching basketball, cooking or planning her next vacation. Pamela lives in Calgary, Canada, with her handsome husband, adorable daughter and precious newborn son.

Pleasure for Two
Pamela Yaye

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Dear Reader,

I appreciate all the support and encouragement you’ve given me since I published my first Kimani novel, way back in April 2007. I know it’s been only three years, but it seems like eons ago! Maybe it’s because I love writing stories about strong, intelligent women, and the confident, take-charge men who love them—like Dominique and Marcel in Pleasure for Two.

To earn some extra money and help her kid sister out financially, Dominique King becomes a certified masseuse, and builds up an impressive client list within just weeks of completing the course. At a pool party one sweltering August afternoon she meets a dark, broad-shouldered hunk named Marcel Benoit. He has the thickest, sexiest lips she has ever seen, and when they touch, sparks fly. Acting on her impulses has never felt more right. But one reckless night of pleasure has serious consequences for the couple.

Marcel is ready to change his bachelor status. He’s nothing if not determined, and he sets out to prove to Dominique that he can be trusted with her heart.

Look for my next novel, Promises We Make, in February 2011. It’s a sexy office romance with a delicious twist that you won’t see coming! And be sure to visit me at www.pamelayaye.com.

Until next time,

Pamela Yaye

Acknowledgments

Jean-Claude and Aysiah, you mean the world to me, and I feel truly blessed to have such a loving husband and daughter.

I don’t mean to brag, but God also blessed me with the world’s best parents. Mom and Dad, I love you with all my heart, always and forever.

Kenneth and Bettey Odidison, I couldn’t have asked for better siblings. I’m glad we all grew out of that crazy teenage phase (it was never fun breaking up your fights! haha). You guys are two of my favorite people, and I am counting down the days until we’re all together again.

Sha-Shana Crichton: Your support and friendship mean a lot to me. Thanks for taking a chance on me and believing that I could make it in this business.

Kelli Martin: Thanks for pushing me to dig deep and to write a story that readers will love and that I can be proud of. (And for not shortening my love scenes!)

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Epilogue

Chapter 1

“Yo, man, where the strippers at?”

Marcel Benoit mopped the sweat from his brow and continued loading the cooler. If it were up to him, Caesar would be at his dorm instead of at the bachelor party, but since the college senior was the groom’s younger brother he’d had no choice but to invite him. “Caesar, for the third time, they’re not strippers. They’re massage therapists.”

“Right, and I’m saving myself for marriage!”

Ignoring him, Marcel ripped open another case of Bud Light. It was a typical August afternoon in Seattle, and although dark fleecy clouds sailed across the sky, the air was warm. His uncle’s estate was the perfect place for Will’s bachelor party, and as he watched one of the groom’s portly cousins dive into the pool, he made a mental note to add more steaks to the grill.

“The massage therapy thing is just their cover. All the girls who work at Destination Wellness offer extra services.”

Marcel’s head whipped up. “They do?”

“Hell, yeah,” Caesar said, before adding, “for an additional fee, of course.”

“Why didn’t you say anything sooner? If I had known it wasn’t a reputable spa I never would have used it.”

“I know. That’s why I didn’t tell you!” Wearing a crooked half smile, he slipped on his gray aviator sunglasses. “You could use some TLC, man. You’ve been miserable ever since that Sarita chick dumped you, and hooking up with a hot babe would do wonders for your psyche. I know you get plenty of heat from the girls on the Seattle University campus, but the sisters who work at Destination Wellness look like centerfolds!”

Marcel glanced over at the group of guys playing poker. As best man, it was up to him to keep the groom on the straight and narrow. If he didn’t, Will’s fiancée would go ballistic. Since it was too late to cancel the six massage therapists, he’d just have to keep Will close and be on the lookout for any home wreckers.

“I’m going to go call my girl,” Caesar announced, fishing out a Heineken from the cooler. “See you later, man.”

“When’s the grub going to be ready?” hollered the groom, packing a handful of tortilla chips into his open mouth. “I’m starving. Hook me up with a hot link or something!”

Chuckling, Marcel turned back toward the grill. He added more steaks to the bottom rack, slathered them with a coat of barbecue sauce and closed the hood. “Listen, before you guys get wasted, I’d like to make a toast.”

The groom lowered his cards. “All right, but make it quick. I’m on a winning streak,” he said jokingly.

Everyone quieted down and Marcel began.

“Will Arroyo was one of the first people I met when I moved from Mauritius five years ago. He helped me get settled into my new place, showed me around Seattle and hooked me up with my first job.” He raised his beer bottle in salute. “I wish you nothing but the best, man. You’ve always looked out for me, and if not for you I probably would have frozen to death that first winter!”

The guys chuckled, but no one laughed harder than the groom. “Marcel was a sorry sight, ya’ll. One day I rolled up on him waiting for the bus, and he had no gloves, no cap and no jacket. His teeth were chattering so loud that he startled the children standing nearby!”

More laughs rang out.

“Will, it’s not too late to back out,” one of his younger cousins said. “I’ll gas up the Lincoln Navigator, and we can hit the road. Vegas, anyone?”

The guys laughed, but Will declined the offer. “I can’t wait to marry Thalia, you guys. She’s my dream woman. Outgoing, funny…”

Everyone groaned, and Marcel bit back a laugh. Will drove a Harley-Davidson and loved extreme sports, but he got choked up every time he talked about his fiancée.

Some guys have all the luck, Marcel thought, taking a swig of his beer. He was the oldest of six, but all of his siblings were married with children. Tired of the single scene, he was looking forward to meeting the right woman and starting a family of his own. Sarita wasn’t coming back, and in light of what he’d discovered about her in recent weeks, he should be thanking his lucky stars that she’d dumped him and sunk her claws into a rich pro athlete. Sure, he could have used some of the money in his trust fund to win her back, but after talking things over with Will he’d quickly come to his senses. That money was for his future, not to blow on a gold digger who had no conscience.

And then there was the fact that his student visa expired soon, and there were too many new applicants for him to get an extension. If he didn’t find an engineering job by then, he’d have to return to Mauritius. Marcel missed his family, but he didn’t want to go home—not when he’d worked so hard to make a life for himself in Seattle.

“Are there any more of those egg roll things?” Will asked, pulling Marcel from his reverie. “I’m starving, and the steak’s nowhere near done.”

Still consumed with thoughts of his future, Marcel stood and strolled through the double French doors leading into the house. Bright and inviting with thick columns and an elegant curved staircase, the Beacon Hill home had been decorated with pharmacy lamps, bright ornamental pieces and plush couches. The focal point of the living room was the grand piano, and as Marcel passed it, he wondered why his uncle would pay thousands of dollars for something he never used.

Inside the pantry, Marcel rummaged around in the freezer. Arms filled with boxes of frozen foods, he closed the door with his foot and started back toward the kitchen. He heard a car horn beep and glanced out the window in time to see a black Range Rover pull up in front of his uncle’s house. Marcel didn’t recognize the car, but when he saw a dark, shapely sister slip out of the driver’s seat he stopped short. As I live and breathe, I’ve never seen a more stunning woman. Blown away, he wondered if the ebony angel was the masseuse he’d spoken to on the phone last week. Dominique…Dominique King. That was her name. A gorgeous name for a gorgeous woman, he decided, watching her with growing interest.

His eyes raked over her svelte body. Sleek, glossy hair fell casually down her back. It was hair he wanted to touch and stroke and bury his fingers in. Though casually dressed in a white tank top and shorts, he could tell this sister with the sky-high cheekbones had very expensive tastes. Her face had a natural glow, and her movements were graceful. Peering through the glass, he fought a strong, overpowering desire for a woman he’d never met but was desperate to.

Does this count as spying? Deciding it didn’t, he inched closer to the window. Sweat began to soak through his T-shirt as his eyes explored the beautiful stranger. Unable to turn away, he took in every curvaceous inch. Man, she’s something. Worried he might be spotted, he shielded himself behind heavy burgundy drapes.

Doors opened and slammed. Five women wearing pink Destination Wellness T-shirts joined the driver at the back of the SUV and helped her unload the trunk. Caesar wasn’t kidding when he said the sisters at Destination Wellness were centerfolds. Carrying cases in hand, they marched up the cobblestone walkway in single file. Well, everyone except the driver. She didn’t walk; she glided.

Snapping to, he streaked into the kitchen, dropped the boxes on the counter and checked his reflection in the hallway mirror. By the time the doorbell rang, he was ready to meet the sister with the smoky eyes and winsome curves.

“You must be Dominique,” he said. “I’m Marcel. We spoke on the phone last week.”

“Of course, it’s nice to finally meet you.”

Her voice was the sweetest sound he’d ever heard.

“These are my coworkers.” She gestured to the women behind her. “This is Electra, Jasmine, Suzette…”

Like a twister in a deserted field, his thoughts ran wild. Dominique wasn’t wearing a wedding ring, but he knew there was no way this chocolate beauty was single. If by some stroke of luck she was, she probably had brothers chasing her down at every turn.

“Can we come inside?”

“Yes, of course, please come in.”

When Dominique stepped past him, he leaned in and inhaled her scent. Mesmerized. That was how he felt when her fragrance drifted over him. Marcel was drawn to her, intrigued, filled with feelings he thought died when his ex-girlfriend, Sarita, had callously dumped him. But as he admired Dominique’s perfectly coiffed hair and French manicured nails, he realized she was way out of his league. A woman like Dominique King would never look twice at a guy like him, so the quicker he dealt with his attraction to her, the better off he’d be. “Can I interest you ladies in something to drink? The bar is fully stocked with water, juice and beer.”

The women smiled politely but shook their heads.

“This is a lovely home,” Dominique said, glancing around. “Did you want us to set up in the living room or out in the backyard?”

Marcel thought for a moment. He wanted the groomsmen to have a good time, but he didn’t want anyone pushing up on Dominique. Getting into a fistfight over a woman he barely knew would be juvenile, but he’d fight to the death before he let Kevin or Raheem steal her out from under him. “How about half of you stay here and the rest work outside?”

Dominique shared a confused look with the brunette standing beside her. “Okay, I guess that would be all right. Aja and Heather will stay here with me and…”

Marcel heard someone behind him, but he didn’t turn around. Dominique was speaking, and she deserved his undivided attention, which he planned to give her plenty of.

“My, my, my, what do we have here?”

Dominique trailed off when a man in blue swimming trunks swaggered into the room. Today must be my lucky day, she thought. It’s raining men! First, she’d met Marcel Benoit and now another cutie was bounding toward her. This guy in blue trunks had a nice smile, but he wasn’t nearly as handsome as Marcel. While Suzette made the introductions, Dominique discreetly checked out the soft-spoken millionaire she’d spoken to twice last week.

Marcel was the clean-cut, athletic-looking type. His skin was the shade of Hershey’s Kisses, and she suspected his lips tasted just as sweet. He spoke with a slight but distinct French accent, and if that wasn’t enough to excite her, he had the sexiest mouth she had ever seen. Though dressed modestly in shorts and a T-shirt, Marcel had a distinguished, almost regal bearing about him. Add to that his staggering wealth, and he was a perfect ten. His mansion was a bold, lavish display of his riches, and she was thoroughly impressed. Inside the garage, she’d spotted three luxury vehicles, a pair of jet skis and enough antique furniture to beautify the Vatican church. Marcel Benoit was exactly her type—established, accomplished and successful—and she was determined to get to know him better. Mixing business with pleasure was never a good idea, but Dominique wasn’t going to let anything get in the way of her spending quality time with the attractive millionaire.

“Why don’t I show you ladies to the pool?” said the guy in the blue trunks, his pearly whites blinding. “The groomsmen are all chilling out back.”

Marcel cleared his throat. “I thought it might be too crowded outside, so some of the women are going to work in here.”

“Oh, there’s plenty of room.” Kevin motioned with his head toward the French doors. “Besides, it’s much too nice outside to be cooped up in here. Don’t you agree, ladies?”

Behind her, Dominique heard her coworkers giggle.

“Would you like something to eat before we get started?” Marcel addressed the group, but he was staring right at her. “I could show you to the food tables if you’d like.”

Heart pulsing, mouth dry, she combed a lock of hair away with her hands. Dominique would like nothing more than to have some one-on-one time with the wealthy businessman, but the guy in blue trunks seemed intent on spoiling her plans.

“Marcel, you’re in charge of the barbecue, remember? You finish grilling the steaks, and I’ll help the ladies set up out back. Don’t worry, man. I’ll handle it.”

The matter decided, Kevin took Dominique by the elbow and led her out unto the patio.

Fingers splayed, Dominique kneaded the muscles between the groomsman’s shoulder blades, applying more pressure as she inched down his spine. Lying flat on his stomach, his eyes closed and his head cocked to the side, Tobias Carlson complained bitterly about his court-ordered child support payments and the financial toll his divorce had taken on him.

Dominique hated working bachelor parties, but since the clients were willing to pay more for the in-home service, she’d canceled her blind date and reported to work. As Tobias droned on about his twelve-room vacation home in Bel Air, Dominique searched the backyard for a distraction—a tall, toned distraction with a titillating French accent. Her gaze fell on Marcel Benoit, and time stopped. His arms cut powerfully through the water as he swam the length of the pool. The wind blew warm against her face, intensifying her already sweltering temperature.

Watching him, she wondered why he wasn’t already married. Her friends all liked bad boys, but she’d always been attracted to quiet, respectable guys. Good manners were a definite turn-on, and Marcel was polite and gracious. He wasn’t the life of the party, but he didn’t need to be. He was the best-looking man there, and although he hadn’t tried talking to her again, Dominique was confident he would. They’d been sneaking covert glances at each other, pretending to be uninterested, but when their eyes met she felt a rush of divine pleasure.

With extreme interest, she watched as Marcel trudged up the steps of the circular pool. His body was overrun with taut muscles, and seeing his bare chest made her mouth water. To regain control of her loose mind, Dominique forced her eyes away. But as she glanced around the yard, she noticed that her colleagues were ogling him, too. Back off, vultures! He’s mine!

“Your hands are magic,” Tobias praised. “Are you available on Wednesday mornings? I could use a good rubdown after my weight class.”

Dominique didn’t answer. The extra money she made working weekends helped pay the bills, but she wasn’t going to jeopardize her position at First Centennial Trust for anyone—not even a high roller like Tobias Carlston.

“Sorry, but I only work weekends.”

Turing onto his side, he propped his head up with his elbow. Not only was he failing miserably at appearing cool but it looked like he was posing for a trashy magazine. “Then, we’ll have dinner instead. Eight o’clock sound good?”

Dominique retrieved a cloth from her bag, and cleaned the massage oil from her hands. With as much sympathy as she could muster, she slowly recited the line she fed all of her clients who hit on her. “Call me next week, and I’ll try to see what I can do.”

His frown spoke of his disapproval. Breathing heavily through his nose, he reached into his pocket and offered her a wrinkled fifty-dollar bill. “This is for you.”

“Thank you.” Without touching him, Dominique slid the money out from his fingers. Her cell phone rang, and she fished it out of her purse. “I have to take this call. See you later.”

Tobias eased off the portable bed and stood with his hands splayed on his hips. He looked pissed, but Dominique didn’t care. Her sister was calling, and his massage had officially ended five minutes ago. Wanting privacy, she rushed inside the house, ducked into the main-floor bathroom and locked the door.

“How are you guys doing?” Dominique asked after greeting her sister.

“Good, but we miss you. You promised to come by last night. What gives?”

“I was planning to, but I got asked to work at the spa at the last minute. Now that I finally have my massage therapy certification, I’ve been working as many hours as possible.” Only a year apart, Taryn and Dominique were often mistaken for twins, and despite their furious schedules, they talked several times a day. “Now, pass the phone to Summer. I saw her profile on Facebook, and Ms. Thang definitely needs a talking to. A thirteen-year-old has no business wearing miniskirts and fishnet stockings!”

After chastising her niece, Dominique ended the call. Staring at her reflection in the mirror, she decided another trip to her dermatologist was in order. Botox scared her, but a facial reflexology treatment would give her skin a soft, healthy glow. Two hundred dollars was a steep fee, but she was a thirty-three-year-old woman living in a city overrun with college students, and it was important to stay ahead of the competition.

Exiting the bathroom, her thoughts on her sister and the kids, she failed to notice Marcel in the kitchen until he called out her name. “Is everything all right?” he asked, stepping out from behind the granite island. “I don’t mean to pry, but you look worried.”

For a moment, Dominique couldn’t speak. The sensual sound of his voice aroused her, making her feel nervous and excited at the same time. Hoping she didn’t look as stupid as she felt, she held up her phone. “I was just talking to my sister. She was giving me a hard time for not coming over for dinner last night.”

“It’s tough being the oldest, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” she said, puzzled by his assessment. “How did you know I was the oldest?”

Dark, slanted eyes focused on her face, and heat flooded her cheeks. “You’re a woman who likes to be in control, who likes to take care of others. Those are some of the traits of the first child. Am I wrong?”

“Let me guess, you’re the oldest, too, right?”

His smiled matched her own. “I have four sisters and one brother.”

“Your poor mom. All that estrogen in one house makes for a whole lot of drama. I have two sisters, and every time my dad left for work, he’d say he wasn’t coming back!”

“Were you raised in Seattle?” Marcel asked once her laughter died down. “Or are you from somewhere else like half the people in the city?”

“I’m a native. My mom lives not too far from here in Loyal Heights, and my dad…well, he died a few years back.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It was his time.”

“That doesn’t make it any easier though, does it?” His features softened. “My father passed away eight months ago, and there are times when I still can’t believe he’s gone.”

Dominique started to speak but stopped. Talking about her dad brought bittersweet memories, and she feared that if they remained on the subject she’d break down like she had at his funeral on that cold November morning he’d been laid to rest at Mountain Gardens.

“I hope you’re going to stay for dinner.”

After spending the past two hours on her feet, she welcomed an opportunity to sit down and enjoy a good meal, especially with such a handsome man. “I don’t know. That depends on the other girls. We came together and…” When Dominique heard a loud shrill of laughter, she glanced at the French doors. Her coworkers were sitting around the patio table, stuffing their faces with shrimp and guzzling goblets of wine.

“I guess we’re staying,” she announced, laughing. “But we better get out there before all the food is gone. Electra used to be an amateur bodybuilder, and I once saw her eat a whole turkey for lunch!”

“Why don’t we sit in the living room? It’s quiet, and we’ll be more comfortable than out on the patio.”

“Shouldn’t we join your friends? After all, you are the one hosting the party.”

“They’ve got food, beer and five very attractive women to keep them company,” he pointed out. “They don’t need me. And besides, I’d much rather spend more time talking with you.”

Her blood pressure spiked. Dominique could feel the energy pulsing between them and wondered if he did, too. He was standing astoundingly close to her, but she didn’t—no, couldn’t—move away. “Well, in that case I just have one question,” she said, slanting her head to the right. “Do you have any crazy ex-wives or baby mamas I need to know about?”

“Not that I know of.”

Dominique wore a sultry smile. “Good, then let’s eat!”

They relaxed comfortably on the sofa and discussed current events while they ate dinner. Conversation came easily, and Marcel loved hearing such a smart, savvy sister talk about business and politics. Overflowing with confidence, Dominique didn’t shy away from sharing her opinion or challenging his views. She loved art and music and shared his passion for literature. Without fear, she spoke like a woman who had all of the answers to life’s problems, and when she closed her eyes and began reciting a Prodigal C. Lewis poem, he was blown away.

“The beauty of your smile consumes my soul; lost, I turn to you for self-control.” She whispered the lines, the words flowing gracefully off her lips. “For love and all the pleasures it can give, are found in you and we’ll eternally live.” Dominique placed a hand on her chest. “Have you ever heard anything so moving?”

“I toured Prodigal C. Lewis’s village when I went to Marco Island a few years ago.” Hoping to impress her, he spoke truthfully about the experience. “Seeing his childhood home had a profound effect on me, and even after all these years, I still remember how inspired I felt reading the notes scribbled on his bedroom walls.”

“Wow, I’m so jealous. I’d love to see where he grew up.” Her voice dripped with awe. “Prodigal C. Lewis is one of the most prolific poets who ever lived, and every time I read Enchanted Souls I always break down and cry.”

“Me, too.”

She arched an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Uh-huh. I’m one of those deep, sensitive brothers who isn’t afraid to show his emotions,” he said, fighting to keep a straight face. When Dominique rolled her eyes, he chuckled. “Isn’t that what every woman wants? A man with a soft, tender side?”

“That’s not what I want! That’s how I like my steak!” She tossed back her head and laughed. “The truth is I want to be wined and dined and romanced.”

“Well, in that case, I better keep the Chablis coming!” Marcel lifted the wine bottle and tipped it toward her goblet. “There’s just enough to fill your glass.”

Dominique stretched out her hand, preventing him from pouring. “I can’t. I’m the designated driver tonight, and I’ve already reached my limit.”

“If you need to, you’re more than welcome to spend the night.”

“Right,” she quipped, “me and the girls will sleep on the couch.”

“This estate has five master bedrooms, so if you’re not up to driving, you can all stay here.”

At first, Dominique thought he was joking, but when she saw the concern in his eyes, she knew he was serious. Lean and dark with clear brown skin, Marcel had governance about him, a gentility that instantly put her at ease. She’d only known him for a few hours, but she wasn’t put off by his shocking offer. “We’ll be okay. It’s a short drive back to the spa and—”

Marcel touched her leg, and her voice failed. Stunned by the tenderness of his caress, she put a hand to her chest, hoping to control her staggering heartbeat. Reminding herself that he was a stranger—albeit a very attractive one—helped her remain focused. Apprehension tempered her desire, but he had lips she wanted to kiss, hands she ached to hold, and eyes so dreamy that she felt light-headed just looking at him.

“I hope you don’t think I’m coming on too strong. I just want you to be safe.”

Kissing a man she’d known for all of three hours was unimaginable, but it was all Dominique could think of. To keep from acting on her feelings, she shifted over ever so slightly. Better. Now their legs weren’t touching.

Needing a distraction, Dominique stared out the living-room window. A recreational haven, the upscale suburban community had it all—a sports complex the size of a football field, wide bike paths that sloped around steep valleys and inspiring mountain views. “This is a lot of house for one person,” she noted, stealing a quick glance at him. “Do you live here alone?”

“I wish,” he said, with a light chuckle. “This is my uncle’s place. I’m just house-sitting while he’s away on business.”

She wore a surprised, slightly puzzled look on her face. “This is not your house?”

Marcel heard the disappointment in her voice and wished he’d said something sooner. Of course she thought the mansion belonged to him. And wasn’t that what he’d wanted her to think? He’d never met such a smart, vibrant woman, and their connection was unlike anything he’d ever known. Dominique King was a standout beauty living the good life, and he had nothing to offer her. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy her company for a few more minutes, did it? Still he decided to remain truthful.

“Do you live nearby?” she asked.

“No, I’m all the way up in Hurst Park.”

Dominique gulped. The working-class neighbourhood was a far cry from Beacon Hill, and according to the evening news it was a hotbed for gang activity. Let down, she tried not to let her disapproval show. “What do you do for a living?”

“I’m a full-time graduate student and part-time research assistant.” Wearing a self-conscious grin, he rubbed a hand over his fine, textured hair. “As you can imagine, the biomedical engineering program at the Seattle University is very demanding. I spend a lot of hours studying, and that doesn’t leave me much time for anything else.”