Full Circle (7 page)

“That was different,” he said.

“How so?”

“It just was.”

Her fingertips played through the soft hair
on his chest, sweeping back and forth. “Well, I’m not seeing
it.”

“Trust me, it was.” He averted his gaze
toward the ceiling and didn’t speak for several seconds. Then he
said, “There
are
things you don’t know about me, Karma.” His
voice hitched ever-so-slightly. “Things I’ve never told you.”

Her hand stilled. He’d said something similar
in the limo. Was he warning her? Or maybe preparing her? It sure
sounded that way. As if he wanted to confess something but couldn’t
quite get the words out. Then again, this was Mark. A man who’d
been locked up tight as a vault full of royal secrets for years.
Opening up about his innermost thoughts wasn’t his strong suit.

She angled her head and gently kissed the
base of his neck. “Then maybe you should tell me.” Her intuition
told her not to push, though.

His arm around her squeezed, pulling her
closer. “In time.”

“During our trip?”

“Maybe.”

“I hope so.”

His chest rose and fell heavily beneath her
cheek. “Are you so sure you want to know?”

His heart was beating hard. She could
actually feel its accelerated thumping against the side of her
face.

She rotated her head and placed her chin on
his pectoral. His eyes moved to meet hers, but he didn’t say
anything. He didn’t have to. She could see the solemn concern in
his gaze. There was something he wasn’t telling her. Something that
scared him. Something he desperately wanted to get off his chest.
That much was clear. So, why wouldn’t he tell her what it was?

She regarded him for several seconds. This
was her man. Her lover. Her future. She wanted him to feel
comfortable enough to share his most despairing thoughts with
her.

“I want to know everything about you,
Mark.”

“Even the bad stuff?”

What could be so bad to scare her away? She
already knew he wasn’t a saint. He’d always been honest about
that.

“
Especially
the bad stuff.” She
wrapped her arm around his torso. “It’s all part of who you are,
and I love
all
of you.”

His eyebrows dug into his eyelids, and his
mouth set in a firm, grim line. “I love you, too.” He searched her
face as if she held the answers he needed to exorcise whatever
haunted him. Then, with a troubled sigh, he turned his gaze back
toward the ceiling.

She wasn’t sure what to make of his reaction.
Obviously, something was bothering him, but he didn’t want to talk
about it.

“Mark . . . ?”

He snapped out of whatever funk had taken
hold of him. His expression softened, and he forced a smile as he
rolled toward her, urging her to turn over so he could spoon
her.

“Get some sleep, baby.” He pressed his nose
into her hair the way he often did, nuzzling her. “Okay?” He
pressed his lips against the back of her head. “Let’s sleep. It’s a
big day tomorrow. You should rest.”

In other words, he didn’t want to talk about
whatever was bothering him right now.

Which made her all the more curious about
what he was hiding.

And she was still curious this morning.

She broke from her thoughts and glanced into
her half-empty teacup then set it on her tray. Mark sat across from
her, his tablet in one hand and his coffee in the other. He looked
like he was either reading his e-mail or perusing one of the many
online newspapers he subscribed to. Two bites of eggs Benedict
remained on his abandoned breakfast plate on the tray beside
him.

He seemed better this morning, but he hadn’t
mentioned what had happened last night. Those demons, whatever they
were, remained locked away.

The pilot’s voice broke through the
speakers.

After a good morning greeting and a few
polite words about hoping they’d slept well, he said, “Please take
your seats and fasten your seatbelts. We’re beginning our descent
into Saint Lucia. We’ll be landing in about twenty minutes.”

Her gaze shot to Mark’s. “Saint Lucia? So,
this is where you’re taking me?”

He grinned and gave her a self-satisfied
one-shouldered shrug as he handed his coffee mug to Janie then
fastened his seatbelt.

Saint Freakin’ Lucia!

In the Caribbean.

Sun, warmth, clear blue water, and sand.

Setting aside her concerns about last night,
Karma gazed out the window as the jet descended. The water was such
a deep, vivid blue it didn’t even look real. In the distance, land
came into view. As they drew closer, she spied what appeared to be
a bustling port to the south. A pair of cruise ships stood out like
monoliths against a bevy of smaller boats.

“Saint Lucia is one of my favorite places in
the whole world.” Mark leaned toward the window, his expression
relaxed and content.

“You’ve been here before?” Surprise,
surprise.

He nodded. “When I was younger. It was my
mom’s favorite place to vacation. She loves the tropics.” The right
corner of his mouth lifted, making his lone dimple cut into his
cheek. “My parents even owned a vacation home here for a while.
Sold it about five years ago, though.”

The question about how much money Mark had
ballooned inside her mind again. “Do your parents own vacation
homes elsewhere?”

He nodded absently, craning his neck to look
out over the water toward the bay in the distance. “A few.”

A few? She did well to afford one small
apartment. And his family had “a few” vacation homes splattered
around the world? What exactly was she getting into with him?

“Where?”

He casually leaned back in his chair.
“Paris.” He paused, lifting his eyes to the ceiling as if in
thought. “London. And then there’s my mom’s home in Italy. She’ll
never sell her villa, though.” He spoke as if having homes all over
Europe was nothing unusual.

“Your mom has a home in Italy?”

“It’s actually my grandparents’ home, but my
mom inherited it after my grandfather died. My grandmother had
already passed, so . . .” A fond, pensive expression
crossed his face.

“So, the house was left to your mother.”

“Yes.”

The way he tipped his head and smiled
affectionately spoke volumes about the type of relationship he had
with his mom, as well as the one he’d had with his
grandparents.

“You were close to them? Your grandparents, I
mean.”

“Very.” He shifted in his seat, uncrossing
his legs. “You know, not only was my grandfather a remarkable
businessman, he was also a fabulous cook.” His dark eyes sparkled
with what Karma could tell were happy memories. “Every Sunday, the
family got together at his place. He would give the staff the day
off and spend the entire day in the kitchen. I often spent the day
in there with him, helping, listening to his stories about Italy
and business and everything else he’d experienced.”

She propped her elbow on the arm of her chair
and settled her chin on her fist, adoring this personal glimpse
into his past. “Is he where you got your passion for cooking?”

His eyes danced, and blissful contentment
washed over his features. “I think he’s where I got my passion for
everything. Business. Cooking. Even basketball. Grandpa loved
watching the Bulls play.” He chuckled then sobered. “It’s as if he
passed on to me what he couldn’t pass on to
Mamma
.”

Karma loved when he fell into his Italian
accent. “Your grandpa wasn’t a dancer then?”

He shook his head. “No. Not like
Mamma
. She must have gotten that from my grandmother.” He
made a wistful noise. “And my mom had no interest in running a
company, so when I expressed an interest in business instead of
dance, I think Grandpa saw a chance to pass on his legacy, which is
why he took such an interest in my education. He’s the reason I
chose to attend the University of Chicago, and then the Booth
School of Business, where I earned my MBA. I wanted to be like
him.”

“I love the way you talk about him.”

“He was a great man.”

“And you want to honor his memory.”

His gaze fell briefly in a way that bespoke
that he felt he would never live up to his grandfather’s stature.
“I’d like to think that someday I could honor him.”

And there it was again. The shadow that had
dogged Mark for the past twelve hours. What was troubling him? He’d
mentioned twice there were things she still didn’t know about him.
If only he would tell her what was on his mind so they could get
past it.

As the jet continued its approach, she pushed
aside her concerns and turned her attention back out the
window.

What would it be like to come from a wealthy
family? Sure, money didn’t solve every problem, but it had to make
dealing with life’s challenges easier, right?

She glanced at Mark out of the corner of her
eye. His gaze was fixed on the dark-blue ocean.

She knew Mark’s past. Knew better than anyone
the pain he’d endured. And yet money hadn’t been enough to keep
Mark from falling into a horrible tailspin after finding Carol in
bed with her dance partner when she should have been promising to
love, honor, and cherish him till death do they part. For all his
family’s wealth, he had still suffered. Maybe even more deeply than
someone who didn’t come from privilege. Because people who grew up
without unlimited means were used to hearing the word
no
.
Used to not always getting their way. Which better prepared them
for heartbreak.

Karma imagined that for all the crap Mark had
told her he’d endured as a kid, he’d never really known true
heartbreak until Carol jilted him so viciously. No wonder he’d
developed such a powerful aversion to commitment. He was like a
victim of a bad car crash who had suffered brain trauma. On the
outside, he looked fine, but on the inside, vital components had
been knocked out of place, and he had to figure out a whole new
normal.

So maybe she was giving money more credit
than it deserved, because Mark clearly had money and it hadn’t been
enough to make him overcome Carol’s actions and the depression that
followed.

“I haven’t been here since I was eighteen,”
Mark said quietly. He wore a wistful, content expression. Clearly,
Saint Lucia held a special place in his heart.

Her own heart swelled for the courageous man
sitting across from her. He’d faced so much emotional adversity and
pain, but despite his fears, he’d come back.
For her.
He’d
found a way through the wall he’d erected around his heart so he
could be with her. He loved her that much.

And that made her love him even more.

“Why have you waited so long to return?”

The smile he turned on her could only be
described as love incarnate. “I haven’t had a reason to until
now.”

The air in the cabin bloomed with warmth,
tenderness, and something else. Something heady and intoxicating
expanded and wrapped itself around Karma like a cashmere sweater,
soft and luxurious.

“And I’m your reason?” Her voice sounded so
small.

With a gentle nod, he leaned forward and
reached for her hand. She teetered toward him and slid her fingers
around his.

“Saint Lucia isn’t a place you visit alone.”
His thumb caressed the back of her hand. “It’s a place for
lovers.”

She fought back a smile. “You had a lover at
eighteen?”

He narrowed his eyes then smirked. “No.
Family vacation. We came here almost every year over Christmas
break when I was a kid. But it never felt like the kind of place
for family vacations. As I got older, I saw it as a place where
lovers escaped so they could forget everything else but each other
for a while."

She let the warmth of his words seep in as
she stared at his thumb still skimming back and forth on her
hand.

“Did you ever bring Carol here?” she asked
quietly, hopefully. She didn’t want to feel like she was following
in Carol’s footsteps, treading where
the other woman’s
feet
had already been.

When she lifted her gaze to his, he slowly
shook his head. “No.”

A thrill shot through her. She shouldn’t have
been so happy about Mark’s response, but she was. She hated feeling
like she was competing with Carol. As if his ex still wriggled
around in his heart, which was insane, because she knew Mark would
never go back to her. Still, to know Mark had never brought Carol
here felt like a small victory.

The jet touched down, jolting her back into
the moment, and she let go of Mark’s hand.

The airport was the smallest Karma had ever
seen. One long stretch of runway, and not much else. The main
building was underwhelming, too, but then, while Saint Lucia was a
tourist hot spot, travelers probably didn’t flock here the way they
did to larger locales. According to Mark, Saint Lucia was only
twenty-seven miles long and fourteen miles wide. A person could
drive around the entire island several times in one day if they
wanted to.

After grabbing their luggage and working
through customs and picking up their four-wheel drive rental, Mark
drove them away from the airport.

The hardest thing to get used to was driving
on the left side of the road, but of course, Mark handled it with
ease.

“How long are we staying?” she said as they
drove south along the coast. She caught glimpses of the sea between
the trees and shops dotting the roadside.

“Nine days. We fly back next Sunday.”

Over a week in paradise. Nine days of beaches
and walking in the surf. Of no one but her and Mark. No work, no
tense family Christmas visits.

Was Christmas really only five days away?

And she wasn’t spending it with her
family.

It saddened her that her dad had drawn such a
hard line against Mark, and, consequently, her. Didn’t twenty-six
years of love, devotion, fishing trips to Peterman Lake, and
countless father-daughter nights in front of the TV cheering on
their favorite teams count for anything? Her dad had discarded her
as if their relationship meant nothing.