Good Karma (5 page)

Why had she lied about that?

Rather than make him angry, the deception
deepened his curiosity.

“How about that drink?” he said when the song
ended.

“Even though you won the wager?” Purity, as
well as curious desire, shone from her luminous eyes. From the way
she looked at him and tried to hold herself the way a worldly woman
would—operative word being
tried
—Mark got the feeling it
wasn’t just her outfit and all the attention she wasn’t used to,
but men showing their interest, as well.

“Yes, I did, but that doesn’t mean we can’t
both get what we want.” He guided her from the dance floor, more
intrigued by the second. Who was this splendid, naïve butterfly who
seemed both eager and terrified to open her wings?

At the bar, he ordered another scotch on the
rocks and champagne for her.

“Have you seen the exhibits?” He took her
hand and scanned the room. Carol was nowhere to be seen, but the
way Karma’s hand fit so nicely in his, he didn’t care. He studied
their connection. Her French manicure gleamed in the soft lights,
and her warm hand offered security.

Strange that
she
would make
him
feel safe. Shouldn’t it be the other way around?

“No, I haven’t.” Her delicate fingers
squeezed his.

He nodded in the direction of the exhibit
hall. “Then let me give you the tour.”

* * *

Karma felt like she’d stepped into a
whirlwind and been carried off to Oz.

Mark knew his way around. Clearly, he was
more deeply connected to this charity event than as a mere
philanthropist. He knew the names of the artists, musicians, and
dancers. In fact, he knew Sonya, a snippet of knowledge Karma
didn’t reveal they shared.

Maybe she was being selfish, but something
about sharing him with the normalcy of her life felt wrong. What
she had with Mark was a fantasy, and fantasies weren’t meant to be
shared with the real world. They were surreal, an illusion,
private. Perfect. And that’s how she wanted to keep him.

Karma followed him from one display to the
next, listened to him tell a personal story or provide an odd fact
or two about the artists, watched his face light with a charming
smile as he recalled a funny anecdote. Other guests stopped him
periodically to say hello. Everyone seemed to know him. He always
introduced her then smoothly moved them along as if working toward
a destination.

After thirty minutes, he wound them out of
the exhibit hall and back toward the casino room.

“How do you know all these people?” she
asked. Daniel still played poker at the corner table across the
room, oblivious to her wanderings with the enigmatic, yet
remarkable Mr. Strong.

At a high-top cocktail table tucked in the
shadows, Mark leaned on his elbow and faced her. “I grew up around
them. I’ve known some of them since I was six years old.” He traced
his fingers down the short sleeve of her dress and stepped a little
closer.

A shiver raced down her spine and she lifted
her glass for a drink before she realized it was empty.

Mark didn’t seem to notice. “Have you ever
been to Vegas?” His gravelly voice stroked her senses.

“No.” She imagined this was how the sheep
felt right before the wolf attacked. “Why?”

“Your dress reminds me of a club called LAX
inside the Luxor.” His fingers tugged gently at the hem of her
short sleeve before he swept his hand to the small of her back.

“How so?”

He grinned and glanced down at her dress.
“Like LAX, your dress is very red.” He drew his gaze back to her
face and stared at her mouth for a heartbeat. Then, without
warning, he tilted his head to hers and kissed her.

Karma’s knees almost gave out. His strong
lips and the way the tip of his tongue teased hers turned her legs
to Jell-O, and she had to grip the lapels of his jacket to keep
herself upright. He seemed to instinctively read her reaction and
pulled her closer, steadying her with his body.

With a strained exhale, he broke away,
circled the room with his gaze as if making sure no one was near
enough to steal her away, then dragged her from the table and into
the shadowy corner. Her back hit the wall. Then, with even more
urgency, his mouth found hers again, and a quiet moan broke in the
back of her throat as her knees threatened to buckle once more.

Behind her was the wall. In front of her was
a different kind of barrier. One that was just as solid and pulsed
with fiery heat. She was trapped, but in no way did she want to
break free. Let her remain confined.

His body pressed against hers as he tilted
his head, deepening the kiss, and her right hand found the back of
his neck. Her fingertips dipped into his short, thick hair.

She had never been kissed like this. Never
with such passion and yearning.

“Come to my room.” He spoke fiercely against
her mouth, and his dark eyes blazed into hers. “It’s quieter.”

She stared into his eyes, which radiated the
same fire she felt deep in her core. For a long, breathless moment,
she got lost in their green-grey depths. “Okay.” Under his heated
influence, it was the only answer she could come up with.

He wrapped his hand around hers and led her
back into the hall. Her legs were still so wobbly that she almost
tripped over her own feet as she followed him to the elevator. Damn
these high-heeled shoes. They didn’t help.

Sexual tension spiked the air, and the hairs
on her arms stood on end. What was she doing? After that kiss, what
did she think would happen once she got inside his room? Just a
little quiet conversation?

She’d always been taught not to be reckless,
not to go to rooms with strange men, to play it safe. Until now,
that’s exactly what she’d done. She had always taken the safe
route, never the risky one. Mark was risky. Going to his room was
risky. And yet, she couldn’t stop herself. Tonight, she wanted the
risk. She wanted to lay down a five-hundred-dollar bet on Mark
Strong and spend a few brief hours savoring the winnings. Tomorrow,
back at home, after the glass slipper broke forever, she could
return to the status quo, but not now, not as Mark swept her into
the elevator, into his arms, and weakened her knees with another
searing kiss that short-circuited her thoughts and sent static
through her veins as the doors whispered closed.

As the elevator started its upward journey,
to a destination fraught with uncertainty and the promise of ending
her six-year sexual drought, Karma felt her heart slip further out
of her protective grasp as Mark’s masterful lips whisked her away
from reality.

She was fully immersed in the fantasy.

* * *

Mark couldn’t get enough of this
extraordinary woman. He hadn’t meant to kiss her, but the lighting
had lit her face in just such a way, and her full, pretty lips had
been too inviting. Before he could stop himself, his mouth had met
hers, and their kiss had been glorious.

She tasted of champagne, and the way she
trembled against him and clung to his jacket so she didn’t collapse
in a weak-kneed heap expressed all Mark needed to know about her
inexperience. Such a stunning woman, wearing a stunning dress, who
could capture every eye in the room, and yet Mark would bet every
dollar in his bank account that she hadn’t had more than two
lovers, maybe not even more than one. She had certainly never been
kissed like this.

The elevator doors opened. With his mouth
still locked to hers, he practically lifted her off the floor and
carried her into the hallway. He had to know her secrets and
understand her duality. How could she look the way she did and
still be so innocent? And why, if she was so innocent, had she come
upstairs? More importantly, why was he allowing it?

He fumbled for his key, unlocked the door,
spun her inside, and kicked the door closed.

Why was he doing this? This wasn’t how he
handled himself, and it wasn’t how he handled women, especially
women as precious as Karma. And she
was
precious. Everything
about her except her wardrobe cried that she wasn’t this kind of
woman. The same way he wasn’t this kind of man. She deserved better
than to be treated like some random one-nighter, and yet he
couldn’t bring himself to stop and be the gentleman he had taught
himself to be in the last six years.

He pressed her against the wall, drank her
in, devoured her lips, and slid his tongue over hers.

He unbuttoned his tuxedo. Her hands slid
inside, and her nails scratched his chest as her fingers curled
against his shirt, making him groan as he dropped the jacket to the
floor.

Karma eased his ache and abolished life’s
bitterness. Something about her called to his basic, primitive need
for connection, and he was drawn in as if by gravity, unable to
pull away. Parts of him that had been cold for so long finally
warmed.

He skimmed his hand up the front of her
dress. He wanted to lose himself in her virtue, revel in her
purity, and forget how horribly the night had started, as well as
the loneliness of the last six years.

But as his palm swept under the slight swell
of her breast, her breath hitched, and she froze.

Jolted from the intoxicating moment, he
pulled back and looked down into her suddenly lucid eyes. The
innocence was still there, but her fearless spirit was gone,
replaced by what looked like panic…or perhaps dread.

Oh God, what had he done? How had he let this
happen?

In a blink, their magical evening blew away
like vapor. She looked like a scared rabbit as she slowly released
his shoulders and crossed her arms over her chest as if to shield
herself, but could he blame her? He should have known better than
to take her to his room, to move so fast. He was in no frame of
mind to be taking up with a woman tonight, anyway. Damn Rob for
putting the idea in his head in the first place.

He blinked, and the last of the enchanted
haze cleared.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…uh…” But really,
what could he say? The damage was done. He had become the very
thing he had sworn he would never be.

Glancing toward the windows beyond the bed,
he took a deep breath and felt clarity rocket back to his senses.
Like a selfish pig, he had brought Karma to his room to rid himself
of the loneliness and sorrow of the past twenty-four hours. His
breakup with Abby. Learning that Carol was pregnant. The reminder
that the life he should have had now belonged to someone else. He
had been ready to use Karma to help him forget the destitution of
his life. For what? All he would have gained by taking advantage of
her was a stack of lies, to awaken tomorrow and still be the same
pathetic, lonely man he had been two hours ago. Sleeping with her
wouldn’t have fixed anything.

What kind of self-centered asshole did that?
Used such a sweet, delightful woman as a means to an end? This
certainly wasn’t the type of man he had aspired to be. If she
hadn’t stopped him, he would have embodied all that he had promised
not to become.

“I…I’m sorry,” he said again. The guilt was
almost crippling.

“I…” She blinked rapidly and glanced toward
the door. “I have to go.” She pushed past him and skittered out of
his room.

The door clicked shut behind her, and he fell
against the wall, eyes closed. He blew out a heavy sigh. Damn, he
really needed to figure his shit out. Maybe, if given enough time
and space—from Carol, from Abby…from Antonio—he would remember who
he was and be okay again. Yeah, right. It had already been six
years, and he was no closer to being okay than he had been the day
his world had turned upside down.

After almost a full minute, he sighed,
smoothed his hands down his face, and bent to retrieve his jacket
from the floor. Then he trudged toward the bed.

Alone.

But with the taste of Karma’s champagne
kisses still on his lips and her fresh, floral scent still in his
nose.

If only his life weren’t such a mess.

He had really liked this one. Something about
Karma had been different.

But now she was gone, and maybe it was better
that way. He was in no position to start another relationship when
he would be gone for the next four to six months on business.

With a sigh, he sat on the bed and stared out
the window.

Yes, it was better that she had left.

Now if he could just make himself believe
that.

Chapter 5

Action
brings reaction.

-Author Unknown

On Monday morning, Karma brushed her fingers down
the red satin dress now hanging in the back of her closet like a
diamond in a sea of coal. The majestic garment had to be giving her
dark slacks, dark blazers, and white blouses an inferiority
complex. She could relate.

Saturday night’s fantasy was over. She was
back in Clover, a northern suburb of Indianapolis. Back to
reality.

Good-bye, Cinderella.

She hadn’t even had a night of passion with
her prince before returning to her humdrum existence. Unwelcome
childhood memories she thought she’d left behind had reared up and
interfered, just as they always did in the pivotal moments of her
life. Obviously, she wasn’t as bold as she thought, or as over her
insecurities. At least she still had that first kiss…and all the
kisses that had come after. Her prince had given her the most
glorious night of her life, even if it hadn’t ended in his bed. But
she would always remember the way Mark had kissed her with abandon,
held her with the unabashed yearning of a man lost to his libido,
and literally swept her off her feet. She had replayed every
sinful, decadent moment at least a hundred times in the past
thirty-six hours. Unfortunately, she would never know what Mark
looked like under that tuxedo. He was there. She was here. She
hardly knew anything about him, and she hadn’t told him anything
about her. Their evening was destined to become just a memory. But
what a wonderful memory it would be.